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This story is intended for girls, ages seven-twelve. I wrote this piece for last week's writing challenge. However, I missed the deadline because I wasn't a Gold Member yet, oops!
I appreciate your feedback.
April 15, 2010
It started out a glorious morning. Breathing in the woody air after three long days of rain was refreshing. I couldn’t wait for my Knight in shining armor, (the commoners refer to him as “Dad,”) to escort his highness to the noble barn. There, I knew my subjects would line up to view their royal highness, Princess Penelope.
I wasn’t disappointed. The hushed crowd – human and creature alike – bowed in submission as I gracefully waltzed over the pine needle path. I’m sure my pink, rhinestone boots sparkled brightly, reflecting the most beautiful rainbow. Rich hues of Violet- Rouge, mixed together with Symphony Purple and Sunshine Yellow splashed upon the horizon. What a perfect setting to display my elegant equestrian skills.
Wildfire, my chestnut Thoroughbred, greeted me with his usual, “Hi-i-e-e-e!”
I gently stroked his shiny coat. Sir Knight lifted me while I smoothly flung my right leg over Wildfire’s back.
How he loves me! (He’s one lucky horse, showcasing such a talented princess.) He and I are one…like a ballerina gliding effortlessly through the air. This is why I prefer not using a saddle. We read each other like a book. We are…flawless really…well, most of the time.
After a stunning performance, we galloped our victory lap. I gave my typical hand wave while dazzling the crowd with my winsome smile. And then IT happened. Dad, (I fired him from being my knight!) slipped the bridal off Wildfire before escorting me down.
Wildfire must have gotten bit by a horsefly… or stung by a bee…or riveted by my challenger’s dart. Anyway, he ducked his head low before wildly kicking his hind legs. Unprepared, I flew – spinning like a football.
How do I describe my horror? COW MANURE. I screamed upon landing in the stinky filth.
“Oops!” Dad said. “Are you okay, Penelope?”
I’m sure my face turned a deep red with steam spilling out my ears! I couldn’t speak.
This evening, after soaking in a warm, bubble bath, Grammy says to me, “pretty Penelope, listen closely. You will be all the wiser if you can learn this lesson while you are young. Pride always comes before a fall.”
Well, I do admire Grammy. She’s very smart…I’m tired now, not to mention sore! But, I promise, I will sort this “pride” thing out…it stings! Bye for now.
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