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A world ruined by the 3rd world war has now been taken over by a one world government, forcing people to abide by there rules using the American Border Council.
Scarred by her past experiences Naomi a teenage girl has escaped from Border and now lives freely at a farm in Australia with people...
By Intel Ryder
This is a poem I wrote for countrygirl12305's contest. I hope you enjoy it
Poetry | Updated Jul 27, 2014 | Reads: 0 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
It starts with a scream. Oh, but it started long before then.
Pookey was a plastic horse on the end of a wooden stick; his job was to point things out.
He is no longer with us. These are his memoirs.
Poetry | Updated Jun 23, 2014 | Reads: 1 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
Richard Taylor, a young Southern boy, struggles between his traditional values and personal identity until he realizes that denial may be the greatest danger of all.
this may contain spoilers but it is really good
Book Review | Updated May 19, 2014 | Reads: 15 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 1
By Lb Studio
The cat was big for a cat. Golden tan in color. Long tail. Mean, sharp eyes. Sharp claws. A very loud growl when annoyed. It blended in very well with itâ€™s surroundingâ€™s. It was annoyed a great deal of the time. Liked to climb. Trees, hills, fences or other structures. Hated dogs...
Short Story | Updated Apr 17, 2014 | Reads: 103 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
By Lb Studio
By experience, Elmer knew it was difficult for a 6 year old to ride large farm horses. If a young boy can get on the beast, his legs will stick straight out to the side.
Short Story | Updated Apr 7, 2014 | Reads: 116 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
My story, Moor Born is a life story about a horse who struggles throughout her life, gaining relationships and losing them occurs far too much for her. All the way through her journey, her spirit shines through her shadowed experience of live. A horses natural instinct is to flee, but hers is to...
By Culford Smith
A short story of Business, Revenge, and Gunfights, also Drunkedness!!!
From the moment I close my eyes, I can see them. Fleeting whispers of a dream, or memories. They dance through my head like the autumn leaves in the wind, and with a twirl and a spin they are gone, back into the recesses of my mind. In those fleeting seconds, I can see another life. Itâ€™s...
An insight into the cruel practice that is the long distance transport of horses for slaughter.
Looked at my work and fixed some rough patches. I'll have a rough draft of the second chapter coming soon.If you do read it please tell me what you think. Thank you.
This is from a dream I once had.
-A horse loving girl, a dead family member-