[Chronometer]

As suggested by the awesome stream peeps, this will be a sad story competition.
This does not have to include this tolter, but I'd prefer if it was written by you. Word limit
is 500, and there is no minimum.

This pretty also comes with a premade halter and charm c:

Username: Vinson
Show Name: I Love The Way You Hurt Me
Name: Elijah
Gender: Stallion
Colour: Blood Bay (Ee/AA)
Age: six years
Height: 14 hh

[zippo.]

Username:
Show Name (optional):
Name:
Gender:
Colour: Blood Bay (Ee/AA)
Age:
Height:
Sad Story:

[feverrr]

res

[Obsessed]

Username: Obsessed
Show Name (optional): One Can Dream
Name: Dreamer
Gender: Mare
Colour: Blood Bay (Ee/AA)
Age: 3
Height: 13.7 Hands
Sad Story:

Dreamer was a racehorse, starting when she was two. She loved the track, loved to run, and loved to win. However, she also loved to jump. She would have been more suited to another sport, but her owner was determined that she would make a good racer. And Dreamer really didn’t care. The races were with weighted saddles, not riders, and she ran until she reached the finish.
She was very close with her trainer, and she preferred to run with him than she did without and that became her downfall. It happened on a sunny afternoon, a day after a heavy rainfall. The event really should have been rescheduled, but it wasn’t. Dreamer could still smell moisture in the air as she stood in her box, even though the track was dry.
It happened because of an innocent enough cause. A stray dog had wriggled in undetected and stood snuffling on the track. The gates opened and Dreamer shot out. But dogs were something out of her area of expertise. When she saw him, she leaped the fence that made up the track and sprinted across the grass. The rain the other day has loosened the grass, soaked the soil, and sunk holes from the gophers.
Dreamer’s leg sunk into a hidden one, and she fell forward with a crack, screaming and kicking out. Her trainer ran to her first, slipping and tripping, and she was too panicked to recognize him, mind fogged from pain. She kicked out, met resistance, and met nothing. As more people flooded to her, she didn’t see her trainer again. She never saw him again.
Her racing life was over, and she was auctioned off. She will never race again because of the fracture, though she’s lucky she was not lamed. In the weeks following her accident she was listless and depressed, calling for her trainer and getting no response. She remembered kicking him, and shuddered. Her leg healed slowly, and it was impossible to tell if she would ever run again. She certainly wouldn’t race as she had once loved. But more so, she just wanted her trainer and her stall.

[iBrevity]

Username: iBrevity
Show Name:
Name:
Gender: Male
Colour: Blood Bay (Ee/AA)
Age:
Height:
Sad Story:

[wip]

[rook.]

dropping out, good luck everyone c:

[Good.Pointe]

Username: Rose Rivervalley
Show Name (optional): Blood The Hidden Track
Name: Blood
Gender: Stallion
Colour: Blood Bay (Ee/AA)
Age: 5
Height: 14.3
Sad Story: My Chemical Romance breaking up. Need I say more?

[Vinson]

Username: Vinson
Show Name: I Love The Way You Hurt Me
Name: Elijah
Gender: Stallion
Colour: Blood Bay (Ee/AA)
Age: six years
Height: 14 hh
Sad Story: 467 words
"Papa, no! You can't sell him, he's my horse!" The girl cried out, tugging on her father's sleeve. "Darling, we can't afford to keep him, and a nice lady is going to buy him. Don't you remember when we visited their stables?" "Yes, papa, but he's my horse! You promised! And I don't want to sell him!" She had broken down into tears now, and they ran down her face in streams. The little colt watched them, unsure of what was happening. He had heard the word sell before, but he didn't know its meaning. But his Elizabeth was very clearly distressed, and he didn't like to see her that way. Upon entering the barn she had nearly broken down, holding his little halter, really made for a donkey, but it fit his face. He turned his head a bit at this. Where was he going? Elizabeth was sad. Was she going with him? He hoped so. She had raised him when his mother had to be sold. He heard that word, sold, and a strange man took her. He had been confused, crying out for his mother, but she followed the man leading her away. She was a faithful horse, and he sniffed at thinking of her. Elizabeth was now crouched in front of him, sniffling and still crying softly. "Elijah," was all she managed to get out before she broke down again, lurching forward and pulling his little body towards hers, quietly nickering, he wedged his petite face under her chin, and shivered when me of her tears dripped onto his face. There was a strange, almost burning sensation, and he squealed a bit, alerting Elizabeth, who gazed at him melancholically. "Papa, look, he's crying too," she sniffed, pointing out a new blood bay spot on his face. He couldn't see it, but Elizabeth could, and she said he was crying. Did the burning spot look like a tear?
"Papa, please! I need him, he's my friend! Papa, please don't sell Elijah!" She pleaded, crumpled on the ground as her tears marred her beautiful face, her black hair sticking to her cheeks. It would do no good. Her father had sold him already, and now he had to deliver the foal. "Elizabeth, I already told you. We don't have enough money to feed him! He would starve!" Now Elijah was confused. He was being taken away, away from his Elizabeth. He screamed and kicked, turning back to face her. Tears welled up in her eyes once more as her father picked up the distraught colt, placing him in the trailer and closing the doors harshly. "No! No, you can't take him! Papa, please, no!" She screamed as he got in the car and drove away, the colt still screaming as he kicked at the doors.

[guilttripping]

Username: OvercastKid
Show Name (optional): Twilight Take This To Your Grave
Name: Reaper
Gender: Stallion
Colour: Blood Bay (Ee/AA)
Age: 12
Height: 15hh
Sad Story:

The tale that billows around this certain stallion is very demoralising. Everyone who got close to him would suddenly die. He didn't kill them though but he knew they would die. This curse was discovered. One night when Reaper was 2 weeks old. Back then he used to be named Sprite but it changed to reasons we will explore further in this tale.

All he could see was fire. It kicked around his chest and stomach but it didn't burn or hurt. The smoke didn't affect him for some reason. After a few moments of panic, Sprite slowed his kicking and bucking and focused on the scene. It was his barn and it was on fire. All the stables were empty except for two opposed stables. He looked at the plaques by the stables and saw their names. It was his mother and father's stables. They were whinnying and kicking. Trying to be free. Sprite could see the pain in their eyes and tried to block out their desperate screams. He couldn't get to the door for some reason. He couldn't move his feet for some reason. Then their screams were cut short and he blacked out.

The Colt woke up sweaty and psyically upset. Thank god it was just a dream. His mother nuzzled him to calm him down and he snuggled to her side. Sprite sighed as the sweat started to dry.

Three days later, a terrible fire ravaged the barn. Thirty two out of Thierry four horses escaped and were saved. The two deceased were a stallion and a mare in opposite stables who had been burned to death. When Sprite escaped from the fire by some miracle,he stood there whinnying for his parents but no answer came. A teary groom came up to the colt and stroked his fluffy brown fur.
"I'm sorry boy. You're now and orphan."

The next day he was sold on to a barn with a surrogate mother. She was a bossy skewbald mare and he didn't like her. She was not motherly at all but everyone pitied her for losing her foal during pregnancy. As he got stronger and older, he didn't need the surrogate mother anymore and was weaned at 6 months. When he was 1 and a half he was let out to play with the other colts. Sprite was tough but also very protective and paranoid. He started to make friends after a few weeks of being shy. An older blue roan filly named Tinker was his best friend.

That night he saw the older foals dead in the field. They were paled and bloody. He saw the mountain lion attack them and bring them down and he couldn't watch as it killed them. But it was all but a dream.

Or was it?

The next day, a mountain lion has attacked the foal field and Sprite was the only survivor. People who knew of his history started to call him Reaper and it stuck. Many incidents like this have happen in tragic circumstances yet to be revealed.


I don't know the work count until I get on a computer.

[SilverBell90]

Username:
Show Name (optional): Ainsi dit le roi (French for 'So says the King')
Name: Roi ('king')
Gender: Stalllion
Colour: Blood Bay (Ee/AA)
Age: 11 years
Height: 15.2hh
Sad Story:

A small troop of mounted soldiers steered their steeds through the fray of war. Most of their regiment had been killed, dismounted, or separated from each other leaving only a fraction of the original hundred men. One horse, a dark bay with wide eyes, flanked the small group at a similar pace. Mud had plastered onto his once tidy coat and tack, covering his ears and almost blocking the commands of his rider. A battle like this was no place for a horse, but wherever his master went, he followed.

Another loud boom sent metal and mud flying at the troops, another good soldier was lost. But they continued, only showing pity for a second. There were only three others when the enemy lines came into view, a large gash in the earth stretched as far as his eyes could see. The weight on his back got lighter, so he stopped while the other soldiers carried on. His eyes turned to his owner before the silence from the remaining troops signaled failure.

A snort snapped the images away as a dark bay horse continued his walk along the calm French streets. No place for bad memories, he thought as he turned his head towards a gold and blue carriage that rumbled over the uneven cobble in front of him. Candle street lamps reflected their soft light on the dew and puddles between the bricks, shining armor and badges of the men above him.

It was a party, a ball, or that's what the other cavalry horses had told him. A night of thanks and festivities for the war hero's and their steeds. His master rode, somewhat slouched, on top of him. During the war, his shoulder had been shot and his leg had broken from the fall. But the horses master would never show signs that anything about a constant limp bothered him. He was a strong man, even after such a horrible and unnecessary feat.

The carriage turned another corner, entering the courtyard of what seemed to be palace. Large patches of green grass decorated with hedges, sculptures and fountains opened to a large clearing in the center of the gardens. The circle of cobble road was their destination and as they entered it, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd that had arrived. The horse's ears flicked back at the sudden noise, thankfully it didn't get much louder after that. People chatted softly and occasionally laughed as French music played from a band on a nearby stage.

Around the halfway mark of the ball, a new act played on one of the more open fields. Seven white and grey horses gracefully began their performance in a ring formation. The bay horse swung his head back and forth as he focused on the music that came with this performance. It was softer than anything he had ever heard and, though he was unaware of it at that moment, it would be the last soft thing he would ever perceive. (500 words exactly.)