Where the Horses Run Wild, a True Ghostly Tale by Terry Spear
When I was young, I devoured every ghost story I could, but I’d never come across any real ones. They were strictly fantasy. After the story I tell here, I’ve had a couple of more experiences, but today, I wanted to share my first!
Have you ever encountered a ghost in your wanderings? I have...but the first one wasn't the usual human type spirit.
On a frigid night, I was sleeping with my Army ROTC cadets from West Texas A & M on the rocky ground in Palo Duro Canyon. But not really sleeping.
The stars sparkled across the dark sky like jewels twinkling in the night. And I was frustrated with myself for not being able to sleep, knowing we had to run up and down the hills in the morning to search for clues on an orienteering course.
Sometime during that night, I finally drifted off, but then heard the sound of horses running, stampeding in our direction. They snorted and whinnied and the sound was frightening.
I recalled deer running through our friends' tent when we camped off an island in our boat in a lake in California when I was a kid. They don't go around, I thought. The horses will run straight through us and trample us to death. I tried to wake my sister who was sleeping in a bag next to me. She grumbled at me to leave her alone, and I watched the others in the dark. No one heard the noise but me.
I lay back down, hoping that the horses would skirt around us. I realized the pounding of hooves didn't shake the ground like it should have. Maybe they were too far away. And then, they moved off in the distance, fading until they were gone. I lay awake for a long time, unable to get over how close we could have been to being trampled, fearing their return. That they'd switch back and come this way again.
Years later, I wanted to write about the wild horses for a magazine, only when I began to research them, I learned others had heard the ghost ponies in the dead of the night. I sat slack-jawed reading the accounts. Ghost ponies? For years, I had believed they were real. The sound of their running, snorts, whinnies were real. It happened.
But they were whispers of the past--of soldiers running Indian ponies off the cliffs in an attempt to keep the gathered tribes from fighting back. Without their horses, the tribes could no longer be mobile. They could no longer mount any campaigns.
The horses were terrified and were driven to their deaths. And now, they live in the canyon forever, a memory of past deeds, a remembrance of their past life.
Leave a comment to win a print copy of SAVAGE HUNGER.US/Canada Addresses Only.
About the Author
For more information, please visit www.terryspear.com, or follow her on Twitter, @TerrySpear. She is also on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/terry.spear and blog: http://terry-spear.blogspot.com