Guten Tag, Ich heisse Annawookie. :) Haha yeah manz i know German (my surname is german so i guess it isn't completely shocking.)Anway for you who don't speak german i said "Hello. My name is Annawookie" But you already knew that of course!
Ok there was a reason for my introductory sentence being German. This story, as you might of realised, is about a horse in the war. Well as some of you might know, i enjoy pushing my writing skills further out of my comfort zone that is my wonderful Pokemon fanfic "The Adventure to Johto through my Nintendo DS" in order to see how well i can write. (I don't find it that wonderful, don't worry i aren't bigheaded or cocky haha. Actually it frustrates me as i feel obliged to write it well) Anyway i am going of topic so i shall return. In order to test my abilities i came to the conclusion my character Blaze me born and bred in Germany instead of England (which would be more obvious since i live there). It is based off my Warpoem i wrote abouit 2 years ago so i would suggest and highly reccomed reading that first as you may understand this better then. I wasn't gonna upload it but as i adore you all so much i threw caution to the wind and did anyway.
I only finished it last night and since it was to be handed in to my class this morning for a first draft, any critiques or constructive criticism would be not only kind on a personal level but also you will be potentially helping me boost my final grade in English. In which case i would love you all. I may not update this for a litlle while since i stopped writing my beloved first FF story-child's "TATJTMND" halfway through the next chapter so probably will focus on it for the time being. Please review as i do my happy little review dance when i see i have new reviews ^-^ Ok, i have talked wayyyyyyyyyyyy too much for you guys. If you are still with me and your brain hasn't exploded i applaude you ;)
AnnaWookie ^-^
28th July 1914. The year the so called "war to end all wars" began. A war where 8,556,315 men and 8 million horses perished. I am one of those 8 million horses. Where once I was a mighty fine creature, now I am now literally a ghost of my former self. From a distance you may see me standing alone on the battlefield and think I am merely a loose, feral horse. In reality I am an unwilling soldier, a victim, a prisoner of this war that once ravaged the field I now haunt. The steady flow of blood, ever constantly seeping from the sorrowful black pools that once were once eyes that sparked with life, is a reflection of the suffering I was thrust into. The only thing that makes my life worthwhile is my partner and best friend Fredreich. NO! Don't back away from me! I realise my appearance is slightly unpleasant now but it appears to be fated that you and I are to share this story of mine. The tale I will tell you is how me and Fredreich were battling for a cause neither of us understood, yet gave our lives for.
My earliest memories are of the tranquil pasture I shared with my mother and brother. The three of us would often graze on the lush spring grass and drink the cool water from the small lake-like body of water at the edge of our field. As a foal I always was fascinated by the glistening, shiny green and blue dragonflies that gathered there to mate. I was given the name Blaze, due to how my orange coat looked like a fire according to my owner.
For four years I spent my days either galloping around the field with my herd or being "broken to ride" as I believe you humans call it by the man who bred me. This I found to be rather unpleasant. The metallic bit left my mouth slightly cold and felt unnatural in my young mind. However with support from my mother and brother and many friendly titbits from my owner, I endured it. Within six months my owner was riding me around the village.
My days followed a similar pattern. Begin my grazing in the field, eat the feed our owner brought us before I was ridden out around the farms dirt tracks connecting the fields together. Finally we would get fed again before spending our evenings tucked up underneath the large tree's. This life may sound blissfully easy but to me I was rather bored of it all. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I wanted to be out ploughing a field all day or pulling a little dogcart full of fruit to the market every morning I just felt my life was meant for something more. How quickly I would turn back to that former life now given the chance.
In the upcoming months I had heard my owner, I believe his name was Uwe Kopf, rumours about a possibility of war on the horizon. At first my owner dismissed it cheerfully stating that it was nothing but scaremongering tactics used by the allies in order to put us in our place. However within a month his face would contort into a worried grimace at the mention of this. I didn't quite understand this concept at the time (why would I? No other species of animal but humans chose to use such violence to willing inflict such an extent of harm on its own kind.) but could sense the tension mounting from the people of the village. One rather gloomy day Anke, Uwe's wife came out to find him. In her small hands she held a piece of creased paper. Without an utterance she placed a hand on her husbands shoulder and grimaced. "It's happened. Its finally happened Uwe. Germany is at War." That short sentence was one that was bound to change my life forever.
Once the news of Germany's involvement in a war became widespread the tone began to change. People, usually ready to go out of their way to aid one another with a cheery demeanour were silent and reserved. Young men, normally seen labouring on the land or in barges disappeared. Every now and again a women would be seen collapsing to the ground, an emotional wreck, with a small letter clenched tightly in her hand. To my young mind all this was incomprehensible and confusing. My mother though appeared to have a greater understanding of these strange events. She appeared saddened by this concept of war. Looking back on it maybe she had seen what would become of me or had understood that I was fated to be heavily involved in it all. I never got the chance to ask her.
Herr Gregor is a good friend of Ewe and Anke's. He often came around to visit, always accompanied by his Rottweiler, so I found it not unusual for him to be walking up the driveway early one morning. As he passed I noted his gaze lingered on me. Pricking my ears forwards in curiosity, I scanned the grey haired figure for any obvious signs of a tasty carrot or apple. Seeing none I returned my attention to the long grass of the meadow once again. At the time I saw nothing strange about this. Both myself and my brother, Chance are young energetic horses. Many people in the small village didn't understand my owners, both well into their 50's, kept us rather than send us to a horse auction like most older people did with foals to light to be of use for farm work. Herr Gregor left the house a few hours later with a troubled frown. Later Uwe came out to the field. Though he tried to be aloof as he affectionately scratched behind my mothers brown ears, (she was his special friend) we were all sensing an emotional imbalance in his body. It wasn't clear why until 2 days later.
Early in the morning, both Anke and Uwe came down to the field and led me out. Slipping my head collar over my face, they murmured softly to me. Though all the attention was pleasurable, I didn't understand what had brought it on. With a click of her tongue Anke led me forwards and down the drive. Obediently I followed, too curious of my surroundings to even think of fighting.
As the three of us neared the top of the drive I spotted Herr Gregor standing at the roadside. At the sight of us, he jumped to life and slowly approached. Taking the end of the lead rope from Anke, the old man slowly led me forwards. A few metres passed before it dawned on me that my owners were no longer at my side. Pausing I glance round, frantically searching for them. I see them standing where we met Herr Gregor. This must be what the meaning of the term "sold" is that I have been hearing recently. At that moment I hear two frantic whinnies from my mother and Chance. I whinny back telling them I am scared and confused. They continue to call to me. Jumping back I attempt to yank the lead rope from the man's grip. All I want is to return to my herd and my owners.
I am forced onwards until we come to a place full of other horses and men in grey uniforms and trench coats. The men here look young and eager and keep mentioning "war" and "trenches" and "cavalry soldiers". All of this I find very confusing. Herr Gregor hands me to another man who takes me to a dark stable. I whinny mournfully, for I am alone for the first time in my life in a dark isolated place away from my mother.
It is in this manor I spend two days. The sound of footsteps approaches accompanied by voices. Infuriated by my dark surroundings and lack of familiarity I stomp my foot against the base of the stable. A man, in his late 20's comes to collect me. Though he has done me no wrong, my temper is to flared up for me to be submissive. As the bolt slides away I push my weight against the door and charge out into the bright daylight. Though it dazzles me briefly I charge across the place a few yards before stopping abruptly. Every muscle in my body is quivering with tension and I flare my nostrils in irritation. No-one dares approach me in my current state. Apart from one.
I hear the slight scuffling sound of footsteps from my left. Turning my attention towards it I spy a slender boy with dark features standing there, talking to me softly. Keeping his eyes low and his body language neutral, the boy, for he must be of the minimum age to be a soldier, approaches me. Though I would normally repel him, something stops me. Is this boy, this young soldier like me. A juvenile encouraged or forced into becoming a part of some great thing. I allow him to run his hand along my neck until he grasps my head collar. Unlike most soldiers here, he holds them as if they were a tiny bird he doesn't wish to crush. This, though it may sound like nothing is bliss for a horse to experience when most people don't seem to care that often what is at the other end of the reins in their hands is actually the softest part of my mouth. I lower my head submissively and he runs my forehead affectionately.
"It's just like father said eh Fredreich? If you respect these creatures they will respect you greater." A voice said. Turning my head I spy a man, similar in features to Fredreich, but with sandy flecks in his hair standing next to a grey stallion. The stallion whickers softly in greeting. I return it, cautious of this powerful male horse who stands before me.
"Guten Tag Ailbe. Yes this is certainly a fine creature. Hey I think she is as well bred as your Quicksilver there" Fredreich replied, his voice as calming as his touch. Ailbe laughed and patted his stallion, Quicksilver.
"True, If we weren't all tied up in this hellhole, they would make a nice foal. Tell you what, my young brother. Since it appears all my other soldiers are incapable of understanding this mare, how about she be your mount." Captain Ailbe suggested. Fredreich nodded, his face breaking into a smile.
"Absolutely. I will put her in the stall next to Quicksilver then maybe he can teach her some tolerance." He joked. It appeared Ailbe's personality matched his name, for I got the impression he was both noble and intelligent. Fredreich Lead me into line next to the great stallion. Quicksilver greeted me, obviously as curious about me as I was him. Though his calmness suggested otherwise, this horse appeared only a year older than me.
From that point onwards I and Quicksilver were never far apart. Though I didn't know it at the time that day I made my closest companions of my whole life in Ailbe, Quicksilver Fredreich, the only person I can ever truly call my master. If only I understood at the time, how much my and Quicksilver lives were about to change, I would of never allowed us to board that boat destined for France and its trenches….
