16 thoughts on “Writing Prompt “Horse(s)”

  • ozjohn66
    Signing in.
  • ilyaleed
    Signing in.
  • Adrienne Riggs
    Signing in
  • RM York

    Signing in and hope to get a story in. Horses huh? I know little to nothing about horses, but I’m sure I can come up with something.

  • Phil Town
    Carrie … We used to have to double-return in our documents to get normal paragraph spacing, so that’s what I did with the first version … which came out double-spaced and difficult to read. So I posted again.

    Could you please delete the first version, and this comment?


    • Carrie Zylka


      • Phil Town
        Thank you!
  • Carrie Zylka

    Hahaha loved the reveal Phil! Absolutely loved it.
    Not mentioning what it was as to not spoil it lol

  • Amy Meyer

    w/c: 774



    When I was a lad, I grew up in a small village tucked on the edge of Dartmoor. My family, we were poor as church mice, but we never knew it. We had a small farm, and my brothers and I spent our days running through the fields and taking care of the animals. It was a sight to behold; I tell you that.

    But out of all the animals, it was the horses that captured my heart. I still remember their gentle nuzzles, their soft noses tickling my hand. I would spend hours grooming their coats and feeding them apples from our orchard. Those magnificent creatures with their rippling muscles and braided manes – they were like nothing else.

    My favourite horse was a beautiful mare named Starlight. She had a coat as black as night and eyes that shone like diamonds in the sun. We had a special bond, her and I. She would follow me around the farm like a loyal dog, and whenever I was feeling down, she would nudge me with her nose as if to say, “It’s okay. I’m here for you.”

    Nowadays, I know it must seem like I’m spinning tall tales about a different world to you. You’ve only seen horses in pictures and films, and I’m sure they seem unreal to you. But when I was your age, they were as real as the sun in the sky.

    Back in my day, my father used to take us for rides on horseback across the moors, the wind in our hair and the world at our feet. We’d camp out under the stars, telling stories and sipping cider by the fire. It was a simpler time, before the world had lost so much of its magic.

    But then came the sickness. It started with just a few horses, but before we knew it, it had spread like wildfire across the world. The virus attacked their immune systems, and there was nothing we could do to stop it. One by one, the horses in our village began to die. We watched in horror as our beloved animals wasted away, their once-powerful bodies reduced to skin and bones.

    Starlight was one of the last horses to fall victim to the virus. My father and I stayed up with her night after night, trying to keep her comfortable and ease her pain. But in the end, there was nothing we could do. I still remember the way she looked at me with those bright, trusting eyes as she took her last breath. It was like a piece of my soul had died with her.

    My father, bless his soul, did everything in his power to save our horses. He scoured every book he could find on the subject, talked to endless vets and even tried experimental treatments. But it was all for naught. Eventually, all the horses in our village were gone.

    And it wasn’t just our village, mind you. The virus swept across the world, leaving devastation in its wake. Governments and scientists scrambled to find a cure, but it was too late. Within a few years, every last horse on the planet had died.

    As I grew older, I would look back on those days with a sense of longing. I missed the feel of the horse’s braided mane beneath my fingers, the creek of the saddle, the sound of their hooves pounding against the dirt. I missed the freedom of riding across the moor, the way the wind would rush past my face as I leaned forward into the gallop.

    But most of all, I missed the connection that we had with the horses. They were more than just animals to us – they were our friends, our companions, our partners in life. They taught us about responsibility, hard work, and perseverance. They were a reminder of the beauty and power of the natural world.

    As the years passed, I watched as the world became more and more disconnected from nature. We built taller buildings, created faster machines, and consumed more resources than ever before. We forgot about the animals that once roamed our lands, and we forgot the lessons they taught us.

    But I never forgot. Every time I saw a photo of a horse or heard the sound of their whinnying in an old film, I felt a pang in my heart. I knew that the world would never be the same, that we could never go back to the way things were before. But I also knew that I would always cherish those memories of the horses that had once graced our lives.







    Postscript: to add to the science fiction vibes of the story, I used ChatGPT to help write it. Has anyone else tried it out?

    • ozjohn66
      Hey Amy,

      I don’t think I have ever read any of your words before. What a brilliant story. I loved the descriptions, the memories, the themes of it all. I can imagine the reality of the world describing the last of the thylacine or the dodo or the end of another beautiful creature. Thank you. Absolutely loved the ride (forgive, the intentional pun).

  • Amy Meyer
    I loved how the words painted such a clear picture of the countryside and the bond between Beatrice and the horses was so heartwarming. The story really captured the simple joy of riding horses and being out in nature. The ending was great. I did not see that coming! Very clever.
  • Horse.
    Word Count: 1198

    Jebediah Clyde purchased and opened ‘The Saddle Up Bar’ in the spring of ‘63. My Ma came to work for him a short time after. She would tend bar and ‘work’ the stage for the locals and guests.
    Not long after, Ma got herself into some trouble.Mr Clyde made her an honourable woman and they married. Five months later I came along.

    Mr Clyde was a wonderful husband to Ma, to me he was Dad despite my questionable paternity. Ma called me Dale after her father, whom I never got to meet. Therefore, I was Dale Clyde or Clyde Dale, hence always called Horse.

    Pa died when I was thirteen making Ma sole-owner. She worked it until she died, I was forty-one, I turn sixty next month.

    I never found anyone to share my life, this is my life, I don’t know anything else. I know something is missing from my life but I can’t put my finger on it. Today my world will change, I know there is a big change ahead, and it is going to be brilliant. I can just feel it.

    The bar will open soon. To be honest it never closes, we have our quiet times, mostly during the day, but picks up in the evenings.

    I’ve been a great boss to the girls, their words, not mine. They’re the children I never had. The boys too are family, they tend the bar and work security to keep everything nice and safe for us all. Its like a family here, all of us.

    The doors open, lights flicker, and music begins. No punters as yet, but it is early. Usually have a few hours of time to ourselves before the rush, then it’s business as usual.

    I sit at the bar, usual drink in hand, observing my life around me. The door swings open and two men enter. They look mighty official, not the usual kind who stop by. We sometimes get business folk or out-of-towner important men who come because they can be someone else here. We don’t ask no questions.

    These two look preoccupied and lost. Arriving at the bar they call for Vern, who is tending bar today.
    “ Excuse me sir, we are looking for a Mr Clyde”, one says.

    “No need to look any further, I am he”, I state dryly, with a certain authority.

    “Nice to meet you sir, we are Cooper and Braids from the law firm of the same name, may be speak freely and privately.”, Mr Cooper said, also with air of authority.

    “Be my guest, gentlemen, let’s go to my office”.

    They follow and I close the door behind them. I offer them a seat but they choose to remain standing. A briefcase dangling from Mr Braids’s hand.

    “Suit yourself”, I say, as I take a seat anyways, “How may I be of service?”.

    “Mr Clyde, we have some important news and some documents to discuss with you today. Our client wishes to remain anonymous. You a hard man to track down”, Mr Cooper continues.

    “Okay, that’s cool. How does all this interest me?”, I blurt.

    “Our client’s will and testament nominates you as sole beneficiary to his estate”, Mr Cooper says.

    “Oh, I see, what do I need to do? How do I thank him? Oops, apologies, I see his dead”, I fumbled.

    “Mr Clyde, our client has been searching for you for many years, decades in fact. He had assumed your existence but had trouble finding you”, Mr Cooper continues.

    “Oh, I see, but how come he wants me to be in his will?”, I whimper.

    “All we can say is that according to law, you are his closest living relative. He has nominated you as sole heir”, Mr Braids warbles.

    “I don’t have no kin, Ma and Pa have gone, I was their only child. How can that be?”, I ask.

    “All we can say is that you are his closest relative, a first degree relative in fact”, continues Mr Cooper.

    These gentlemen seem to be acting out a play, they have rehearsed lines taking turns giving the information. Was this practiced? Or just their personality and character?

    “What is a first degree relative?”, I ask.

    “According to law, this terminology includes parents, siblings and children. In certain circumstances it can be extended but must be proven to be the case”, Mr Braids states.

    “Well, as I said, I have lost both parents, have no children and no siblings. How can this be? Maybe I am a special case as you hinted?”, I offered.

    “No, Mr Clyde, you fit the legal definition of this law. Parent, sibling, child”, Mr Cooper insists.

    I think to myself. Did Ma or Pa have any other kids? Maybe someone from Pa’s or my past, an indiscretion has come to surface.

    “Mr Clyde, our client has insisted his identity remain anonymous. He himself, never married or fathered a child. You are his closest relative. All we can say is that his parents, adoptive parents are both deceased. You are his family”, Mr Cooper continues.

    Three months later documents arrive. The will and estate have been settled. Monies transferred, property transferred to my name.

    Sitting in my office thinking of this news and my new found wealth I spy one last unopened letter amongst the documents. It is addressed to me, and has the words ‘Not to be opened until after my death and the will and estate has been settled’.

    My interest is piqued.

    I open it and read the following:

    ‘Dearest Dale,
    I write this as I approach my death. I should have been in touch much sooner but when I discovered the truth, I begin the search for you. My adoptive parents have never discussed my past or anything about my birth family.I found documents after their deaths.

    I have felt the I wanted the truth. I was born to an unwed mother, something frowned upon at the time. All I was told is that she gave me away ‘voluntarily’ but with some reservation.

    I knew that I was missing something from my life, despite being loved by my parents and having a wonderful successful life. I knew I was not complete.

    This is when I found out about you. We are kin. We are brothers, we are twins. We were separated at birth and our mother kept only you. I do not know whey she did that, but my parents only wanted one child. They were almost forty when I came to them.

    I wish I could have found you sooner and we could have had a life together. Our lives were built on lies. I do not know what you were told.

    I hope you had a wonderful life. I did but I knew something of me was missing.

    I hope this gift is not a little too late, it is all I can do. I was too weak to meet you, cancer took me quickly.

    I love you brother,
    Chip xx

    P.S. The name our mother chose for me was kept. We were collectively known as Chip & Dale. They go together and sound unfinished when said alone.

  • ozjohn66
    Hey Phil,

    As always another wonderful journey of your words. I felt like I was there too. I have never ridden a horse but could imagine I was there. Well done.

  • Carrie Zylka

    We’ve had a request to extend the contest a day or two – I’m happy to do so since we only have 3 entries. I’ll share it out to social media and hopefully grab some interest!

  • I swear I can’t win with this group.

    No matter what I do, it’s an email, it’s a text, it’s a message complaining about something or some sort of colorful nasty gram.

    I need a break.

    Life has walloped me a few too many times in the last year to be able to handle everything and the expectations are a just a hair too much for me to handle right now.

    Thank you to everyone who contributed this round, but there will be no voting.

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