“Dead Horses”

We were about to throw tractor wheels when we found something better.

Doing anything with these dead horses, he asked. He had his little shorts and his name was Billy and Billy walked like a man.

No, I said.

We dragged them out of the barn, maybe a dozen.

These are awkward and ungainly and more true to life, Billy said. Let’s throw one as a marker to see if we improve.

He dragged one by the leg to a spot behind him then dragged his toe in the dirt from his spot to mine.

This will be our throwing line, he said. He kissed his arm.

Can’t stop sweating, I said. I laughed.

A bit of wind hit his hair, as he hiked up his horse. I’ll go first, he said.

His calves grew out as he balanced and shuffled his feet. He dug in, pumped his legs and hurled it so it spun like a star, soaring. Finally landing a solid two body-lengths away.

Two! Yeah! I yelled. Yeah!

He collapsed. I grabbed him up to bump chests and we landed. Now it was my turn.

Ok, he said. He could barely speak. What you got. He slapped his legs and fell again. No chance, not a chance. Not against my horse.

I got down real low and hiked it up on my shoulder.

A real pretty one with a white mane, a white belly like a seashell. I shuffled my legs underneath for a show.

Real heavy, I said.

He tossed some dirt at me. I got up. I pumped my legs and threw everything. High, strong arc, better than his. I fell back and when I hit, it was still going. Finally it came down. It bounced then settled.

Ha! he yelled. A whole head shorter! A whole head! I beat you fair and square!

Related Posts
Filter by
Post Page
Featured Fiction Most Popular New Fiction Essays/Articles (all) Interviews (all) Editing/Publishing Advice / Suggestions Finalist for Ernest Hemingway Flash Fiction Prize Fiction & Culture
Sort by

“This Girl and Her Opossum”

The first time I saw her she was a mewling newborn lying in the ditch by the junction of Twist and 149. Bill Connor
2020-01-17 13:16:09


“A New World”

In fifth grade you started playing World of Warcraft because your older brother did.
2019-12-09 11:02:44


“The Stairs”

They are right there as soon as you open the door to your mother’s house, in an almost too close for comfort way. S
2019-05-03 07:55:05


“Building the Homeplace: Misremembering’s Role in Creative Nonfiction”

It is unavoidable, the terrible, awful, diminutive questions of: what is your work about? The question is the
2018-07-07 10:16:40


“Self-Portrait with Windmill”

When the windmill’s blades slice the air, the rotors in my joints chuff and work out the rusted exhaustion in my w
2018-03-29 16:58:15


Interview with John Dufresne

It’s easy to see, in retrospect, that John Dufresne a
2017-01-16 17:34:10


“Your No One is My Everyone: Some Thoughts on Publishing and the Sage Advice of Businessmen”

The first time I fully realized the value of what I do for a living, I was stricken with the stomach flu. Illness is
2016-12-05 09:57:43


“Move Fast and Break Things”

Marty had said to her: “It sounds like you can’t accept your fate,” and while meant as a reproach it resonated with s
2016-09-19 04:30:52


“The Last Story I Cared About”

My first story, I was six, was about my cat, the cat I had until it contracted feline leukemia. Its breath at the
2016-04-09 09:07:36


“Of Mice and Men, America’s Mirror of Fallibilities”

“I am free of all prejudices. I hate everyone equally”
2016-03-01 12:58:41


About Robert Eversmann

Robert is from Portland, Oregon.