Miksoor

There was a horse that came from Arabia to race in the greatest American horse races. It wasn’t just any horse; it was a beautiful white Arabian horse. It came from the perfect breed of Arabian horses that were known to be the fastest racing horses on Earth. When its owner brought him to America, the new owner (and jockey), Angelo Snyder, expected great things from him. That is, to have Angelo finally win the Kentucky Derby and make him feel like a somebody.

“So why do you sell him to me in the first place? And why at a lower price than usual?” he asked.

“You have a taste of what it’s like in Arabia. All my horses are the best. But you can have this one. This is a gift from me to you, habibi. Miksoor is his name. He has shown the greatest potential but doesn’t want my discipline. Perhaps you could have the magic touch.”

“I better start training him sooner rather than later. The racing season is closer than we think. I hope to see more of you soon, my friend.”

“Even if I don’t see you, you will remember me” he said with a wink.

Angelo took the horse back to his barn with great pride and expectations. He knew in his mind that he now had a promising chance to use the horse to get everything he wanted out of life. He wanted to get out of poverty and the horse was his ticket out.

He started thinking of all the things he would do when he started winning races and prize money. He would be the greatest leader in the city! Perhaps he could be the mayor! He could light a spark in people’s hearts that they’ve never seen before! More and more of these thoughts started entering his head.

However, he had to take the Arabian man’s advice seriously. He needed to establish a clear and impenetrable bondage with Miksoor. It had to be as close of a relationship as if it were a marriage. Indeed, it’s been three years since Angelo lost his wife Joan suddenly in a horse carriage accident. He was so hurt from that that he immediately shot the horse dead while still tightened by the carriage. Evidence later told him that a broken wooden piece from the wheel caused the carriage to flip over, which made him grieve all the more. But his love for horses was becoming restored. He now found an opportunity to refurnish his mind and his hoped fortunes as if Providence finally came.

Angelo spent day and night with Miksoor. It wasn’t easy to get the horse’s affection in the first couple weeks, but it soon found an owner it could love and trust. The happiness between them was more beautiful than either of them could have imagined. Even the officials and groundskeepers at the racetrack took notice at Angelo’s change of behavior as he rode Miksoor after every lap. The hole in his heart was healed after three long years.

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And soon enough, the Kentucky Derby started making bets on all the horses. Spectators were awed at the beauty and stature of Miksoor. Most people put their bets on Miksoor while only a handful of people put their bets on the next best horse, Phantom. Phantom, a muscular black horse that didn’t show exceptional beauty, had already won the Belmont Stakes and the Preakness Stakes. It’s now gunning for the Kentucky Derby to complete the Triple Crown. Yet, no one was talking about Phantom. All the talk was toward Miksoor. Angelo, who had already well prepared Miksoor for the great race, was taking endless autographs and pictures throughout the morning of the big day. He knew the training times of Phantom and saw no threat from the large differences between the two horses.

The gun then went off. Some of the novice horses raced ahead while Phantom and Miksoor stayed in the middle of the pack. After the halfway point, Phantom and his jockey started speeding ahead one by one. Shortly afterward, Miksoor and Angelo did the same. The final turn was now coming, and it was down to Phantom and Miksoor. Miksoor was pulling ahead and was two horse lengths away. Spectators everywhere started tipping their hats to Angelo, and Angelo was feeling an immense amount of joy and pride.

About twenty yards before the finish line, a loose piece of wood was lying in Miksoor’s path. Angelo suddenly became started and yanked Miksoor’s belts. This caused Miksoor to twist around suddenly and land awkwardly hard on the racetrack. A great gasp came all at once from the crowd. Phantom sped in and won the race. Angelo got up limping but could walk. Miksoor wasn’t getting up though. His back legs looked broken.

Angelo could see the hundreds of roses being thrown at Phantom for winning the Triple Crown, and its barrage of newspapermen taking photos and asking excited questions. He then looked again at Miksoor’s legs. One of his farriers came by for sympathy.

“I don’t see him racing no more boss. He’s done for. Well, if you have the patience, I’d give him nine months to heal and try him out again. Why don’t you try that?”

“Just give me a moment” Angelo said, as if he already knew what to do. He just needed some space to think.

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After a month, Angelo went into the barn to check on Miksoor. He hadn’t walked properly since the race. When Angelo came into his stable, Miksoor showed immediate affection. Angelo hugged him back. Angelo thought of the first time the Arabian man sold the horse to him. He remembered his wink and laughed while looking everywhere up and down Miksoor’s stable. After an intimate stare between the two lovers of horse and owner, Angelo took out his gun and shot Miksoor on the side of the head. He dragged him out to the field to bury him. He lay him down in the open hole he just dug. He then stood there still as could be. He didn’t see Miksoor at all. He saw Joan. She was lying there dead in the open hole. He quickly tried to get her out but was far too heavy. He gave up and got out. He started digging the dirt back into the hole. As each pile dropped in, he saw his previous visions of being the mayor of the city vanish, his impoverished lifestyle not change, and his vision of being a somebody come in flashes from the newspapermen around Phantom from the Kentucky Derby. He patched it up nicely, put a big cross on top of the grave, and went inside.

It was well into the evening and no moon was out in the sky. It was also unusually cold. Without the few lanterns from inside the house, it was pitch black. Angelo went inside and turned off each lantern one by one until he reached his nightstand candle. He went up close to the candle and could feel a very small glimpse of warmth. He then looked at it as if he were about to acknowledge somebody right in front of him.

“Goodbye” he said, before blowing it out.

He began immediately shivering but didn’t care. He had a terrible day. He didn’t want any sympathy for himself at this moment. But he was extremely tired and wanted rest. He forced his eyelids closed while putting all the blankets on himself. All he could think of in that moment was his wife Joan in the hole. He longed for her company back. He didn’t know why he made her angry that day to make her race ahead in that carriage. He didn’t know why his own imperfections had such devastating consequences. Eventually, his tiresome feelings got the best of him, and he began to feel sleepier than agitated.

If you looked closely, you could see him smile on the bed with his eyes closed. The first dream he had was with Joan steadily and gracefully riding on top of Miksoor, and they’re both smiling and laughing while Angelo watched from his porch enjoying the best newspaper he ever read.

Note: Miksoor in Arabic translates to 'broken.'