I have told this story before of how I almost got killed while being on a horse.
It’s not one of my most fond memories, but I was over at Rose’s place (The Fuse Is Lit on my blog roll) reading about her former morning ritual with her horse that made me remember it. However, Rose’s story made me want to join her and just breath. Almost. I still have flashbacks to the horrendous day that makes me think before I do something like that.
It started out innocently enough with the sun shinning over a cloudless sky. The horse was there all saddled up and waiting. I did my administrations and climbed onto the saddle. But before I could get seated properly and my feet in both stirrups, the damn thing started jerking around.
The horse was going up and down and back and forth and I was hanging on for my life. I was screaming for help and, despite my death hold on the neck, I started sliding of the side. I was trying to find the stirrup to put my foot in to stop the sliding, but it was no where to be found - not that I had the time to look for it.
Between my fear, the pain in my arms from holding on to his neck so thigh and was beginning to loose grip, my screaming for help, and the unstoppable movement of the horse I was sure I was going to die.
Finally my arms begin to give way and I was sliding further off the horse. I just knew I was going under the wildly gyrating thing and be crushed to death. I was finally hanging on with one hand on the withers of the neck but was just about to fall under the damn thing when the Wal Mart manager ran out and unplugged the ride.