Christmas Knight
Knight padded through the room with a gunslinger's bold swagger. His black tail flicked high as he locked eyes on the sparkling Christmas tree ahead. It towered in the corner. Strings of lights glowed soft and warm. The cat's eyes gleamed like orange amber stones. He slowly blinked them once. Twice. A calm sign of his cool nerve. Paws stepped steady in his march. Silent. Purposeful. No one spotted him. Not yet. This was his shot. Pull down just that bottom row of lights. Tangle them. Watch it all shift.
Then danger crashed in. His owner Felipe burst through the doorway. Feet thudded on the floor. Knight froze for a split second. Then he lunged, full speed, at the tree. Claws out. Heart raced. Those twinkling bulbs danced in his gaze. Blue flashes. White sparks. Red bursts. He swiped hard. One sharp claw snagged the wire that linked ever small light.
"Knight, no!" Felipe's shout echoed sharp, as he spotted the black cat mid-leap. Eyes wide in shock. But the damage had already started, the tree swayed wildly, then it toppled, slow at first. Then fast, slamming right onto Knight. Branches whipped around him. Pine needles jammed into his thick black fur, sticking on his back like burrs. He twisted free, quickly clawing through the mess. Green tips scratched his sides.
The tree heaved up quickly. Heavy weight lifted. Loose branches snapped and fell to the ground. Felipe dashed across the room and picked up the dusty cat. Usually Knight would wiggle around and hiss at Felipe, but currently, triumph flooded his mind. I finally did it! I completely nailed my inner mission! Knocked that big green monster down!
He purred deep. His chest rumbling with joy. Felipe sighed hard. Face twisted in dismay. "Aw, Knight. Why knock over the tree of all things? It's Christmas Eve. Lights everywhere. Ornaments scattered. Now we have to fix it all over again." Knight jumped out of his arms. It’s not like you understand me human. Why do you even talk to me? Knight let out a meow, trying to say, “I’m hungry now get me food peasant.” but Felipe, of course, couldn’t understand the poor cat. With a flick of his tail, Knight strutted off down the hallway, “Oh sister!” He meowed, walking into the kitchen, he would probably find Grace there, eating his dry food. It was nearly snack time, that automatic feeder as the humans called it, would let some more food out. “Oh, hi Knight.” Grace mewed back, her head was indeed in the food bowl, sniffing out any leftover food. “I’ve finally done it! I knocked over the big green monster!” Knight yowled, puffing out his chest, in glory. “Wow! That’s great. Didn’t you try to do that last year, Mr. Grinch?” Knight’s ears flattened against his head, and he gave his sister a squinty look. Whoever Mister Grinch is, I don’t think I like him, must be a human thing, “Well, yes, but I succeeded this year the stockings are next. Then my Christmas will be complete, I will wait until tomorrow when they are full!” And so Knight walked off to go sleep in his owner’s bed instead of the one they had bought for him
The next morning, he woke up early and ran out of the room. Finally, the big fat man in red clothing has filled them! I will get even more triumph! Knight put a bit more pep in his step, Grace is still sleeping she can’t tell on me with her annoying meows this year! Then he lept onto the couch, next would be that high shelf they put those stockings on. Once up there, he touched one of the things holding the stocking up lightly with his paw. His pupils grew large as one fell. Knight laid on his side, the fastest way for them all to fall would be to flail his legs now! Knight's black fluffy legs flailed around and all the stockings fell. YES, YES! FALL, YOU OVERSIZED SOCKS! Knight thought to himself. Finally, all the stockings were on the floor. Knight yawned and stretched, making his tail stick up like a flag. He would sleep here now, then he would walk away as his owner told him that was not a good thing to do. Knight laid his head on his paws and closed his eyes. Next Christmas, he would be even more of a trouble-maker.
By Abigail Ammerman
Grade 7
Dreams and Borrowed Hooves
Lenai Carpenter swung her leg high. She hoisted herself onto the back of that smelly little pony. This ride would be her last one today. She adored horses. No doubt about it. Big ones drew her heart the most. Think of strong draft horses. These giants pulled heavy loads on farms back in the day. Now they carried riders like her over rough trails. They moved with raw power and quiet grace. Their wide backs rocked her smooth over hills and open fields. She remembered one trail ride last summer. The golden colored draft horse named Houdini took her through a shady wood's path. No jolts. Just steady steps that felt like flying.
Ponies? They tested her patience. Climbing on one felt like balancing on a grumpy cow. That cow would not stay still for a second. Every little shift threw her off balance. She gripped hard, just to hold on tight. Her body tensed with each wobble. Ponies stood short, maybe knee-high, to a big horse. Their small size made them zip around barns or pens with ease. But under a rider, they bounced like a ball on grass, or they refused to move at all.
She had to give ponies some credit. Their wide, shiny eyes sparkled with mischief. Soft, fluffy manes begged for a gentle stroke. These traits lit up any kid's face. Imagine a fairground on a sunny weekend. Laughter filling the air as children lined up for pony rides. Or a birthday party in the backyard. A pony trots up with a big red bow tied around its neck. Kids squeal and clap. Those moments turned ponies into stars. They stole the show from cakes and games. Experts at petting zoos often say ponies build kids' confidence first. A quick lap around the ring teaches trust without fear.
But ride one yourself as a pre-teen who’s gotten a taste of riding a REAL horse. The fun fades fast. Short legs meant quick, choppy steps. No long strides like on a tall horse. Round bellies added extra bounce. Each trot jarred her knees. It twisted her back in ways that ached for hours. She recalled her first pony lesson at least 9 years ago. The little beast named Sparky jigged side to side. Her teeth clenched from the constant shake. Though she had greatly enjoyed it, she later reflected that it had not been comfortable, ponies suited beginners or tiny riders. For someone like Lenai, who craved speed and steadiness, ponies just frustrated. She might be short, but that doesn’t mean she had to ride a small horse. She was 17 now.
From across the dusty riding ring, Sarah's voice cut sharp through the warm air. "Lenai, straighten that back right now! Keep your eyes on that little beast!" Sarah ran all the lessons at this local stable. The place sat on the edge of town, with wooden fences and fresh hay stacks. Every Saturday, it buzzed with new riders. Kids in helmets giggled. Parents watched from benches. Some came for the first time, nervous about the animals. Others returned weekly to build skills. Sarah built her program around basics. She stressed posture to avoid falls or strains.
Lenai muttered a quiet complaint under her breath. Something about the heat and the pony's stink. But Sarah heard it instantly. The woman had ears like a cat in the thick underbrush. She caught every rustle or sigh amid the dirt and scattered hay. "Cut the whining," Sarah warned. She gave a firm nod from her spot by the gate. "Or you'll circle on Tulip ten more times until you get it right!" Sarah's tone left no room for argument. She aimed to build discipline. Riders who whined often quit too soon.
Lenai squeezed the old leather reins harder. The rough edges dug into her sweaty palms, squeezing the fur laden things just enough, so Sarah could see she had acknowledged her. Right then, Tulip let out a sharp whinny from below her. The sound pierced the quiet ring. A flash of blue wings burst from the branches of a tall oak tree nearby. Maybe a jay bird took off in a hurry. The sudden noise startled the pony. Tulip sidestepped quickly, her hooves kicking up dust. Lenai's heart jumped. She pulled the reins steady to calm her.
Sarah meant well at her core. She stayed kind through it all. Always ready with a pat on the shoulder or a quick tip after a good session. One time, after Lenai nailed a perfect canter, Sarah shared a story. "I started just like you," she said. "Fell off my first horse at age ten." But her strict side showed up fast when focus slipped, pushing everyone to dig deeper. To face the nerves and keep going. That's what made her lessons stick. Riders left the stable stronger, ready for bigger challenges.
Nearby, Benny wiped sweat from his brow, as he scowled at the blazing summer sun overhead. "This heat's too much for riding out here," he grumbled low. His voice carried over the ring's edge. His pony, Honey, tossed her head high. She neighed loud, as if she agreed on the spot. Honey's mane flipped in the breeze. Benny shifted in his saddle, red-faced from the climb. The sun beat down hard that afternoon. Shade from the oak offered little help.
Luna sat high on her pony, her posture straight and confident. She fired back without missing a beat. "Heat, cold, or rain—none of that stops a good horse ride!" Her voice carried a spark of energy that cut through the humid air. Luna had been Lenai's closest friend since their school days. But Lenai's bond with Ash went deeper. Ash called herself Lenai's beastie. They invented the term one summer afternoon. It meant more than just a best friend. It stood for unbreakable trust, like sisters forged in fun. Ash kept her distance from any saddle. She stuck to the ground, eyes on the horizon. Back home, she tended cows on her family's farm. Ash often joked about it. "Cows don't buck or bolt. They graze and relax all day." Her farm lay several miles from town. Wide pastures stretched out there. Black-and-white Holsteins dotted the fields. They munched on grass under the sun. Lenai had visited once, right at sunset. She watched Ash run a brush along a cow's side. The strokes were gentle and sure. Dusk painted the sky in soft pinks. That moment felt calm and simple. It stood in sharp contrast to the dusty, jostling arena they rode in now.
Sarah's voice rang out from the arena's heart. "Okay, time to move to a trot! Pick up the pace, everyone." Her call echoed strong over the chatter and hoof sounds. She swung her arms wide to urge the group forward. Lenai nudged Tulip with her heels. The touch was light, the kind her favorite horse Ritzy would sense right away. Ritzy was a graceful brown paint mare, tall and sleek. Her steps flowed smooth like a gentle stream. She suited Lenai perfectly. At a medium size, the Clydesdale mix handled trails with ease. Riders prized that breed for their steady power and calm nature. But Tulip, this pint-sized pony, ignored the first cue. She swiveled one ear back and held still. Lenai pressed harder now. Her boot connected with a solid tap on the pony's flank. Tulip gave in at last. Her small hooves struck the dirt in a quick clip-clop rhythm. The trot shook Lenai in the saddle. She gripped tighter to find her balance.
Lenai whispered under her breath. "Thank you." She said it softly, as if Tulip might grasp the gratitude. The pony's ears perked up frontward. It seemed almost like she heard and cared. Over on her mount, Luna grinned wide. Her horse gleamed under the sun. Folks called it white for simplicity. True white horses didn’t exist, experts classified all grey, and what looked like white, as grey. But in their talks, Luna and Lenai just said white. It fit the bright coat. Fiona took to the trot without fuss. No sudden kicks or stubborn halts from her. Fiona kept an even pace. It synced with Luna's light, bubbling laugh that floated across the group. Soon, the riders formed a loose circle. They trotted round and round beneath the blazing sky. Sweat beaded on their brows. The heat pressed down, thick and unrelenting.
Benny lifted one hand high. His other fist clenched the reins tightly. Sarah spotted it quickly. "Hey, Benny, drop that hand. Keep both on the reins. No need to wave—just speak up." Benny's face fell into a pout. He mumbled his words anyway. "It's way too hot out here. Can we head inside for some air conditioning?" Sarah shot back fast. "We've got fans blowing, not full AC. And no way. The indoor ring stays closed till winter hits.”
After the riding lesson wrapped up, Lenai swung her leg over and jumped down from Tulip's back. As she gripped the reins firmly in one hand, dirt crunched under their feet as they headed down the road to the stable. Tulip's hooves clipped and clopped in a steady beat on the packed earth. Sweat beaded on Lenai's face from the effort. She swiped it away with her free hand.
Up ahead, Tulip spotted Tucker. He was a standard-sized gelding—a calm male horse with no—strolling toward the arena with Zoey. Tulip let out a sharp whinny, her ears perked high. Lenai shot a quick smile at Zoey. Zoey tugged the lead rope on Tucker, that light brown paint horse splashed with white patches. Tucker whinnied right back, his neigh warm and welcoming.
Tucker made the perfect starter horse for folks new to riding. He followed directions because it made people glad. No bad habits like biting or nipping at hands or other horses. He picked up on what you needed fast. A shift in your seat or a lean told him enough—no words or reins required. Back in her beginner days, Lenai had spent hours in the saddle on him. Those rides built her skills from scratch.
The stable appeared ahead, its wooden doors wide open under the afternoon sun. Lenai reached for the girth straps on Tulip first. She loosened them with care, easing the tight fit. Next, she lifted the English-style saddle, a light one with a flat seat made for jumping and flat work. Sweat poured from Tulip's back, dark patches gleaming on the pony's coat. The air smelled of damp horse hair and hay.
Lenai grabbed a sponge and dipped it in the water bucket nearby. She wiped down Tulip's sides in firm strokes, cooling the hot skin. Water ran in streams over the pony's flanks. Then she took a squeegee and scraped off the extra water with quick pulls. No drops left behind to chill the pony in the breeze. Tulip shook her head, ready to relax.
Lenai led her out to the pasture fence. Green grass stretched wide, dotted with other horses grazing. She unclipped the lead and watched Tulip trot off to join them. Now dry and free, the pony munched contentedly. Yet another day of horses for Lenai Carpenter.
By Abigail Ammerman
Grade 7