Lead Not with the Switch
Another story sketch that had started under NaNoWriMo, and remained mostly unfinished. I really enjoy the idea of the characters involved, but it's a problem of where to go from there. The wounded, gentle stallion withdrawing from the world was a theme I wish I could finish, but I failed to figure out where to take him.
Haflin snorted, his nostrils wide, his muscles tense, his hooves set, and with a mighty swing he thunked the heavy maul into the wood with a sharp, reverberating CRACK! The log split neatly in two before the shirtless, buckskin stallion, much to his own amusement. "Ha, practically out of a movie." The log seemed unimpressed, but a jaybird a few trees away warbled appreciatively.
The horse's smile slipped as he stared around a moment at the small, empty, rural yard, just the birds commenting on his swing, before he set his expression once more, as well as setting up the next log.
Anything to keep him away from the 'chirp!' of his phone. It's zen, it's focus, letting those noises just fade into the background like so much warbling chatter. The buckskin stallion scowled, brushing his mane out of his eyes, wiping sweat from his brow. Yes, work. That's what he needed. It'll all blow over. The worries and frustrations of the week would seep away.
Thankfully his family hadn't yet figured out social networking; It always could have been worse.
The stallion snorted, trying to brush the thought away, ears burning for a moment. Sure, it's one thing to have certain interests and fantasies. It's another for your vengeful Ex to post photos from your Fetlife account to the public.
Thunk! Another log split cleanly, almost too easy, with just one swing. It was more about finesse than strength, less about brute force and knowing just where to apply the smallest amount of pressure to make the wood want to open.
He grimaced again, thankfully only a few of his coworkers had seen the link before it was deleted, but it still got around, thanks to an old not-so-subtle friend who used too many 'lololol's when he re-posted one of the photos. One with bits, tack, leather, and not much else. He squeeeezed the maul, before the large horse forced himself to relax. Zen. Calm. Woodsplitting.
Another log spit before him, with a nice little pile growing ready for the fireplace.
"Need some help?" Someone was intruding on his zen, his isolation! One of those red foxes on one of those high-end mountain bikes. The helmeted vixen rolled forward, coming to a stop aside the pile of unsplit wood, leaning over her handlebars. "Heard someone working outside, thought I'd stop by!"
"Mmmhmm." Haflin wasn't in a mood for company, not in the slightest, and his posture said so; turning away to set the next log. "I'll be fine. Just getting some air." He preempted the unasked question and his tone told her to go away, though not unpolitely. "Thanks for stopping though. If ya hear me screaming, I'm sure it's just because I chopped a hoof off. Make sure to let the ambulance know not to run over my flowers!"
"Haf..." She wasn't leaving. Haflin grumbled inwardly about concerned neighbors. Even when they live half a mile down the road they seem to want to intrude. He was too kind to push her back down that road however. "Look, I heard about what happened with Charlene."
"We broke up." That was saying it mildly. Truthfully, he broke up with her...and then the shouting started. First in person, then all over the internet.
"I mean everything else, are you doing alright?"
"Why wouldn't I be? We split ways, she got mad and threw a fit online. It's not like we're getting back together." He should never have opened up to her, never have exposed his inner self. Charlene. Haflin snorted, shaking out his mane as that face pierced his inner calm, the horse squeezed that maul once more, muscles trembling for a moment before the zen took hold. "It's over. I've blocked her, deleted her number, and forgotten about it. It's over.
Thunk!
He didn't want to be rude, didn't want the sympathy. He just wanted to be left alone! Just him and the birds and the woods.
Thunk!
"I just...I mean, if you want to talk about it, I can understand how..."
Thunk!
"Will you just stop for a second!"
Haflin paused with a tired, grumbling nicker. Tossing the maul against the logs, he set himself on that stump and finally gave her The Look. Much to his frustration, the vixen seemed intent on continuing.
"What happened between you two?"
"I don't want to get into it."
"I've just never seen you so upset! I mean, if it's just about the photos, I thought they were actually quite tasteful, and there's nothing wrong in enjoying some spice in the bedroom. I doubt anyone's faulting you for-"
"I said I don't want to get into it."
Those large, attractive black ears flicking back along her helmet. He had to admit, she was still pretty, even with all that protective gear. That ship had sailed a long time ago, however. "Alright, alright, I can take a hint. I'm not trying to pry..." There was a pause, as if she were waiting for him to offer up anything, but the horse was silent. "Still, I'm here if you want to talk about it, or at least down the road. I just worry about you." She was already turning to leave,
Haflin scowled, rubbing and brushing back his mane and ears, tail flitting in annoyance. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm just..." Hurt? Humiliated? Hermit-minded? "Hard headed. Do you want some coffee at least, I could use a break."
That's what he should have said, rather than remaining quiet. He should have said something, anything, but the fox was already cycling away, out of the farmyard before all that he didn't say could be taken back.
Haflin squeezed the maul handle, staring at the chipped, sharp edge, battered by long use. With a scowl, he buried it into the stump, returned to the house, and withdrew further from the world.
Zen escaped for today.