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February 2019 Story & 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, remember to quit the scavenger hunt and restart it after you get your quill to earn a higher score.

February 2019 Story & 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, remember to quit the scavenger hunt and restart it after you get your quill to earn a higher score.
Jane Crandal & JB
2019-01-29 21:49:05
White Pony
by OliviaMarie

I saw a white pony,
He laid in the sun,
His neck was splattered with mud,
His hooves caked in clay,
sure he wasn't the prettiest,
but I loved him anyway.
because he is my pony,
and I am his girl.

OliviaMarie & Tango
2019-01-29 22:15:32
The storm
By: Wind drummer

The lightning cracked
The thunder roared
The storm was coming
The storm was coming

I try to find a hiding place
The storm is coming
The storm is coming
The storm is coming now

I ride my horse and try to hide
All i can do is stay inside
The storm is coming
The storm is coming
The storm is here right now

Wind drummer & Dust storm
2019-01-30 17:21:50
A horse and his girl,
are together forever,
never apart.
A horse has a choice.
A choice to throw his girl off.
But he never does.
Because he loves his girl and she loves him.
True love at first ride.

Maddie L & Crocket
2019-01-30 17:26:03
Let's hear it to horses
By: Wind drummer

A horse never cares what his rider can do
A horse will come back whatever, it's true
People can say stuff, things go around
But a horse will never act like a clown

I feel like no one can ever be nicer then you
I know it, I know it, I know that it's true
But if I ever muck up, if I ever fall
You never care and that is all

But when times go hard and nothing seems fine
You go and change the dark, blackened sky
So let's hear it to horses, the best animal around
And now let's go and ride them right now!

Wind drummer & Dust storm
2019-01-31 23:24:32
The Runaway Part 2
By: Nat2

Bastion was grazing placidly near the water trough, his tail swishing lazily back and forth as he shooed away flies. He looked up as Trudy clambered over the fence, his ears pricking with interest. “Hey, handsome,” she called to him, hoping that just this once he wouldn’t make her chase him around the pasture like he so often did. “Hey, there. You don’t want to run away from me, now do you, boy?” She held her hand out, stepping toward him, and he obliged by approaching and snuffling good-naturedly at her palm. “Good boy,” she crooned, rubbing beneath his long, silky forelock. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Come on; we’ve got things to do.” She grabbed him by the halter and led him into the barn. She dragged his tack out while he waited patiently for her; she was just yanking at his cinch when she heard a horse neighing from outside. “That must mean Charlotte’s here,” she told Bastion. He nickered agreeably and tried to eat her sleeve. She jerked her arm away, wrapped his reins around a post, and went outside to greet her friend. But it wasn’t Charlotte. It was Marse, saddle crooked and dun coat spotted dark with sweat. He was ripping furiously at a patch of grass as if it was the cause of all his problems and should be appropriately punished, his tail swishing irritably. There was no sign of Dolf.
“Marse!” Trudy nearly tripped on the cinderblock doorstop. “Marseilles, what are you doing here? Where’s Dolf? Where’s Little Boots?”
The French Trotter looked up, gave her an indignant whinny, and went back to tearing the grass up. One hand out, Trudy approached and made what she hoped were a few soothing, sympathetic noises. Whatever they were, they got Marse’s attention. He raised his head again, and she snatched his reins up. “Come on, boy,” she coaxed, rubbing his aquiline nose and tugging him toward the barn. “I bet that saddle’s heavy, isn’t it? You probably want it off, don’t you? And maybe you can tell me what you did with Dolf, while you’re at it,” she muttered. “You’d better not have bucked him off, Marseilles, because if you have, I’ll—”
“Trudy, do my ears deceive me or are you making threats to a horse?”
Trudy flinched, taken by surprise, and whipped around to face the newcomer. “Charlotte!” she stammered, realizing how bizarre her situation must seem to outside spectators. “I didn’t expect you to show up so soon.” She looked past her friend’s Mustang gelding to the young black German Shepherd following close behind. “Oh. And you brought the dog.”
“Hey, as you recall the proviso was no goldfish,” Charlotte reminded her, swinging out of the saddle. “You didn’t say a word about Luger.” She bent to rub his silky ears. “Did she, boy?”
“Charlotte,” Trudy called impatiently over the sounds of both affectionate dog and owner. “Dolf’s missing, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Charlotte straightened and tossed her black ponytail over her shoulder. “So fill me in. What happened?”
Quickly Trudy gave her all the details, starting with Dolf’s unreasonably early visit to her bedroom to report Little Boots’ disappearance. As Charlotte listened, she absently stroked the nose of her black horse. When the explanation was finished, she frowned at Marse.
“And now he’s come back without a rider,” she mused. “I don’t suppose you saw the direction he came from.”
“No,” Trudy replied dismally. “He was already at the barn by the time I noticed him.” She tugged on Marse’s reins. “Well, let me put him up and we’ll go take a look at things. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll help,” Charlotte offered. “Come on, Bullitt.” She tied the Mustang gelding to the barn door handle and loped after Trudy and Marse. With both of them working, it took no time at all to strip the French Trotter’s tack and settle him in his stall, where he retreated into a corner to sulk and commiserate with Gladiator, a bay Sardinian gelding and his nearest neighbor. Leaving them to confer over the stall wall, Trudy led Bastion outside and clambered up into his saddle. Luger nipped interestedly at her feet and she shoved him away.
“Move it, you stupid dog.” Plaintively she looked to her friend. “Did you *have* to bring him, Charlotte? You know he doesn’t like me.”
“Correction.” Charlotte mounted Bullitt and pulled him up alongside Bastion. “You don’t like each other. And while you both will no doubt spend the entire time trying to bite each other, he does bring a few unique capabilities to our rescue party.”
Urging Bastion into a trot, Trudy gave Luger a sour look. He appeared to be smirking at her as he followed at a lope. “Such as?”
“He’s a *dog,* doofus.” Charlotte leaned out of the saddle to pat his head. “I’d like to see you find Dolf using only your sense of smell.” She straightened and with a nudge of her heels sent Bullitt into a canter. “Now come on! He’s bound to be in the woods somewhere, so we just have to find where. And maybe we’ll find Little Boots while we’re at it.”
Jealous of her optimism, Trudy sped Bastion into a lope and followed.

Nat2 & Rocks Valentine
2019-02-03 19:05:23
My Pony
My Pony is no phony.
My Pony is loyal and true.
My pony will never let anything beat me black and blue.
My pony is there.
My pony is there to care.
I love my pony.
My pony loves me.
If you think against this.
Then you are the phony,
not me or my Pony.

kyko6 & Baisle
2019-02-03 19:05:23
Oakwood Bay Academy Chapter 2
By Paladin
We dropped my stuff off at my dorm before going on to get my class schedule. My room was nice, I guess, but my roommates weren’t there yet. Besides, when I picked up my class schedule, I was allowed to pick extracurricular activities. This would be my chance to get to the horses…given that I was able to sneak it past Mom.
The academics center was in the heart of campus, and was built from the same grey stone that nearly every other building consisted of. If it weren’t for the flowers and immaculate landscaping, Oakwood Bay would probably look like some dreary, monotone painting.
Or a haunted village. Yeah, that sounded about right.
Dad opened the heavy wooden doors for us (let me guess, oakwood?), and we continued inside. We didn’t go far. The moment we stepped inside was the moment I found myself six inches away from the next person. Every student had to see the same advisor, apparently, and we’d arrived at the busiest arrival time.
Mom’s lips tightened, and she carefully took off her sunglasses. She was assessing the situation, calculating alternative courses of action, and probably more than a little irritated.
“I told you we should have left two hours ago,” she said, stuffing her glasses into her purse. “Now we’re going to have to wait. All the spots for the Academic Decathlon team will be taken by the time this line cycles through.” She sent me a warning look. “And you will study this time.”
Yeah…last time I tried Decathlon, I got kicked off. Sure, it hurt my feelings, but it was a relief. I had no interest in staying at school for an extra two hours, especially for anything vaguely academic. Instead, I’d picked up an art class. News flash: I can’t do art, either. But it certainly was a lot easier than memorizing fun facts that I’d never use in real-life.
“Sure,” I said finally, though I hoped with all my being that the advisor would just smile sympathetically and tell us the team was full and I’d have to pick something else.
“Are you really sure it’s a good idea for her to do decathlon on top of all her classes?” asked Dad, his hand moving to my shoulder. “We want her grades to be top notch, and she’s going to need time to study. And you can’t expect her to spend all of her time on academics.”
Mom wasn’t convinced. “This is a college preparatory school. She needs to learn.”
“Is that Sakiyama Fujioka?”
An old man with round glasses and a slight Russian accent appeared behind my mother. Mom suddenly smiled, and for once it looked real. “Dr. Pankratov! Are you still teaching here?”
The man grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Where else would I be?”
“With your expertise, you ought to be teaching at Harvard.”
“American college students are far too…rambunctious for my taste. I much prefer it here. After all, where else am I going to meet such bright young lights? I remember the first day you walked into my class, Fujioka. I knew from the start that you, you were going places.”
“Well it’s not Fujioka anymore,” said Dad with a laugh. “It’s Sakiyama Watson.” He put his arm around Mom, but Dr. Pankratov just stared at him.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
Flustered, Dad nervously looked to the side. “I…was in your chemistry class, Dr. Pankratov. I’m Henry Watson.”
“Oh…oh yes, of course.” Of course he was lying, but the old man didn’t stop for a moment. “Sakiyama, you ought to see the lab. It’s been renovated. All the latest technology for the next generation.”
“That sounds wonderful,” said Mom. “Kiki, can you manage here?”
Now that was promising. I nodded eagerly, and she narrowed her eyes.
“No horses.”
“Yes, Mom.”
She, Dad, and the doctor all walked away, leaving me in line with about a hundred other students in crimson and grey. Luckily, the line was moving quickly. At least these guys were efficient.
My gaze fell on the girl in front of me. She was short, plump, and had a huge, bright smile that reminded me of my friend Lucy.
Not that I’d ever see Lucy again. This was high school: If you didn’t talk to someone every day, they forgot you existed. When I returned home for Christmas this winter, I would find myself to be a stranger in the town I called home. I’d be an alien and the topic of uneasy conversation. Gossip would run wild. Lucy, Megan, and Avery would turn their backs on me, and then—
“Hi! What’s your name?”
I blinked as my consciousness hopped on a rocket and returned to Earth. The smiling girl in front of me had turned and was now beaming at me with a mouthful of white teeth that could’ve blinded me if we were outside in the sun. Well, no sense in being rude. My parents would never stand for that, anyway.
“Kiki,” I told not-Lucy. I never introduced myself with my full name. Americans couldn’t pronounce it, anyway. If it weren’t for my mom, I doubted I would, either.
Not-Lucy nodded eagerly. “I’m Candice. You can call me Candy. What are you going to be signing up for?”
If I mentioned the horses again, my mom was going to pop. I’d have to wait until the opportune moment to bring it up to the advisor. “Uh…I don’t know yet.”
“Hey, it’s good to have an open mind! I’m going to do orchestra and choir. I play the violin…well, the electric violin. But it can’t be that different from an acoustic. I’m just taking orchestra so I can get better at playing. I really want to be in a band, though. Do you play an instrument? What’s your favorite kind of music? I like dubstep. So I’m a huge Lindsey Stirling fan. Do you know who she is? She does dubstep violin music, and she dances while she plays! She’s my hero.”
Having ran out of breath, Candy gasped for a few moments. By now, the line had moved forward quite a bit. I took advantage of the pause to answer her.
“I like rock.”
“Like what kind? Oldies, orchestral, metal, modern, screamo, folk…” She listed off at least twenty other subgenres before losing her breath again. She seemed to be spitting out three words at the rate it would have taken a normal person to say one.
“80s,” I said as she gasped again. “Like Queen.”
“Oh, cool!” She started rambling on about some 80s bands that she liked, and I half-listened to her. We moved forward some, but I soon realized I needed to step out.
“Uh, I’ve got to go to the bathroom. Can you hold my spot?”
“Sure. Just be quick. They’re moving quickly.” She rocked back on her heels and hummed to herself while I hurried away.
I found the secretary to tell me where the bathroom was, but when I was finished, she was gone. You’d think that I could find my way back from a bathroom, but this place was a labyrinth of turns and stairs and doors. I eventually wound up in some kind of hall where paintings of faculty and presidents were hanging. As I walked along, the pictures only got older. This school had been around for a while, though.
The last picture caught my eye. Maybe it was the man’s two-foot-tall powdered wig, but it was probably the big bay horse he was riding on. His name was engraved on a brass plate on the frame: Peregrine Ellsworth. Heck, that was even more pompous than his wig.
I was staring into Ellsworth’s poorly painted eyes when a soft laughter came from behind me. Maybe the painting’s misshapen features had put me on edge, but for whatever reason, the sound of that laughter made my blood turn cold. I whipped around to find myself staring down at a little girl with dark, curly hair. She was way too young to be a student, so she was probably somebody’s sister.
But if that was the case, why was she dressed up like a Victorian princess? And why was she smiling?
“Uh, hi,” I said, trying to calm myself. “What’s your name?”
She didn’t answer. Weird, how pale she was. Did someone keep her locked up inside all day or something?
“Can you tell me how to get back to the first floor?”
The girl’s grin widened, and she took off running down the hall and disappeared around the corner.
‘And just when I thought nothing could get any worse,’ I thought to myself, ‘a creepy 19th century toddler shows up. Just my luck.’
“Excuse me.”
This new voice made me turn again, and this time, I saw an older woman at the end of the hall. She smiled weakly at me.
“Are you here for your advisor meeting?”
“Uh, yeah. You don’t know who this girl’s parents are, do you?”
The woman’s nose wrinkled in confusion. Uh oh. I slowly turned back around, and sure enough, the little girl was nowhere to be seen.
A shiver ran all the way from my neck to my toes. Surely I hadn’t imagined the little girl. And there was no such thing as ghosts. She had to be hiding somewhere. Maybe she ran off.
“What girl?” asked the employee. “Is someone snooping up here?”
“Well, I was looking for the bathroom,” I said. “I thought I saw someone. Guess not.”
“Right…” The woman straightened her crimson coat. It bore the Oakwood Bay crest, just like my jacket, but she got away with letting her hair down and wearing a pair of pants. “The girl in front of you was insistent that she hold your place. I think you’d better come downstairs before the other students get impatient.”
After what happened in the hallway, I wasn’t about to argue. I’d had enough with these creepy paintings and mysterious disappearing girls.
I followed the lady back downstairs. Candy happily waved at me, but the other students and their parents sent me frustrated glances. I just waved back.
It didn’t matter to me who helped me choose classes, so I just grabbed the nearest advisor’s door and stepped inside. There, an older man was sitting at a mahogany desk with a high-tech laptop and a boatload of paperwork.
When he saw me, he grinned and gestured for me to take a seat. The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled, but it was impossible to determine his age. His eyes were bright and his hair was dark and thick, but all the same, his cheeks were sallow and age spots marked his brow.
“What’s your name?”
“Kikuchi Watson.” I sat in the big, plush blue chair and felt myself sink into the cushions. At least the seating was good, even if this place was a possibly-haunted overachieving prep-school.
The advisor started typing at his computer. “I’m Louís Diez. The students call me El Guapo.”
“Um, doesn’t that mean ‘the handsome’?”
“Are you saying I’m not?” He grinned at me before continuing to type. “It comes from my favorite movie: The Three Amigos.” He hit a key and leaned back in his chair. “It looks like your parents have preregistered you for classes. Algebra 2, Biology, Beginning Robotics, Sophomore English Composition, and Beginning Japanese?”
I shrugged. “Sounds right.”
“Okay, then. That’s sorted out. Do you have any idea what kind of extracurricular activities you want to join?” He took a list from his desk and held it out to me. “You’ll need at least one arts course and either a sport or a Physical Education class. There are also clubs and the honors society…”
I stared down at the paper. There…was a lot.
“Honors society,” I muttered lamely, knowing that would be the first thing my mom asked about when she came back. “And…” Painting. Drawing. Violin. Ugh, I liked music but I couldn’t play it if my life depended on it. Culinary Arts 101. The only thing I ever cooked was boxed macaroni and cheese, but it was worth a shot. “That cooking class looks cool.”
“Culinary Arts 101? Excellent choice. It’s taught by one of Italy’s finest chefs. Would you like me to put you down for a PE credit?”
I almost said yes, but before I looked away from the paper, my gaze was drawn to the Equestrian Team. No previous horse experience was needed.
My heart beat faster. Mom wasn’t here, and nor was Dad. They didn’t have to know, did they?
‘No, Kiki,’ the little voice in my head warned. ‘They’ll find out. They always do. And then Mom will take away all your model horses and ground you and you’ll be stuck in this Barbie Nightmare House for the rest of high school!’
Well, I’d be stuck here no matter what. I placed the sheet back on the table and shook my head.
“I want to join the Equestrian Team.”
I wondered if El Guapo might question my choice, and part of me was waiting for my mom to leap out from behind Guapo’s bookcase or the bamboo plant by the window, yelling at me for trying to go behind her back. But nothing happened. Not even Dad came through the door.
“Do you have any previous experience with horses?” Diez asked. I shook my head and he grinned again. He smiled a lot. I liked that. “Always good to try something new.” He added a few keystrokes, and the printer behind him hummed to life and spat out a couple of sheets of paper. Without looking, El Guapo swiped them from the tray and handed one to me. “This is your schedule. It’s available in your student portal if you lose this sheet, but I’d suggest that you take care of it. It’s about impossible to get to the printers in the library or the computer lab.”
I grabbed the sheet and folded it in my hands. “Got it. Thanks.”
“Any questions?”
“Nope.”
“All right. If something changes, my email is on that sheet of paper. Oh, also, you’re going to need your student ID and your room key.” He reached into one of the mountains of folders on his desk and somehow managed to pick mine on the first try. He thrust it into my hands and waved goodbye, so I thanked him and turned back around.
When I stepped outside, a girl with white-blond hair sent me a nasty look and barged past me. I just stared after her. Great. Even private institutions had bullies.
Or Billionaires’ Brats.
“What’s your room assignment?” piped Candy, tearing me away from my thoughts. I opened my folder and thumbed through the paperwork until I found the packet with my key. “217 Redmond.”
“Rats. I’m in 103 Bashford. What classes did you sign up for?”
I started to open my mouth, but two shadows were suddenly looming over me. Well, Dad wasn’t looming. Mom was. I nearly choked on my breath.
“U-Uh, Algebra 2, Sophomore English, Robotics, Japanese…and then Honors Society and a cooking class.”
“Oh cool! I’m in Algebra and English. Any sports?”
I could almost feel Mom’s eyes glaring into my head. That dorky straw hat I was wearing didn’t protect me from them at all.
“Just PE.”
“Oh, I’m in Lacrosse. We’ll see each other around, I guess. Have fun!” She trotted away, and I slowly looked up at my parents and tried to smile.
Mom frowned like she knew something was up, but Dad just clapped me on the shoulder.
“Sorry about the horses, Sugarplum. But you’ll still get to see them every day. That’ll be fun, won’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
What had I done?

Paladin & Odin
2019-02-06 17:07:49
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