White Stallion
Lilly Mendez — 12th Grade
White Stallion
There was once a nobleman who had three daughters. Violet, Lily, and Rose were their names — in that order they were born. Being the eldest, Violet was wise, and knew it too. Lily kept to herself most of the time — she always seemed to get stuck between her sisters, however. It is a lifelong curse, she supposes. Then, there was Rose — young but brave, or as Violet liked to put it, ignorantly fearless.
The three sisters were content with their lives, in a society that deemed them high of status. One day, however, they were taken away from that life, to live out in the country with their grandmother. She was an old widowed woman, who owned a manor and a small plantation. From apples to corn, she grew — and enjoyed working out in the fields too. “She’s become a country pumpkin,” Rose joked upon first sight of her grandmother picking an apple from a full tree.
The sisters were shocked when they were handed farming gear. Violet sulked, wishing she hadn’t worn such a pretty sundress today. The trio were put to work, each having their own duties. Lily worked silently alongside her grandmother, while Rose grew aggravated by all the dirt ruining her new bejeweled encrusted slippers. It hadn’t even been an hour when she gave up trying to pick the plump red apples.
Get Create, Connections!’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
Feeling an immense sense of boredom, she called out to her sisters. “Let’s play hide-and-seek!” she suggested. Reluctantly, Violet and Lily agreed, also finding the apple picking to be boring and physically taxing. They needed a break, all insisted, even their grandmother who allowed them to play. “Just don’t run off to the woods,” she said, “you can lose your way back home.”
So, they scurried off after leaving Violet, who lost at a round of rock-paper-scissors, to count to ten. Lily ran with instinct, finding two large bushes to hide behind. Rose appeared flustered, trying to find a good spot. By the time Violet had counted to seven, Rose had hurried through the woods, already forgetting her grandmother’s warning. A little deeper she went, and it was there, where she found a small cave covered with vines — perfect for someone of her size.
Of course, she entered, and found that it was longer than she had expected. It was dark as well — so dark that she could no longer see her offish white knee high socks. Nor could she see the gaping hole that was eventually found after misplacing a step. With a shriek, Rose fell, finding the bottom of the dirt hole. She quickly got on her feet, wincing at the pain in the left as she realized that she had fallen so far down that the top was too high for her short legs and arms to reach.
The young girl could only cry out for help, until the sun began to set. She sniffled a sob as she sat down on the rough dry soil, the thought of never being saved dawning upon her. Like this, sleep took over her, exhausted from straining her voice. Then, she dreams. She’s a toddler again — just a wee little thing — and she’s back home, playing in the fenced in backyard while her dad sits on the porch swing, rocking with the wind.
Rose plays with her toy horse, a white stallion, until she spots something orange lying on the clean cut grass a few feet away from her. Curious, she picked up a stick and walked towards it. “Oh, a fox!” she realized, noticing how it does not move. It must be dead, she thinks as she points at it with her stick. From afar, she can hear her father’s voice, “Rose, don’t touch that!”
It was too late, and in the next second, the fox comes alive, and bites her hand. The young girl yells as the small beast runs off into the woods. Rose jolts awake then, feeling her senses come back to her. A pasty blue ceiling is the first thing she notices after waking, the soft memory foam supporting her body is the second, and the nearly silent breaths of whispers is the third. Her vision clears, and she finds herself surrounded by her sisters and grandmother. Tears abruptly begin to form at the rims of her green eyes, and so she cries — with a last reminder to always listen.
