Satin and Cinders

SATIN AND CINDERS – A SHORT STORY

For many years, I’ve stood in the protection of the forest watching, longing. She is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen with her satiny white coat, long silky mane, and tale.

The humans care for her, brush her and feed her only the sweetest hay in the glen. But, me, I live wild and free in the forest. I nibble grass and weeds. My dark coat doesn’t glisten or shine and I’ve never felt a human touch.

There is something about her that I can’t explain. When the rest of the herd moves south, I stay, year after year. I can’t stand the thought of being so far away from her. And she knows.

Now, with winter approaching, I stand at the edge of the forest and shiver. I watch until the cottage sits cloaked in darkness before I approach the barn like I’ve done hundreds of times before. The sweet smell of hay tickles my nostrils. I stamp my foot and whinny. She answers from within the warmth of her shelter with a high pitch reply. I toss my head and draw closer.

More than anything, I want to be inside the warm barn nuzzling against her softness. I edge my way to the corral where she’s spent countless hours frolicking. There has to be a way in.

I trot back to the barn door. Determination rises inside and I have to give it a try. I back up and run at full speed and slam into the door with all my strength and a loud bang.

Instantly, lights appear in the cottage windows and the back door swings open. “Who’s there?” calls the human.

I shrink into the shadows and shake my head. I wait. Once again the cottage falls silent in the darkness.

Back at the barn, I paw at the wood. She answers with a soft nicker.

What? Did she say there is a back way in? I lose no time galloping to the north side of the corral. She is right. A stallion like me can easily clear that fence. I back up and run at a full gallop, clearing the fence and coming to a skidding stop. Satin meanders out of the barn, prancing and pawing the ground.

My heart races. I am in. I am with her, my dream, my love.

She tosses her long white mane and beckons me to follow. Ah, the sweet smell of fresh alfalfa. I blow out a long sigh, nicker and join her.

I haven’t considered the human in my need to be with her. Early the next morning, I lift my head, alert, as the barn door slides open.

“What in tarnation?” The human exclaims. “I’ve had horses break out, but never in my life have I had a horse break in.”

He approaches. “Good boy,” he says. He reaches out to touch me and I back away. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Satin lays her soft white head across my thick neck and nickers at her human. “Yes, I see, Satin. I see this is your friend. We’ll call him Cinders.”

The End

satin_Cinders

And the moral to this story is never give up on your dream and every Satin needs a Cinders.

Foolish Old Woman

What if

FOOLISH OLD WOMAN

BY JAN SIKES

“Come sit with me.” He patted the leather bench beside him.

In silence, I sat while others at the table shifted to make room. Why did I feel so nervous? It wasn’t like I didn’t know these people. Although I have to admit, I didn’t know them well.

I tried hard to remember names that went with the faces.

But, in all honesty, it wasn’t the people who made me nervous. It was him.

Twenty years my junior, tall, slender and handsome with brown eyes that sparkled, I saw no reason for him to have any interest in me.

Oh, I was a looker in my day. I had a slender figure, pert breasts, and round ass, but time has taken its toll. At sixty-five, gravity has sagged my breasts and my once flat stomach has a slight pooch.

He casually draped an arm around my shoulders.

I tried to engage in conversation, but the tingles his touch left on my shoulders distracted me to the point of madness.

When his arm slipped behind me and around my waist, I panicked. He’d feel my flab. I wriggled and sucked in my stomach.

“Let’s go out on the veranda,” he suggested.

Clumsy and flushed, I managed a reply. “Okay.”

I slid off the seat then waited for him. I followed with my heart pounding in my ears. I scolded myself. You’re carrying on like a schoolgirl with her first crush. For God’s sake get a grip.

We strolled out into the cool night air. The moon and stars hung carefree in the black velvet sky and a slight breeze blew the hair back from my face.

Silence wrapped around us like a velvet cloak.

I faced him. “What are you doing?”

“I like you.” He touched my cheek. “You’re not like the others.” He pulled me into the circle of his arms and kissed me.

It wasn’t a tongue-tangling kiss, but a warm and sincere kiss.

“I don’t even know what that means.” I took a step back and drew in a deep breath.

After a long eight years of solitude, I found it hard to believe this handsome forty-something man found me attractive.

“It means that you’re honest. You’re not trying to get anything from me.”

I grinned. “Don’t be too sure about that.”

He pulled me against him and kissed me again.

“Come with me to my place,” I said as I pulled away.

“No.” He caressed my shoulders. “I’ve done that way too many times. I want it to be different with you.”

I spun and walked to the edge of the veranda.

He followed, slipped his arms around me from behind and nibbled on my neck. “You turn me on,” he whispered in my ear as he tightened his hold on me.

I turned around for another kiss only this time, he slipped in his tongue.

My eyes flew open and I lay still barely breathing soaking up the glorious feeling of being wanted, of being desirable.

Then ever so slowly, a hot scalding tear escaped and dripped onto my pillow. Then another and another followed…

“Foolish old woman,” I muttered to myself.

Sweet Dreams