[j. bourne]

Pretty simple babe! <3

Username: Vinson
Show Name: Gone So Soon
Barn Name: Versetto
Gender: Mare
Eye Color: Mother of Pearl ( pearl )
Sire/Dam: Foundation
Sire/Dam: Foundation
Genotype: Ee/Aa
Breeding Notes:

- Pearl eyes pass via random number generator, 1-10. If a number the artist picks is rolled, such as 7, then the foal will have pearl eyes. If the number is not rolled, then the eye color is artist's choice!
- Gold shoes cannot pass.
- This tolter is hard of hearing!

Competition: Tell me a sad story involving either this tolter, another tolt that you own, or both! Your goal is to pull at what little heartstrings I have and try to make me cry (that's not too hard oops)!
End Date: September 10th
Notes: There is a 500 word minimum, but no limit!


Code: Select all

[b]Username:[/b]
[b]Show Name:[/b]
[b]Barn Name:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Halter:[/b]
[b]Who is involved in or telling the story?:[/b]
[b]Story:[/b]

[Vinson]

Username: Vinson
Show Name: Gone so Soon
Barn Name: Versetto
Gender: mare
Halter: purple and pearl surprise
Who is involved in or telling the story?: Versetto and Poesia (both are human in the story)
Story: it's 1460 words I'm so sorry </3

From the day I met her I knew we were destined to be together. She was the woman of my dreams - literally. I had seen only glimpses of her, her chocolatey skin, peering, deep blue eyes, fluffy, curly mess of hair. And her lips. Her beautiful pink lips. Everything about her was so pleasant, so easy, so wonderful. And we were destined to be together. Around her left wrist was a red string, which wound and circled, twisted and spun, until it reached my little finger. That same red string tied around her wrist was tied, almost perilously, to my right pinkie finger.

I finally met her, my soulmate, while walking in one of our local parks. Birds were singing, dogs were barking, people were chatting, but I could hear none of it. I am deaf, and so rely on my sight, my lip reading, my sign language, to communicate. And I am an irony, I know: I am a deaf singer. I have always been hard of hearing, but when I was young I was still able to hear myself sing. I sing now based on the vibrations I feel in my chest, my throat, through my feet when an instrument is played. I sing to my family, my friends, close relatives. They tell me I sound lovely, but I never know if I should trust them or not.

My soulmate, though, I'm sure has the most beautiful voice in the world. I saw her walking down the path and I couldn't help but stare: here was the woman I saw in my dreams, tied to me, walking right towards me. My jaw may have dropped a little at her beauty, for she is a wonderful sight to behold. Her skin is rich and dark, her legs long and lean, her hair curls and tumbles down her neck onto strong shoulders. But her face might be the most eye catching, with her pink, pink lips, little nose, and eyes so blue the ocean envies them. She walked with a cane sliding in front of her, telling her where to go and where not to go, but even still I knew she was perfect.

"Excuse me?" I asked, and she turned her head toward me when she heard my voice. She smiled, slid her stick out toward me until it lightly tapped the tow of my shoe. She stepped forward, her lips telling me a single word: "Yes?" I bit my own lips, closed my eyes. "I know you can't see me, but your red string on your left wrist is tied to my own string on my right little finger," I told her, and she smiled so wide, her pearly white teeth showing. "I never thought I would be lucky enough to find my soulmate," she told me, and I never had trouble reading her lips. "You know, with me being blind and all." I nodded, stopped myself. A silly mistake. "And me as well. I'm deaf." She always spoke so clearly.

We only got closer from that day on, and I finally learned her name: Poesia. How funny it is for me, a walking irony, a deaf singer, to find my soulmate is also a walking irony, a blind poet. She had had perfect vision when she was a child, and grew up writing and reading normally. When her sight faded away, she kept writing, and she had some of the neatest handwriting I have ever seen. It took me a few years, but I finally taught those writing hands how to sign, and some of her first independent signs were "Will you marry me?" And I, of course, said yes. I kissed those beautiful pink lips and I said yes.

Our wedding took place in the same park we had met in, under a canopy of trees and with only our closest friends and family. She looked so beautiful, so wondrous and magnificent in that lacy white dress. We said our vows, both speaking and signing them, as the sun set behind the mountains and we were officially wed. It is still such a fresh, happy memory in my mind.

A few years later, when we were thinking of adding another person to the family, we lay in bed and held each other close and I kissed her forehead gently. "I want to have a baby, Versetto," she signed to me, and I smiled and clasped her hands in mine. And so she carried out first child, her tummy growing every day, and every day I would lay my head on her soft, tender skin and whisper to the baby. She got through the first trimester just fine, not much morning sickness, just a few headaches and a craving for apple pie.

But then, barely into her second trimester, she felt nauseous and sick, began to cramp and bleed. We drove to the hospital, she had a miscarriage. She felt so awful, cramping and bleeding, tears dripping down her face as she signed to me - "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," over and over again. This was not her fault, nor will it ever be her fault in the future. But she blamed herself for having the miscarriage, and when we went home she refused to get out of bed. She wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink much, just cried and slept while I held her and rocked her once more.

One day, just maybe a few days after coming back from the hospital, I told her I would carry our baby. It made her so happy, and she held on to me as she wept tears of happiness and I kissed her forehead, held her tight, let her weep and weep, happy tears, into my breast. And so she did everything I had done for her: she placed her head on my ever growing tummy, the soft, tender skin of my belly, and she whispered to the baby. She let me know that she loved me so much, that she would love me and this baby for eternity.

I was late in my third trimester when she told me she was going to the store. This was a weekly occurrence. She always went to the store on Monday mornings to pick up groceries, maybe something for the baby. I kissed her goodbye, she gathered her bags and walked out the door. Everything was perfectly normal until I felt the vibrations of ambulance sirens, saw the vehicle go flashing down the street, right past our house. That was when I felt that twinge in my heart. I knew something was wrong.

Someone knocked on the door, signed to me. Poesia was hit by a car while crossing the street, she was in the hospital. I thanked them, grabbed the keys, drove as quickly as I could to the hospital. I went to the front desk, asked for Poesia. I practically ran down the hallway, peering into the room she was in. Tears pooled in my eyes as I saw the state she was in.

Doctors circled around her, performing cpr, putting a tube down her throat, opening up the side of her chest. I sat down and I weeped. I always remember what she looked like then, even though I want so desperately to forget. Her body was mangled and broken, so many tubes and machines and lines. Maybe it was for the best, I always try to think. Maybe it was for the best that they couldn't save her that day. Otherwise she would be sitting at home, stuck in a chair, confined to a life of chronic pain. Maybe it was all for the best.

But then I look at our daughter, our beautiful little daughter, and I feel tears begin to pool in my eyes again. Poesia will never be able to see our daughter, to play with and hold and feed and cradle our daughter. She will never grow old with me, she will never sit by my bedside as I recover from sickness, she will never be there to enjoy our happiness, to wallow in our sadness. Every day I think of her, every day I look at my right pinkie finger, at the severed red thread there. I can never forget Poesia, I can never be with another woman after all we had been through together. Our daughter will grow up with only a mother, not even memories of her other mother, who loved her so dearly even before she was born.

Because Poesia is gone. And I will never see her beauty, feel her touch, listen to her sign to me. Our daughter will never know her, but I will never forget her. Was it really all for the best that day?

[iBrevity]

oh my goodness this babe is gorgeous!
I hope I have time to try out aha

[ExVenor]

Username: Half Tree
Show Name: Shrouded In Moonlight
Barn Name: Tuncay "bronze moon"
Gender: Stallion
Halter: Something like shiny bronze metal.
Who is involved in or telling the story?: Tuncay's father is the main focus as told by an ambiguous narrator.
Story: link

[Raury]

Username: Raury
Show Name: Love Letters To Romeo
Barn Name: Bello
Gender: Stallion
Halter: surprise me!
Who is involved in or telling the story?: LilahStory:


WIP

[Spottedleaf.]

Such a gorgeous tolter amny! 0o0 Bald face markings are always too cute!
Though, since I am terrible at sad stories I'm gonna have to pass

[aray17]

Username: aray17
Show Name: Diamonds are My Friends
Barn Name: Rianna
Gender: mare
Halter: pearl
Who is involved in or telling the story?: Cal is telling the story about him and Rianna
Story: Ah yes, when I first saw that gorgeous gal named Rianna pull up to the ranch, I fell hard for her and she knew it. Rianna walked onto the ranch with the confidence and poise of a celebrity. Rumor has it that she's an angel in the arena but a heart breaker in the stables. I had seen her stun crowds in barrel racing before where I could barely get an applause. Rianna approached me in the pasture and scoffed at me when I tried to say hello. I was so love struck by her temptress ways. Everyday, I would greet her with my most genuine and gentleman smile and compliment but she would smirk and trot away like a vixen. She was such a chase and such a heartthrob and I needed her by my side. All of my friends told me not to play with fire and yet I got burned everyday until I was nothing but ashes. You see, for a while Rianna let me into her life. She let down her guards and told me her hard childhood that made her the mare she is today. The fear in her eyes broke my heart and the mare who once never let anyone see the real Rianna finally tore open her scars to heal them. She started out hesitant and said "You see, both of my parents were top show horses and I had a ton of pressure to perform. My mother loved me very much and cared for me but backed down to my dominant and abusive father. He was a top barrel racer and I had no other option but to win first or else I would receive the same punishment as my poor, abused mother. She was a western pleasure horse and did quite well. My father's eyes never saw her as much. After she would compete in global events, even if she received second, he would degrade her and would sometimes hurt her physically. I was too young and too afraid to do anything because my father was a very strong stallion whose temper was shorter than a centimeter. When I finally reached tan age at which I could compete in barrel racing competitions, my father was so hard to be around. My father would scream at me if I got second or even if I got first but my technique was a hair off. I didn't want to let him down but I knew that I could never live up to his standards. So I tried to talk to my best guy friend who I loved and who loved me. He was my escape route into paradise and my father hated him because his parents were a shame to the ranch in his eyes. His parents were trail ride horses and worked as therapy horses and so did he but my father considered those who didn't win awards to be unworthy of his time and unworthy of my time. I loved my childhood friend so much and he would comfort me after I would get verbally abused for hours. My best friend was the shoulder I could cry on and he never judged me. It was a forbidden love and we didn't care. We had plans of running away or getting sent to another ranch but that day never seemed to come. As we both grew older, tensions became tighter and stronger between my father and my best friend. My father reared and struck my friend after my friend made a compliment on my performance in the ring. I had won first but it was not good enough for my father since my technique was not perfect. I screamed as loud as I could when my father had struck my friend in the head and he had fallen to the ground and was knocked unconscious. That was the scariest part of my life because I thought I had lost my best friend and love of my life. I tried to stop my father but he shoved me out of the way and he continued to kick my love until the ranch hands came and stopped my father. The rest of that day was a blur to me because I just remember crying in my stall and having an extensive anxiety attack. I never saw my father ever again and my love was gone. I didn't know where my love had gone but he never came back. I thought I saw him out of the corner of my eye but I was never for sure. Rumors went around that my love had brain damage and was receiving treatment. And many theories circulated around about my father. I didn't care where he ended up as long he wasn't around me. My mother was so depressed and wouldn't even look at me because of how much I reminded her of my father. Mother eventually was taken away and to be honest, I wasn't sad. Every time I saw my love's parents in the pasture or in the stables, I would break down and cry. They wouldn't speak to me or even look at me. I felt like it was all my fault. For the longest time I could not deal with the pain of not having my love around so I tried to numb the pain by talking to other stallions and by getting as much attention as I could from stallions. It helped patch up the wound but the scar was still there and it was so deep. When I was moved here I saw you and when you were so kind to me and so genuine I did not know how to deal with it. Kindness was something I wasn't familiar with. I didn't want to catch feelings and I'm sorry I pushed you so far away." By this time, Rianna was sobbing and I pulled her in close to me and said "Babe you are safe with me. Darling I know that you had a rough past and I'm here for you. Give me all of your pain and I promise I will be there for you whenever you need me. I will make sure you never experience pain again." She looked up at me with her gorgeous eyes and I nuzzled her. How beautiful she looked even when she was crying. Our relationship was one that was built on trust and honesty. From that day on, she stayed honest with me and I let her read me like a book. Ever so often, she would have nightmares and I would comfort her until she would fall asleep. My diamond shines so bright now.

[Mango30]

Username: Mango30
Show Name: Adventure of a Lifetime
Barn Name: Wilderness
Gender: Mare
Halter: A light blue with some wavy white lines on it, please!
Who is involved in or telling the story?: I'll tell the story. My mom, brother and my cats will be in the story.
Story:

(892 words, sorry for it being so long!)

Today was not a good day. I had only been told by my mom the day before, that we had to put our cat down. No further warning. Her name was Gamine, one of the sweetest things on Earth. She was a black cat with gorgeous green eyes. While shy, she made up for it with loud purrs and fluffiness. I stayed home from school that day, trying to spend as much time as I could with her. I had known this cat for my whole life, and now she had to go? I didn't want her to leave. No, not yet. I still had so much more love to give to her! But she was in pain There was a rather nasty bump on her chin that would not stop growing, no matter what we did. I knew it was the right thing to do, but it didn't make me feel any better. Fast forward to when we had to take her to the vet to put her down, she was put in a crate. I stayed in the back seat with her, trying not to cry. We picked up my brother early from school. Gamine was meowing, disliking the crate. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I said nothing. We got to the vet, I carried the crate. I refused to let go of it, whispering sweet things to Gamine as we went inside. I sat down on a chair, trying to pet her through the bars. I wondered that day what we had ever done to deserve this, what sweet Gamine ever did to deserve this? She had plenty of her life left to live, yet it was being cut so short. I dreaded the moment when the vet would have to come in and bring us to the room where my cat was fated to sleep forever. When that moment finally came, I followed, but I was holding back tears. If only we could afford to see what it really was, so we could keep her for longer than this. The vet allowed us to spend some time with her, letting her out of the cage. She had first explained what she would have to do. She would have to make Gamine a little sleepy and then inject her with something that would slowly make her heart stop. A peaceful death. We pet her, letting her explore and giving her every inch of love we had for her, knowing that this would be the last place we would ever see her alive. When the vet finally came back to take out cat away to make her sleepy, I was already crying, trying to supress the tears. My mother and brother and I talked for a bit about this, and we hugged a little bit. But I was in no mood for hugging quite yet. When she came back, Gamine was indeed looking sleepy and wrapped in a blanket. She had a tube connected to her front leg, and we all pet her on her head as she purred lazily. At least she would be happy in her final moments, but I didn't want her to go. I missed her so much already. Soon, the vet did what she had to do. Gamine's eyes closed, and after a few moments, the vet nodded sadly. That was the moment where I couldn't stop crying, where my mom and brother didn't even shed a tear. I felt so angry at them for not seeming to care, even though they did care, and I kept petting her head. I didn't want to leave. Not yet. I knew the vet was looking at us sadly, but I didn't care. Not one bit. My mom and the vet put her two front paws in clay for an imprint afterwards. They put the bottom half of her body in a bag, and the rest was uncovered. Her eyes were closed and she was put back in the care so we could bury her at home. I was still crying, the cage door towards my body as I continued carrying the crate back to the car. When we got back into the car, I couldn't help but pet her head again, not wanting to let go of the comforting feel of her fur. Once we reached back home, my brother and my mother started digging for a grave in the yard. I couldn't bear to help them, and went inside. That was the last time I ever saw Gamine. Her grace still stands, a flower pot and a few logs stand there as she was buried in a shoebox. From time to time, I visit the grave and speak softly there. Even now, as I write this, I shed a few tears. Gamine was my friend since I was a child, and she's gone now. But she's in a better place. I do hope she's proud of me for moving on in the slightest. Even though I still have Hibou, who I also have known for all my life, and Jax and Gemma, siblings, who are new kittens to the family, I wish that Gamine were still here. This is in memory of Gamine, one of my best friends. She's still buried in our yard. May she forever rest in peace since September of 2016.

[Mango30]

I'm really sorry if I'm being bothersome, but who wins this bab? I'm quite excited to see who wins this tolter! Just wanted to make sure this one wasn't forgotten!

[ExVenor]

I'm really sorry if I'm being bothersome, but who wins this bab? I'm quite excited to see who wins this tolter! Just wanted to make sure this one wasn't forgotten!

Please do not bother the artists about judging adopts. They have school, jobs, and/or personal lives outside of CS and can get busy around the end date of an adopt. Unless it has been well-over a week there isn't a need to contact an artist about judging at all, no matter how impatient you may feel waiting to see the results.