The Story of Abdule

The Beginning

I came into the world on September 7th, 2010. It was a rainy and cold afternoon, and I remember laying next to my beautiful chestnut mother, Azula, for the majority of the day. I loved to roll and run around in our stall. I remember she had a star on her forehead, just like mine, and I would always brush hers with my muzzle when I would wake up in the morning, and she would brush mine. It was our special morning tradition. Whenever I messed up my mane, my mother would always fix it, even if one of the tiniest hairs of my forelock. Then, after 13 months, my mother stopped worrying about me and laying next to me all the time. She stopped bushing my star in the mornings. I had gotten bigger and apparently I wasn't as big of a priority to her anymore. I felt rejected. I know most colts my age wouldn't have a problem moving to another stall, but I loved my mother, more than anyone else in the world. When the people came to move me to another stall, I reared and put up a huge fight. Then the people started hitting my flank with something called a crop. It was annoying and it kind of hurt. I kept fighting. But then, the people started smacking me, beating me. Just to make me move. I stopped fighting after my face became numb from all of the hitting. But the further I got away from my mother, the more uneasy I became. I started fighting the people again, and I desperately wanted to be near Azula. I knew my mother didn't care as much about me anymore, but when I turned back to see her again, her face looked completely horrified.

"STOP HURTING MY SON!" she whinnied. She reared and started kicking her stall door. I guess the people realized that moving me to the other side of the stable was a bad idea, so they moved me back to my mother, and put me in the stall across from her. I was happy I could see her face everyday. But, when I just turned 4, I was lead out of the stable and to something called an arena. They tied my lead rope to a post, and started putting something on my back. It wasn't heavy, but it still didn't sit well with me. Suddenly, a man holding a weird looking halter came up to my face, unhooked my halter, and shoved a piece of metal into my mouth. It didn't taste well, and it was uncomfortable. The people then lead me around the arena. They did this a couple of times a week, until it became routine. This happened for 5 months, and then, after they put everything on my back and on my face, I felt something else pulling on my back. One of the people that lead me around the arena was getting on my back. Now, they were heavy. I started skidding to the side, and the person pulled back on the strings connected to the peice of metal in my mouth. It hurt, it bumped against my teeth. I reared and started bucking, in a desperate attempt to make the person stop. This happened for another few months, and it too became a routine. I didn't like this person at all. They would pull too hard on the metal in my mouth, and whipped me when I didn't do something right. Crops became my worst enemy. Whenever I saw a crop, I would freak out and start bolting. They hurt so much! I continued to suffer for another year, when, one day, my mother collapsed. She was sick, and didn't have much time left.

"My Abdule, please, find someone who loves you for you. You deserve all the happiness in the world." She fought the pain and stood up to tell me this. I reached my face across the isle, and she did the same. I brushed her star the best I could, and before she could return the action, the people came, and pushed our muzzles away.

The Gunshot was so loud, it rang in my heart.