What We Leave Behind

 Alternate title: The Forgotten

The big grey horse looked miserably over his stable door, waiting hungrily for his breakfast, although he knew it probably wouldn’t come. All the others in the row had been fed. Mistral, a big black mare, Danny, a chestnut pony, Henry, another grey like himself, Pirouette, a flashy brown show mare, and Pete, a small bay gelding, were all busy devouring their breakfast – but not Billy. He looked forlornly about him, trying to find even a wisp of lucerne that had, perhaps, blown his way on the slight breeze that ruffled his once-white mane.

His tail too, had once been white, and the rest of him covered in a soft, shiny coat that felt like satin. Now though, all was hidden beneath a layer of dirt and dried sweat. Underneath that layer, his ribs were beginning to show through the build-up, as his condition faded away. Billy had once been a girl’s best friend, a pony club champion, until that girl discovered boys. Now he remained all but forgotten, fading away quietly in his little stall.

Had Billy been a person, he probably would have wondered why no-one fed him, why no-one ever groomed him, and why someone wasted their money on a stable for him when they clearly could not be bothered looking after him. He was always lonely, locked up all day while the others went out to the field, except for the odd occasion when a passing child patted him on the way to their riding lesson, or perhaps offered a carrot, although his old teeth found those difficult to chew. He longed for the days when his girl’s laughter rang out around him, long summer days when they’d be splashing in the dam, or those weekends when they would be off to a competition, or those long, peaceful rides through the nearby forest with their mates.

A girl walked down the stable row, going about her business cleaning the stalls once the other horses went out for the day. Billy saw her often when she mucked out. Sometimes she would have a treat for him, but not today. He nickered to her, hoping for a small scrap of something, anything would do. Without a word, she stopped outside Billy’s stable, and, looking around to make sure nobody else was nearby, quickly unlatched the door. She swung it open, before silently walking away.

Billy stood for a moment, staring at freedom. He took a tentative step forward, expecting a reprimand, then quickly trotted out, heading for the nearest patch of grass he could see. Despite being somewhat dry and brown in the midsummer heat, that patch looked lush, green and inviting to Billy. He took a few mouthfuls, then with a sudden burst of energy, lay down and rolled, relieving the many built-up itches beneath his dirty exterior. He then stood up, shook himself all over, and began to pick at the grass once more.

His freedom, however, was short-lived. The girl who had released him soon returned, a sad expression on her face, carrying a halter and lead rope. She buckled the halter about Billy’s head, and led him slowly back to his stall. He ambled along slowly, suddenly remembering that he was an old horse with many aches and pains and could not move very fast anymore.

‘I’m sorry, old mate,’ she whispered to him as they returned to the dark musty box, ‘I wish I could give you more, but I would be in big trouble if I did.’

Billy let out a sigh when he found no food in his feed bin, almost as if he’d never expected it, but still hoped anyway. He couldn’t possibly understand why nobody could help him. His owners refused assistance and caused trouble if anyone tried to interfere, despite the efforts of all who knew Billy.

The girl patted Billy and left, locking the door as she went. He sadly resigned himself to starvation and neglect once more. He watched the girl walk away, staring after the only person who cared about an old, grey horse.