Storm's Story-Freewriting Contest! CLOSED

[Stormchase Stables]

The horse included: (KS) Dappled Silver

Not the Story: This is totally made up along with all the names (except the horse's name). I hope you will enjoy the story.

The Story:

The Attempted Horse Kidnapping
The moon shown down on the barn. A lone horse stood in the pasture. Dawn would be approaching soon. Horses were stirring in the barn, and the horse on the pasture was already grazing. Someone was walking down the path to the barn, but who was it?I had been observing this from my house.
Before I continue my tale, I should introduce myself. I am Zia. I live at Thorn Ridge Horse Ranch with my family, and I am here today to tell you a story about a horse kidnapping that happened.
Now back to the story. It was still too dark for me to make out any details of the person walking towards the barn. I quickly and very quietly snuck away from the window and tugged on my boots.
Just as I pushed the door open, and slowly walked out the door. Before I could shut the door, someone grabbed my sweatshirt. I quickly looked behind me to see it was my twin brother Xander.
“I won’t let you go check him out without me,” He told me. Relief flooded through me. I was glad I wouldn’t have to see who it was by myself.
Xander shut the door behind us and we began sneaking towards the barn. Suddenly, a crash came from the barn, followed by a whinny from a horse.I looked at Xander than began running towards the barn.
I knew that whinny, it came from Dappled Silver, our pregnant mare. I would not let anything happen to her! No way.
We reached the barn. By then, we had slowed down and were sneaking around the edge of the of the door to the barn. I stuck my head around the open barn door. The figure was trying to get into Dappled Silver’s stall.
I turned around and told Xander the situation.
“That is not good news,” Xander said, “but I have a plan.”He explained the plan and we both raced off to get the needed supplies.
I grabbed the lead ropes and climbed up into the hay loft. Xander was already there.
“On three,” I said after we finished putting our trap together.
“One, two, THREE!” I shouted.We threw down the makeshift net and it fell upon the horse thief. We climbed down the ladder and I stood guard over the thief while Xander went to get Mom and Dad.
The next morning, I was exhausted from staying up, but I was proud of capturing a horse thief that had stolen 12 horses already.
“I still can’t believe you apprehended that horse thief, Xander and Zia,” Dad announced at breakfast.
I still could not believe it myself either, but from that day on, I remember it as my proudest moment.

VOCABULARY/GRAMMAR: 80/100. Great! Good words, some mistakes, and good English as well!
ORIGINALITY: 70/100. Another horse-thief story, with a few changes. Still good, though.
DETAILS: 80/100. I would have used different words for some parts, and sometimes your phrases can get a little repetitive (For example, the words Explain and Plan are used often in one paragraph)
PLOT: 70/100. Again, there should be something more if you're going to write a horse-thief story.
CHARACTERS: 60/100. We don't know what they look like, and we don't know too much about their emotions.
Woot Woot! You scored 360 points!

[Stormchase Stables]

J_H Frozen Glory



I was flying. There is no way to put the indescribable feeling of soaring on the wings of a horse into words. It is simply impossible. If anyone one were to challenge that it was possible, it is obvious they have not felt the sensation of freedom that I am feeling right now. I was one with my best friend. My only true friend in the world consisted of four legs, a silky tail, eyes that reminded you of melted chocolate, and the softest nose in the universe. The world was warned of our presence by Glory’s pounding hooves, and as we raced across the field all who were present, humans and creatures alike, stood in awe at our grace. We soared across the field and into beyond, ready to see what waited for us….

“Jane! Are you awake? Do you need help getting up? I’ll be down in a second to help you up,” my mother called from upstairs. I groaned. I hated mornings. It wasn’t your typical, grouchy, “I’m a teenager and I hate getting up,” type hate either. I hated getting up because it reminded me of what I lost. What I can’t do anymore. What I wasn’t good enough for.

I glanced across the room at the ridiculous contraption that was now taking up the place of the western saddle that was once cherished there. All of my pride, glory, the only thing I ever felt like I was good at in the entire world, was stolen and replaced with something that only got me pity, sorrow, frustration, and worse. All those who tried to help were kidding themselves. They don’t understand. They say they care, that they are sorry, but they can barely comprehend a teaspoon of what I lost.

I used my arms to push my upper body and the useless lump of bones and skin into a sitting position. This was the tricky part. I stretched out over the side of the bed until my fingertips pulled the wheelchair closer. After three months of using only my upper body strength my biceps have gotten considerably bigger. I used the railings on the side of my bed to help me swing over and adjust myself in the chair.

“Don’t worry about it Mom, I’ve got it,” I yelled back, grimacing. After getting settled I wheeled myself to the door and rolled into the hallway.

“Junebug, you should have let me help you. You could have hurt yourself. Pulled a muscle or something.” She said after watching me roll into the kitchen with a furrowed brow. Worry-wart.

“I’ve got it Mom, I need to learn how to do it by myself anyway.” I looked longingly out the kitchen window to see my best friend grazing. He hadn’t been ridden since the accident. He needed out, but everyone was to busy tending to me to notice poor Glory. The idiots.

It wasn’t like the accident was his fault anyway. It was mine. I thought we could make the jump over the old railroad ties. One of our calves got away jumping over, surely we could do the same. We felt so ready. Our rhythm, breathing, everything was perfect. Until I snapped. I got scared, felt out of control and didn’t know why. Then it hit me,... the cinch wasn’t tight enough. I never tightened after we got warmed up. As soon as I made this realization it was to late. His back feet left the ground, and my saddle left his back. It was my fault. Me. All me…..

VOCABULARY/GRAMMAR: 90/100. Very good! I saw a mistake or two but I'm sure it wasn't on purpose. Very good English.
ORIGINALITY: 80/100. Loved it! Again, I have seen things like this before but that doesn't mean I don't like it
DETAILS: 80/100. Elaborate a little. The details were mainly good, just lacks a little.
PLOT: 80/100. Very good! I wish you would have explained more about what happened with the accident though.
CHARACTERS: 70/100. If it wasn't for the picture of Glory I wouldn't know what he really looked like that much. And I have no idea what the main character looks like either. Otherwise, great!
Whoop! You scored 400 points!

[Malakai20]

VOCABULARY/GRAMMAR: 100/100. Great words/vocabulary, and perfect English! I've seen one mistake in the whole story, and I'm pretty sure it was an accident. Good job!
ORIGINALITY: 80/100. I've read countless foal-stories, but this one is probably one of the best. I absolutely love this story, there's so much more to it than all the other foal stories where the foal is born, tries to stand up, succeeds and bam- the end.
DETAILS: 100/100. Pretty much perfect. I think if you wrote a book and published it, it would become the next Harry Potter. I loved how you wrote about the colt being as graceful as a "morbidly obese walrus", and the "words-that-were-not-words".
PLOT: 80/100. Very good. But I would add on something more, it just feels like it's missing a bit. Like, how the colt felt about Sands - did he look up to her? Was she his idol? Did he ever know about his sire?
CHARACTERS: 90/100. I would like to know a little more about Sands. I know what color she was, but I don't know if she had a racer's build, or if she had a dished face, maybe she had a mohawk? The same goes for the colt, but I know it's a little harder to write about him since he was still a newborn in that story and his features could change.
WOW! You scored 450 points!!!

Thank you!

[Stormchase Stables]

Gun Stitch

Llama's Brioche

Tate needs to Shush

The Three Muskateers

A very interesting story about three non-related siblings.
Gun Stitch: A 'Part Rhinelander x Suffolk Punch' Filly.
Llama's Brioche: A 'Part Auxois x Belgian' Colt.
Tate needs to Shush: A 'Soviet Heavy Draft x Arabian' Colt.
One day, a very saucy bunch of foals wast born at mine own farm. Caliver stitch, llama's brioche and tate needeth to dun's the mouse (after their parents). Caliver hath used to at each moment playeth with sharp objects such as: farrier equiptment, metal curry combs, and buckles from tack. But, at which hour the lady snook into the house, the lady hadst that lady hoof did stick in the fireplace guard. Oh nay!
Llama however, wast slightly moo sensible, but a whole lot moo lively! once, he wast trotting down to the ford, he did see a large toad and he ranneth and ranneth until, he hath reached a cottage full of hay. "mmm. Hayyyyyy!" he wenteth in and nibbl'd the first strand of hay he couldst findeth. T releas'd a trapdo'r below him and he hath fallen to his doom.
Tate, (despite his full name) wast an innocent dram fellow bless him. He hadst sens'd yond his pals wast in lacking valor danger, so he wenteth to rescue those folk.
He arriv'd in the house and did get some leaves to putteth between caliver's leggeth and the guard. T hath worked! anon the lady is free again!
At which hour tate arriv'd at the cottage, the hay wast extremely tempting, but he couldst intermit, just this one. He hath found a rope and did throw one end down a hole. He winch'd llama back up and anon llama wast free! tate is a hero!
At which hour they all ariv'd back at the farm, thither wast a celebration to honour the bravery of the palmy foal himself, did organize by the other horses. Eventually the other two foals 'did' start to behave, and they hath lived happily ev'r after. The end.
(Written in Shakespearean)

VOCABULARY/GRAMMAR: 80/100. I spotted a few mistakes, I'm pretty sure (You never know, with Shakespearean ) There were a few capital problems (for example, llama is a name, so it's Llama)
ORIGINALITY: 100/100. okay, I really need to give you credit for this! Nobody else wrote in Shakespearean
DETAILS: 80/100. Very good, but I would use a little more adjectives, to describe the setting, etc.
PLOT: 70/100. I'm thinking there should be something more to this. How did they feel in the end? How did he know that they were in danger?
CHARACTERS: 80/100. Good characters! I wish you'd describe them a teensy weensy bit more.
Squeee! You scored 410 points!

[Stormchase Stables]

I liked the idea of the previous storytelling contests, so I'm going to host one!
Here's how to participate:
Enter 1 to 4 horses. Write a story about it/them, have as many characters and paragraphs as you want.
I'll be giving you more good marks if your horses are good looking!
I judge somewhat harshly, being in a Creative Writing course and all
I like good vocabulary and lots of detail, but I don't judge how good your English is if you're not fluent.
RULES:
-Must be YOUR story! Don't copy and paste
-Must be YOUR horse(s)!
-Only enter on ONE account!
-Horses can be on frozen/side accounts but must belong to you
-Should be a good story
-Can be any form of poetry
-Can be something that happened to you
PRIZES:
1st Place- 150k, a trained horse, 8 free breedings to a stallion I own of your choice
2nd Place- 80k and 4 free breedings
3rd place- 30k and 1 free breeding
NO RUNNER-UPS!
Contest is judged and ended when there are enough entries for me to choose from.
Enjoy!

Here is my entry:
CNA Wave of Cash

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

From the minute he dropped the ground all Wave of Cash desired to do was please his owner, Jill. Yet over and over he could hear Jill late at night speaking to fellow horse people on the phone about how let down she'd felt about his breeding, that she had expected a better foal from the horses she had paired together, those being Cash's father, steeplechase champion Gilded Cash and the second of her best mares, Shockwave Kelly.

I'm going to send him away for a while until I'm ready to break him in. Then I will sell him, there is no way I am keeping him around, he just doesn't have the speed like his daddy does. At least he has lovely coat coloring, he would hear her say. Cash's heart ached each day hearing how his owner disliked him, that he was going to be sent away until she "felt like it."

The day came when a trailer pulled up in front of his paddock. Jill stepped out of the truck pulling it and headed his way, geared with a small halter and rope. Despite the cruel words he'd heard spoken of him, the desire to please so naturally ingrained in to his personality rose. He met his owner at the gate, enjoying the little moments of attention given to him as she slid the halter on and brought him outside to the trailer, the first he'd ever seen. He admitted that he was a little nervous about it.

The apprehension he felt faded as the smell of sweet fed and hay wafted from the claustrophobic interior of the trailer and Cash eagerly climbed aboard, surprised when Jill handed him a carrot as a reward for getting in.

The ride to the new place, a twelve thousand acre farm situated inside a valley between the mountains, was over in a flash. A pond ran under the bridge that led you to the sign reading "Mountainside River: Long Term Horse Care". Cash could hear the sound of whinnies and galloping hooves from other horses from inside the trailer, but being only a baby still, could not look outside to check it out.

Jill unloaded him from the trailer and led him over to a large size paddock with two other youngsters observing him from behind the wood fence, obviously excited for his arrival. At least he wouldn't be alone while the time for Jill to "feel like it" came. She walked him inside, clipped the rope off, patted him on the head and said hi to his new paddock mates before leaving. Time after that seemed to pass by in a blur.

Cash got to know his paddock mates, another colt like himself called Starburst and a gelding named Apache. They would gorge on the delicious hay combination round bales left for them in the mornings and then play the day away, bucking, rearing, mock striking and seeing who could race the fastest in the paddock; at night they would go to sleep with a belly full of pellets and alfalfa hay, replenishing the energy to repeat the cycle the next day.

This continued until one summer, two years after Jill had brought him here and never returned, not even for a visit; the trailer he'd rode in as a foal suddenly drove up the long driveway. Out came Jill, looking just as he remembered, this time with a halter upgraded in size. As willing to please as he always been and never had stopped being, he met his long-time-no-see owner at the gate, forgetting completely about his paddock buddies. The same love he felt for Jill bubbled over, even though he could tell by the look in her eyes, she hadn't changed her thoughts about him.

It wasn't long before they got back to the farm he use to know. Instead of being taken immediately into his old stall, Jill took him to the round pen, replaced the rope with a lunge line, and his training began. By the end of the month, a training shine gleamed on his coat, to compliment the muscles building up on his body. A couple weeks later, he was carrying his owner around on his back; he learned quickly about collection and impulsion. 365 days later, they popped over their first two foot jump together. Cash was exhausted by the end of the day, but didn't care---the attention Jill was giving to him, which she never had before, delighted him. The cruel words that passed her lips when he was a foal had diminished drastically. A new hope sparked inside of him.

Soon he was four years old, built like a brick house, his coat shining beautifully in the sunlight. Jill worked with him every day; she was not affectionate as he'd hoped, but the attention was positive, and that was all he had asked for. It was that time for Jill to show up and like Cash always did, he waited by the gate for her, eager for their daily lesson.

But what came instead scared him; the trailer was back. This time, instead of just his halter, she had his saddle with her. She tied him inside the trailer saddled up, petting him on his butt and speaking of his first steeplechase race before driving them to their destination. The fear he felt disappeared quickly; they were going to their first show together! Good thing they had already practiced the skills for the race at home.

Before long, they were galloping full speed along the other steeplechase competitors and jumping over hedges, wood fences, bushes, and an assortment of different stationary objects. Cash put his heart and soul into the race; not just because this was what he loved to do, but because in the end of it all, he was a pleaser---he wanted to please Jill and do well. Most of all, he wanted her to keep him as one of her horses, forever.

Like every thing else in his life, the race was over quick, and he was back tied outside of the trailer, the cold water from the hose running over his body, the soap lathering into his coat. The person was a helper---not Jill herself. Jill had gone to find out the results of the race. He had eavesdropped her speaking to a racing friend of hers---that his performance in this show determines whenever he stays with her or not. Cash mentally kept his hooves crossed.

After the helper dried him off, spraying show sheen on to his coat, Jill bounded happily towards him and threw her arms around his neck. She pressed her nose to his neck, breathing deeply, with a look of love shining in her eyes. Then came the words he'd waited for....for four years.

"I love you, Cashy! You did so well in your first race....better than your daddy ever did. Consider yourself an official keeper!" she exclaimed. "You brought us home two million, three hundred seventy-five, one hundred and forty two dollars!"

So he had lived up to his name....Wave of Cash. Better yet, he had earned his owner's love once and for all. That night, he went to sleep, belly full of Triplecrown Complete and all the alfalfa hay he could eat, smiling as best as a horse could. End of the story.

This story isn't completely made up. I didn't plan on keeping this horse because I did expect his conformation readings to be higher since his parents have really great stats. I did keep him in my holding farm (not until he was two though---I do not age horses on that account. I did bring him back with the intentions of training and selling him to a different HWO'er, but decided to enter him into a steeplechase competition with a 12 mil purse--his first competition in the discipline. He won third place and brought home $2,375,142 on the first entry. I am definitely NOT selling him now

VOCABULARY/GRAMMAR: 90/100. I spotted one or two mistakes, but otherwise perfect English!
ORIGINALITY: 70/100. I love this story, but I've just read too many racehorse drama stories similar to this. Something else should happen! Like maybe his parents' story?? Or what happened in other races?
DETAILS: 80/100. Good, I would use some more descriptive words though
PLOT: 80/100. *Read Originality* Something is missing.
CHARACTERS: 90/100. I love love love Wave of Cash, I wish you'd describe the other horses more though.
Yippee! You scored 410 points!

[Stormchase Stables]

My story~

LM Everlasting Storm


The Moment She was Born she knew her destiny was to run freely. With the wind in her long dark mane flowing and her tail swerving in the air. Although, she knew she couldn’t just leave, even if the temptation was killing her she couldn’t leave her abusive owner she would get in a lot of trouble.

a small man and her owner came up to her in her stall. “How old?” The man asked. “3 Years old” the owner said. “Has she got any aggressive tendencies?” Asked the man. “Doesn’t bite, though can buck and is a high-strung filly,”. “high-strung?! And I only buck because you pull the bit WAY too hard!” Storm Thought to herself.
“Will she be ready by Thursday?” What did he mean? That’s five days from now. What is he talking about? “Yes though she will need to have more training,”. “Okay, I will take her now for an hour and I’ll see how much longer she will need,” the Man said. Then Storm was Taken by the strange man to the big floodlight arena and the man mounted her. He was walking her round expecting her to be a professional eventer. To his disappointment she was obviously inexperienced and was confused so in his frustration grasped the reins tight and pulled on them! “Oh no he doesn’t! Not this!” She, with a leap of force bucked in full strength causing the man to hurl to the ground. Storm, spooked by the thump of the man hitting the ground, reared and galloped away.

“what have I done?! I need to leave I can’t stay here!” Storm thought. She was drowning in her guilt. Even if the man yanked the reins practically forcing her to act, she felt awful for throwing of the man. She was a High-strung, temperamental filly with a big heart. She jumped over the slightly rotten wooden fence of the floodlight and continued to gallop full speed.

She passed through fields, forests, valleys and didn’t stop until she reached a herd of horses and ponies all of different shapes and sizes. Out of all of them one stallion catches her eye. The “leader” of the herd. A tall, blue roan, stallion. “Cadet” they call him.
LM Voodoo Cadet


“Cadet! An intruder!” A small Piebald mare Exclaims. “Oh no! I mean no harm!” She blurted out. “What is your name? Who are you?” Cadet said with a Deep and quite soothing voice. “Everlasting Storm though you can just call me Storm,” “Ok, and where did you come from?”. “I am from...um...” she paused for a moment. She didn’t actually know. She was always oblivious of who she really was where she came from. All she knew was that she was a “purebred Anglo-Arabian” people seemed to think she was special because of her genes. “Well we don’t have all day!” He said. “I don’t know where I’m from- I-I’m from f-f-far away,” She stuttered as she filled with sadness. She desperately wanted to know her origin, her home, her family, but she had no clue...
“What do you mean?!” He exclaimed. “I’m afraid She’s a lost cause...” said a seal brown colt then sniggering to himself. “I’m not stupid! I’ve just never had any information about myself, just nothing,” Storm said sadly while her eyes were flooding with tears. “No one thinks your stupid we are just confused as to how you hardly know anything about yourself.” Cadet said sympathetically. “I think she’s stupid!” Said the brown colt chuckling. “Prince! How many times do I have to tell you to be nice!” Complained the mother. “Come with me,” said Cadet
I followed.

We had reached a beautiful lake with trees and bushes round it and luscious green grass to be grazed. “Your owner will be looking for you…since you got lost,” he said with slight hesitation “I’m not lost I ran away…” she said. “Why Would you run away?” And then she told him about her owner being abusive towards her and how she threw the man off and left Cadet in shock. “Wow…well some of us have been from abusive and bad owners,” he said obviously hurting him “Like poor Foxy,” he said while pointing his muzzle towards a strawberry roan mare with visibly painful scars and a patchy coat. “Well it seems like you will be staying here then…”

She couldn’t rest that night I wasn’t used to being with other horses. Whenever She heard another horse She would have flashbacks of my owner grabbing my mane while She was persistently kicking and whinnying in pain.

The next morning, she saw a figure approaching the vast paddock. Then turned into two. It was my owner and the owner of these horses! “That’s me horse! Such a pain!” He exclaimed. Storm started to walk backwards trembling in fear. With a burst of power she was galloping around, not letting the owner catch her. “That monster, she’s viscous I tell you!” The owner said while trying to get Storm. The owner got his long whip out and with a big crack whipped Storm making her yelp in agony. “Hey! That’s not how you treat a horse!” The owner of the other horses exclaimed. “you’ve got to keep controll not let the horse run free that’s why I have this whip!” The owner yelled back aggressively. Then all the horses joined in in my riot running around bucking, rearing, bolting! Until her owner left running away.

Now her owner was charged for animal cruelty and abuse and Storm lived happily with her new owner and mate Cadet happier than ever before.

Not the best story ever but I tried my best

Hehe rename her Stormchase (kidding lol)
VOCABULARY/GRAMMAR: 60/100. There were few spelling mistakes, but capitals and different tenses seem to be a recurring problem.
ORIGINALITY: 80/100. Very good. I've read stories like these before though. This one has a twist.
DETAILS: 70/100. Please use more descriptive words. Otherwise, very good.
PLOT: 80/100. Again, there's something that needs to be added, probably in the beginning. I don't know, maybe why and how she knew her destiny was to run freely.
CHARACTERS: 90/100. I loved your characters. Especially Cadet, for some reason
Yay Hooray! You scored 380 points!

[Stormchase Stables]

Here's my story:

Characters:
Main Characters:
Owner
Thundering Chariot

Side Character:
Thundering Perfection



Story:

Calculating, dark sepia eyes stared unblinkingly at the foal and the mare as she gazed at them. White misty swirls of vapour were puffed out as she breathed. Quietly, not wanting to disrupt the silence of the still night, she started evaluating the foal with her keen eyes and noted the information on the clipboard she held since the mare’s delivery date crept closer.

“10hh... Should at least reach 17hh fully grown…cremello, carrying its dam’s distinct head and beautiful eyes. It should make a good broodmare or stud. Keep.” Her pen flew elegantly over the paper on the clipboard, not making any noise as she wrote.

The mare raised her head to look at her, eyes boring into each other. Each burning with a fierce intensity, before the mare called out a soft greeting. Her mouth spread into a tiny smile and she hummed in reply. She, standing as stiff as a board, then tucked her clipboard into her side in a perfect right angle, before turning away and vanishing into the night, wrapped around her like a second skin.

“Thud...thud...thud…” The filly’s strong, compact hooves hit the sand with rapid speed as she trotted on the spot. Her head was held high and her glossy coat shone in the poor lighting of the Training Arena as the sun sank into the trees in the distance. Eyes burned into her critically as they inspected her footwork, judging every posture, every rhythm and every small detail. There was no room for mistakes, no room for imperfection, no room for flaws. Beads of sweat were gathering on her coat as the silvery moon drifted into the sky. It was only when she faltered that her training came to an end. A halter attached to a lead rope was slipped onto her head as she was led back into the pasture she shared with her mother.

It was the same routine every day, no affection, petting or praise. Not much, the filly mused. The most she got from the young lass was an approving nod or quirk of her thin lips. Recalling this, she couldn't help but wonder, what had she done to garner such a cold and cutting reaction? Did she sin against her in her past life? She remembered, when she was barely old enough to be weaned, the lass would visit her mother, playing with her, petting her and even reading stories to her. She felt confused, why did she treat both her and her mother so differently? Her mother, who had stayed up for her arrival, cantered towards her, greeting her fondly and showering her with attention.

In the tumbledown brick cottage beside the ranch, the lass stared at the clipboard with the notes on the filly which were made about two years ago. Irked, she sighed, quietly and evenly. She was being left behind in the times. The Equestrian world was progressing too quickly for her to keep up. Her mare, her first friend, she was going to be sent away to a rural farm soon.

How she was plagued with a myriad of problems! Financial issues being the most severe. After unwise heavy investing in training courses and training equipment, it had set her back a great deal. Now, her only friend would be leaving her. How was she going to deal with the loss of her beloved mare?

The filly was wakened by neat, clicking footsteps, each tapping the ground with a perfect tempo which made a flawless rhythm. Her owner was opening the gate of the pasture. Her ears flicks up into her direction. Beside her, her dam raised her head and let out a low nicker of welcome. Her owner walked up towards them and patted her dam’s neck as a way of telling her to get up.

She watched as her owner slipped a halter onto her dam and led her out of the pasture. Somehow, her heart ached. As her dam turned to look at her, she could not help but feel a sense of foreboding trickle down her spine, almost akin to the feeling of being drenched in cold water. She never saw her again.

A tear slipped out of the glazed eyes as she her finger caught it daintily. As she saw the vague shape of the trailer vanish, her seemingly cold heart broke some more, leaving her feeling numb. Her stubborn chin trembled as she suppressed her emotions, blinking back the transparent pearls of moisture and steeling herself as her usual calculating expression settled across her face.

She had lost her parents to a freak accident quite early in life. The sprawling ranch was left to her. Determined to make something out of herself and succeed in life, she had worked hard, training the horses and making profits with the sales. While some might call it luck, she called it fate. When she passed a marketplace in a rural town, she saw a filly, nearly a mare. She had been so taken with her that she had bought her in a flash of impulsiveness.

Not one to regret her decisions, she trained the filly to the best of her abilities and entered her in many local and international shows. The filly turned mare was her first friend, comforting her during difficult times and rejoicing with her whenever something good happened, they were nearly inseparable. Unsurprisingly, they were stunned when they heard that her mare, the mare who was owned by a nameless, unknown person, broke two world records.

That had been years ago. About six, she mused. That was before things started moving to rapidly for her to catch up. Other, more famous breeders started to produce better horses. She, not being someone who settled for renting ponies out for rides to eke a living, was ambitious, and she wanted to make a huge impact on the Equestrian world. She had paired her mare with a stallion she bought, and had produced a foal nearly the splitting image of her mare. It was hard not to get attached, the foal had all of its dam’s attributes, and was as wonderful as her.

She had distanced herself, to prevent her from getting attached. Now, she had to move on, it was no use moping around and doing nothing productive. As she was now breeding racers, they were her main focus, and her mare's foal was not her priority.

The filly, resting under the shade of a humongous tree, looked at the nearby river with vacant eyes. She missed her mother, now only having horses from the other pastures for company. She flopped onto the spring grass, pondering deeply, about life. Why? Why did she have to take her mother away. Why? Why hasn't she visited at least once? Why?

A year passed. The lass stared at the sleek racers in the huge barn. They were built magnificently, both exhibiting speed and strength, an unlikely combination which made her racers unique. Looking at the framed pictures of her and her racers receiving trophies, medals and prize money was all around the walls of the barn. She should feel proud. Despite this, why did her heart ache?

The filly turned mare was grazing in a pasture peacefully, her long, thick glossy mane and tail complementing the warm colours of the sunrise. The ranch had grown much in these years. Her owner had achieved her goal of leaving a mark on the Equestrian world. Her racehorses were a huge success, solving all her problems, all except one. Her owner was lonely. She could see it in her face when she sometimes visited this ranch and stared at her.

Her mature face had lost its baby fat, leaving her with distinct features and sharp, narrow, triangular, cat-like eyes. She was now dressed in branded clothing, with her black hair, which reminded her of water when blown by the wind, was tied up with expensive hair accessories in a severe bun.

She stared at the photo in her hands. It was taken when she and her mare had broken the Marathon Driving World Records. Her mare, her constant companion, her best friend. She had just passed on. She had been devastated, and guilty, due to the fact that she had been too busy to visit her before she died.

Looking up, she caught sight of the replica. Expressionless, she stalked off into the newly reconstructed building. The old one was torn down before building this sleek, modern one over it. It was ironic, she chuckled bitterly. Wanting a beautiful home with flawless and intricate design. Oh, how she had longed for one. It was only now when she sat on the sleek leather couch that she truly wished for her old home, the rambling, sprawling worn-out cottage, with the chill with its never-ending dripping from the roof when the skies cried. She had never felt colder.

She decided, in a split-second, to stay here. Her racers were in good hands. Now, it was time to focus on her mare's foal. Her last treasure. All of her other foals were sold, off to other ranches. She was only left with her. One last precious memory, the last piece of an incomplete puzzle. She would complete the puzzle, she would. She would do it or die trying.

The filly turned mare raised her head and curiously flicked her ears in the direction of the steady, almost silent footsteps that the wind had brought to her. Subconsciously, from muscle memory a few years ago, she trotted up to the gate, eyes expecting. Her owner was striding towards her, face twisted in a purposeful grimace. A strong, flowing hand stretched out to tentatively pat her glossy neck. She huffed in contentment. The swirl of water vapour was puffed out as it slowly faded away. She gazed at her owner with warm eyes.

It was the look in the mare's eyes that reminded her of her dam, the beautiful, shining orbs that had caught her attention. Yes, it was the emotion in the eyes, so trusting, so full of love. Shakily, she took a green apple out from the satchel she carried. The mare nickered joyfully at the treat. After crunching happily on the crisp apple, the mare surprised her by using her muzzle to gather her into a hug. As the tension drained from her body, she couldn't help but desperately hug her.

She was remorseful, for all the times she held herself back from patting her soft coat, resisted treading her fingers through her thick, glossy mane, resisted showering her with praise. She regretted pushing her away, ignoring her, and not even bothering to look into her eyes. The realisation hit her like a pile of bricks. She had been unfair, she had always compared her mare to her dam. She had avoided her, to hide from her ghost, she had put her ambition first, leaving the important things behind. Her tears trickled down her face as she reproached herself. She discerned, that the mare was unique, she was incomparable, she was special. Now, she would make up for her mistakes, her selfishness.

And she knew that her mare would forgive her. They would share a special bond, they would find comfort in each other. Stroking her muzzle ever so gently, she whispered, “I'll love you for being yourself, for you are one of a kind and incomparable.”





So, did you like it? I certainly hope you did! This is inspired when I felt a little lost in life, and doubted myself. Back then, about a year ago, I decided to give up on my Driving horses, leaving them to die off. Looking back, I did not really visit my mare or take good care of her before she died. It saddled me with guilt. (No pun intended) This is sort of a <CS> history lesson

I'm taking Pure Literature, and with that in mind, began to construct my story carefully. There's diction and some other literary devices.

VOCABULARY/GRAMMAR: 100/100. I didn't see a single mistake in there!
ORIGINALITY: 90/100. This was definitely one of the more original stories. I don't think I've read very many others like it. Good job.
DETAILS: 80/100. I would love it if you described the setting a little more; the surroundings. Otherwise, very good.
PLOT: 90/100. Great! I would just write about, let's say, life before Thundering Perfection & Co? Or maybe about before the parents died?
CHARACTERS: 100/100. I think there's really nothing other to say than "I absolutely adore your characters". Thundering Chariot was definitely my favorite!
Great job! You scored 460 points!

[Tisha]

VOCABULARY/GRAMMAR: 100/100. I didn't see a single mistake in there!
ORIGINALITY: 90/100. This was definitely one of the more original stories. I don't think I've read very many others like it. Good job.
DETAILS: 80/100. I would love it if you described the setting a little more; the surroundings. Otherwise, very good.
PLOT: 90/100. Great! I would just write about, let's say, life before Thundering Perfection & Co? Or maybe about before the parents died?
CHARACTERS: 100/100. I think there's really nothing other to say than "I absolutely adore your characters". Thundering Chariot was definitely my favorite!
Great job! You scored 460 points!

Oh, better than I expected. Thank you!

[Stormchase Stables]

Main Character:
Gladiator

On a stormy and dark day, Gladiator of {PLP} was born.
His dam, a beautiful dark Belgian mare named Black July, nudged him gently with her muzzle, urging him to get to his feet before the storm wrecked the barn.
Gladiator blinked once, twice, and stood up shakily. He wobbled around, and glanced at his dam. Black July nickered, and they walked slowly towards a safer barn. Just as they had reached their new home, strong gusts of wind knocked their old barn down, leaving only a very suprised horse standing in the wreckage. It was Roan Rockstar, Gladiator's lazy uncle.
"Come over here! It's safe!" Black July whinnied, shielding Gladiator from the piercing wind with her immense body.
Will I ever grow to be as big and strong as them? Gladiator thought, watching his dam and uncle closely as Roan Rockstar stumbled through mud and puddles.
The huge bear-like stallion reached the barn. He loomed over his nephew, muscles gleaming with sweat and rain.
"This is your son, July? He's a wee little thing," Rockstar boomed, and swished his tail.
"He'll grow," Black July replied defensively. "He's just a colt,"
But Gladiator wasn't so sure. Rockstar and July were just so muscular and big! How could he ever be like them, with their strong legs and thick necks?
He silently made a promise to himself: He was going to be the strongest, biggest, most powerful Belgian around. Even better than Roan Rockstar. He would make his dam proud.
*
Months later, when Gladiator was nearly a yearling in the hot month of August, his sister Peridot was born.
Gladiator was waiting anxiously in the Foals pasture, excited and nervous to meet his new sibling.
His human, Kiara, rushed out of the barn. "A filly! A filly colored like 24 carat gold!" She called out, and raced over to Gladiator so that he could meet his little sister.
She was a cute little thing, with tiny white spots on her gleaming golden coat. She opened her eyes, and looked at Gladiator with emerald green pupils.
Black July lay down beside her daughter and quietly whispered, "Peridot. Her name will be Peridot. Her eyes are so beautifully green and she was born in August."
Peridot's sire, Enigma of *DE*, who was a stud, looked proudly upon his only daughter and reared up, as if daring the other stallions to come close to his offspring.
They were a happy family for a while, until Kiara came back with a new human. This one was more sinister-looking. A male, Gladiator could tell by his smell. It had no mane on top of its head like Kiara did, and it looked strong and not-so-happy.
"Where's the foal?" He shouted in a gravelly voice. Kiara showed him Peridot.
"Weak, weak," The human stallion sighed. "50 strength and 36 stamina. I would get rid of it,"
Kiara looked sadly at Peridot, and then grabbed a rope. She tied it to Peridot, and led the newborn away into a black barn. Gladiator heard a loud squeal, then nothing.
"Where is Peridot? Where has she gone?" Gladiator and Enigma neighed at the same time.
"The humans have rehomed her.. We'll never see her again," Black July sobbed. Enigma glared at the human stallion and flew into a rage.
And as for Gladiator, he made another promise to himself.
He would become the best horse in this farm, for his sister. He would remember her always.
And so, 4 years later, Gladiator came home from the Pine Valley training farm, coat gleaming and muscles bulging underneath his skin.
Even his old uncle, Roan Rockstar, seemed weak compared to him. Gladiator towered over Heart, Wings and Red, the other horses in his pasture.
And when the time came for him to be entered in a Log Pulling competition, he was ready.
That's when he knew his promise was fulfilled.

VOCABULARY/GRAMMAR: 90/100. Your grammar was great, I would just use more advanced vocabulary.
ORIGINALITY: 80/100. I've definitely read stories like this one before. Add a twist! A cliffhanger! Something.
DETAILS: 90/100. Good. There are some parts that I would improve, though.
PLOT: 70/100, Read Originality. Add something new!
CHARACTERS: 80/100 I really liked your characters, but I would have liked to see a little more of Peridot and Enigma.
Good job! You scored 410 points!

[Stormchase Stables]

.

I decided to write something after all . Hopefully reading a lot of books where you see from other peoples perspective help me, so this will be another horses perspective story .
*T2* Catching Fire

My story started when I was born in the meadow of a farm called Heartland. My mother was a huge blue roan mare with a few snowflakes across her broad head. I was a dark roan color with a little white patch near my flank. The first thing my mother ever told me was That i had fire in my eyes and that would be my name. I looked up to find her protecting me from a large herd of other varied horses. I was told by my mother that the only thing you could trust was your herd so by the next morning my mother and i were in the very center of it. I noticed a strange creature called a human coming twords my mother and I, but she didn't seem to mind it at all. Those days I spent on that sweet little farm were short lived because by the time I was a yearling I would be sold to a horrifying place.

I had just turned a year old and i was nearly bigger than my mother, my color had changed to a lighter roan and I had a bit more white on my backside. That day a tall skinny man had come with a large trailer on the back of his truck. But this time it was empty. People often came here with other Belgian horses selling them off to live a retired life here. This man though had come for me. He threw a rope around my neck and dragged me into the trailer. I could not resist though because that rope was sharp with scratchy pieces jutting out all over it. It dug into my neck and it stung worse than a bee sting. As the trailer was shut behind me I let out a long sad neigh to say farewell to my mother and the only herd i had ever known.
We got to the stables of the other farm which I had found out was called Black Oak farms. I Was placed into a stall near another horse named Buxton. He was quite old and frail his head hung down like a wet rag and his tail barely twitching at the flies. There was oats in the trough which I usually quite enjoyed but these oats were rotten and moldy. After one day sleeping at my new home a man came out and asked me with a snicker "are you ready to earn me some money". I did not know what it meant at the time but i would soon find out.

That day I was taken into a massive arena. They first tried to put a harness on me and I had already had covers over me at night so this felt quite the same so i stood and let them. The man then gave me a fresh sugar cube and i took it willingly. Then they hooked me to something with chains they tapped me and said "Get moving". I knew what they wanted but i was told to never fully trust a human so I stood there. The man then did the most awful thing i can remember, he said " Oh, so you want a kiss from Uncle billy, eh?" He then called a big man out from the side and he told him to give me a "kiss" and with a thwack he hit me full on with a whip. I felt a throbbing pain shock my back end, blood dribbled out over my back and i started to to get nervous. They told me to move so this time I did and I got a sugar cube again. This went on every day but instead of giving me a sugar cube they started whipping me harder and harder getting me to strain my muscles and hurt my self pulling the backbreaking weight that was seemingly attached to me.

That went on for years, almost 4 to be exact, until one day they loaded me up and took me to my first competition. before it started they trained me harder than ever whipping me until I bled and had gashes left on my back end. They used a special grease to cover the gashes and scars so no one would see them. I saw the man off in the distance bringing a young filly back closer to me. When the filly saw me she tried to run because I was the only horse near her even though i was a stallion. I heard the man snicker" if this boy doesn't do well i just use this filly in his place." Thats when i knew i had to change things. I could never let another horse go through what I did. I was set out on a field with other horses like myself, but in the back of my mind I knew what i had to do.

The race had begun, I set one foot in stead of the other steadily I looked to my right and I saw a horrifying thing the very stallion that was next to be in the stalls was in this race his mouth foaming at the bit his eyes rolling and his feet stomping. That when I set out to win I steadily progressed to the end taking 1st place, but in the end when I was release from the pressure I rolled in the grass and let the grease peel away from my skin. The grease revealed old scars and a fresh dribble of blood had started from training. When the judges saw that they immediately checked all the other horses. I along with the filly were taken back to heartland to retire or as it's said start a new life and live a new dream. The first horse I saw was my mother as soon as we saw each other we went running. As it turned out the filly was my sister, and I was glad to see that she had not gone through what I did. This is the very place my journey started and the very place it will end.


And thats the story I wanted to tell. im not sure about winning with all of these great stories but I am sure that a horse like that could make a difference .

VOCABULARY/GRAMMAR: 80/100. I did find a few faults; I think this may have been caused by fast typing. Your vocabulary, however, was very good.
ORIGINALITY: 90/100. Very original, although I'm pretty sure this "heartland" you wrote about may have been inspired by a certain TV show
DETAILS: 90/100. I reaaaally liked the bit about "his mouth foaming at the bit, his eyes rolling and his feet stomping".
PLOT: 80/100. There was a plot twist at the end! The filly was his sister?? Didn't expect that But I would have explained this more.
CHARACTERS: 100/100, I lovvveddd your characters! Uncle Billy and his whip, the main character- Catching Fire, his mother.. all so good. They have personalities that fit perfectly in this story.
Whoooooo! You scored 440 points!