Mystic and the Midnight Ride. Stacy Gregg

      “I know it sounds stupid,” Issie told her mum at breakfast the next day, “but it was as if he was real. I mean, I know it must have been a dream, but it didn’t feel like a dream. It was like Mystic was really there, right in front of me. I even touched him!”

      “Oh, sweetheart,” Mrs Brown took her daughter’s small, tanned hand in her own, “you had a bad fall and you’ve been through a terrible experience. It’s only natural that you’ll be pretty shaken up for a while. But you have to face up to what has happened. I know it hurts and you miss Mystic. But you’re lucky to be alive.”

      Mrs Brown smiled gently as she reached over and poured out a cup of hot chocolate for Issie and a fresh cup of tea for herself. “Your father and I have discussed the best thing to do about this…” Mrs Brown looked down at her cup of tea. She paused, unable to get the words out. “Isadora, I know how much you love horses. And I know what happened wasn’t your fault. You were very brave to do what you did. But, well, your father agreed with me on this…” Mrs Brown finally looked her daughter in the face.

      “Issie, I can’t let you have another horse. It was so terrifying when you were in that hospital bed and I didn’t know whether you would even wake up. I couldn’t go through that again. I am your mother and…oh, Issie, you have to understand I can’t risk something else happening to you. I know that you want to get another horse and—”

      “No, Mum, you don’t understand!” Issie felt hot tears well in her eyes. How could her mum even think she would want a new horse? All she wanted was Mystic. She wanted her horse to come back to her. How could she explain to her mother that Mystic was more than just some pony to her? That he had been her closest friend, the one soul that she could confide all her secrets to, because he would never betray her. A kindred spirit who she could trust totally and love absolutely. The most important thing in her life. The truth was, she couldn’t explain it to her mother, or to anyone.

      Issie took a deep breath and kept her eyes on the bowl of cereal in front of her. “I don’t care anyway.” Issie could feel the tears running down her cheeks; she wanted to stop crying but she couldn’t. She wiped her cheeks roughly with her sleeve and faced her mother. “I said that I was never going to ride again, and I meant it.”