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January 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.

I sit up on Blackie. it`s a Wednesday and I am going to the Big Lake Competition. I walk, trot, canter, gallop and jump over some small obstacles to warm up. It`s a race around the lake, with obstacles.

I hear the leder of the competition say that we are going to start about 5 minutes. So i walk with Blackie to the start and start looking at the other horses and riders. Left to me it is a white pony and a boy with black hair. to my right a big bay and a blonde girl is.
-1 minute left!

I am ready to run. Black feels hot.
-30 seconds!
-Comman Blackie, i whisper in Blackies ears.

Everybody starts run. it feels good. I jump over a fence and is 3rd. I jumps over many obstacles, and it feels fantastic. Until the big and scary wood obstacle with bushes around, and over us.
-Comman Blackie, JUMP! i screams to Blackie.

Black starts to jump when I accidentally loose my stirrups.

I falls off Blackie and everything become black..

3 hours later I wake up in the hospital.
-What happened.... i try to ask.
-You fell of in a competition, the nurse answer.

And i remember. Oh no.,.. where is Blackie? Is he fine?

Then i fall asleep again.

When I wake up the doctors says I can go home again. I feel weird, but i gotta see Blackie. So i take the bus to the stable and run to Blacks stall.
-Where is he? i screams to a vet who stand outside Blackies place.
-Oh, he is fine, don`t worry! the vet says.

thanks lord, i walk in and see black lay down in the hay. I starts crying and give Blackie a huge hug, and says sorry.

1 week later Blackie is much better, and me too.

But I still feels guilty, even if it was not my fault.

TheDevil666 & Magic
2019-01-19 02:12:22
The Runaway Part 1
By: Nat2


Randolf Bates, hired hand extraordinaire, was the proud owner of several very distinctive trademarks. The first was his cowboy hat—battered, black felt faded and dusty, it never left its perch on his unruly black hair. Next was the matchstick dangling from the corner of his mouth; even he wasn’t sure where that habit had come from. His Southern drawl and the accompanying swagger was nothing less than a pure art form. But the most conspicuous trait, the most glaringly apparent, was his horrible tense of timing. Nobody was able to tell if it was natural or cultivated, but it was obvious he wasn’t about to change his ways anytime soon.
And so, when somebody knocked on Trudy’s bedroom door at an ungodly hour one dark and miserable Saturday morning, she figured in retrospect that she should have expected nothing less than Dolf standing there looking perfectly groomed and perfectly alert.
“Dolf,” she groaned, squinting in the light from the hallway. “What do *you* want?”
“Mornin’, Miss Trudy,” he greeted her, tipping his hat. “You up and about yet?”
She stared at him, wondering how he was managing to miss her rumpled plaid pajamas and sleep-tangled hair. “Randolf,” she said, “do you have *any* idea what *time* it is?”
He glanced at his wristwatch, then the clock on her bedroom wall. “Four-thirty?” he guessed.
“Correct.” She rubbed at her blurry eyes, keeping her weight on her toes to try and keep the cold floor as far away from her feet as possible. “So what are you doing here?” She realized something and frowned. “How did you get in this house anyway?”
He held up a key. “Miss Harriet gave it to me,” he explained while Trudy tried to focus her bleary eyes on it. “For use in case of dire emergency.”
“Dire emergency,” she repeated blankly. She glanced over her shoulder at her bed, hearing the siren call of her rumpled sheets. Outside thunder rumbled and rain pattered against her window. “Dire emergency. Right. So why are you here?”
Dolf leaned against the doorframe. “You haven’t seen Little Boots today, have you?” he inquired politely. Trudy sighed, retreated to her bed, and sat down on the edge of the mattress.
“I just got *up,* Dolf. Unless he’s been in my bedroom this morning, then no, I haven’t seen him today.” She hesitated, shoving her hair out of her eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“He’s missin’. Looks like he busted the bolt on his stall door and went off somewhere.” Dolf glanced at his watch one more time. “I figure I’ll take Marse out and look for him. Should be back around eight at the latest.” He tipped his hat again. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“Urgh.” She flopped back onto her pillow and draped an arm over her eyes. “Trust me, I won’t.”
“Right then.” He sounded amused. “See you, Miss Trudy.”
“Dolf, go away.” She heard her bedroom door close and a pair of boots clomp their way back down the hall. Then she yanked the covers back up to her chin and fell asleep without a second thought to Dolf’s dilemma.
When Trudy finally slunk down the stairs, the morning’s storm had passed and the sun was out. It streamed in through the kitchen window, lighting up the blond hair of her older sister Harriet, who sat at the table, reading a newspaper and basking in the steamy glow of her freshly-perked coffee. She glanced up as her sister entered.
“Aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” she said by way of greeting. “Did you forget we’ve got horses to be taken care of out there?”
“Oh, shoot, the horses.” Trudy sat down and thunked her head against the table. “I’ll go out and take care of them, I promise, but—”
“—but first, coffee,” finished Harriet. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” Her chair scraped as she got up and fetched a new mug from the dish drain. “They won’t die just this once. They’re all put out to pasture, anyway.” She filled the mug and set it in front of her sister, who peered through her mess of auburn hair and clutched at it like a lifeline. “Didn’t we have them all in their stalls last night?”
“That must’ve been Dolf.” Trudy took a long swig. “He got here pretty early. Woke me up at four-thirty asking about I don’t even know what.” She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the steam from her coffee waft up into her face. “Did he get back yet?”
“Get back?” Harriet sat down again. “I didn’t think he’d left. His truck’s in the drive, but I haven’t seen him. I figured he was off somewhere doing whatever it is he does in the dark recesses of our property.”
“But. . .” Trudy put down her coffee cup and stared into her sister’s blue eyes. “But he said he was going to take Marse out and look for Little Boots. He’s missing—Little Boots, I mean. The lock on his door is busted.” She scowled down into her mug, trying to remember all of the exchange. “And he said. . .he said he’d be back by eight at the latest.” She looked up at the clock. The hour hand had just reached 11. “Harriet, what if something’s happened to him?”
“Relax, Trudy.” Harriet’s voice was level, but the frown on her face spoke volumes of her newfound concern. And Trudy knew from experience that she was never addressed by her full first name unless something was very, very wrong—like the sky falling in, for instance, or a volcano opening up in their swimming pool. Harriet stood and made for the landline. “I’ll just call his cell,” she narrated as she went, “and he can talk to you himself and assure you he hasn’t been eaten by local wildlife.”
Resentful of the patronizing tone her sister was using, Trudy glared into her coffee, gauging the pros and cons of a snarky reply when Dolf might be in trouble. She heard Harriet pick up the receiver and dial. There was silence as she waited for him to answer. After a while she sighed and dialed again. Trudy gulped.
“No answer?” she asked hesitantly. Harriet shook her head, frowned at her sister to be quiet, and dialed one more time. Finally she put the phone down.
“That’s it,” she said quietly. “Saddle up Bastion and Vegas, Tru.”
Vegas was Harriet’s buckskin Lusitano mare, flashy and easily bored. It wasn’t often that Harriet took her out anywhere, but if she wanted her tacked up—
Trudy jumped to her feet. “You can’t go,” she said instantly. “Someone has to take care of the horses and tell the police, or the National Guard, or—or whoever it is you call when this happens. I’ll call Charlotte; she can come over and help me look.”
Harriet stared at her for a minute, a calculating gleam in her blue eyes. Charlotte was the daughter of their nearest neighbor and at 17 Trudy’s only peer for miles around. With a single glance from her huge gray eyes she could make even the most sordid of activities seem totally innocent; a trick she used often when she and Trudy had gotten themselves in trouble trying to use her mother’s lawn furniture to make an obstacle course for their horses to navigate. She had somehow gotten on Harriet’s good side—no mean feat, especially when she managed to stay there. Now Harriet hesitated only a moment before acquiescing.
“All right. But I want you to be careful—”
“We *will* be careful,” Trudy interrupted, making a grab for the phone. “When have we ever *not* been careful?” She shriveled beneath her sister’s glare. “Don’t answer that.” Quickly she dialed and waited for Charlotte to answer. For a moment there was nothing, and then,
“Charlotte?” Trudy barely stopped for breath. “It’s me, Trudy. You aren’t busy, are you?”
“It’s a Saturday in October,” Charlotte replied dryly. “I have nothing to do and even my goldfish are dying of boredom. What did you have in mind?”
“One of our horses got out this morning,” Trudy explained. “Dolf went looking for it, but now he’s missing too. I’m going out to try and find him; can you come help?”
“Sure.” Charlotte seemed more than glad to break up the monotony of her day. “I’ll check with my mom and be right over.”
“Thanks. Don’t bring your goldfish.” Trudy slammed the receiver back into its cradle and gulped down the rest of her coffee. “Charlotte’s coming over,” she informed Harriet, who was staring at her expectantly. “I’ll go tack up Bastion.” She grabbed her jacket off the coatrack and rushed outside without further ado, ignoring the question her sister hollered after her—
“What’s this about goldfish?”

Nat2 & This Boy
2019-01-19 14:37:51
No one can tame the horse
By: Wind Drummer

No one can tame the horse
The way he dreams in the mist
His mane may be coarse
And might try to twist

We ride in the sky
You can dream tonight
But we ride oh so high
And go in flight

If we could ever find out why
And look to find just how high
You may reach and touch the sky
Then you will find the light

Wind drummer & NightMare
2019-01-23 17:05:07
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