I wasn’t fully awake yet, and honestly, I still don’t know how it all happened.
One moment I was lying in bed, thinking it was just a normal Thursday morning. Then I heard this strange dragging noise outside—like metal scraping wood. I figured maybe the garbage bins had tipped over again. But when I stepped into the kitchen, I froze.The bottom half of our back door was gone. Not open—completely smashed inward, with splintered wood everywhere and the latch barely hanging by a screw. And there, right in the middle of the patio, was Oscar—our horse.
Yes, our horse.
We live on a small piece of land, nothing fancy. Oscar’s usually calm and stays in his paddock out back. But this morning, he was chest-heaving, covered in dirt and sweat. Around his neck—believe it or not—was the broken bottom part of the door, like a twisted collar. It was clear he’d crashed through it.I checked for injuries—thankfully, no blood. But his eyes were wide, like he’d been running from something. The strange thing? The latch to his paddock was still locked.
I hadn’t told Sam yet—he was still at work—and I was standing there barefoot, staring at Oscar, with a piece of our door hanging off him like a silent message.
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