The Price of a Horse

A Short Story

There once was a little girl who lived alone with her father. This little girl’s name was Abigail. She was as spoiled as can be. Her father worked hard everyday to provide them with cheese and meat and all the fruit they could ask for. He’d built the roof over their heads with his own two hands but Abigail wanted more. In fact, what she wanted more than all the stars in the sky, was a horse to call her own. Every night before bed she asked her father to buy her a horse, the most beautiful horse he could find. Each time came the same reply.

“Horses are very expensive Abigail.”

And that was the most he’d discuss it. Winter came and went. As the buds of the trees began to bloom so did Abigail’s frustration. She stepped out of their quaint cottage and gazed at the land around them. The ivy green fields would be perfect for riding in. There was even a little lake by the old oak tree where her horse could stop and take a drink. She had to have it. That night she asked her father again.

“Father, do let me have a horse. I’ll feed it and clean it and it’ll cause you no trouble at all.” Her father grumbled and shook his head. 

“Horses are expensive Abigail. Perhaps when you are married your husband might give you a horse. Until then I shall not be spending my hard earned coins on one.” Then he kissed her head and bid her goodnight. But Abigail was not content to wait. 

When the moon bathed her bed in silver light, she wished upon it for a horse. One more beautiful than any that walked the Earth. With her final whispered wish, she fell into a deep sleep. In the morning she woke groggily to her father rushing about the house, calling her name. I’m right here father, she tried to say but the words would not form in her mouth. Her father looked right past her and she tried to crawl to him on weak limbs. He was out in the fields now, still calling her name. Abigail was overcome with an odd feeling, as if she had been stretched on a rack. I must see myself, she thought, dragging herself towards the lake. She peered into the water, searching for the young girl she recognised. She let out a scream or rather a whinny, for in the rippling water was the most beautiful horse that had ever walked the Earth. She had become it. Her mane and tail were the golden honey colour of her hair and her coat was like spun sugar. She stumbled on wobbly legs to her father who couldn’t understand why his daughter had fled home. Why was this horse in her place? 

At first she kept trying to enter her room and sleep in her own bed, but the frame was tiny beneath her and her weight crushed it to bits. Instead she slept on a pile of blankets her father put down outside. Weeks passed. Abigail grew used to walking and then trotting. She tried many times to tell her father it was her. Once she tried to write her name in the dirt, but her hooves made awkward lines and the wind erased her message. At night her father would light a candle so that his daughter might find her way home. In the dark she heard him praying for her safe return until he fell asleep. Some days she’d wake and fail to remember at first. She’d try to speak or walk through the doorway and find herself tongue-tied and stuck. One bright Sunday morning, a farm boy came wandering down the path by their house and spotted Abigail taking a drink at the lake. Her muscles tightened as the boy called to her father.

“Twenty coins for your horse sir!”

Father wouldn’t sell her. He couldn’t. She continued to sip at the lake’s still water. And then her father replied.

“Twenty? She’s worth more than that boy.” Abigail froze.

“Horses are expensive.”