The Prompt:
Write a story set in an abandoned location. It could be a foreclosed house, a closed-down theme park, a ghost town, or anything else. Think about the location’s past and its story, and use those ideas to fuel your plot.
Tucumcari was 50
miles in the past when I saw the horse. At first, I didn’t know what I was
looking at, the heat waving off the pavement blurring the scrub, sand, and
figure at the road’s edge.
I slowed as I
approached and passed, worried that the horse would move into my path. It stood
still, reins dangling from cheeks to ground. An empty saddle perched on the
horse’s back.
I stared at the
horse in my rearview mirror and then it clicked. Where was the rider? I hit the
brakes. I was literally in the middle of nowhere. 50 miles past Tucumcar,
another 60 to Las Vegas. 110 miles of open nothing. No gas stations, no houses,
not even an intersection. I hadn’t seen a single car since Tucumcari. A road
through nowhere.
Out of habit, I
checked to make sure the road was clear before shifting into reverse and
backing to the horse. I pulled onto the shoulder a few feet away, and clicked
on my hazards. I snorted, realizing the hazards were unnecessary, but left them
on anyway.
I climbed out of my
car, the oven dry air parching the lining of my nose on contact, and moved
slowly toward the horse. It was huge, my head not even reaching his shoulders.
“Hey, boy,” I hesitantly reached out a hand toward his massive head.
He chuffed once,
then bumped my hand with his nose, blowing warm air into my palm. I rubbed his
forehead, and slipped my fingers around the reins. The leather was worn, old. I
moved my other hand to the saddle. It was worn, as well. “Where’s your owner,
buddy?” I asked the horse. He didn’t answer, just nosed my hair.
“Anybody there?” I
called. I waited. Tried again. “Hello?”
The horse and I
looked at each other, contemplating what to do. “Wait here,” I said, then
walked back to my car.
I sat on the
driver’s seat, the door open beside me, and reached for my cell phone. Zero
bars. “Of course. The middle of nowhere.” I couldn’t call for help, not that I
knew who to call for a lonely horse lost in New Mexico. I was more worried
about the rider. What if they were hurt? I could drive to town, but that was at
least an hour one way. By the time anyone got back here, they could be dead.
I climbed out
again, taking my water bottle with me. I opened the back door and pulled out my
day pack, nestling the water in the side pocket, and pocketing my keys in the
front pouch.
“I’m gonna see if I
can find your owner,” I told the horse, rubbing him again on the forehead. “You
should wait here.”
I adjusted the
straps of my pack on my shoulders and headed off, moving between shrubs and
around the curve of a stack of large boulders. In less than five minutes, I was
unable to see the horse or my car.
As I walked, I
looked for any sign that someone had passed this way before me. I saw nothing.
I called, over and over, listening for any response. I heard nothing other than
the creak of shrub in the breeze.
I crested a small
rise and paused at the top, taking a deep drink from my water. I looked over
the landscape spread before me. I saw her. Sitting, her back propped against a
large rock, looking away from me, her gaze falling behind another curve of the
landscape.
I smiled, glad to
have found her, and started walking, my eyes not leaving my target.
Her eyes popped my
way when my shoes scuffed through loose rock, sending them scuttling over the
dry surface. Her eyes stretched wide, she shook her head “No,” willing me away.
I paused for a
moment, then stepped her way again. He stepped into my view. “Ah, a bonus.” He
smiled wide, rubbing his knife on the leg of his jeans.
I closed my eyes
and pictured my abandoned car on the side of the road, hazards flashing.
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