Post by horses4life on Dec 19, 2011 6:16:15 GMT -5
Tags: ANY ONE!!!!
I loved writing stories... I glanced up from my diary. It was late, and i would just pop into the shower then continue my story.
I washed my hair, relaxing. I came back, "HEY! Put it down! now!!!" I yelled, and snatched my story from the person reading it. It was-
OOC: MY STORY
RACING, OR JUMPING….
“NO KAYLA! You may not! That’s final!” My father stormed out of the house, leaving my angry and ashamed at the same time. Our argument had been hurtful, to both of us, but somehow I felt hurt more. I glanced up at a photo of my mother, Lindsey Roads, jumping a six-foot fence in the Grand Prix. “All I want to be is just like you…” I whispered. Pouring myself a glass of juice, I let the thoughts run through my mind… It’s just not fair!
“Sorry Kayla,” I nodded, but inside I was secretly fuming. You always apologize! Sorry doesn’t change anything! I still can’t jump… “But, I don’t want you to jump, that’s all… You can race you know.” I winced. My father’s obsession with racing had always caused arguments. Show jumping wasn’t half as dangers’ as racing! I don’t want to follow in your footsteps… I want to follow in mom’s… I knew if I spoke it would just come out wrong. My father demanded the upmost respect… which annoyed me because I felt he defiantly did not deserve it! “I’ve brought a new filly. Wonderful racing bloodlines! Beautiful little thing… She is just right for you!” My eyes widened, dad, I don’t want – But his voice cut through my silent wishing. “She’s yours. I expect you to train her, starting today!” His broad smile told me he was more than pleased with him-self. I gritted my teeth, and smiled as well, my face holding an excellent mask of excitement.
“Oh I wish I could train you to jump… I could you know. And you’ve got really strong hind legs…” The youngster’s ears twitched at the sound of my voice. “Rocket Power… Hardly a jumper’s name.” I frowned. Rocket was the sweetest filly I had ever seen. Her almost copper red coat shun in the sunlight. ”Let’s go, girl.”
Rocket had already been trained enough to carry a rider, but my father had meant me to train her to run. I closed my eyes, and couldn’t help but imagine Rocket soaring over a six-foot fence…. I shook my head. Rocket probably wanted to run anyway. I saddled her, and we trotted around the track. Rocket was a brave little thing; she hardly flinched when a loose horse raced unto the track. I glanced with amused eyes at the swarm of grooms and jockeys running after it. Rocket snorted, tugging at the reins, begging me to let her join in the fun. “No,” I said laughingly. “You can’t do that Rocket!” All the stress fell away, and suddenly, it was just me, and Rocket.“How was your ride?” My father asked.
“She responds well… She’s fast.” I answered, staring down at my plate.
“How fast?”
“Extremely, but dad,” I paused.
“Yes?”
“She has got really strong legs,” I said finally. My father grunted, eyeing me with disapproval, ready for my next words.
“I can train her… To jump.” My father winced, and he slammed his dinner plate into the sink.
“NO! KAYLA, NO!”
“But, dad, I could,”
“You could go up to your room and do your homework!”
“But,”
“NOW!”
I tried not to glare at my father, as I stomped upstairs into my room. I plopped down unto my bed, and stared angrily at my desk. My phone was next to me, and I suddenly felt the need to call my best friend, Nicky. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. It was almost half past eight, but Nicky always went to bed extremely early. I sighed. Tomorrow was school; I would talk to her then.
OOC (AGAIN): Yes i do love the name Kayla, one of my best friends' name is Kayla....
I loved writing stories... I glanced up from my diary. It was late, and i would just pop into the shower then continue my story.
I washed my hair, relaxing. I came back, "HEY! Put it down! now!!!" I yelled, and snatched my story from the person reading it. It was-
OOC: MY STORY
RACING, OR JUMPING….
“NO KAYLA! You may not! That’s final!” My father stormed out of the house, leaving my angry and ashamed at the same time. Our argument had been hurtful, to both of us, but somehow I felt hurt more. I glanced up at a photo of my mother, Lindsey Roads, jumping a six-foot fence in the Grand Prix. “All I want to be is just like you…” I whispered. Pouring myself a glass of juice, I let the thoughts run through my mind… It’s just not fair!
“Sorry Kayla,” I nodded, but inside I was secretly fuming. You always apologize! Sorry doesn’t change anything! I still can’t jump… “But, I don’t want you to jump, that’s all… You can race you know.” I winced. My father’s obsession with racing had always caused arguments. Show jumping wasn’t half as dangers’ as racing! I don’t want to follow in your footsteps… I want to follow in mom’s… I knew if I spoke it would just come out wrong. My father demanded the upmost respect… which annoyed me because I felt he defiantly did not deserve it! “I’ve brought a new filly. Wonderful racing bloodlines! Beautiful little thing… She is just right for you!” My eyes widened, dad, I don’t want – But his voice cut through my silent wishing. “She’s yours. I expect you to train her, starting today!” His broad smile told me he was more than pleased with him-self. I gritted my teeth, and smiled as well, my face holding an excellent mask of excitement.
“Oh I wish I could train you to jump… I could you know. And you’ve got really strong hind legs…” The youngster’s ears twitched at the sound of my voice. “Rocket Power… Hardly a jumper’s name.” I frowned. Rocket was the sweetest filly I had ever seen. Her almost copper red coat shun in the sunlight. ”Let’s go, girl.”
Rocket had already been trained enough to carry a rider, but my father had meant me to train her to run. I closed my eyes, and couldn’t help but imagine Rocket soaring over a six-foot fence…. I shook my head. Rocket probably wanted to run anyway. I saddled her, and we trotted around the track. Rocket was a brave little thing; she hardly flinched when a loose horse raced unto the track. I glanced with amused eyes at the swarm of grooms and jockeys running after it. Rocket snorted, tugging at the reins, begging me to let her join in the fun. “No,” I said laughingly. “You can’t do that Rocket!” All the stress fell away, and suddenly, it was just me, and Rocket.“How was your ride?” My father asked.
“She responds well… She’s fast.” I answered, staring down at my plate.
“How fast?”
“Extremely, but dad,” I paused.
“Yes?”
“She has got really strong legs,” I said finally. My father grunted, eyeing me with disapproval, ready for my next words.
“I can train her… To jump.” My father winced, and he slammed his dinner plate into the sink.
“NO! KAYLA, NO!”
“But, dad, I could,”
“You could go up to your room and do your homework!”
“But,”
“NOW!”
I tried not to glare at my father, as I stomped upstairs into my room. I plopped down unto my bed, and stared angrily at my desk. My phone was next to me, and I suddenly felt the need to call my best friend, Nicky. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. It was almost half past eight, but Nicky always went to bed extremely early. I sighed. Tomorrow was school; I would talk to her then.
OOC (AGAIN): Yes i do love the name Kayla, one of my best friends' name is Kayla....