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The Life Of Sparta - Year Three
 By Thestral   •   19th Jan 2011   •   2,295 views   •   4 comments
The Life Of SpartaSalty tears fell onto the brown leather reining saddle Seth was washing. She had only just found out her favorite two-year-old had been towed off to an auction. She hadn't been able to say good-bye. Sparta, on the other hand, had been dropped off at the auction, and was sold for only one thousand Canadian dollars, not much for the potential inside that filly.

She was purchased by a man who had never been closer to a horse than a TV screen, and only because of her uniquely coloured eyes. Sparta was transported by trailer to a farm in the mountains, where she was kept in an old cattle barn. She was brought outside to eat grass in a very small corral with barbed wire fencing. The following day her new owner put a saddle that was much too big on her. She didn't mind much until he strapped it very tightly around her midsection. Then she got uncomfortable with the situation.

She tried to bolt away and buck until it fell to the ground, but she was tied up tightly, and she strained her neck, pulling a few muscles. The man slapped her neck as punishment. Sparta flinched away from him.

The man forced a bridle on her. He had zero experience, and he forced her head down with a rope and bridled with her tied up. The bridle was much to tight for her, she felt like her head was being squeezed. Her eyes rolled, and when the man untied her she immediately tried to run, but he had too good of grip on her and anchored her down. He tried to lead her to the little pen, but she refused to move. Sparta's mouth began to lather red foam shortly after the cruel owner dragged her there using his own strength.

Having Sparta standing still, already exhausted, he put his foot in the stirrup. The right stirrup at that. Sparta had only been handled from the left. She shied away, and the man brought a whip down on her. He then vaulted on without warning, and plopped himself down hard in the saddle. Spartas immature back was straining under the mans weight. She had very little strength left, but her spirit was not diminished. She bucked once, twice, three times, each one more determined than the last. On the fourth buck, the man fell off. He hit her sharply with his whip, and got on again. She reared, then leapt forward and galloped full out around the pen, and the bad man lost his seat and fell off. The same thing happened on the third attempt, but this time the bad man had a killer grip on the reins and pulled as hard back as he could. But Sparta kept running until her neck was too sore. She stopped suddenly, throwing the man onto her neck. Then she reared up high, and the bad man fell back and hit the dirt with a satisfying thud.

The barbed wire fence was too low for horses, but Sparta was too weak to make it over. She jumped and snagged her forelegs on the top wire, and she tumbled to the ground on the other side of the fence. She scrambled up, and tried to make a run for it, but the bad man was faster, and grabbed her reins. The saddle and bridle were torn off her, and he was sent to her stall with no food or water. There was no treatment for her wounds. Sparta was left there for three days, and the bad man didn't feed her or give her water.

After the three days he saddled and bridled her again, and hopped on. Sparta was too weak to even try to move. The man asked her to walk, but she couldn't. "I can't." She snorted. The man kicked her in the sides. "I can't!" She snorted again. The bad man tapped her with his whip. "I said I can't!" Out of frustration, the bad man kicked her as hard as he could and smacked down with his whip, leaving a welt in her rump. "I CAN'T! I CAN'T DO IT!" She neighed, then crumpled into a heap. The bad man disgustedly got off her, and walked away, leaving her there in the rain. Rain. Puddles began to form in the dirt, and Sparta franticly and desperately lapped it up. Was there hope? She struggled to her feet. Yes! There was! She could escape!

Walking to the gate, she pushed it with her nose. It swung open. The bad man had left it when he stormed away. Sparta began to get excited. She trotted out the gate and went directly to a nearby creek, where she drank the fresh water until she could hold no more. She dropped her head and grazed the lush green grass until she could eat no more. She crossed the river to a tree, and tried to rub the saddle and bridle off, but it was no use. It was too tight. She ran off into the forest, as far as she could. She didn't want anyone to find her. But someone did. An elderly lady riding a black and white paint mare found her. Sparta let her come close. The lady took the saddle from her back, and the bridle from her face. She took Sparta to her home and treated her wounds. She fed her warm food, and crisp water. Sparta had found a home and an owner who cared for her. But as she thought of the scary man, she realized she couldn't remember what he looked like exactly. When the lady's eighteen year old grandson came to visit, Sparta got frightened, thinking it might be the bad man again.
Artista  
This is a really cool story! I like the angle, and think the point of view is cool. Poor Sparta!
  Jan 19, 2011  •  1,301 views
 
Thestral  
Thanks! Don't worry, Sparta finds some nice people!
  Jan 20, 2011  •  1,327 views
 
No Walkin Farms9  
That man is horrible. Poor Sparta. I'm impressed with this story. You're good.
  Feb 19, 2011  •  1,311 views
 
Little Bitty Farm  
Great story!
  May 9, 2011  •  1,472 views
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