HOME | DD

Description

~~~~~~~~~~~

Horse: TOW Super Trouper

Rider: Lance Visser

Event: Storms Incoming (effort based, held on instagram)
~~~~~~~~~~~
TW: Discussions of cancer and terminal illness, death.

The rain bounced off the tarmac in sheets, rough grey flooring glittering in the car headlights like an oil spill. Raindrops raced down the car window, flags whipped in the wind with viciousness, competitors and attendees alike huddled under marquees that would probably end up blown into the ocean in a few hours. Lance’s hand skittered over the door handle as he tapped it incessantly, hood already pulled up as Maureen shoved the plastic bag of passports and paperwork into the inside of her jacket.

“Don’t think it’s going off.” She muttered, glancing out at the grey storm clouds gathered above them.

“Are we just legging it then?”

“Probably. You’re getting wet no matter what today.”

Well, she had a point. The thunder had hounded their car all of the ride here, and the black skies showed very little sign of letting up.

“Yeah, fuck it. Let’s go.”

The doors slammed behind them as Lance and Maureen made a break for the temporary stable block, the usual beach sounds of the ocean and the birds drowned out by the tannoys and the weather. He pulled the toggles on his hoodie as if that was going to help how drenched he’d be by the time he competed. Thunder crashed across the skies and the noise reverberated through his bones.

Yeah. This was sure going to be a show.

------

“Do you remember Eloise Thompson?”

Maureen turned to look at Lance, his expression distant and distracted. The pair were huddled by Roman’s stall, the horse pacing in circles as Addison tried to fuss with braids in his mane.

“Leave them, Addison. Doesn’t matter.” She muttered, and Addison wandered over to the front of the stall to rest their arms on the metal. Maureen avoided Lance’s gaze, but Addison only stared inquisitively.

“What did you say?”

“Do you, uh… remember Eloise Thompson?”

Addison’s expression tightened, their gaze immediately snapping down to where their chipped fingernails were picking at the metal of the stall door. Of course Addison remembered.

May 2021. The Prehistoric Grand Prix.

The noise was all he could hear. Very quickly he realised his win was not going to be the thing people remembered from this event, no. The girl laid on the ground surrounded by the paramedics, blood sheeting from her mouth to the white collar of her shirt, clumps already starting to congeal from oxidation. People were yelling, crying, staring slack-jawed at the scene as the rider’s sister sat next to her in tears. Addison was holding Hyde, flecks of blood on the pommel of his saddle, eyes wide and hands trembling as Hyde yanked at their grip, the whites of his eyes flashing in the starlight as they struggled to hold on.

“What happened here?” Lance asked, placing a hand on their shoulder and using the other to steady Vince, his own mount for the competition.

“I- I don’t know, Lance- she just fell off and there was all the blood and- and her sister said something about cancer and she's gone, Lance. She’s gone.”

Eloise Thompson, the girl he’d let take Hyde for this event, had died on the back of Hyde as he crossed the finish line.

“... Of course I remember that.” Addison muttered, their usual easy demeanour gone. “That was one of the worst days of my life.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry to bring it up without warning.” Lance responded, his own hands playing with the top of his packet of cigarettes, his thumb running over the ends of the half-pack he still had in there.

“You can’t smoke in here.” Maureen chided, and then gestured to the rain outside. The stables were covered thankfully, but their conversation was still drowned out by the sound of rain thrashing against the roof, spooking many of the horses. “Besides, have fun trying to light it out there.”

“I’m not lighting it.” He responded swiftly, closing the packet and shoving his hands back in his pocket taking the box with it.

“Why did you bring that up, Lance?” Addison asked, running a hand down Roman’s neck as the stallion seemed to join the conversation.

Lance paused, glancing between Addison and the horse attempting to weigh up if he should tell them, biting at the inside of his lip ring.

“It was lung cancer that killed her, right?”

Maureen glanced at his pocket and back to him, saying nothing.

“... Yeah. That’s what her family said.”

“My dad just got diagnosed with it.”

Silence fell between the three - or, as close to silence as they could get with the extreme weather outside. The gap in their voices was filled with another crack of thunder, Roman’s ears flicking nervously.

“Good. Fucker deserves it.”

“Maureen!” Addison yelped, frantically glancing at Lance to see his reaction. He’d never spoken much about his parents in front of them and what Addison did know was that their relationship was poor at best, but even then her remarks felt extreme. Lance just snorted, a tired smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe. He’s not exactly an angel. I don’t know. My mum wants me to reach out to him, offer… support, or something.”

“They just want to absolve him of any guilt he has at your expense. Tell your Mum to go fuck herself.”

“Maybe. Sorry for bringing the mood down.”

Just at that, lightning cracked outside the stables, coating the sky in a bright sheen before fading away.

“The mood was already down. Addison, go tack up that horse.”

------

That day back in 2021, it had been Vince that Lance rode to the win on, a stocky grey LP stallion that he’d never quite clicked with, and now, on this wet night, it wasn’t Vince he was sat on - it was his son all grown up.

Roman was a true honour to his lineage, with his sire’s appaloosa markings but the long slender build of his RPW dam. A real showstopper and a catch to any rider, Lance didn’t even hesitate before offering to buy the horse - a decision he certainly didn’t regret now. In this weather with rain very literally bouncing off his coat, many horses of his age and inexperience wouldn’t even be able to leave the stall without having a breakdown, but Roman seemed to be taking it all in his stride. He was overwhelmed, sure - but he was working through it. Lance cantered the stallion around the warm up, the wet sand sticking to Roman’s hooves with every stride and both of them soaked to the skin. The wind whipped Roman’s loose mane back and forth with a ferocity; it almost burned every time it hit the bare skin on his wrists, and he could barely see where he was going with the rain. The only thing he could hear over the crashing waves was the rushed beating of his own heart, and he was trusting Addison to hear the attendant call out his name when it was time to ride.

Lance’s hands trembled - from the weather or his mother’s call, he didn’t know. The information hadn’t quite sunk in yet. That, or this numb ambivalence was the best he was getting. He’d spent his first ten years terrified of his father and the last twenty complaining about him, wishing karma would catch up to every crime and affair his father had indulged in, but when his mum had told him the news all he could do was quietly thank her and put the phone down.

How was he meant to know what to feel? After everything, how could he know what to do next?

Roman snorted under him and leapt to the side as lightning crashed over the landscape once more, the poor stallion getting more jittery by the second. Lance glanced over at Addison who gave him a thumbs up, but no sign that it was his time to go into the arena. So, Lance attempted to keep the horse moving forward and begged the current rider to hurry up on the course. Just at that, the crowd shifted and he could see sand flying everywhere as the contestant hit the dirt, taking down half the jump with them. His eyes widened as the body remained still, the horse held by one of the stewards.

Eloise.

Just at that, the body moved, and he let out a sigh.

It was always easy as an equestrian to forget the risks he took every day, the inherent danger of what he did. But now, here, flooded with memories of that day two years ago in weather proving to be genuinely terrifying, it was like he’d just been hit in the face by his own mortality.

He could go into that arena and not come back out. Like Eloise.

He could go home and have a cigarette and wake up the next day realising the mistake. Like his Dad.

“Lance!”

Addison’s voice was almost lost in the wind, but the previous rider had cleared out of the arena and the grounds crew had set the jumps back up, beckoning him into the thundering arena.

Giving Roman one final pat on the neck as they trotted into the arena, a backdrop of lightning and thick silver storm clouds, he forced the guilt and the fear deep down into the pit of his stomach as the bell rang out.

He could go to sleep and not wake up. But that didn’t mean he was going to, and he was going to come out of that arena.

—————
Ref: Mapal-stock

Description

~~~~~~~~~~~

Horse: TOW Super Trouper

Rider: Lance Visser

Event: Storms Incoming (effort based, held on instagram)
~~~~~~~~~~~
TW: Discussions of cancer and terminal illness, death.

The rain bounced off the tarmac in sheets, rough grey flooring glittering in the car headlights like an oil spill. Raindrops raced down the car window, flags whipped in the wind with viciousness, competitors and attendees alike huddled under marquees that would probably end up blown into the ocean in a few hours. Lance’s hand skittered over the door handle as he tapped it incessantly, hood already pulled up as Maureen shoved the plastic bag of passports and paperwork into the inside of her jacket.

“Don’t think it’s going off.” She muttered, glancing out at the grey storm clouds gathered above them.

“Are we just legging it then?”

“Probably. You’re getting wet no matter what today.”

Well, she had a point. The thunder had hounded their car all of the ride here, and the black skies showed very little sign of letting up.

“Yeah, fuck it. Let’s go.”

The doors slammed behind them as Lance and Maureen made a break for the temporary stable block, the usual beach sounds of the ocean and the birds drowned out by the tannoys and the weather. He pulled the toggles on his hoodie as if that was going to help how drenched he’d be by the time he competed. Thunder crashed across the skies and the noise reverberated through his bones.

Yeah. This was sure going to be a show.

------

“Do you remember Eloise Thompson?”

Maureen turned to look at Lance, his expression distant and distracted. The pair were huddled by Roman’s stall, the horse pacing in circles as Addison tried to fuss with braids in his mane.

“Leave them, Addison. Doesn’t matter.” She muttered, and Addison wandered over to the front of the stall to rest their arms on the metal. Maureen avoided Lance’s gaze, but Addison only stared inquisitively.

“What did you say?”

“Do you, uh… remember Eloise Thompson?”

Addison’s expression tightened, their gaze immediately snapping down to where their chipped fingernails were picking at the metal of the stall door. Of course Addison remembered.

May 2021. The Prehistoric Grand Prix.

The noise was all he could hear. Very quickly he realised his win was not going to be the thing people remembered from this event, no. The girl laid on the ground surrounded by the paramedics, blood sheeting from her mouth to the white collar of her shirt, clumps already starting to congeal from oxidation. People were yelling, crying, staring slack-jawed at the scene as the rider’s sister sat next to her in tears. Addison was holding Hyde, flecks of blood on the pommel of his saddle, eyes wide and hands trembling as Hyde yanked at their grip, the whites of his eyes flashing in the starlight as they struggled to hold on.

“What happened here?” Lance asked, placing a hand on their shoulder and using the other to steady Vince, his own mount for the competition.

“I- I don’t know, Lance- she just fell off and there was all the blood and- and her sister said something about cancer and she's gone, Lance. She’s gone.”

Eloise Thompson, the girl he’d let take Hyde for this event, had died on the back of Hyde as he crossed the finish line.

“... Of course I remember that.” Addison muttered, their usual easy demeanour gone. “That was one of the worst days of my life.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry to bring it up without warning.” Lance responded, his own hands playing with the top of his packet of cigarettes, his thumb running over the ends of the half-pack he still had in there.

“You can’t smoke in here.” Maureen chided, and then gestured to the rain outside. The stables were covered thankfully, but their conversation was still drowned out by the sound of rain thrashing against the roof, spooking many of the horses. “Besides, have fun trying to light it out there.”

“I’m not lighting it.” He responded swiftly, closing the packet and shoving his hands back in his pocket taking the box with it.

“Why did you bring that up, Lance?” Addison asked, running a hand down Roman’s neck as the stallion seemed to join the conversation.

Lance paused, glancing between Addison and the horse attempting to weigh up if he should tell them, biting at the inside of his lip ring.

“It was lung cancer that killed her, right?”

Maureen glanced at his pocket and back to him, saying nothing.

“... Yeah. That’s what her family said.”

“My dad just got diagnosed with it.”

Silence fell between the three - or, as close to silence as they could get with the extreme weather outside. The gap in their voices was filled with another crack of thunder, Roman’s ears flicking nervously.

“Good. Fucker deserves it.”

“Maureen!” Addison yelped, frantically glancing at Lance to see his reaction. He’d never spoken much about his parents in front of them and what Addison did know was that their relationship was poor at best, but even then her remarks felt extreme. Lance just snorted, a tired smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe. He’s not exactly an angel. I don’t know. My mum wants me to reach out to him, offer… support, or something.”

“They just want to absolve him of any guilt he has at your expense. Tell your Mum to go fuck herself.”

“Maybe. Sorry for bringing the mood down.”

Just at that, lightning cracked outside the stables, coating the sky in a bright sheen before fading away.

“The mood was already down. Addison, go tack up that horse.”

------

That day back in 2021, it had been Vince that Lance rode to the win on, a stocky grey LP stallion that he’d never quite clicked with, and now, on this wet night, it wasn’t Vince he was sat on - it was his son all grown up.

Roman was a true honour to his lineage, with his sire’s appaloosa markings but the long slender build of his RPW dam. A real showstopper and a catch to any rider, Lance didn’t even hesitate before offering to buy the horse - a decision he certainly didn’t regret now. In this weather with rain very literally bouncing off his coat, many horses of his age and inexperience wouldn’t even be able to leave the stall without having a breakdown, but Roman seemed to be taking it all in his stride. He was overwhelmed, sure - but he was working through it. Lance cantered the stallion around the warm up, the wet sand sticking to Roman’s hooves with every stride and both of them soaked to the skin. The wind whipped Roman’s loose mane back and forth with a ferocity; it almost burned every time it hit the bare skin on his wrists, and he could barely see where he was going with the rain. The only thing he could hear over the crashing waves was the rushed beating of his own heart, and he was trusting Addison to hear the attendant call out his name when it was time to ride.

Lance’s hands trembled - from the weather or his mother’s call, he didn’t know. The information hadn’t quite sunk in yet. That, or this numb ambivalence was the best he was getting. He’d spent his first ten years terrified of his father and the last twenty complaining about him, wishing karma would catch up to every crime and affair his father had indulged in, but when his mum had told him the news all he could do was quietly thank her and put the phone down.

How was he meant to know what to feel? After everything, how could he know what to do next?

Roman snorted under him and leapt to the side as lightning crashed over the landscape once more, the poor stallion getting more jittery by the second. Lance glanced over at Addison who gave him a thumbs up, but no sign that it was his time to go into the arena. So, Lance attempted to keep the horse moving forward and begged the current rider to hurry up on the course. Just at that, the crowd shifted and he could see sand flying everywhere as the contestant hit the dirt, taking down half the jump with them. His eyes widened as the body remained still, the horse held by one of the stewards.

Eloise.

Just at that, the body moved, and he let out a sigh.

It was always easy as an equestrian to forget the risks he took every day, the inherent danger of what he did. But now, here, flooded with memories of that day two years ago in weather proving to be genuinely terrifying, it was like he’d just been hit in the face by his own mortality.

He could go into that arena and not come back out. Like Eloise.

He could go home and have a cigarette and wake up the next day realising the mistake. Like his Dad.

“Lance!”

Addison’s voice was almost lost in the wind, but the previous rider had cleared out of the arena and the grounds crew had set the jumps back up, beckoning him into the thundering arena.

Giving Roman one final pat on the neck as they trotted into the arena, a backdrop of lightning and thick silver storm clouds, he forced the guilt and the fear deep down into the pit of his stomach as the bell rang out.

He could go to sleep and not wake up. But that didn’t mean he was going to, and he was going to come out of that arena.

—————
Ref: Mapal-stock