|from Typical Life of the Middle Schooler|
Of course, horses regained importance to me in 6th grade, and that was the first year that English class was dedicated to mostly creative writing (and the occasional book report, but Where the Red Fern Grows was trash and 11 year old me didn't need to read about dogs dyin'). I believe we had bi-weekly creative writing assignments, with or without a prompt, and I took these very seriously. I always went past the page limit. A decorative cover was a must. In text pictures were a normal occurrence. For the amount of effort that I put into these stories, laughing hysterically at them as an adult is just one ironic characteristic of my existence.
"Evil Pony Island" was just one of many stories that I wrote that year, both in and out of class. I was passionate about it then, and I'm still passionate about it now, even if the plot, character development, themes, and writing style could use some reworking. People always told me I was good at writing. No, seriously, I got an award at the end of the year for the things I wrote, and thinking about that adds to the hilarity of this story.
Feel free to read your heart out. It was too ridiculously long to have in a blog post, so I went through the hassle of having it publish as such. It's also available on Wattpad if you have an account.
That wasn't the only horse specific story I wrote either, but it was one of very few that I actually finished. #TypicalAuthor. Another one that I finished was Pegastarz, which I would share with you all, but I won't because 1) it might be lost on a dead hard drive, and 2) it's 100 pages of even more embarrassing literary trash. Worse even than Where the Red Fern Grows.