THE LAST BEAUTY
The finely tapered nostrils sampled the breeze, while the delicate forefeet pranced. Yes, that was it, the smell he had spent so long searching for. It was the scent of a band of horses. He excitedly tested the air again, only to find that his nose deceived him. He shook his savagely beautiful head and the wide, expressive eyes surveyed the barren ground that stretched for miles in all directions.
He rose on his hind legs, powerful muscles rippling beneath the sleek black hide, the image of the gorgeous, strong and dangerous wild Arabian stallion he had grown to become. He pranced on the rise he was standing on and broke into a canter, a dark silhouette against the equally dark navy blue sky that looked like crushed velvet, sprinkled with millions of grains of sugar. His long, silky tail billowed out behind him like a banner, and his mane reached up towards the skies like a black flame reaching for the stars.
He kept searching for hours until, certain he was alone, he rose once again, his forelegs pawing at the sky. His deadly, yet so pure, scream echoed for miles. But, as he screamed, there was an answering call. The stallion thudded back down to the sandy earth, surprised. He whinnied again and there it was, another call, strangely familiar. He started trembling with anticipation and excitement as he saw a tiny sliver of hope. He heard the thundering of hooves as the band approached. The black stallion neighed excitedly and bounded up to meet them, only to stop in his tracks.
What he saw was a herd of about fifteen mares, most heavily pregnant, and three foals, but at the back of the herd was a big chestnut stallion rounding up his mares, head low and snaking, teeth snapping the air just behind his mares rumps. His mares squealed and leapt forward. This stallion was a big brute, large, muscular, and deadly. His father. They saw each other at the same moment, and they both stopped in their tracks. The chestnut screamed a challenge, and he answered by rearing up, and letting out a piercing whistle. They galloped head on towards each other and then they clashed!
Black and copper seemed to fuse together in the rising sunlight. The churning fireball the two horses created was full of flying feet and snapping teeth. Each stallion reared up and bit the others’ neck. The chestnut came back to earth and sent his feet flying towards the black hide, but the youth and swiftness of the black prevailed, and he danced out of the way, but the chestnut had age and experience on his side, as well as stamina, and quickly landed a kick on the blacks rump.
They each tried to knock the other down by biting at their knees,
kicking with all their might, and biting as hard as they could, all the while bucking and rearing. After half an hour of this, the black stallion was weakening. The chestnut double-barrelled him in the side and bit his knee and pulled. He fell to the ground with a thud and struggled to rise. The chestnut stallion prepared to finish him off by rearing on him, but one mare dared to intervene. His mother whinnied angrily and charged at the stallion. She whipped around, ears pinned flat against her head, and threatened to kick him, her black mane flying, and her grey body darkened with sweat. While she was protesting, the young black stallion slowly crawled way and heaved himself to his feet.
The black stallion trotted away until he was at a safe distance and called to the grey mare. She looked over, whinnied weakly and looked away as the chestnut bared his teeth at her and herded her away. He cantered away reluctantly, and didn’t stop all day. It was dusk when he finally stopped at a waterhole. He drunk his fill and ate a few mouthfuls of the dry, salty grass that grew there.
As the first stars were starting to show, night was falling, casting dark shadows, and he looked up longingly at the sky. As the wild black stallion rose up high onto his hind legs, stars started to shoot across the navy sky. He whistled long and loud, listening to it echo around the desert, and shook his perfectly chiselled head while his forelegs reached up high into the still night air. He made a magnificent picture, mane and tail flying. Yes, he was the last beauty.
i wrote this when i was eleven, and i re-edited it yesterday. i am now 13.
so, what do you think? constructive criticism please.
The finely tapered nostrils sampled the breeze, while the delicate forefeet pranced. Yes, that was it, the smell he had spent so long searching for. It was the scent of a band of horses. He excitedly tested the air again, only to find that his nose deceived him. He shook his savagely beautiful head and the wide, expressive eyes surveyed the barren ground that stretched for miles in all directions.
He rose on his hind legs, powerful muscles rippling beneath the sleek black hide, the image of the gorgeous, strong and dangerous wild Arabian stallion he had grown to become. He pranced on the rise he was standing on and broke into a canter, a dark silhouette against the equally dark navy blue sky that looked like crushed velvet, sprinkled with millions of grains of sugar. His long, silky tail billowed out behind him like a banner, and his mane reached up towards the skies like a black flame reaching for the stars.
He kept searching for hours until, certain he was alone, he rose once again, his forelegs pawing at the sky. His deadly, yet so pure, scream echoed for miles. But, as he screamed, there was an answering call. The stallion thudded back down to the sandy earth, surprised. He whinnied again and there it was, another call, strangely familiar. He started trembling with anticipation and excitement as he saw a tiny sliver of hope. He heard the thundering of hooves as the band approached. The black stallion neighed excitedly and bounded up to meet them, only to stop in his tracks.
What he saw was a herd of about fifteen mares, most heavily pregnant, and three foals, but at the back of the herd was a big chestnut stallion rounding up his mares, head low and snaking, teeth snapping the air just behind his mares rumps. His mares squealed and leapt forward. This stallion was a big brute, large, muscular, and deadly. His father. They saw each other at the same moment, and they both stopped in their tracks. The chestnut screamed a challenge, and he answered by rearing up, and letting out a piercing whistle. They galloped head on towards each other and then they clashed!
Black and copper seemed to fuse together in the rising sunlight. The churning fireball the two horses created was full of flying feet and snapping teeth. Each stallion reared up and bit the others’ neck. The chestnut came back to earth and sent his feet flying towards the black hide, but the youth and swiftness of the black prevailed, and he danced out of the way, but the chestnut had age and experience on his side, as well as stamina, and quickly landed a kick on the blacks rump.
They each tried to knock the other down by biting at their knees,
kicking with all their might, and biting as hard as they could, all the while bucking and rearing. After half an hour of this, the black stallion was weakening. The chestnut double-barrelled him in the side and bit his knee and pulled. He fell to the ground with a thud and struggled to rise. The chestnut stallion prepared to finish him off by rearing on him, but one mare dared to intervene. His mother whinnied angrily and charged at the stallion. She whipped around, ears pinned flat against her head, and threatened to kick him, her black mane flying, and her grey body darkened with sweat. While she was protesting, the young black stallion slowly crawled way and heaved himself to his feet.
The black stallion trotted away until he was at a safe distance and called to the grey mare. She looked over, whinnied weakly and looked away as the chestnut bared his teeth at her and herded her away. He cantered away reluctantly, and didn’t stop all day. It was dusk when he finally stopped at a waterhole. He drunk his fill and ate a few mouthfuls of the dry, salty grass that grew there.
As the first stars were starting to show, night was falling, casting dark shadows, and he looked up longingly at the sky. As the wild black stallion rose up high onto his hind legs, stars started to shoot across the navy sky. He whistled long and loud, listening to it echo around the desert, and shook his perfectly chiselled head while his forelegs reached up high into the still night air. He made a magnificent picture, mane and tail flying. Yes, he was the last beauty.
i wrote this when i was eleven, and i re-edited it yesterday. i am now 13.
so, what do you think? constructive criticism please.
Awesome I love it!!! It really paints a picture of the story in my head - very vivid.
A+
Just wait until Charm sees this, she's an english teacher :D
A+
Just wait until Charm sees this, she's an english teacher :D