id like to enter im going to send my story to you by email soon thx
apples24 :D
apples24 & Stormy
2012-04-01 18:18:29
The Bay Morgan
By:HorseLove1265
The Bay Morgan was called Jewel
Jewel galloped 10 feet to her small herd
The leader was called Moon
There was also Dreamer, the dominant mare, Apollo Dreamer's son,and last but not least, Brody, a lonely, skinny horse.Jewel walked up to Moon. "I think we need to find fresh grass." Said Jewel. She pointed to the large area of yellow weeds. "Well hurry and get the others before Dreamer sees you over here." said Moon. Dreamer was a fierce mustang with a short temper. Moon wasn't Apollo's sire, but Apollo liked Moon and acted as if he was. Moon was always trying to get what he wanted. Apollo wormed his way and got Moon's trust. Moon was a chestnut perchron/paint, Dreamer like before was a mustang. Apollo was the same as Dreamer. Brody was unknown, and Jewel is a morgan. They went to an unknown valley, but Dreamer went in anyways to see if it was safe. Jewel went over to Brody and grazed with him. Jewel and Brody became friends. If they saw Moon coming, they ran from fear of him. Jewel cautiously went to Moon to ask where the nearest watering hole was. It was not Moon. Jewel reared and whinnied loudly to alert the herd of an unknown horse. Moon was fierce, but Dreamer was more fierce. Dreamer chased the intruder away. They went into a valley called "Spirit Valley" they were at their homeland. Soon, humans tamed them and they were brought to a farm. They did enjoy it there. A little girl came with the horses' owner. Jewel pricked her ears, eager to see who she was. Terra, the owner said that the little girl called Shana, was going to show Jewel. Jewel teased Shana and ran from her. Moon got into her face, and Shana was scared. Soon Shana learned to push Moon back. He listened. Moon enjoyed Shana coming everyday. Jewel liked to tease, otherwise she came up to Shana. Jewel didn't feel like riding one day, but was surrounded and ended up being ridden and groomed. Jewel wanted to get her way, and started misbehaving. Shana kept control of her. Jewel burst into canter and weaved inbetween obstacles with Shana clinging on. Jewel had her fun and stopped. Jewel decided to teach Shana, but doing little bucks and rears. Shana knew what to do. She got control of Jewel and they did a lesson. Jewel was soon sold. Shana's mother couldn't get ahold of Jewel's new owner, Shana was devestated when she heard about Jewe getting sold. Shana, if not Jewel, has a pony as an option, but Shana says she would be too big for the pony, or a Appaloosa named Chex. Shana wants Jewel, or she has to do lessons on Moon. Moon was big and fast. Shana coulnd't wait to see if Jewel's owner would respond. Shana sure hoped she still got to show Jewel. She only wanted Jewel. Jewel was special.
To be continued.....
HorseLove1265 & Jewel
2012-04-01 18:19:16
Hello Jane. I visited other news contests, with stories on them. I made a story and sent it, I was wondering if you recieved it, or if ti didn't send, for the contest for stories 12 and over was empty Thanks, HorseLove1265
HorseLove1265 & Jewel
2012-04-01 18:21:20
What Happened to My Love?
by laniheartshorses
The clock on the wall said 7:30 am. Plenty of time before my 10:00 am lesson. I rolled over, but I couldn't sleep. I just had a funny feeling about going and riding today. It hadn't been the same since Chance died. No girl should ever lose their first love, especially if their first love was a horse. It had been a year, but the pain was still there, a raw hole in my chest, threatening to pull me in and never let me love another horse. Not that I wanted to. I hadn't met a horse I liked since I lost Chance. I almost wanted to stop riding, just to get away from the constant reminders. His halter still hanging on the fence post, the turquoise feed bucket that he'd loved to play with, that song that I sang to him when he was nervous, and worst of all, the blue show ribbons hanging from the wall. I missed him, and I missed what we'd had. We were the pair that everyone watched in the show ring. He was the horse that people offered my parents thousands of dollars for. One person even called us twice a day for three days and offered $20,000 for our little auction horse we'd gotten for $250 because no one else wanted him. We would never sell him though. He meant too much to me. But now he was gone, and I would never see him again. I started crying as the hole in my heart began to throb. It still hurt. And in two hours I had to go and ride another horse, and pretend to love him, and smile and laugh and act like I was fine. Even if I wasn't fine, and I didn't care about the spoiled jumper my trainer had me riding now. He didn't love me, so why should I love him?
"What happened to my love?"
laniheartshorses & Rebel
2012-04-01 22:03:28
Please post your story here. If you email it we will just tell you to post it in the contest thread.
JC
Jane Crandal & JB
2012-04-02 02:51:04
This is the April contest. If you entered in March, it is in the March contest. If you emailed it, we will email you back telling you to enter it here.
JC
Jane Crandal & JB
2012-04-02 02:55:32
The Girl and the Horse
by: SNGG
I walked into the market, jingling Uncle's coins in my pocket. My muddy boots were muddy, my wrinkled clothes were wrinkled. I always looked a mess, yet I was always happy. They always said, "Diana, why do you always smile so much"? They said it laughingly, of course, like it was a small matter, but I knew they puzzled over my constant joy.
I bought four apples -- all I could carry. I bought it at one of those stalls where if you know the owner well enough, they let you have one or two fruits free – guaranteed it wasn’t the type that was shipped from over the ocean.
I waved at the boy in the apron, manning the moneybox. Ace was his name; I knew him from school. We’d occasionally bump into each other along the trails that snaked in every direction, leading to anywhere you could possibly want to go.
I took the apples, plonked down my coins on a crate, and whipped around and out of there. I looked up at the sky and at the first growing behind the market tents that hardly anyone gave attention to. It was sunny and windy and smelled like fresh-cut grass – nature’s beautiful assault on my senses.
I picked my feet up as I neared the bend in the lane. Upon reaching the lamppost I broke into a run, and veered off the sidewalk and hopped down into the grass bank below. I skipped and twirled and giggled as I dashed through that wonderful field full of sweet-smelling weeds, knee-high, always dewy and fresh and cool.
I’d encountered snakes many times here, but we seemed to have an understanding that we had no intention to bother each other. I grinned as I thought of borrowing a snake and letting it loose in my classroom; wild animals in small quarters always seemed to lighten the stress.
Finally I reached my destination. The beach was windy as well, whipping my hair into a delightful tapestry of reddish gold matted strands. It smelled of salt and I opened my mouth to allow the fresh cold air to circulate inside. I whistled, three notes, loud and clear, piercing the air, and sat myself down on the soft sand, waiting.
Sure enough, I heard the pounding of hooves, rushing towards me. I excitedly got up, mopping my brow in anticipation. The sun was glaring bright and I had to squint. Then, a big looming shadow appeared out of nowhere, blocking my vision. My mouth stretched into a smile – the best part of the day was at hand.
I scrambled to get up, breathing hard… He was snorting, sniffing, sending gentle whuffs of steam into my ear. My hands wandered over his sinewy coat, stroking his wonderful skin. His mane was a mess, damp and matted, like mine. I smiled once more in sheer delight, cherishing his presence. He neighed, and moved away, as if admonishing me for being so late. “I’m sorry, boy,†I whispered, “I had a mountain of chores to do.â€
I reached into my pocket and pulled out two apples, one for him, and one for me. I fed him his, and grinned as he chomped it up. I bit into mine, relishing the crunchy, sweet goodness. The juice flowed out of my mouth, dripping down my chin. “This,†I thought, “This is heaven.â€
I touched my forehead to his nose, giggling as his warm puffs of breath tickled my hairline. I looked up into his eyes, entranced by the endlessness of those dark abysses. I fed him another apple and decided to keep the last one for myself – selfishness was hard to suppress, especially since this batch of fruit was so succulent and delicious.
He stood there, staring into my soul… I reached and touched his forelock. I hugged his neck, his wide, strong neck; I kissed his nose, enjoying the feel of the damp warmth under my lips.
I shrugged my windbreaker off, kicked my boots aside, and, taking a chunk of his mane, talked soothingly to him. I caressed his back, letting him know my intent. He snorted, and tensed, yet made no frantic movements. So I finally propelled myself off the sand and onto his broad back. I directed him into the waves, and the cold salt water seemed to soothe his annoyance at my tardiness.
I breathed in the scent of wild horse, and thought to myself, “This is what everyone always wonders about. How to find joy.†I looked down at the wild animal I had tamed over the months.
“Joy is everywhere… I guess they just need to find out how to see it.â€
SNGG & Reyna Katrina Kristovich
2012-04-03 21:50:46
Call it Brave
Part two
Starwalker123
I stand a sleep. It’s a day after the birth of Breezes colt. It’s a red roan named red Moon at Sun Down. He is brave. My herd is sleeping in a meadow. I wake up and look around. A cougar lives in a canyon about half a mile away. Red Moon trots over on unsteady legs.
“Daddy†he nickers
I neigh “Whatâ€
Red Moon, “I love you.â€
I , “I love you too†I neigh
Starwalker123 & Star
2012-04-03 21:50:46
That Fiery Mare
by PennyLady
Roe wiped her brow in relief. It had been a hard day at the racing stable, Rising Moon Farm, that was soley operated by her family. "Fed Cochise, groomed Ladybird," she counted on her fingers. "Ha! I'm done!" she threw her arms up in triumph. "I'm finally done!" She flew out of the stables, chanting her small victory as loud as possible, her shrill voice echoing over the Kentucky plain. "I'm-oh no." Her father's white pick-up made it's way down the long driveway, trailer in tow. "New horse..." she sighed, turning on her heel and marching back to the barn.
Her father's truck rumbled closer, the sound of the engine vibrating in Roe's chest. "Hi Dad!" she waved to her father. He smiled back at her, his brown hair that mirrored Roe's glittered chesnut gold in the sinking sun. He rolled down the window. "Open the barn, hun, we've got a code red!"
Code red, meaning an anxious horse. Fresh off the track, maybe injured. These types came in too often. Poor beaten souls bought at a last minute auction in a effort to win some buck off a stolen life. Roe recalled what her dad had told her since she was little. "We don't just race horses, we respect them."
If only more people followed that notion. But, the solemn truth was little did. Most just threw a horse on a field, too young, too green, forcing them to run when they didn't know how. Atleast not properly, anyway. Too many crumble mid-stretch, their premature bones pushed over their limit, their bodies crippled for life.
Roe shook the thought from her head. She hated hearing about those cases. Just last week her father had brought in a mare with a broken leg, fresh off the track. They tried to save her, but she died. And she wasn't even an adult yet. She would never know the feeling of a foal's nuzzle, the exasperation of soaring over a field like a free bird. She woudln't even know the feeling of being loved. The only two years of life that she lived out were full of whips, heartless "trainers" and the impossible standards of speed she would never live up to. That night Roe had stayed with the mare, cooing to her softly as she stroked her mane. Then, all at once, her eyes closed and the last glimpse of life had drained from the corpse-like state the track had left her in.
Roe unhitched the latch of the barn door and pulled the gate open. Her father did the same to the trailer, leading out a velvety bay covered in foamy sweat. "She's..beautiful." Roe choked out as her father led her past. The mare's body tingled with fear, but she was too tired to fight anything. Beaten into submission.
That's when Roe noticed it. The all too familar limp that had seized the mare from last week.
"What happened to her?" Roe asked, her soft blue eyes eyeing the injury.
Her father kept his eyes on the mare as he lead her into the stall. "Tripped on the track. Jockey made her keep running."
"Oh." Roe mumbled.
Her father latched the stall, the mare baying herself into the far corner. "Yep." he agreed, looking the mare up and down. "I..don't think she'll make it."
Roe felt tears creep up her face, but she witheld them.
"Why do you do it, Dad?"
"Do what?" he eyed her with suspicion.
"Take these horses, knowing they'll die?"
The color drained from his face as he shrugged. "I figured, since the owners don't ask anything for them, we could forfill their wishes and make their last hours the happiest."
Roe nodded and lifted a bucket from a nearby nail. "I'll get her some bran."
All through the night, Roe stayed by the mare's side. Whether it was tracing the arrow shape down her nose, fingering her mane, or just cooing to her, Roe accompanied the stark soul as she layed her head down to rest. Sometime during the dark night the vet came to check on her, but couldn't give anything other than what her father had told her.
"I'm not going to let the racing industry claim another one of you." she told her, teary eyed, as the mare nickered. "Your coat is like fire. You won't let them extingiush you, will you? Will you?"
Suddenly, all at once, the mare rose. Caught by suprised, Roe threw her arms around the mare. "I knew you wouldn't, my little Flame. I knew you wouldn't."
This is Club Pony Pals, the official Pony Pals game and virtual horse world. Here you can adopt, ride and care for the pony you always wanted. Our site is based on the Scholastic books about three girls by Jeanne Betancourt.
