Monday, 3 June 2013

A horrifically heart breaking story I wrote when I was 11.

Thursday 11th November 2004

The Horse Without a Name.

* Circus pony, liver chestnut, young, thoroughbred.

He was wandering- wondering who he was. The Circus Manager thought he was a beauty, caught him and sent him to the animal tent.
He was beat every day and was fed very little. He began to die and he still did not have a name. He was Nobody.
He was rescued by a little girl named Pippa, and she was 11 years old.
One day, the stable that Pippa kept him in was alight [with fire]! Quickly, Pippa opened the door and he galloped out into the horizon. Pippa never saw him again.
He stopped in a field, somewhere near Cornwall, and he called in a high pitched neigh, and then flopped to the ground.
Gypsies found him and kept him suffering until one night he escaped.

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