The air crackled with electricity and each rail of the track glimmered in its own self
importance, for today was the day-the race of the century! The stands were packed to capacity, each person straining together in anticipation. A universal intake of breath, people standing on tip toe and others adjusting television monitors, for here was the first horse!
The track sang beneath his hooves, the very earth pulsed for him alone. His hide was rolling thunder clouds, and it was with such speed he cloaked his opponents. His very hide was an ornate piece of art, snowy dapples contrasting an iron coat. He was known for his unbelievable rallies, coming from last to first within a few indefatigable strides, his speed was profuse. He was America's darling, an
imposing machine. Harbinger! The crowd only had eyes for him; the diminutive horse behind him was missed. When he was spotted a furious whisper ignited the crowd. Small and the same dull shade as the track he may have been, but benea