Freedom Hill Stables Novels & Stories

"In the corridors. They drop their eyes. Old Maren, who used to clip me round the ear for stealing apples off her cart, bowed to me yesterday and called me 'Beta Bianca,' and I nearly walked into a wall." "You'll get used to it." "I don't want to get used to it." But she was smiling when she said it, that crooked smile she'd always had, and underneath all the complaining, there was something new in her. Something steadier. She had grown into the room without noticing she was doing it. "I sent a man to clean the stables last week, did I tell you? A grown warrior. He spoke over me in a meeting, kept doing it after I asked him to stop, so I gave him the job that needed doing least pleasantly. H

It was the original version of Dylan’s memo. “Look at this. This is what he wrote. Free passes for letting me hurt Jenna. He turned Jenna’s pain into a quota just to keep me happy. He’s the disgusting one. He’s the real hypocrite!” She was trying to drag Dylan down with her. In that frantic confession, she ended up laying bare every single rotten thing she had done herself. Rosie’s Pasta Kitchen was left out of it this time. I had filed an intellectual property protection request with the platform, so it automatically hid my location and any identifying information.

he said mocking me, they knew the meaning of it. They knew I was a Muslim. They knew it was a necessity. Yet, they did this. I fell to the ground my long honey hair falling from the bun. I tried to yank the scarf from his feet, but I couldn't. Many took off there phones recording the whole thing. While I was numb. I deceived my god. everyone saw me and my hair. everyone was laughing when I finally succeed to pull the scarf away from his feet, it dirty stained with dirt. I pulled on my head, standing only to look at Tania, a smug look on her face.

Staring at the ceiling, my thoughts starting to disturb me again. The betrayal of my best friend. My ruthless husband. My son. And for the nth time, I'm found myself slitting my wrist again. Can somebody help me? Can someone free me from the hell that I'm staying? Save me please .. I'm really tired of living .. Lord .. Until when should I pay for my mistake? Lord, please let me rest. Lord, I can't handle anymore .. Please… free me from all the pain.

Get ready for me! As soon as I hit send, the driver pulled up to a stop. A beautiful villa came into view, the one Chandler and I had bought with the money we saved up together when we got married. This house didn't belong to the Armstrongs, nor to my family, the Elledges—it belonged to the two of us. All our sweetest memories were made here. I raised my phone, thinking Chandler would be ecstatic. But after a few minutes, he only replied with a question mark and then asked, [Are you serious?]

I lifted up my hands to try something out until Cassius cut my actions off. “It’s…” Cassius started, but Elijah finished his remarks. “Destroyed…” I felt a cool breeze behind me and whipped around to find a smirking Rhyland and Queen Fara. “Told you I’d be right... behind... you.” His words stumbled over each other as his eyes took in the new land in front of us. The beautiful flags they had spoken about dangled loosely from the flagpoles with rips and tears covering them. Buildings were broken down and looked abandoned with green moss covering them like a blanket of art.

It brought to mind the need to put fence repairs at the top of her ever-growing maintenance list. Sugar pranced proudly around her. Having been moved from the confines of a rigidly run boarding stable to the free and easy-going environment of a country estate brought surprising vigor to Tara’s equine friend. Tara could never get enough of watching her mare’s powerful muscles flex beneath her flesh as they met the demands placed on them. It was a sight to behold.

The late July sun hung low over the rolling fields of Willow Creek Farm, turning the tall grass gold and the air thick with the scent of cut hay, warm earth, and horse sweat. The day’s lessons were done; most of the boarders had already loaded their trailers and left. Only one horse remained in the outdoor arena—a big bay warmblood named Titan, still damp from his cooldown bath, ears flicking lazily as flies danced around him.

About a half hour drive later we arrive at Fantasy Farms. “There are a lot of people here.” “I own the stables but we rent out open stalls to others for their horses.” It is a big stable with being able to house thirty horses and my family owns fifteen of them. We get out of the car and my horse and a paint named Bonnie are saddled for us. I get out of the car and run to the passenger side to open Davina’s door. “Wow they’re beautiful.” “Davina meet Bonnie. She’s a very gentle mare.” Davina walks over to Bonnie and starts stroking her neck. I walk over to King.