This is the horse that inspired me the most Where I live, the seasons come and go as they please, along with the day and night. Everything has been the same for as long as I can remember. The daily routine of waking up, brushing my teeth, and getting on the bus only to be disturbed by teenagers seemed like a part of my life now. After getting off of the bus to go in to my school, no matter what grade I was in, it never seemed to change. Whether I was in primary school, or middle school, everything always seemed the same. After school finally had ended, I would board the bus once again and look out the window. Everything passing by in such a blur made me wonder if anything would ever change. As we passed by the once lush field of grass that was now reduced to nothing but brown stubble due to the snowy winter, I saw a few horses. Some of the horses’ coats were as white as the cleanest alabaster fabric. Others were as red as rustic bricks on a cafe’s wall. They always seemed so peaceful, so carefree. It was like they didn’t care about what was coming tomorrow. Whether it was a blizzard or excruciating heat, they didn’t care. Oh, how I would love to be a horse. Never going back and doing the same annoying routine thing, always moving along and never looking back. These horses were the only thing keeping me going for the next day. They made me think to myself, that no matter what challenges I faced the next day, I would see the horses. There was one in particular that inspired me more, though. It was different from any other horse in that herd. Its hair was as jet black as a clear night with a new moon. It just seemed so wild, so free. It was so carefree that, compared to every other horse in that herd, it seemed like it had just drunk seven Monster Energy Drinks. This is the horse that inspired me the most. It made me think that maybe I needed to make some changes and become as carefree as the jet-black horse that stood out in the crowd of alabaster and red horses. And then I realized that all of the other horses were me, and the jet-black horse was just an opportunity, somewhere inside of me, waiting to happen. Ocyin Davis, 11Satellite Beach, Florida Onalee Higgins, 11Galesville, Wisconsin
Horses
Friends Forever
I was just beginning to graze when I heard her whinny CHAPTER ONE THE MARE I ran, the scent of humans growing ever stronger. I had to protect my foal. I nosed her into a crevice, which any human would pass by without a second glance, and then I too followed her into the crack. We had lost the herd from the very beginning. The humans singled us out, a mare and her hour-old foal. Luckily, I knew more of the mountain than they ever would. As we stood there, breathing heavily through our nostrils, our flanks covered in sweat and heaving, I wondered what happened to the rest of the herd. Would we be able to rejoin them, or did they get captured? I shuddered at the thought. But, for the time being, none of that mattered. * * * CHAPTER TWO RACHEL I put Penny away in her stall and waited for my mom to come home from work. I really wanted a horse of my own; I had wanted one since I was four years old. Ever since then, I had begged my parents to get me one, but to no avail. They always said, “Maybe next year.” They had said that for eight years running, and did I have a horse? But my parents had said that if I was responsible and took care of the horses at our stable, they might actually get me a horse of my own soon. I heard my mom’s car pull in and raced to meet it, greeting my mom with the question I always did: “When can I have a horse?” * * * CHAPTER THREE THE MARE I listened carefully. Although I didn’t sense anything amiss, I wasn’t going to take any chances. I had learned that humans can be tricky when they want to. I stayed in the crevice until I was more than sure that it was safe, then cautiously poked my head out. The coast was clear. I led my foal over to a nearby stream and was just beginning to graze when I heard her whinny. I whipped around, ready to fight the hunters, but was pleasantly surprised to find that my foal was just greeting the herd. I excitedly greeted the herd, and we all headed off to find a place to spend the night. * * * CHAPTER FOUR RACHEL As I looked out the window, I saw two lone figures in the distance. Was it…? Yes! It was the mare! And she had a foal! I had been watching the mare for weeks, waiting for her to have her baby. And here it was! Suddenly, I saw a cloud of billowing dust that meant the herd was approaching. I wondered why they had been separated; usually herds stayed together, but I was distracted when I heard a pounding on the stairs that told me my older brother, Daniel, was back from work as a police officer. I flew down the stairs and we nearly collided as I asked excitedly, “Did you catch those mustangers yet?” * * * CHAPTER FIVE THE MARE We finally settled down in a place all but hidden from those human hunters. As we rested and ate, a calming peace fell over us, and we settled down for the night. * * * CHAPTER SIX RACHEL No, not yet, cowgirl,” Daniel replied sadly. “We almost caught up with them at Miller’s place, but his dog ran in front of us and we had to stop so that we didn’t run him over.” “Dang!” I exclaimed vehemently. “Oh, guess what! I saw that mare that looked like she was about to foal.” “So did she have it yet?” “Yup, she had it. I think it’s a filly, but I can’t tell from this far away.” “How do you know it’s a filly?” “Just a guess.” “Well, I bet it’s a colt.” “You think?” Just then our dad stuck his head in the door. “Dinner time, you guys! Hey, what’re you arguing about?” “First of all, we aren’t arguing. We’re debating whether the new foal in the mustang herd is a colt or a filly,” Daniel said. “Yeah, I think it’s a filly.” “Nope. It’s a colt. Definitely.” “Oh, stop bickering, you two,” our dad reprimanded us. Suddenly Daniel’s phone started ringing. “ Hang on.” Daniel fumbled for his phone. He answered it and his face lit up like a child’s on Christmas. “Really? That’s great! Be right there!” He hung up. “That was my boss. He said they have a tip on those mustangers.” “Really? Awesome! I hope you catch them!” “Me too, cowgirl.” * * * CHAPTER SEVEN THE MARE The lead mare suddenly called out a shrill cry of warning, and we had a split second of knowledge before the mustangers whipped us and lashed us into a tiny pen. All of a sudden, we were blinded by blue and red lights, and more men came. They moved the mustangers into a waiting car, and we snorted with anticipation. Then a man moved forward. He started talking to us, and his voice was soothing. We calmed down (minimally). He started to move to the gate. He put his hand down and fiddled with the latch until Pop! We were free! The herd galloped past me and my foal. But my foal refused to get up. Instead she just lay there, ignoring my pleading whinnies. The man closed the gate and said, “I’m very sorry.” Then he took something out of his pocket and took aim. Suddenly, everything was black. * * * CHAPTER EIGHT RACHEL I raced toward the cars parked outside. I had to know what was going on, I had to. When I opened the door and raced to the trailer, what I saw nearly took my breath away. It was the mare and her filly. It was a filly. Just then I saw Daniel and raced over to him, bombarding him with
Missoula of the Mountains
We all got quiet, admiring her beauty It was finally spring in the woods of Montana. The bitter coldness had ended at last, and not only was the temperature warmer, but also the hearts of those who lived there. Bozeman, a chocolate-brown horse, was about to have a baby. Her life as a rodeo horse was over, for she had retired months ago. One day, her beautiful foal arrived. Here’s how the day went… “Mama, Mama, is Bozeman OK?” I, the owner’s daughter, asked. “Max, Bozeman’s foal is being born!” Mrs. Andrews cried to her husband. Mr. Andrews ran out to the pasture and saw a little foal, seconds old, lying in the itchy grass. Even though the foal was covered in slime and looked very ugly, Mr. Andrews could see the kindness in her eyes. “What’s her name going to be, Daddy?” I asked, when my mother came out. “She deserves a very special name, Addi. So, I’m going to name her Missoula,” explained Daddy with confidence. Just as Mr. Andrews said Missoula, her head lifted up, making her look even more real. We all got quiet, admiring her beauty. We didn’t talk for the rest of that day, and that is how that one magical day went. * * * Missoula was growing up livelier by the day. She walked around the pasture where she was born every day to visit her mother. She was very kind, especially with me and my friends. One day, Mr. Levi, the Andrews’ friend, came. “Come on in, Mr. Levi,” said Mr. Andrews through the moaning screen door. “Max! May I meet Missoula, please?” asked Mr. Levi. “Sure! I still can’t believe you came all the way from Joplin, Missouri!” Dad said, leading him to Missoula’s pasture. Right as Missoula saw Mr. Levi, she steadily walked over, very curiously. I ran out and gave Missoula a big hug. Missoula lovingly and lightly nudged my neck, letting her kindness shine brighter than the sun. “In two weeks, we are sending her off to rodeo training,” Mr. Andrews explained. Mr. Levi’s face turned red. “Rodeo? Rodeo training? The sweetest horse I ever did meet, and rodeo?” “What’s wrong with a rodeo?” I asked. “It’s what her mama did,” explained Mrs. Andrews. “Please, please, please send her to be a therapy horse at my hippotherapy ranch!” begged Mr. Levi. “Only for one month, but if my dear Missoula isn’t happy there, she’ll go straight to rodeo training,” my daddy said, very sternly. “Great!” called out Mr. Levi. “What is hippotherapy?” I asked, worried poor Missoula wouldn’t be happy. “Well, it helps kids with different diagnoses to improve posture, and many other important things,” Mr. Levi explained. “Addi, we especially need therapy horses now because the tornado wiped out more than half of them,” Mr. Levi said, trying to put an end to my jealousy, which was bubbling hotter and hotter. I thought about how terrible it would be if Missoula got swept up by another tornado. My jealousy exploded. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m really mad that another kid gets to ride my dear Missoula!” “Addi,” Mother said softly. “These children have Down syndrome, autism, brain injuries, and so much more. Don’t be selfish.” Just then, my jealousy went away. There are so many bad characteristics in this world, but selfishness is one of the worst. “Put Missoula to good use,” I said, not angry now, but rather proud. “She deserves it.” * * * Five days after Mr. Levi had left, the air was misty and gray, and a certain sadness loomed that fit the mood. Tomorrow Missoula was leaving, but now I was glad and I even knew who was riding her. The girl’s name was Sammy, and she was very smart. She had mild autism. We sent letters back and forth. She said she has always dreamed of riding a horse. I said I was really happy to fulfill her dreams. I wasn’t lying, not even the tiniest bit. I mean, I knew that Missoula was leaving, so why not help a girl my age with autism? And everyone knows that after every storm a beautiful rainbow appears. The only one who was sad now was Bozeman, who seemed to know that Missoula was leaving. I went to bed instantly, and it seemed like only a snap of the fingers before I woke up. I gave Missoula a big kiss and told her she’d be great. She nudged me, and my biggest enemy, crying, met me again. Then, a big truck with a cage attached to it drove into our driveway, and Mr. Levi came out. I rubbed my tears and wiped them across Missoula’s back. I wanted Sammy to know me, at least a little bit. Missoula was loaded on the truck, and it slowly drifted away with Missoula now looking sadder than she ever had. I ran inside and let my wet face soak up on Mama’s dress. The beautiful lavender turned an ugly shade of purple, almost like the day. I was very upset, so I went to talk to Bozeman. “Bozeman, I know you’re sad, but I have a plan,” I said, waiting for an answer. Bozeman said, “Neigh!” as if to say, Addi, are you out of your mind? So I just sat down on the rock by the barn door and thought—until it came to me. “Bozeman,” I said, “what if we could raise enough money to go visit Missoula?” Bozeman’s eyes twinkled with delight. I dashed into the house and grabbed a piece of paper. “Help Us Raise Money to Visit Beloved Horse in Joplin,” I printed. It was beautifully decorated, so I posted it up by a tree and sat down on the top of a thick root. At first, nobody came. So I chanted, “Missoula of the mountains, Missoula of the mountains!” I left the sign up and ran inside and wrote to Sammy. Here’s what I said: Dear Sammy,
