The Garage

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a little story I wrote. Not finished yet, but I'm working on that. I'll write more if people like it. xD

Submitted: May 14, 2009

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Submitted: May 14, 2009

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Boredom sifted through my mind, anchoring me down. Time appeared as if it had slowed ridiculously. The clock rattled as every minute dwindled past painfully slowly. Doodling on a stray piece of paper, I sculpted the rough form of a horse; sketching and scribbling, scoring over lines I wasn't entirely happy with. Even a line, not even single millimeter out was enough to bug me until I attacked it. It helped to pass the hours of the day. My day off. I leaned back to view my drawing. I hated days off, because everyone else had to work those days. I was left alone, solitary, to indulge in some kind of creative past time. Bored, bored, bored.

My hair formed a curtain of my face- an array of loose chocolate curls, streaked with occasional highlights of blond, tumbling off my shoulders as I dived forward, attacking the horse's hocks, straightening them with a quick scribble and adjusting the thickness so its body was crafted in a more realistic way. I yawned and rubbed my eyes, content with the drawing. Placing the black pen to a fresh corner of paper, I began to draw a head shot of another horse. My mind slowly began to wander until I was abruptly awoken by the slam of the fridge nearby. I sat cross legged at the solid dining table, perched precariously on a wobbly chair which creaked as I moved slightly. Glancing over, peering through a screen of hair, I saw the back of a boy, rifling through the fridge for something decent to eat. 'Who the hell is that?' I thought to myself, eyeballing him wearily. He turned, and I instantly averted my gaze. Damn it... My shyness always got the better of me, and my cheeks coloured slightly, I relied strongly on my hair to conceal my nervous disposition. I prayed he hadn't noticed just how... how awkward he could make me feel. "Hello..." he said politely.

I heard him sit down across the table from me. Coughing slightly, I cleared my throat: "Um- hi..." Glancing upwards, his gaze met mine. Swallowing quickly, I quickly stared downwards again, determined not to let my shyness ruin the chances of making a new friend. He laughed and I cringed silently, my left hand balling into a fist, my fingernails digging into my palm. "So..." he said, exaggerating the length of the word to break the thick silence, "I take it you're the new girl?"

"What?" I asked abruptly, confused. My tone of voice perhaps slightly sharper than I had intended. Looking up, my eyes met his. He had such beautiful eyes; a bright green colour. They seemed so deep and endless. His silky black hair fell smoothly into them, sloping down to almost totally cover his left eye.
"I've never seen you before," he said, staring at me warily, "and I heard there was a new girl at the ranch. That's all."
Laughing, I put the pen down. "I'm not new here" I stated, "I've been here for well over a year."

"Oh..." he mumbled, soon joining in with my laughter. "Sorry. Name's Matthew. Or Matt, whatever."
"You can call me Abbie."
"Is that short for something?"
I stared at him. No-one had asked me this before, I had assumed Abbie was a common first name its self. "Abilene," I responded.
"I see," he said with a grin, "Abbie seemed like such a simple name for someone so pretty."
That was me; my face burned bright red and he laughed. "T-thanks..." I said quietly, allowing my long fringe to tumble carelessly across my face. I hoped it would hide my odd colour. I looked down.
He spoke again, his voice smooth and gentle, "Do you know what your name means?"
"I- um... no." I regained enough composure to lift my gaze again. He looked so casual yet so... different. Pretty in a boyish way. Very pretty.
From the front room came a crash. Matt cursed and stood, fluidly darting out the door. I stared after him in wonder, why hadn't I noticed him before? I returned to reality after I saw a little horse run through the door Matt left open. I stared at the yearling, and laughed. He returned the gaze, and whinnied gently before quickly trotting up to my side.
"Hello Buggy," I said affectionately, rubbing his velvet muzzle, "What are you doing in here? you cheeky little Bug." That was one of the perks of living in this crazy place known as "The Garage". Home to some of the finest thoroughbreds, all named after cars. Super-cars.

The place was much more hectic than other stables, because most of the staff here are messed up in some way or another. Caibou, the second-in-command is a reformed alcholoic... she has a tendency to flirt with the younger stable-hands. Which is generally hilarious. And every other day, a horse will get into the ranch house. They all have their favourite junk food. Hyundai loves Pringles, but only salt and vinegar ones, our little Ford Mustang will go crazy for rice crispies and Aston Martin- one of our finest- likes a bit of a drink. When he breaks in, he's normally found draining the beer kegs intended for ornamental use... and we have no idea who taught him how to do this.

Matt staggered back in the door, holding onto the halter of another yearling, Ford Mustang. It appeared as if she was pulling him around. Buggy (or Bugatti as his full name is) looked over to her and snorted, flicking his ears forwards. Seconds later, he looked up at me, his pretty brown eyes holding the expression, '... it wasn't me...' I couldn't help myself, I just burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" complained Matt, glaring at me.
"Everything," I laughed, "Just... everything." I stood up and walked past Matt, grinning at him weirdly on my exit. He was obviously not used to the terrible two-some, which amused me further. Bugatti followed behind me, while his sister tried in vain to follow, 'wheel-spinning' on the smooth floor boards.

I continued with the occasional giggle until I was outside in the fresh air. I looked around me and smiled. The birds in the nearby trees sung and the sweet-smelling wind lightly played with my hair. I looked over my shoulder to a pasture down the hill, where someone was trying and failing at riding a horse. I watched as he flew off the horse and landed a good few metres away on his butt. I heard laughter and looked over to the fence line. A throng of boys stood, slapping their thighs with sheer hysteria at the other falling. This is my home. No matter how odd or weird it may seem, how hectic it may be, no matter how hard things get, The Garage will always be my home.


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