Saturday, February 21, 2004
When I was 11, I wrote a story about pit ponies. We had just finished a section on local history and we were encouraged to write a story inspired by that section. I choose to write a fictional story about a retired pit pony that I owned. The story later got selected to appear in a book that featured a cross section of writing by students in my school district. A few years later it appeared in a zine, someone had the book and came across my story and re-printed it. Here it is again, albeit without the anatomically incorrect drawing of "my pit pony".
My Pit Pony
My pit pony's name is Dusty because of his old, dusty, brown coat. Dusty has been in the mine for a year or two or maybe more.
The first day I got Dusty I was surprised. It was my 11th birthday. Everybody said that uncle Max, who owns some horse stables, wasn't coming, but to everyone's amazement he came. With him he brought Dusty.
He told me that Dusty was bought from a mine because he was too old to work in the mines. He also said he was too old to race either. Then he said I could have him him. It was wonderful. All the kids came over to see him or feed him or ride him.
Dusty got his dusty coat from the coal falling on his back. His back is very strong from hauling all that coal. He is not healthy though.
When I first got Dusty, he was timid, scared, frightened, and confused. When he first ran he fell a few times. But since then he runs like the wind. When I first saddled him up he wouldn't keep still. Now he is used to the saddle, my weight, and the sun. He runs and jumps when he is grazing and when I saddle him up he stays still.
He coughs from time to time because there is coal in his lungs. Usually I don't take him on long or fast rides or work him had.
If he could talk he would tell me about his dark days in the mine or how he was treated.
I always ride Dusty once a day. He likes to go fast but I try to slow him down because the doctor said if he goes fast, he might be very sick. He also told me to feed him carrots and apples and I do. Sometimes I give hime a special treat and he likes that. He loves me and he knows I love him.
EXHIBIT FUCKING A, this piece of writing with it's awful sentence structure, plot holes you could drive a tank through, and complete ignorance of its own contradictions, shows why students in Nova Scotia fail achievement tests on regular basis. I shouldn't have been "rewarded" for this. However, you do have to let out a little "aahhh" when you get to the part about the coal in his lungs.
end note The next year I had a teacher who owned race horses and when they failed to place, he would threaten to send them to the glue factory.
My Pit Pony
My pit pony's name is Dusty because of his old, dusty, brown coat. Dusty has been in the mine for a year or two or maybe more.
The first day I got Dusty I was surprised. It was my 11th birthday. Everybody said that uncle Max, who owns some horse stables, wasn't coming, but to everyone's amazement he came. With him he brought Dusty.
He told me that Dusty was bought from a mine because he was too old to work in the mines. He also said he was too old to race either. Then he said I could have him him. It was wonderful. All the kids came over to see him or feed him or ride him.
Dusty got his dusty coat from the coal falling on his back. His back is very strong from hauling all that coal. He is not healthy though.
When I first got Dusty, he was timid, scared, frightened, and confused. When he first ran he fell a few times. But since then he runs like the wind. When I first saddled him up he wouldn't keep still. Now he is used to the saddle, my weight, and the sun. He runs and jumps when he is grazing and when I saddle him up he stays still.
He coughs from time to time because there is coal in his lungs. Usually I don't take him on long or fast rides or work him had.
If he could talk he would tell me about his dark days in the mine or how he was treated.
I always ride Dusty once a day. He likes to go fast but I try to slow him down because the doctor said if he goes fast, he might be very sick. He also told me to feed him carrots and apples and I do. Sometimes I give hime a special treat and he likes that. He loves me and he knows I love him.
EXHIBIT FUCKING A, this piece of writing with it's awful sentence structure, plot holes you could drive a tank through, and complete ignorance of its own contradictions, shows why students in Nova Scotia fail achievement tests on regular basis. I shouldn't have been "rewarded" for this. However, you do have to let out a little "aahhh" when you get to the part about the coal in his lungs.
end note The next year I had a teacher who owned race horses and when they failed to place, he would threaten to send them to the glue factory.
# posted by Die Brucke @ 2:31 PM 
