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- #281
OK! I have broke through my writer block! WOOOT WOOOT WOOOT YAYAYAYAYA!
Mitty - The horse story
- Thread starter WooingWyandotte
- Start date
I love the intensity of this story. You are an excellent story writer. T:/hanks for such great work. Do we get more soon?
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- #283
Quote:
Is it intense? Thank you so much
I was just editing some chapter making them better. I'll start on the new one now.
Is it intense? Thank you so much
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- #284
Chapter 20
The thing chuckled at it's lie. But stopped imediately when the soft padding foot steps emerged from the thick brush. Alastair caught his breath at the size of this animal. It was a she-panther, but not a panther at the same time. She was too dark, and smelled something fierce. Her sleek pitch black coat was shining, despite the darkness of the forest. Her eyes glimmered red, every line of her attractive smile had 'deceit' written on it, her tail flicked, and her walk was relaxed and easy as she strolled towards Alastair, seemingly unconcerned that he was trembling with anger.
"Where are my mares?" She was a little surprised by his fury, as most things were cowed in her presence, but she recovered without so much as a blink.
"Safe," The words dripped of her tongue, easy and soft. Yet, powerful. She sat in front of Alastair and studied his gleaming eyes, then making her decision she turned, and walked toward the thing, her movements mezmorizing, the thing couldn't take his off her. She lifted a seemingly harmless paw, smiling warmly she kept his gaze but then swiped her paw effortlessly across his face, he yipped in pain and was thrown to the ground.
Her pretty face suddenly turned angry and her eyes burned with hatred. Her face was suddenly ugly, ugly with years of deceit and hatred, ugly with all her smooth lies and seductive smiles.
"Why," Her angry words were low and rumbling deep. "were you laughing like an idiot?"
"The-the st-stall-" The thing looked so scared it couldn't speak, Alastair probably should have been moved to feel sorry for the thing, but he didn't. In fact, he was enjoying seeing the thing being so scared.
"Speak louder," A growl erupted from her throat.
The thing was terrified as she towered over him, her heavy paw on his throat. "I was a-ab-abou to t-take the st-stallion to th-there, b-bu-but a-h I w-was la-laughing s-so ah ha - "
She suddenly whipped her paw off his throat and swiped his bleeding face. "Those were not your orders!" She roared, her fury was terrible. She came down upon the thing with a pounce and knocked the air clean out of him, thus knocking him out. She turned to Alastair, her tail whipping the air. Alastair was unimpressed, he had a lot of confidence in himself, he thought her terrible, yes, but he also thought him more terrible than she.
"Now," He towered over her, "How about my mares?"
She straightened, and smiled. Alastair was not fooled.
"Your mares are safe," She turned around and looked at him, "If you want to see them, follow me....well, either way you have no choice. You must follow me."
Alastair, seeing no other way followed her at a steady walk the way she came, slithering thorugh the inky blackness.
The thing chuckled at it's lie. But stopped imediately when the soft padding foot steps emerged from the thick brush. Alastair caught his breath at the size of this animal. It was a she-panther, but not a panther at the same time. She was too dark, and smelled something fierce. Her sleek pitch black coat was shining, despite the darkness of the forest. Her eyes glimmered red, every line of her attractive smile had 'deceit' written on it, her tail flicked, and her walk was relaxed and easy as she strolled towards Alastair, seemingly unconcerned that he was trembling with anger.
"Where are my mares?" She was a little surprised by his fury, as most things were cowed in her presence, but she recovered without so much as a blink.
"Safe," The words dripped of her tongue, easy and soft. Yet, powerful. She sat in front of Alastair and studied his gleaming eyes, then making her decision she turned, and walked toward the thing, her movements mezmorizing, the thing couldn't take his off her. She lifted a seemingly harmless paw, smiling warmly she kept his gaze but then swiped her paw effortlessly across his face, he yipped in pain and was thrown to the ground.
Her pretty face suddenly turned angry and her eyes burned with hatred. Her face was suddenly ugly, ugly with years of deceit and hatred, ugly with all her smooth lies and seductive smiles.
"Why," Her angry words were low and rumbling deep. "were you laughing like an idiot?"
"The-the st-stall-" The thing looked so scared it couldn't speak, Alastair probably should have been moved to feel sorry for the thing, but he didn't. In fact, he was enjoying seeing the thing being so scared.
"Speak louder," A growl erupted from her throat.
The thing was terrified as she towered over him, her heavy paw on his throat. "I was a-ab-abou to t-take the st-stallion to th-there, b-bu-but a-h I w-was la-laughing s-so ah ha - "
She suddenly whipped her paw off his throat and swiped his bleeding face. "Those were not your orders!" She roared, her fury was terrible. She came down upon the thing with a pounce and knocked the air clean out of him, thus knocking him out. She turned to Alastair, her tail whipping the air. Alastair was unimpressed, he had a lot of confidence in himself, he thought her terrible, yes, but he also thought him more terrible than she.
"Now," He towered over her, "How about my mares?"
She straightened, and smiled. Alastair was not fooled.
"Your mares are safe," She turned around and looked at him, "If you want to see them, follow me....well, either way you have no choice. You must follow me."
Alastair, seeing no other way followed her at a steady walk the way she came, slithering thorugh the inky blackness.
Last edited:
Ooh!
Hey WooingWyandotte, delete some of your messages, youve got a full inbox!!
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- #287
Quote:
Whoopsies
Whoopsies
- Thread starter
- #288
Chapter 21
Alastair had all he could do to follow the dark animal in the blackness. He could just barely hear her padding footsteps on the bare earth and her breathing was only a slight inhale and exhale, which he couldn't hear anyways over the thump-thump of his own hooves. After about five minutes she turned right sharply and Alastair could sense that he was passing into some sort of leafy tunnel.
Where could we be going?
"What is your name?" Alastair ventured.
"Zella, how about yours?"
"Victor," Alastair wasn't going to tell her his real name, she made him uneasy. "Say, Zella where are you taking me? And what about my mares?" The thought angered him a little.
"You'll see," She abruptly stopped, and Alastair stepped on her tail.
"YEEEOOWWW!" She screamed in pain, then venemously glared at Alastair. "Are you trying to break my tail?"
"That was an accident."
"You rotten little nasty - "
"Zella," He paused and rolled his eyes, "Where were you taking me again?"
"Don't roll your eyes at me. Later, you'll be sorry you did. Follow me you unworthy stallion." She turned around and flicked her tail in his face then continued walking.
Alastair seethed in anger, yet he knew he shouldn't continue to banter back and forth because he would be wasting his breath on a dumb argument.
After a couple more minutes of walking through the tunnel Alastair could see the outlines of a beautifully crafted gate, and something standing in front of it.
"Stop and wait." Zella commanded. She walked forward and Alastair heard her whispering to the thing at the gate, the thing snorted back a reply and Alastair realized it was a horse! Just then Zella seemed to be angered by the retorted reply and her paw whizzed past the horses nose, a chilling whinny erupted and a muttered 'sorry'.
Zella turned her head and called to Alastair, "Come on,"
Alastair walked forward and the gate opened, it creaked and groaned piercing the silence. As he passed the horse he saw it was a little buckskin filly. She looked so little and scared that he smiled, "Hello, what might your name be?"
"H - Hazel." She cast her sad eyes down at her hooves, she was awed in the presence of a good stallion that cared about her.
"What a pretty name,"
"Victor!" Zella hissed, "Follow me."
"Bye Hazel," He gave her one last comforting smile and she returned it, a little shy though.
He arched his neck and strutted behind Zella thinking to himself, I'm a pretty nice guy, good-looking too. Who can't resist The Great Alastair? I can have any mare I like, handsome as I am. He decided then and there that he wasn't leaving the place without poor Hazel to add to his herd of mares, Hazel to him would be a prized addition.
Zella looked back and was baffled to what the stallion was doing,
"What are you doing? You look hideous right now."
Just then, Alastair awoke from his dreamland about Hazel and studied his surroundings, he was walking on hard dirt and was approaching a bare flat place, it was a twenty meter circle with bone-white sand inside it. Another thing about his place was the profound presence of evil. But to Alastair, it was a familiar feeling from his foalhood. He had a flash black to this very place and the dark memories he shared with it, he knew who occupied this place, and he knew what they wanted. He braced himself, body, soul, and spirit for the time ahead.
Zella muttered something under her breath about horses being idiots then said loudly, "We have arrived,"
Just then out of the pitch blackness ahead Alastair strained his eyes and saw movement, tall lengthy forelegs emerged from the dark followed by a stark grey head, with small flickering ears and piercing black eyes, the head was finely shapen, followed by a slim throat which widened into a curvy neck with a tossing mane. The shoulders were high set and the back arched into dark grey haunches, flexing with muscle and strong, well rounded hooves.
The horse was pure Arabian, a stallion. His spirit was strong and his drive pure evil. He was high strung, courageous, and extremely large. So large, in fact that despite his conformation, he hardly looked to be an Arab.
He stopped in the middle of the twenty meter circle and eyed Alastair with malice.
"So, we meet again," He paused, then fairly spat out, "Son."
Alastair had all he could do to follow the dark animal in the blackness. He could just barely hear her padding footsteps on the bare earth and her breathing was only a slight inhale and exhale, which he couldn't hear anyways over the thump-thump of his own hooves. After about five minutes she turned right sharply and Alastair could sense that he was passing into some sort of leafy tunnel.
Where could we be going?
"What is your name?" Alastair ventured.
"Zella, how about yours?"
"Victor," Alastair wasn't going to tell her his real name, she made him uneasy. "Say, Zella where are you taking me? And what about my mares?" The thought angered him a little.
"You'll see," She abruptly stopped, and Alastair stepped on her tail.
"YEEEOOWWW!" She screamed in pain, then venemously glared at Alastair. "Are you trying to break my tail?"
"That was an accident."
"You rotten little nasty - "
"Zella," He paused and rolled his eyes, "Where were you taking me again?"
"Don't roll your eyes at me. Later, you'll be sorry you did. Follow me you unworthy stallion." She turned around and flicked her tail in his face then continued walking.
Alastair seethed in anger, yet he knew he shouldn't continue to banter back and forth because he would be wasting his breath on a dumb argument.
After a couple more minutes of walking through the tunnel Alastair could see the outlines of a beautifully crafted gate, and something standing in front of it.
"Stop and wait." Zella commanded. She walked forward and Alastair heard her whispering to the thing at the gate, the thing snorted back a reply and Alastair realized it was a horse! Just then Zella seemed to be angered by the retorted reply and her paw whizzed past the horses nose, a chilling whinny erupted and a muttered 'sorry'.
Zella turned her head and called to Alastair, "Come on,"
Alastair walked forward and the gate opened, it creaked and groaned piercing the silence. As he passed the horse he saw it was a little buckskin filly. She looked so little and scared that he smiled, "Hello, what might your name be?"
"H - Hazel." She cast her sad eyes down at her hooves, she was awed in the presence of a good stallion that cared about her.
"What a pretty name,"
"Victor!" Zella hissed, "Follow me."
"Bye Hazel," He gave her one last comforting smile and she returned it, a little shy though.
He arched his neck and strutted behind Zella thinking to himself, I'm a pretty nice guy, good-looking too. Who can't resist The Great Alastair? I can have any mare I like, handsome as I am. He decided then and there that he wasn't leaving the place without poor Hazel to add to his herd of mares, Hazel to him would be a prized addition.
Zella looked back and was baffled to what the stallion was doing,
"What are you doing? You look hideous right now."
Just then, Alastair awoke from his dreamland about Hazel and studied his surroundings, he was walking on hard dirt and was approaching a bare flat place, it was a twenty meter circle with bone-white sand inside it. Another thing about his place was the profound presence of evil. But to Alastair, it was a familiar feeling from his foalhood. He had a flash black to this very place and the dark memories he shared with it, he knew who occupied this place, and he knew what they wanted. He braced himself, body, soul, and spirit for the time ahead.
Zella muttered something under her breath about horses being idiots then said loudly, "We have arrived,"
Just then out of the pitch blackness ahead Alastair strained his eyes and saw movement, tall lengthy forelegs emerged from the dark followed by a stark grey head, with small flickering ears and piercing black eyes, the head was finely shapen, followed by a slim throat which widened into a curvy neck with a tossing mane. The shoulders were high set and the back arched into dark grey haunches, flexing with muscle and strong, well rounded hooves.
The horse was pure Arabian, a stallion. His spirit was strong and his drive pure evil. He was high strung, courageous, and extremely large. So large, in fact that despite his conformation, he hardly looked to be an Arab.
He stopped in the middle of the twenty meter circle and eyed Alastair with malice.
"So, we meet again," He paused, then fairly spat out, "Son."
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