HOME | DD

Description
It has been a while....

To all of you that have been following this storyline since pre-panini days, thank you

Previously: Don't watch me cry || Part 13
It was a little before 7am. In the darkness, with the sun just beginning to creep above the horizon, the deep howl from the North sea ripped through Eleanor’s bones. While the light often broke the horizon much earlier in the far north, the Scottish days were becoming increasingly short with daylight seemingly fleeting. And even then, the daylight was often overshadowed by howling gales and horizontal downpours. The only clothing Eleanor was able to reach from her chair, a t-shirt and jogging bottoms, rippled across her body, air filling the fabric where there used to be skin as she wrestled to open the sliding green door to her true home.
The barn was a welcome contrast to the outside world. Exposed, on the hillside, it provided a place of shelter, but also meant much more to many who walked its aisles. Eleanor propelled her chair slowly down those aisles, accompanied by the gentle regular clicking of her fingernails along the wooden panels of the stable doors. However, the clicks slowed as she noticed the tension was not lifted from her shoulders. It had been so long, and they had been through so much together, that she worried her port in the storm may not catch her if she was to fall once more.
Eleanor closed her eyes in an attempt to focus on the sound and hold back the tears, but a wave of anxiety hit the pit of her stomach. She knew that Alan would be up soon and notice that she was not there. Angie would be here, along with Skye and the other stable hands, and the stables would be back to the hive of activity that she was now not a part of. Perhaps she didn’t want to be a part of this anymore. Over the past few months she had found peace in Alan’s cheerful ramblings of the day’s events at the dinner table. It seemed like enough.
People’s faces and potential awkward greetings and conversations flashed through her mind as she propelled down the stable block to find her old friend. Any sounds from horses in their stalls was drowned out by the wind rattling the shingles, but as she continued down the aisle it in fact seemed that the majority of the horses were out on the hill. Without hesitation Eleanor grabbed her favourite headcollar from the side of an open stable door, and headed back out to face the elements. Thankfully, the sun had broken over the hill; and, while not bright, illuminated the specks of black and grey that deckled the hillside. She opened the gate with a clatter which caused heads to lift and the specks to grow bigger. Her hands fumbled, fingers numb, attempting to pull the phone out of her pocket and snap a picture as the warmbloods thundered towards her. Up close the pampered princes and princesses never looked like they would survive here. But from afar, they were very much a natural feature of the Scottish landscape.
As the rumble of hooves grew closer Elly watched in awe, the corners of her mouth resting a contented smile, tracing her thumb over the soft leather headcollar held tightly within her grasp. A backup measure really, but something felt odd about gathering the horses without one. It was tired, but the leather still told of times where it was treated with great attention and care. The memories filled Elly’s bones with much needed warmth, nostalgic of the days her mother would take her out to the hill as a bairn* to catch the ‘ponies’; and indeed still emblazoned the nameplate of the horse that started it all, Winnie.
Elly was quickly snapped back to her cold reality as Rain galloped past her wheelchair, rattling the spindles. Elly quickly turned her head to watch the mare attempt an emergency stop, shoes screeching along the concrete as she tried not to miss the turn. Having accomplished her mission, perhaps with slightly less dignity than she was aiming for, Rain snorted and showed off with a playful buck before trotting into the byre. Elly couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement watching Rain’s attempt to relive her youth.
The rest of the horses were not far behind their matron, woolly monsters excitedly anticipating their breakfast. As she waited, Elly flicked back through the photos she had taken, trying to select the most ‘insta-worthy’. With a quick edit and a ‘favourite’ so she would remember which photo she had chosen, Elly swiped off her camera app, however noticed, in the split second before then locking it, a message notification. Curiosity getting the better of her, she unlocked her phone, only to click on the app and remember that it was an unread notification from what now seemed like a very long time ago.
It was a message that arrived while she was in the hospital. She didn’t know what to say then, and still didn’t know what to say now, but she knew he deserved a reply. The daily pang of guilt hit her once more. She still hadn’t opened the message, believing that was somehow better than leaving him ‘on read’. She wanted nothing more than to be able to craft a worthy reply and had spent many hours agonising over the words, but still could not articulate what she wanted to say. However, this time, before she could think, her body took over and tapped to open the message. Elly exhaled deeply, somewhat relieved that the pressure from the notification which so haunted her was no more, yet the guilt did not lessen.
Eleanor stared at the message, entranced, unaware of the remaining horses from the hill cantering past to settle in their stalls. Eventually, the rumble of hoofbeats dissipated, leaving just the howling gale to accompany her empty thoughts. She had always found the wind soothing, like a natural white noise machine. There wasn’t much that ever stayed constant in this world, but she had increasingly learnt to take such comforts where she could get them. She sighed, looking out over the hills just as her mother and generations before had done as the sun was fighting with the thick cloud cover being brought over with the storm. Perhaps she didn’t need to say anything at all. Without missing a beat, Elly looked down once more and opened her camera roll, selected the favourited picture and pressed send. It was done. Something. Not much. Not a deserved response. A picture of a place that held her heart, to someone that did also.

*bairn = child

Reference: LuDa-Stock

Description
It has been a while....

To all of you that have been following this storyline since pre-panini days, thank you

Previously: Don't watch me cry || Part 13
It was a little before 7am. In the darkness, with the sun just beginning to creep above the horizon, the deep howl from the North sea ripped through Eleanor’s bones. While the light often broke the horizon much earlier in the far north, the Scottish days were becoming increasingly short with daylight seemingly fleeting. And even then, the daylight was often overshadowed by howling gales and horizontal downpours. The only clothing Eleanor was able to reach from her chair, a t-shirt and jogging bottoms, rippled across her body, air filling the fabric where there used to be skin as she wrestled to open the sliding green door to her true home.
The barn was a welcome contrast to the outside world. Exposed, on the hillside, it provided a place of shelter, but also meant much more to many who walked its aisles. Eleanor propelled her chair slowly down those aisles, accompanied by the gentle regular clicking of her fingernails along the wooden panels of the stable doors. However, the clicks slowed as she noticed the tension was not lifted from her shoulders. It had been so long, and they had been through so much together, that she worried her port in the storm may not catch her if she was to fall once more.
Eleanor closed her eyes in an attempt to focus on the sound and hold back the tears, but a wave of anxiety hit the pit of her stomach. She knew that Alan would be up soon and notice that she was not there. Angie would be here, along with Skye and the other stable hands, and the stables would be back to the hive of activity that she was now not a part of. Perhaps she didn’t want to be a part of this anymore. Over the past few months she had found peace in Alan’s cheerful ramblings of the day’s events at the dinner table. It seemed like enough.
People’s faces and potential awkward greetings and conversations flashed through her mind as she propelled down the stable block to find her old friend. Any sounds from horses in their stalls was drowned out by the wind rattling the shingles, but as she continued down the aisle it in fact seemed that the majority of the horses were out on the hill. Without hesitation Eleanor grabbed her favourite headcollar from the side of an open stable door, and headed back out to face the elements. Thankfully, the sun had broken over the hill; and, while not bright, illuminated the specks of black and grey that deckled the hillside. She opened the gate with a clatter which caused heads to lift and the specks to grow bigger. Her hands fumbled, fingers numb, attempting to pull the phone out of her pocket and snap a picture as the warmbloods thundered towards her. Up close the pampered princes and princesses never looked like they would survive here. But from afar, they were very much a natural feature of the Scottish landscape.
As the rumble of hooves grew closer Elly watched in awe, the corners of her mouth resting a contented smile, tracing her thumb over the soft leather headcollar held tightly within her grasp. A backup measure really, but something felt odd about gathering the horses without one. It was tired, but the leather still told of times where it was treated with great attention and care. The memories filled Elly’s bones with much needed warmth, nostalgic of the days her mother would take her out to the hill as a bairn* to catch the ‘ponies’; and indeed still emblazoned the nameplate of the horse that started it all, Winnie.
Elly was quickly snapped back to her cold reality as Rain galloped past her wheelchair, rattling the spindles. Elly quickly turned her head to watch the mare attempt an emergency stop, shoes screeching along the concrete as she tried not to miss the turn. Having accomplished her mission, perhaps with slightly less dignity than she was aiming for, Rain snorted and showed off with a playful buck before trotting into the byre. Elly couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement watching Rain’s attempt to relive her youth.
The rest of the horses were not far behind their matron, woolly monsters excitedly anticipating their breakfast. As she waited, Elly flicked back through the photos she had taken, trying to select the most ‘insta-worthy’. With a quick edit and a ‘favourite’ so she would remember which photo she had chosen, Elly swiped off her camera app, however noticed, in the split second before then locking it, a message notification. Curiosity getting the better of her, she unlocked her phone, only to click on the app and remember that it was an unread notification from what now seemed like a very long time ago.
It was a message that arrived while she was in the hospital. She didn’t know what to say then, and still didn’t know what to say now, but she knew he deserved a reply. The daily pang of guilt hit her once more. She still hadn’t opened the message, believing that was somehow better than leaving him ‘on read’. She wanted nothing more than to be able to craft a worthy reply and had spent many hours agonising over the words, but still could not articulate what she wanted to say. However, this time, before she could think, her body took over and tapped to open the message. Elly exhaled deeply, somewhat relieved that the pressure from the notification which so haunted her was no more, yet the guilt did not lessen.
Eleanor stared at the message, entranced, unaware of the remaining horses from the hill cantering past to settle in their stalls. Eventually, the rumble of hoofbeats dissipated, leaving just the howling gale to accompany her empty thoughts. She had always found the wind soothing, like a natural white noise machine. There wasn’t much that ever stayed constant in this world, but she had increasingly learnt to take such comforts where she could get them. She sighed, looking out over the hills just as her mother and generations before had done as the sun was fighting with the thick cloud cover being brought over with the storm. Perhaps she didn’t need to say anything at all. Without missing a beat, Elly looked down once more and opened her camera roll, selected the favourited picture and pressed send. It was done. Something. Not much. Not a deserved response. A picture of a place that held her heart, to someone that did also.

*bairn = child

Reference: LuDa-Stock