<CS> Beauty and Storytelling Contest <ENDED>

[Andraste]

I love to write, even if I'm not 100% confident in my skill! Lol. My story is below, but first I wanted to wish good luck to everybody!

Story Time:
The mumble of the crowd is like a din of insects, a constant hum occasionally pierced by the sharp chirp of a bird; it can even be considered soothing. It will be a good day, he decides as the cool breeze teases at his silvery tail. However, his calm moment is interrupted as, rather suddenly, the bit strains against his mouth. His head darts up with a disgruntled snort as her hands tense on the reins and her legs transform to iron bars clamped around his barrel. Her nervousness travels like a current to his mouth, and he knows instinctively that she needs him. He averts his eyes from the sparkling dust wafting through the morning sunlight to crane his head around and nibble gently at the toes of her boots. “Stop that!” She scolds quietly, nudging him back carefully with her foot. However, his tactic works: she relaxes into the saddle and her grip becomes firm but not taut – a soft sigh leaves his lips. “Sorry, sorry…” She whispers to him, stroking his neck, “I know we’ve practiced for this, we are ready. The jumps just look so much higher when there is a crowd.”

A dark ear flicks back to her in acknowledgement; he could hardly blame her for the nerves. The audience used to put him on edge too, when he first started competing. He contents himself to the rhythmic sweep of her hand until a deep voice comes over the speakers, and her stroking ends with a couple of concise pats. “That’s us!” She proclaims, “Let’s do this, I trust you, buddy.” He trusts her, too. He moves off at her signal, his rhythmic gait smooth and effortless from years of training and dedication. Their hearts accelerate together as they transition from a fluid trot to a rocking canter. She follows his movement flawlessly, and his hooves barely brush the ground with their mounting anticipation. Nothing can compare to competing in a show – the nerves and adrenaline coalesce into butterflies and electric excitement all at once; the hundreds of eyes watching them fade away and there is just the two of them dancing this elaborate dance. He wants to win, she wants to win: it is their addiction. The first obstacle quickly comes upon them, a looming skeleton of red and white, but it will not defeat them. He collects himself, each step precise and careful, before they launch into the air as one. Today is indeed a good day.

[GypsyHorse]

This is a Narrative Poem, so it is still technically a story. The sentences rhyme This might not be very good, but I tried...
*GVC* Easy Lady

We've all heard the legend of the snow horse here in my tiny town.
She lived in a small barn before it was burned down,
All the people thought she was dead
Because there was no way she could have fled
From the inferno in her cozy home.
But secretly in the forests she'd roam.
When the skies and clouds turned dark
And when the dogs would start to bark
She would gallop to a cave to sleep
And curl up into a giant heap
Of thick snow-white fur.
But when she'd wake up she'd run so fast that she was a blur
So that the people in my town could barely see.
One day a young girl saw her and shouted with glee
For she was the only person that had ever seen
The white horse; so her siblings went with her as they were very keen
To see the snow-white horse their sister had spotted
And they did find her, coat muddy and mane knotted
Sickly, dirty, weak and terrified
They brought her to the town and the people stared, wide-eyed
As she trotted proudly past the little brick houses
Past the children, men, women and spouses
And she lived in that town 'till the end of her days
But never gave up her mysterious ways..

Hope you enjoyed my poem! I really enjoyed all the stories everyone wrote- don't know if I can compete with them!

[Meyersdale]

Tanner


i have no story lo.l

[Stormchase Stables]

i have no story lo.l

I'm pretty sure you're supposed to have one.. Nice horse though!!

[Meyersdale]

that sucks i suck at writing stories lol

[Zer0]

Zero's العاهل

She patted his neck gently. She was excited but very nervous. He could sense her body tensing, as if preparing to jump off a cliff; she let out a little sigh and adjusted the reins.
He swung his head around and whinnied, in pain. She was taken aback, and nearly toppled off his back. She checked his saddle, then the saddle pads, and finally his bit. Sure enough, it was in an odd position, causing his mouth to ache.
"Sorry," She whispered, and moved back into its original place.
He snorted, as if to reply, but she didn't hear him. People around him-spectators-were standing up and clapping, emmitting a thunderous sound.
He neighed, frightened, and tried to turn back but she used the whip to make him walk forwards. The roar of the crowd was louder than anything he'd ever heard, and he was losing control, slipping, into the blackouts he used to experience as an orphaned foal.
"No, not here! Not now!" She shouted, and tried to bring him back to the real world but it was too late.
He was gone.
Fading- back to that old barn, and his mother, on that terrible day.
"Get up, you stupid animal!"
He woke up with a start. Of course, he wasn't really waking up, he was just re-living his early days.
"You heard me, filthy creature! Get up!" The man picked up a a sharp stone and hurled it at him.
It hit him in the neck. He jumped to his feet and reared up angrily. The man sneered and walked over to him.
"You'll learn to behave, in time," He spat out, and lit a cigar.
He choked, and tried to back away from the pungeant fumes, but they followed him like hungry dogs, waiting for their prey to drop down, dead.
The man threw the ropes around his neck. Tugging on the 'reins', he puffed on his cigar.
He led the horse to a small pasture and started whipping him with a rope.
He bucked, tried to refuse, and got whipped even harder.
"If you don't do what I say I'll kill your mother, stupid beast."
At the time, he didn't know what that meant, so he struggled against the itchy ropes.
The man got frustrated, tied the horse to a pole, and walked to the barn with a shiny metal thing in his right hand.
Moments later he heard gunshots, broke loose and galloped to the barn. His mother, the only good thing in his life, was lying still on the ground in a pool of blood.
She stared at him with lifeless eyes.
He had lost her.
She was dead.
He returned to consciousness. She stroked his neck and let out a sigh of relief.
They proceeded to win the competition.
The only reason why he won was because he did it for his mother.
And every day without her was torture.

[jl1106]

Good luck to everybody! Y'all have awesome story's!
Here's my horse! I horrible at writing but I'll try my best!
Gizmo


"Mom, guess what!!!" I said as I ran through the kitchen door.
"What is it Pam?" my mom said as she looked up from the enormous pile papers on our table.
"Mrs Jones says that she's giving me Gizmo for my birthday!! As long as it alright with you." I said the excitement mounting in my voice.
Mom looked at me and said "Pam, sit down we need to talk." Her voice sounded strained.
Slowly I walked over to the table and plopped down in a chair. Then I said "What is it Mom?"
My mom took a deep breath, that seemed to take eternity. When she finally did speak she spoke so very softly that I could barely hear her. "Honey, you can't have Gizmo."
"What!" I basically shouted. "But we have a barn and a great pasture!" I said hurriedly. "I know Pam" she said "but money has been tight lately. What are we going to feed Gizmo? Having a horse isn't cheap. You already have a dog and he's expensive enough." " but...mom!" I said louder then needed."I'm not arguing with you about this, Pam " my mom said sternly.
I could feel the tears coming now. "But Mom, all I've ever wanted is a horse of my own." Then I started bawling.
"Pam, come on. You know we can't just get a horse. Without the right funds." My mom said as she gave me a hug. "You wouldn't be able to take care of him properly."
"I know" I said still sniffling."But...Mrs Jones is probably going to sell him if I don't take him."
"Why would she sell him?" My mom asked looking puzzled.
"Well he's a older horse and she usually sells her older horses so she can have room for new ones." I said "Well I'm sorry, really I am I wish you could have Gizmo. But for this family it unrealistic." My mom said as she looked down at her pile of papers again.
"Ok well I'm going for a walk" I said shortly, and dashed out of the house.
I quickly walked the three miles to Mrs Jones ranch. She owned a nice sized ranch and many well trained horses. I walk right up to Mrs Jones front door and knocked.
"Hi Pam" Mrs Jones said as she opened the door. "Hi Mrs Jones, would you mind if I went and saw Gizmo?" "Of course you can Pam. Oh.. Your mom call me a little bit ago... I'm sorry." She said and gave me a sad look. "I'm sorry too Mrs Jones, real sorry." I said.
Then I went to see Gizmo. I walked into the stable and went to the third stall. There he was the prettiest stallion ever. I stroked his neck. "Hey boy" I said. He whinnied. I smiled, and almost started crying again. "Well Gizmo mom's right I wouldn't be able to take care of you. You deserve to be taken care of. I love you Gizmo. Good bye." I said and walked out of the stable.
The End.
You might want to reread I edited it a little bit.

[Tisha]

Judging will begin tomorrow, you can edit your stories if you wish.

[Scythian]

Neon Spring Time

The Little Mare Who Helps (and why you should always talk to the groom)

The small, delicate-looking bay mare was in the Sales pasture, grazing. Her groom approached her slowly, respectfully; I followed her example, keeping my body language and voice quiet. The horse came alert as we came closer, raising her head. I could guess why she was studying us: 'Two humans? My good human and a stranger?'

The groom's greeting, "Springtime!", inspired a happy nicker as the mare trotted up to her trusted human.

"Hey, sweetie, how are you doing? Like some attention? Here's someone who wants to meet you." The groom ("call me Fillah; it's short for Phillippa") stroked the mare's head, rubbing around her ears and under her jaw. This evoked more happy sounds, as if the mare were greeting her foal ... or replying, as a foal, to her own dam.

"She really likes you! Do you think she could trust new people -- you said she's shy ..."

"Good little girl ..." murmured Fillah, hugging the mare's neck with one arm, and motioning me closer with the other. "She's a mirror; gives back whatever she gets. Give her love, like this, and she'll be your friend. You can ask the owner when she gets here. Thing is, there's only so much room here, and she turned out too small, not a Kathiawari as we were expecting. So she's "Half Baladi" and not very many buyers think that's good."

"Baladis can be good! Even halfs, crosses, parts, and mixes." Buttercup taught me that -- a useful lesson.

"So you like that breed! What else drew you to her?"

"First I saw her trotting across the pasture; she's graceful! That classic Arabian look, with the uplifted head and tail, and smooth action. She looks like an ideal Arabian from the 1960s, when I first learned about them. There was a preference for flat croups then. In 1973 I had to make an effort not to think of Secretariat having a 'wrong' topline. Fashions have changed since then, but I still think of this conformation as attractive."

Fillah grinned at that; she remembered the racehorse's sloping hipline and glorious speed. "This one's not exactly a track racer, but she can sprint when she needs to. Good in games; my granddaughter rode her in a few 4-H shows, barrel racing and pole bending,"

"So she's OK with kids and shows? There's that Breeders' comment about not knowing a cat from a dog ..."

"Those darn reports! They should have asked me, instead of getting stuff second and third hand. A few days after she was born, and the first day she was outdoors with her mother, a really noisy, silly little dog got into the pasture, yapping and running at her. Spring has always been sensitive and that idiot dog scared her, so she ran straight to her dam and hid underneath the mare's belly. Which was the right thing for a foal to do. Spring's dam stood over her and grabbed that dumb dog by the scruff of the neck, shook it, and threw it into the air! The fool beast landed and ran like lightning out of the pasture!

"For a few days after that Spring was very watchful about everything that moved, even butterflies and barn cats. But as she saw how the other horses lived, she got it sorted out. So she may not understand everything the first time around, but she always tries, and what she learns she remembers. And she's a good, loving, protective broodmare. That very same thing, a barking dog in the pasture, happened five years later with Spring's own foal, and she did exactly what her dam did!"

We both laughed at that image, and Spring nuzzled my neck. "Good Springtime!" I smiled and rubbed around her ears, and received her responsive nicker. "Our farm is a big place. We can make room for Spring and her foals.”

Always remembering what Fillah told me, I have made sure that Springtime has horse and human companions who are kind to her. Not just a mirror or echo, Spring shows respectful attention to others and is nurturing to all foals. She inspires others to treat her well in turn.

One morning in the pasture, there was unusual activity: three horses were standing very close together, while two others were approaching the cluster with hay in their mouths. As I got closer, I understood: Spring was the middle horse of the three, with her head down and eyes half shut – an image of sorrow. Behind her was a tiny still form in the grass: her foal, born dead. The other two mares, close friends in size and age, were nuzzling her and sharing warmth. The lead mare and stallion were bringing her food, showing their care as best they could.

The next day a neighbor came to the farm and asked help with an orphan foal. Thanks to Spring, the newborn colt had the love, food, and protection he needed, and grew up healthy. She raised several foals of her own, and they are showing promise in training.

Spring occasionally travels to shows with us; her presence calms the young horses and pleases everyone. She watches and listens, and she knows which of her companions has done well or needs consoling – she greets them with appropriate sounds and motions when they return from the ring. One afternoon recently she showed so much interest in the Pole Bending competition that one of my students asked if they could enter. “Okay, if you can get her tacked up in time,” I replied – and was happy to see the old mare and young man take a third place in a mid-level show!

Springtime has given so much to the farm, its horses, and its people. She is a cherished mare and we will always take good care of her.

[BridlePath]

Holding the legendary name of dragons from a time long ago, he holds himself steady, breathing deep... his lungs taking in air, and letting go. The air is cold as ice, clashing with every breath. Steam rolls from his muzzle while his knight shifts upon his back. Armor clanks together. Hiding away in the snowy mountains, in the fog, the cavalry await their enemy. They weren't sure what to expect, there were only complaints of farmers whom lived at the base of the mountains that their animals were disappearing. The expectation was wolves, maybe an ice cat. So the King had ordered his knights to scout the mountains for any beast whom may dwell there.
Snow silently falls. The knights and horses stand in an open field surrounded by rock. One side is a continuous incline that heads further up the mountains, while the other is a cliff offering a deadly fate into the unknown. An echo through the valley sends shivers up their already cold spines. The knights mount their horses, some draw their swords, making ready for whatever is to come, but not Dovakiin. He stands silently with his mount, sharply looking out to the white atmosphere, never wincing at what the blind fog stows away.
He could feel something coming, every animal instinct inside was screaming to run! The knights horses in formation began to toss their heads, grunting and pawing the ground. Dovakiin fought the fear eating at him inside. He is stood fast, he lets out a snort anticipating the next few moments. Suddenly, there is no sound. No wind and no squirrels chattering in the trees while the snow continued to eerily fall.
A blasting gust of wind came out of nowhere from the wings of a dark beast. Landing on the cliff side, its eyes were of embers, saliva spit through its teeth while it snapped its jaws. "DRAGON!?" The legends were true! While dragons were just stories to be told by knights and a kings men, this one was very much alive.
The knights charged after the beast. Spears and arrows were flung into it's flesh while swords carved it. The dragons rear feet were sliding off the edge while the ground began to give way. "Push men, push!" The knights continued to encourage the injured beast to fall, thinking they had the upper hand. The ground split and fell and the dragon went with it. Cheers broke the air and the knights and horses felt relief. Dovakiin looked over the cliff side but could see nothing but white. If they had defeated this winged lizard... why did Dovakiin's stomach still turn?
A scream boomed, the dragon fell from the sky behind them and landed, sending snow and dirt flying! It snarled as blood dripped from its nose and its wounds sat open. It screamed and roared, blocking anymore spears thrown. The tables have turned. The dragon got closer and closer, it spun and whipped 3 men and their horses off the side of the mountain. Their screams fell faint as their bodies descended. Some knights turned and galloped away, but one was snagged by the beasts claws and thrown into the rocks. Dovakiin quickly made his way to the hind side of the dragon while it was attacked by the other men and horses. His knight pierced the dragons waste. Letting out a shriek, it reared up and let out a blast of flames! The fire reflected in Dovakiins eyes. His knight jumped from his back and fought the dragon on foot. Dovakiin ran out in front to take its attention off the remaining knights. "Retreat! Get out of here, stop fighting and run! Save your life!" Dovakiin whinnied to his officers. The mounted horses bolted, saving their riders lives while others ran in panic to find their men. The dragon reached and tried to snatch the escaping few, but missed. Dovakiin rounded up some men and horses to send them down the mountain while his knight ran up the rocks, leading the dragon away with enough time for the remaining to flee. "Hurry get out of here!" Dova shouted as the last of the kings knights ran away and disappeared in the fog and snow saving their own lives. Dovakiin turns back, the dragon had his rider, his friend, in it's grasp. Pressing him into the ground, trapping him in it's claws. The dragon was screaming, threatening to devour him. "NO!" Dovakiin whinnied and heaved himself after the dragon. The dragon scraped his armor with its claws making a screeching sound. It pricked its other hand on the horn of Dovakiin's armored face mask. "You cannot take him!" He yelled. He stabbed the dragon's other hand that held his knight hostage. It yelped and let him go for a brief moment. Dovakiin leaped and stood over his partner. He looked down and nickered at his bantered rider, hoping he could understand... "you die, I die."
The dragon came back to face him. It hissed in confusion, not grasping this stallions deep loyalty to his rider. The knight tries to stand, holding onto Dovakiin's side. He coughs, spitting up blood but refusing to back down. He lifts himself and mounts up to his armored saddle. Dovakiin bolts, trying to escape down the mountain after their fellow knights, but the dragon lands right in front of them. Dovakiin nickers in discouragement... there's no escape. If they head further up the mountains, they would freeze to death over night, going off the cliff is suicide... to stand and fight was the only option for a knight. His rider urges him forward yelling the horses' name, "Dovakiin!" They run towards the dragon as the dragon opens its jaws, with fire surging within. His rider yells down to him, "you die, I die!"
Dovakiin slides to a stop and sends himself rearing as tall and mighty as he is able. Lashing out his hooves, his knight draws his sword and carries it high. This moment was their last, as if it were to be slowed in time. Dovakiin neighed and screamed at the dragon living up to the name of Dovakiin, a hero.. a knight.