Young Writers Society

The fiery horse ran away from the terror behind him, without realising he found himself wedged between a stable and fence. He panicked as he valiantly tried to free himself his strength alone was not enough to get him past the sturdy wood that was crushing into his shoulder. He let out a petrified whinny yet there was no one around to hear his desperate cries. He thrashed out with his legs, raising his head throwing it about, yet no one came to his aid. The one time he needed anybody, nobody came. Slowly but surely the rope that kept his strength and stamina strong started to fray. Thread by thread his fight for survival turned into a whimpering, terrifying and mournful death. His heart that had once beat with the rhythm of his spirited ancestors, slowly turned into an empty beat. One tiny faint empty beat and with it came one last short and sharp breath. This was the end of the great racer, Totem.

Something I wrote about two years ago when a pony I used to look after died this way. It wasn't my fault as i had given him back to his owners who have been known to mistreat animals. I gave him back to his owners because alot of stuff had been stolen from my stable. I regret ever giving him back to them as I wander if i had kept him would he still be alive?