FicWad

With a jolt the gates opened and we were away, off as fast as our legs could carry us. My rider eased into the rhythm of my beating hooves, and we became one. The herd of horses galloped, urged onwards by the crack of whips, the sheer joy of speed. And then the first jump approached, as big as me, nearly. And it was the smallest jump on the course. It came so fast many horses forgot to jump, knocked down at the first hurdle. I flew, I soared, and I jumped as high as I could, my legs just brushing the massive hedge they expect us horses to clear. I made it. I galloped on. Horses with no riders sped ahead, the weight off there backs. We turned the corner, and another jump came in sight. I cleared it. The rest of the course went by in a flash, suddenly I was at the last jump. My jockey tensed as I took off, but it was ok. We were ok. And then it was the home run. The last streak. On the flat. My jockey flailed the whip around. And we made it. I was exhausted, so was my jockey. Bright lights kept flashing. We walked along some kind of path way, and all those lights flashed. “Smile for the cameras!” A man said to my jockey. And then we came to some kind of circle. “The winners circle.” My jockey informed me. The winners circle, where they laid a blanket of flowers on my back