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December 2020 Story and Poem Contest Rules: Winning stories and poems will be published in Pony Pals Magazine. All entries must be original, meaning that the member who enters them must have written the text. To be eligible the story or poem must have a horse or pony in it someplace. Stories should be suitable for all ages, including younger members. All entries published in the Magazine will earn 500 Wiggins Bucks, the best stories and poems will earn 3000 Wiggins bucks and trophy for the writer. Pony writer quills are awarded every day. Jane Crandal & JB

December 2020 Story and Poem Contest Rules: Winning stories and poems will be published in Pony Pals Magazine. All entries must be original, meaning that the member who enters them must have written the text. To be eligible the story or poem must have a horse or pony in it someplace. Stories should be suitable for all ages, including younger members. All entries published in the Magazine will earn 500 Wiggins Bucks, the best stories and poems will earn 3000 Wiggins bucks and trophy for the writer. Pony writer quills are awarded every day. Jane Crandal & JB	Jane Crandal & JB
2020-11-29 02:11:11
Mousse by CBehnke I simply could not pry my eyes off of Mousse. He was actually doing it. Actually pulling a cart. My fingers itched to take the reins. To drive my horse. However, I knew he was green. Clinton needed to get him warmed up and ready for me. But still, I couldn’t help it. I had been waiting for this since Mousse went up to training. It’s not even like I could go see him, because of covid. “Charli,” Clinton woke me from my daydreams. He was ushering me over to the cart, where he stood holding Mousse’s bridle. I quickly grabbed my helmet, snapping the chin strap around my head. Then I speed-walked over the Mousse. Giving him a pat, I grabbed the reins and sat down in the cart. The reins were worn and I could feel flakes of leather coming off of them. I didn’t care a bit. I was just psyched to be sitting in the cart behind my pony. Yes, driving other horses was fun, and I always enjoyed it. Yet, I have never had quite the same feeling as I did looking at Mousse from the cart. I could feel my insides swirling like a kite in the wind. Still, there was a tiny part of my stomach that was worried. Nervous something might go wrong. I didn’t think so, though. Clinton would never let me drive Mousse if he was unsafe. Then again, Clinton thought Dually was fine and then he took off. I just decided to have fun, not worry. Mousse and Dually are totally different horses. Dually runs on the nervous side. He is always aware, always alert. Mousse was much different than him. He just gets things done, no stress needed. Kind of like people. Everyone has a different personality. This comforted me. Just comparing my horses to people consoles me. “Are you ready?” Clinton asked, stepping aside. “Yes, can you just walk the first few steps with us?” I questioned. I wasn’t ready to just take off alone. He just nodded and walked off with us, slowly working his way to the middle of the arena. “Good boy Mousse,” I soothed, making sure Mousse stayed calm. “I’m very proud you know.” I felt him release tension. He seemed happy to have me in the cart, to see his family. I didn’t blame him. I would be happy too if my family came after a month with sudden hard work and a random person. “Try trotting,” Clinton yelled from the middle of the arena. “Cluck, just like you do with other horses.” I clucked twice, urging Mousse to trot. He did right away. At first, he felt slow, but as we did more he quickened. I felt like I was in a sports car, racing around. I squeezed on a rein, Mousse turned. I clucked, he got faster. I could feel the smile creeping across my face. I tried to stay serious, the excitement took over. Together we sped around the arena, gliding through corners and making tight circles when instructed by Clinton. That was when it happened. I was just trotting around to the left when Mousse made a sharp turn to the right. I pulled back on the reins, cuing him to stop. Thankfully, he did. We jerked to a halt. I just stood there until Clinton came over to guide us. He just took the bridle and turned Mousse so we were pointing left again. “Try just walking now, maybe he needs a break.” “Okay,” I answered. ‘Hopefully, it was just once.’ I thought, persuading myself it was. ‘He was probably tired. He was just being naughty.’ I tried to shake the worries from my head. Soon enough, Mousse and I were back at the spot where he stopped last time. I took a deep breath, trying to calm us both. Apparently, it didn’t work because once again, there was a sharp jerk. He fought against the left, harder this time. Once again, Clinton walked over, this time saying, “Can I get in?” I got out and layered the reins on Mousse’s back. Clinton took a step to the cart. Then, he got in. I could see Mousse’s mood change. He did not want Clinton getting in again. I watched carefully as Clinton trotted Mousse around the first three corners. He seemed to be fine. That is, until the third. At that corner, Mousse jerked his neck to the right, causing Clinton to tap his shoulder until he went left. I actually felt relief when Mousse did the same thing to Clinton. That meant it wasn’t just me. I didn’t want to cause our horse issues, but I thought maybe I was doing something wrong. Luckily, I wasn’t. I had just done what I was told, Mousse just had a different agenda. Clinton had whirled around the arena about eleven times when he said, “how would you feel about leaving him here for two weeks?” Mom was silent before replying, “we probably could.” She seemed a little bit upset. I didn’t want to leave Mousse here either, but I guess we could if it meant him becoming a better driving horse. All I wanted to do was drive my horse. To have a driving horse of my own. I knew he would get there, it would just take time. Time was the key. “I’ll try getting him to go a couple more times. Then, we’ll see if he should stay.” Clinton didn’t seem confident. He was thinking Mousse will need to stay. I could just hear it in his voice, the way he was speaking. ‘Please be able to come home,’ I hoped in my head. I knew that he would likely stay, but I still was hoping. I watched Clinton hit Mousse’s shoulder each time they went around the ring. Mousse kept persisting. Clinton kept on correcting. Finally, it came to a stop. Mom looked at me and nodded. “I think he’ll have to stay,” she whispered. Secretly, I agreed. I knew Clinton would probably get out of the cart and tell us Mousse needs to be here for a little while longer. “Okay,” Clinton’s voice made my body jerk up. “I just need two weeks with him. If that’s okay with you.” Mom sat up, looking a little solemn. “Okay, so two weeks?” “Yeah, I think that’s it. Then he should be good to go. Or-” Clinton looked like something just clicked. “Or we could just see if it is pain, which means you could take him home.” I saw Mom’s face brighten. “True, it is likely a pain issue.” I thought about that. That is definitely a possibility. I hoped it was true. Clinton walked looked in Mousse’s mouth. He pulled his fingers out, seeming like something sharp was in his mouth. “Wow buddy,” he said in awe. Then he looked at us. “He has a large lump in there. It might be an ulcer.” “Okay,” Mom nodded. “So we could get the vet out to look at it.” “Yes, I think you should. Then we can see if he is being naughty or in pain.” Clinton paused. “Just don’t drive him.” “So we will bring him home, and get his mouth looked at by the doctor.” Mom looked happy. I was in one way because we could bring Mousse home. But I was also sad because he can’t be driven yet. What if it wasn’t the ulcer, what if he will need to come back and stay again. The thoughts were overwhelming, but I needed to stay in the moment. As I grabbed Mousse’s bridle, I thought of him. How he might have an ulcer. I knew it wasn’t a bad thing, but still. It would need time to heal, and Mousse was still very green. What if he healed and then still had to stay here because he forgot what he learned? Or if he was still doing it after healing. I decided to just think positive. I can’t look ahead too much. That is too stressful. All I want is for Mousse to be a driving horse, even if it costs me a little bit.	CBehnke & Emmy
2020-12-02 00:46:02
Beautiful as can be By:Betterthanchocolate "Beatle". I say you are as beautiful as can be you are as graceful as a swan, as cute as a catterpiller. your spirit is as high as the sky. "Beatle. i say your as beautiful as can be.	betterthanchocolate & Lightning
2020-12-02 02:01:40
Riding by CBehnke I slide in the saddle I make a cluck My legs do a straddle But he throws a buck I continue to ride Til’ sunset at dawn But he scoots to the side As the guy mows the lawn At last I slip off My horse breathing heavy And then I cough As my Dad drives the Chevy	CBehnke & Emmy
2020-12-03 11:55:40
AND WHEN YOU STAND THERE THERE IS SOMETHING ELSE TO THE WAY YOU ARE IF THERE IS A SPIRIT, IT IS A HORSE	Sunny Rendall & Firm
2020-12-05 22:39:44
The storm raged outside.It was that night I found Phoenix.I, like every other girl in CortezC Valley,had a HUGE poster of the first ever appendix horse to win at Eventing. I never thought I would see him neglected in my backyard.But it happened.I was walking home from school when I thought I saw something.NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo way.I saw an odd..fire red chestnut...must be 16.2...HORSE IN MY BACKYARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay,let's take a pause.This has to be phcisically imposible because Phoenix is in Europe being nursed back to health after a tragic leg injury.I lived in the suburbs of Ireland.Second,PHOENIX RISING IS NOT EMACIATEDBack to my story- So,here I am,dumbfounded,watching this horse limp out of my yard,towards me-No, my Mum's car,coming up the drive. -Cut again- My Mum is the Chelsea Stewart,Phoenix's famous rider.I pried every story of him out of her since I could talk. -Back again- "Phoenix!!!!"Mum squeals,more out of worry than excitement.I'm physced. "Mum,it's...really...him....really?"I squeaked. Mum looked angry-furious-and heartbroken. "Y-yes...my goodness..." She flipped out her phone.	Sunny Rendall & Firm
2020-12-05 23:32:44
Christmas pony Sleigh bells ringing Carolers singing White snow falling Christmas lights shining This is Christmas welcome Christmas little pony pulling our sleigh little pony adorn with sleigh bells Christmas pony Welcome Christmas Welcome Christmas pony you bring us cheer Christmas pony have a happy new year	nightsong & Dream Catcher
2020-12-13 22:29:56
Es war September. Meine Freundin und ich liefen zum Stall. Dort angekommen schauten wir uns um, irgentwas war anders, aber was? Ich überlegte und dann sah ich das Dorfkind die hübsche Palomino-Pony-Stute war nicht mehr da! Aber wi war sie? Die Wiesen waren leer. Am nächsten Tag kam ich alleine zurück. Ich sah Laura Dorfkinds Besitzerin. "Wo ist Dorfkind?" fragte ich. Sie antwortete:" Ich musste sie leider verkaufen." Dann ging ich nach Hause. Dort setzte ich mich vor meinen PC und suchte nach ihr. Erst Stunden dann Tage und als ich es fast aufgegeben hatte fand ich einen Hinweis darauf wi sie war. Ich schrieb die angebliche Besitzerin an. Ja das war sie. Wir vereinbarten ein Treffen. Ich konnte es kaum erwarten Dorfkind wieder zu sehen und als es so weit war fuhr ich mit dem Bus zu ihr. Doch als ich sie sah fing ich an zu weinen. Was war mit ihr passiert?Sie sah schrecklich aus. Dünn dreckig und hatte überall Wunden. "Was haben sie mit ihr gemacht?!" "Was soll ich denn machen sie frisst nicht und putzen lässt sie sich auch nicht." Ich wusste das sie ihre Freundin Donna vermisste und ich fragte ob sie Dorfkind verkaufen würde und ja sie tat es. 1 Woche später holten wir sie ab und brachten sie zurück. Und zurück "Zuhause" war sie glücklich sie Wieherte und lief direkt zu Donna die beiden freuten sich so sich wieder zu sehen. Seit dem frisst sie wieder und lässt sich problemlos putzen und führen und sie lebt immer noch bei mir. Zusammen gehen wir auf Tuniere und haben viel Spaß. :) German: It was September. My girlfriend and I ran to the stable. Once there we looked around, something was different, but what? I thought about it and then I saw Dorfkind, "the village child" the pretty palomino pony mare was no longer there! But what was she like? The meadows were empty. The next day I came back alone. I saw Laura, Dorfkind's owner. "Where is the village child?" I asked. She replied, "Unfortunately I had to sell them." Then I went home. There I sat down in front of my PC and looked for her. It wasn't until hours then days and when I almost gave up I found a clue as to what it was like. I wrote to the alleged owner. Yes she was. We arranged a meeting. I couldn't wait to see the village child again and when the time came I took the bus to see her. But when I saw her I started to cry. What had happened to her? She looked terrible. Thinly dirty and with wounds all over the place. "What did you do to her ?!" "What should I do, she doesn't eat and she can't be cleaned either." I knew she missed her friend Donna and I asked if she would sell Dorfkind and yes she did. One week later we picked her up and brought her back. And back "home" she was happy, she neighed and ran straight to Donna, who were so happy to see each other again. Since then she has been eating again and is easy to clean and guide and she still lives with me. We go to tournaments together and have a lot of fun. :)	Janne09 & Dangerous Friend
2020-12-18 19:05:23
Ich vertraue nicht vielen, aber wenn mich jemand fragt wen ich alles erzählen würde, dann würde ich ohne zu zögern sagen:"MEINEM PONY." German: I don't trust many, but if someone asks me who I would tell, I would say "MY PONY" without hesitation.	Janne09 & Dangerous Friend
2020-12-18 19:08:21