My Dad is Better than Your Dad!!

My dad is better than your dad. There is no doubt about that. He is the best Dad there ever was. You can't say your dad is better because he's not. You can't say anything good about your dad that my dad hasn't done better. Don't believe me? I am going to prove it to you. So there! Ha!

My dad is the most musical person there ever was. He can pick up any instrument and in 0.5 seconds, he knows how to play Beethoven's 2nd symphony on it. My dad can conduct a band he hasn't met to a song he hasn't played, while playing the same song by himself, WITHOUT A REHEARSAL! My father is that talented! Besides that he can teach you how to play piano over the phone! He can teach you how to play the flute using the tuba, and you would totally understand. Ha Ha!

My Dad is also the best father. He can help us with homework and make dinner at the same time. He can teach two kids two different spelling lists until they know the words perfectly in 30 seconds. He has taught all four of us to ride bikes!! At Christmas he decides stuff for stocking stuffers and always picks every gift flawlessly. It is as if he crawls into our brain and reads our mental Christmas lists. Which reminds me, he's psychic. Your dad's not psychic.

He is also a great person altogether. He has his own hair style. His hair is past his shoulders and he has a goatee. He is smart. In fact, he is so wise, he was one of the three wise men!! Which means he saw Jesus in person. Did your dad see Jesus in person? I didn't think so. And he is the one who gave him the gold, because he is so rich. Ha! He is also great at computers. He is so good, they call him ijeff at work. He fixed the presidents computer once!! He turned the whole office into Macs. In fact, he invented Macs. So there, Ha ha ha!

Beat that! No wait, you can't, Because your dads not as good as my dad! And that is only the beginning what I wrote up there. I could go on for miles. For years. For lightyears, because my dad is better then your dad! Hee, hee!!

My Sick Christmas

It was the afternoon of Christmas Eve. It wasn't snowing outside, but I was hoping it would by nightfall. I was surprised it wasn't snowing now, seeing as it was below freezing outside. I mean, what is Christmas Eve with out snow? I was getting ready to sing at our church on our Christmas Eve service. I couldn't wait to get up there in front of all these people and sing my heart out. Most of them didn't even know I could sing so well!

At about 2:00, I started not feeling so well. I had some minor stomach pains. At first, I thought it nothing. This usually happens with me when I am excited or nervous. But then it got worse. My stomach pains deepened and I started getting a headache. I started running a high fever and then, I threw up.As soon as it happened my mom said she was sorry, but there was no way I would be able to sing at the church that night.

I was crushed. I had worked so hard, and practised so much, but it was all for nothing. Why had this happened? It seemed like this always happened when the best things were planned. Once I missed Picture day at school. Another time my family had planned to go hang gliding. And now, it was Christmas Eve.

Why? I thought. I felt like I was the bad luck person of our family. I must be cursed. That must be it. The only other thing it could be is food poisoning, But I was the pickiest eater in our family. So that probably wasn't it.

My mom settled me on the faded blue couch, put on a movie for me, and off they went leaving me all alone. Once they were gone, I got up and shut all of the lights off and lit a few candles. Doing that made me feel more peaceful somehow.It felt good to be alone, it was quiet and I could choose what channel I want and not have to share the couch with anyone except my dog. I could check the presents under the tree, maybe ease open a couple, but I decided against it. What was the fun of Christmas eve, if you weren't lying awake with excitedness? I put in one of my horse movies, because I never got to watch them when my brothers were around.

I enjoyed the movie. Especially with the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree watching me and it's pine boughs filling the house with their sharp, nose burning scent, which was softened by the mellow smell of tea light candles. Snow fell softly outside, much to my delight, and it was all quiet except for the movie droning on.

When it was done, I was dead tired, so tired it was as if my eyelids were weighed down with 50 pound dumbbells. So I decided to try to take a nap until my family came home. It seemed like I had only rest my tired bones a minute though, when they arrived. My mom came over to my couch and asked how my night had been. At the time, I had told her O.K., but now, as I think back, it was really a nice, quiet, peaceful Christmas Eve, and I hope I have many more.

My Lonely Hardship Days

I sat at the front of the classroom. I wasn't facing the big, bright windows, but I didn't have to to know that it was raining outside. Yep, it was a dreary day. A dreary day to match my dreary mood. Dark thoughts ran thru' my mind, as dark as the thunderheads outside.

Why did the teacher put me here? Sitting in this corner. Away from my friends. They all got to sit with drawers and writers and Scholars. But all I get to do is sit. All alone.

Except for my best friend the chair. My only friend the chair. He was always with me and beside me. Listening to my troubles and woes. Besides him I only got trouble makers. They always hurt me. I never felt a nice soft drawing on me thru' the cushion of paper. Instead, I had things written right on me. Right into me! Etching their name into my soft wooden skin with a ballpoint pen or even a knife.

I have many scars, and after a school, when all the teachers and janitors have left I have to listen to all of my fellow desks, Bragging about the many pages that had been written on them that day. Or what a masterpiece of a drawing had been drawn. Or what a well written poem. And all I have to say when someone asks me what I did that day is "Nothing" or "Just a scar". It has happened so many times now that no one asks me anymore.

I am now all alone. The chair has been taken to another room and I am alone. Alone in my hardship days.

Disbelief

How could he? I thought the question over and over on the top of my loft bed, as I stared into space. How could he? Tears fell freely down my cheeks and I didn't lift a finger to wipe them away. I was silent, mute. I couldn't talk if I wanted to. I was numb.

I trusted him. I believed him. I hung onto his every word, and he betrayed me. Told me he would be there for me. That he would never leave me. It was all a lie. Did he think I was dumb? That he could play with my heart? That I was just a five-year-old kid that he could pretend to and then just leave me in the dust? To brush me off as soon as he was alone? To pretend he didn't know my name? That he didn't know my secrets. That he didn't know that I loved him? How could he?

I would show him. He would be sorry. My unbelievable sadness had turned into raw anger. I would cut him off from me forever. He would wish he had never done this to me. He will be sorry, I vowed.

That night I didn't fall asleep when I went to bed, but instead, I lay awake and waited. I waited until everyone in the house was asleep. Until every last light was turned off. Until there was not a sound in the house except for slow soft breathing. Then I climbed noiselessly out of bed and tip-toed to the garage. I walked to where our garden tools were hanging and snatched a rope From where it was hanging on its hook. I waited at the door and listened once again. No one had waken up yet.


I silently ran back to my room and shut the door, flicking on the lights. I took a deep breath and walked over to my loft bed. my heart was pounding, my body shaking. I could not believe what I was about to do. I hung the coiled rope on the pole of my bunk bed and knelt to the ground.


I slowly reached under the bed and pulled out the pack that I had made earlier. It contained all my clothes and money, my heaviest coat, a handful of granola bars, a survival book and a map. All the stuff I needed to run away. I pulled out a sheet of paper from my notebook and wrote a note explaining to my mom. I wrote another one to my betrayer and folded it and put his name on the front. Then I placed all of my belongings inside of a blanket, folded it up and tyed it with my rope. I slung my pack on my back, took one last look arouned my room, and left.

I put my note to my mom and him, whose name I dare not say, on the Dining Room table, and opened the door. There was a full moon tonight and it cast a clean white glow on the sleeping world outside. A playful breeze spun thru' the evergreen trees stirring up their long, gracefull branches. They looked as if they were doing a dance. I took a big, deep breath, shut the door behind me, and disapeared into the darkness.

Embarassing Fish

It was late October, when the salmon were spawning, and on this particuler saturday morning, everyone in Westbank was getting ready for the most wierd day of thier life. The only thing was was that they didn't know it would be wierd. They thought it would be a very historic day that would probably never come again. This was a special day because the prime minister Steven Harper was passing through town. He was going to pass through the gellatly bay area and leave Westbank passing the Powers Creek.

The area was festive. All the way down the road the PM would ride there was a continuous line of people dressed in all of the colors of the rainbow. There were no potholes, speedbumps, or ruts along his path. He would have a smooth ride all the way. All of a sudden a bike rider came cycleing speedily up the road. He gave the shout,

"Steven Harper is coming! Steven Haper is coming!" Everyone stood straighter and taller and waited. He arrived. With a rousing of cheers and the throwing of roses and the police escorts, he arrived. Everyone whooped and hollered and sang and once he passed they fell in line behind him, walking on the road.

They followed along until they came up next to the Powers Creek where they gathered to wait to here the PM's speech. He was just about to start saying how thankful he was and what a good town we were and Bla, Bla, Bla, when all of a sudden salmon started falling from the sky.

The bodygaurds quickly wisked Steven Harper into the limo and drove away without a word. Anything that was out of the ordinary could be dangerous to the PM. This was what they were trained to do and this is what they did.

Everyone was embarrased and hung their heads in shame. But nobody was as embarresed as Ringo . . .

TO BE CONTINUED

Ringo's Side

One night in late October, Friday night, to be exact, Ringo was up and about and cleaning his house. He was doing the fall cleaning, a great time to do so, the time being just before the great fishing of salmon. Ringo was hosting it this year and he wanted his house nice for his friends.

Now all of his friends were clean freaks and they all had to do certain things or they would feel dirty and that would make them go crazy. They all had to wash thier food in the creek so that it wouldn't be poisened. They had to keep leaves from their cave to keep things tidy. They had to remove any dead things from their property. Or anything in the way.

And that was what Ringo was doing this very night. There was a big boulder sitting right in front of his doorway and he knew they would notice it. So, tonight he thought he would move it to his arch enemys tree, the squirrel. Right where he would land, jumping down from his tree. Hopefully he would die.

So he started to work, but it was heavier then he expected. He pushed and shoved and worked all night long. Twice he fell on his face and once he rolled it over his toe. But by the dawns light he still hadn't gotten it down to his enemies tree.

He was so tired, and he knew the squirrel would be leaving his nest soon. He leaned against the boulder to rest his aching limbs. But he had only rested for 30 seconds when the boulder rolled away from him! It was rolling towards the creek! He started to run after it and then stopped. It was going too fast and he was too tired.

It rolled into the creek and then there was an explosion. The red salmon flew into the sky and came down a few minutes later. There was a few screams and a car door slamming coming from the road. But Ringo didn't care. He was ready for bed, he would worry about it in the nighttime.
Ringo crawled into bed and curled his tail around his nose.

Ringo the Raccoon was asleep.

Overcoming Challenges

I am about to state the raw and horrible truth; No ones life is perfect. I know we all like to believe everything is La-Di-Da and there is no troubles in our own little bubble of life. But deep down we all know its not true. We all have things that happen that we don't like.

We might get a teacher that we don't like. We might have homework we don't want to do. We all crave things we can't have, and we all fear something at some point in our life. We all have weaknesses, we all have challenges, but that doesn't matter. What matters is what we do to overcome these challenges.

I think the first thing to think about when you are overcoming challenges is rewards. Every good challenge has a reward when we have overcome it, and if your challenge doesn't have a reward than you shouldn't try to overcome it. The second thing to think about is this; everyone does things at their own pace, so don't compare yourself with other people. It will only make your progress in overcoming these challenges go downhill. The third and most important thing is; PERSEVERANCE!

Perseverance is the most important because it is the only thing that will keep you going! If you have a reward and you don't compare yourself to other people, but you have no perseverance, You're lost! If you don't know what perseverance means, here is a definition; Keep on keeping on. It means never giving up. To keep your eye on the prize, the reward.

If you follow this advice I know you will go far. Just remember, number one; Have a reward, number two; Everyone progresses at their own pace, and number three; Keep on keeping on.

Scardey Student

Warning: This story is not true (Or is it?) so you do not have to feel sorry for anyone who is harmed in this story (Or do We?). And there are no teachers who would give this much homework.(Or is there?), so there is no reason to be scared of anything you read in this story ... (Or is there?)

Scaredy student was afraid of everything in the whole entire world so he tried to live the safest possible life anyone could live.(Or did he?) This was his daily schedule;

5:00 a.m.- Wake up and lie in bed listening for intruders who could jump him on the way to the light switch.

6:00 a.m.- Sit up and check extra padded slippers for Superglue, bugs, jam or any other sticky substance that would feel trapped under his toes.

6:30 a.m.- Put on extra padded slipper for protection against anything that might of fallen on the floor during the night.

6:45 a.m.- Put on clothes that completely match the school walls so he can blend in when the teachers come looking for him to do the HOMEWORK a.k.a. the H-word.

7:00 a.m.- Check cereal thoroughly for any surprise raisins.

7:15 a.m.- Eat cereal slowly to ensure that there is no choking involved.

8:00 a.m.- Walk to school avoiding sidewalks that are probably booby-trapped to fall through the earth as soon as you step on them.

8:30 a.m.- Arrive at school avoiding the outside Fields that could be holding mean football players that could Huck footballs at you at any time.

9:00 a.m.- Start school, avoiding homework, teachers, football fields, pencils,and cafeteria food.

3:00 p.m.- End school, throw homework away with rubber gloves and go home to hide under the bed.

That Morning started like any morning. Scardey Student was lying in his fluffy, protected bed straining his ears for intruders. When his mind started wandering from his work, and he started thinking. THINKING! The most scary thing of all! Thinking led to responsibility and that led to homework! He tried to direct my self back to my intruder listening, but he couldn't stop my flow of thoughts. The first thing that popped into his mind was Am I living the way I should be?

He tried to block that thought. The whole way to school he was saying to myself, Don't think that, Don't think that. He was so absorbed in not thinking that he accidently walked right into the touchdown zone of the football field! There was a game going on between our school and are arch enemies, CNB!

The MVP was running up the field trying to get the quarterback to throw to him, but then MVP slipped on the wet grass, just as the quarterback threw the ball! The ball sailed threw the air and landed right in scaredy students hands! It was a touchdown and thier team had won the game. That was the day scaredy student actually did his homework and stopped being a Scaredy Student.

He stopped wearing blend-in clotheing. He got right up without waiting to listen for intruders, and was not scared of anything ever again.

Well, except spiders.

My Favorite Memory

Sometimes when I am alone or at peace, like when I am falling asleep, I think back on my life. I pull out my memories from the darkest,dustiest corners of my brain, and I look them over. Its almost like putting on a slide show about me, and having my own private production in my mind. Sometimes I share some memories, but most of the time I just think about them.

I hold them up to the light and look them over. Some times I try to throw away a memory, but there is no trash can that I can put them in. They will always be there to haunt me. With these memories I usually criticize myself on what I could have done better. Or, if it was a memory where someone said something mean to me, I usually think of a good retort. But it is always too late.

Some of my memories I wish I could go back and just live it over and over. Just days of pure bliss when I want things never to change. Like when I ride horses on a warm summer day, Or when I read a book by candlelight with a cup of lemon tea. Especially the times when someone pays me a compliment that was right from the heart.That's when I feel like I could fly.

But out of all these good memories, I like one of them the most. It was a warm, sunny summer day. I was three at the time. Caleb (my 5-year-old brother) and I decided to go on a walk in the woods behind our house. We were going along, following the raspberry bushes, listening to the birds, when we saw an old hunting chair. I recognized it for what it was at once. I was immediately scared. I asked Caleb if the hunters would shoot us, thinking we were deer. Caleb said,

" There is no one up there and we are too small to be deer" I adored Caleb, (as a younger sister usually does) so I automatically believed him. After about 30 minutes of wandering around and eating raspberries in the sun-strewn woods, my dad found us. He was a little perplexed.

" Didn't you here me calling?"he asked. We said we hadn't and then, hand in hand ,we went home. That is my favorite memory because it shows how when we are young we are so innocent. We were not the least bit worried about getting lost or in trouble. We just decided to go for a walk and we went. I also got to spend time with my brother. Sure, we got in trouble afterward, but it was a great few minutes of just having fun and eating rasberries.

Leaves of Autumn

Autumn is the reason
that green leaves go out of season.
Instead, they burst into flame
of any color you can name.
Some turn yellow, orange, and red.
Others curl up brown and dead.
Some turn purple, some stay green,
Autumn is the prettiest season I've seen.

But soon the trees are going bare
We know that winter will soon be there.
And all the animals fall asleep
Inside thier dens they dug so deep.
We'll see them again when springtime comes
Untill then we'll play with our chums
In the snow we'll sled and ski
While we scream and yell and laugh with glee

If I were the Ruler of the World

If I were the ruler of the world, I would have a lot of responsibilities. There would be so many problems for me to solve, and so many people coming to me for help. If I even tried to organize this world I would have to go to everywhere and clean things up and answer peoples questions one place at a time. I would have such a long list! First, pollution, then, endangered animals, after that, war, then, slavery, child abuse, criminals, the list goes on. Everyone in the world would have ideas on how to solve the problems and I would have to pick one solution or combine some, but either way, I would have to choose. But, every choice I make there would be another person who didn't like my choice, and that would lead to rebels. Sometimes rebels can start war, and other times they would make attempts on my life. Yes,I mean assassination. It could happen, and then what? Would we declare a new leader or would we go back to our old ways? Then, we would of wasted all that work, time, and money for nothing. All in all, that is why I would not want to be the leader of the world.

I mean, I'm just a kid! I don't have the skill and knowledge to be a leader. I could think one thing and not know what it could lead to. I usually make very quick decisions and they lead to bad consequences. I also would have so much work to do in leading the world that I wouldn't live a real, fun life that kids are supposed to have. I would get tired because of responsibility and lack of sleep,and when I get tired, I get teary. That wouldn't be good to have the leader of the world crying in a meeting!

What I think we should do is choose one leader for every continent and then every Four months or so they will go and meet each other and share ideas and problems and solutions. This way, we would keep the world organized without having one person have all the responsibilities. We would work together to make the world strong, and a good, safe place to live. We would have our complications at first, but we would work it out. Then, we would all live in peace and harmony in an organized world.

Mashed Potatoes

The plate of steaming mashed potatoes was placed in front of me with a gentle plunk as it landed on the table. Its white, mealy inside was mixed with the tough, brown skin, that used to be covering the potato. It was glazed with bright golden butter and little flecks of black and white pepper and salt. the steam wafted up to my nose, carrying the mouth watering scent of my meal up my nostrils. I could hear my stomach growl as I stared at my mountain of goodness. I picked up my cold,hard fork as fast as politeness would allow and dug in.

As the hot potatoes entered my mouth, I was in heaven. The skins ground between my teeth and the insides mushed through my mouth. The creamy butter and salty potato mixed together in perfect harmony. As I swallowed, I could feel the warm mush sliding down my throat and landing in my stomach. I sat there, savoring the taste of my first bite before gobbling down another forkful of perfection.

When I finished, I leaned back in my chair with a contented sigh and patted my almost full stomach. I could not wait to have seconds.

Emotion Improving

I heard the bus roll onto our street and screech to a stop. I listened form my front entryway as my son called good-bye to his friends on the bus. He came in the door, a tiny light shining in his eyes, a big smile on his face, as he dropped his bag on the floor. I was dreading this moment. He saw my face and asked what was wrong.

"Daniel, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your cat got run over by a car this morning," I said, my voice quavering. The light, that was there a moment before, quietly faded from his eyes. His shoulders slumped and his face crumpled. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he asked, hopefully,

"But Lucky is still alive right?" I shook my head. He let out a choked cry and ran into my outstretched arms. Tears spilled over and fell from his red, puffy eyes, streaming down his hot face and dripping onto my shoulder. He sobbed and sobbed, his tears of sadness flowed like a river out of his fourth grade body, and I felt a pang of sympathy. I remember when he first got that cat as a kitten, he insisted on letting it sleep with him. I remember when lucky had gotten sick and had to stay in the vets office. Daniel had had to sleep with me every night.

"Shh," I tried to calm him and soon the tears stopped. He went and sat on the couch. I had never seen such a forlorn face in all my life.




I was mad. My little sister had been in my room again and had broken my favorite doll. I stormed into the living room where my victim, my two-year-old sister Annie, smelling of baby powder, was sitting on the rug. She was playing happily with her Pooh-Bear teddy, chewing on his ear. I swooped low to the ground and pulled it away from her plump hands, a feeling of revenge pulsing in my veins.

She looked up at me, surprise written all over her little face. She calmly said,

"Teddy?" When I sneered in her face and didn't consent, her head slowly tilted to the ground. Her arms started to tense up and her body braced.

Then she let out a wail. Her face was red with fury, and her blue eyes pierced me indignantly. Angry tears streamed down her soft cheeks. I immediately felt guilty and gave the pooh bear back. She snatched it out of my reluctant hands and cuddled it close to her chest, staring at me all the while, making sure I didn't try to steal it again. I was sorry for what I had done, but she never ,ever, went into my room again.



"Welcome to the ninth inning of the championship game, folks! The bases are loaded.The California Dodgers and the Boston Red Sox are close in a 8 to 7 game. The Dodgers pitcher is on the mound, and he is pitching to the last batter. Will he strike him out and win the Tye? The weight of the game rests on his shoulders."

The announcer boomed over the loudspeaker, telling the details of the game, while I, the pitcher, Tom Sawyer, nervously paced the dugout full of sweaty players. The coach was drilling me on how to pitch. He was saying something about a screwball when the announcer screamed

" Let the inning begin!" I was up. I had to get this right or I, I mean we, lost the championship. The player on the plate looked mean. He had eyes like a hawk. I was going to have trouble striking this batter out. I scuffed the mound with my cleats. This was it.

I slowly brought my arms up, my right hand trapping the ball that was cradled in my gloved left hand. My left knee came up in sync with my arms, as if attached by a string. I stared the player down, and then I whipped my arms forward, my left hand falling down to my side as the ball flew from my right hand, and I stepped my left foot back to the mound. The ball sang through the air, and I heard the thump of the ball hitting the catchers glove, instead of the crack of the ball hitting the bat.

"Sttirrrrike one!" shouted the ump. I breathed a sigh of relief. One down, two to go. I repeated my sequence and got another strike. It was the last pitch. My brow ran with a map of tiny streams of sweat. We could win this with no struggle, if I did this right. I slowly brought my arms back feeling as if my stomach was having an earthquake. I drew a shaky breath and let her rip.

Zing, thump. "Strrriiike Three! The players exploded out of the dugout like an erupting volcano. Skipping, jumping, whooping, yelling, and waving their arms in the air. The descended on me like a waterfall and they lifted my up on their shoulders. We had won!






I had a headache just thinking about it. Mothers day was in two days, and I had planned to give my wife the night off by making dinner for her. Why, you ask,was I getting a headache? I was worried because I had never cooked anything in my 68-year-old life except for toaster waffles. I knew she wouldn't feel very special with a toaster waffle meal, so I had decided to make something different. But I had no Idea what.

Well mothers day dawned and I woke bright and early on the day that I would look back on as the day I learned to 'cook'. I flipped through the recipe book for something elaborate but easy. I finally decided on spaghetti with meat sauce and side of rolls and broccoli. That would be easy enough.

I got to work on mixing the dough. When that was what I hoped would be ready, I put it on to rise. Then I chopped broccoli and stuck it in some water on the stove, and put some noodles on to boil next to it. This is easier than I thought, I chuckled to myself.

Well, I guess I jinxed it because I was stirring the meat sauce when everything went wrong. All of a sudden the noodles, that I had actually forgot about, boiled over. While I was cleaning that up I noticed the noodles were waterlogged. hmm. As I was turning that off, this horrible smell of rotten eggs and burning onions entered the air.

The spatula I had used to stir the meat sauce was melting on the stove! I quickly picked that up, all the strings of the melting handle trailed after like spider webs, and dumped it into the sink. Then when I checked the bread it hadn't really risen. Oh well, into the oven it goes. Then I remembered, the broccoli! When I checked it, all the water had evaporated and the ends were burning. I guess we'll have to go without broccoli. Then the meat sauce started burning. Can things get any worse?!? I thought. And then the smoke alarm went off. The noodles were waterlogged, the bread was too small, the broccoli was limp, and the sauce was burnt! I fell to the ground in a dead faint.

Diving Deep

Bright fish swam past me, thier fins whispering around my smooth legs in the blue world under the sea. The enenemies floated back and forth in the gentle, salty curent. Salt (hidden in the cool waters that I couldn't drink) that bit my tounge. Along with the sandwich I had for lunch, that was the only thing I tasted in this silent world.

The silence was amazing. It was like seeing the world with the sound on mute. I did not hear anything. Not even a sea turtle grunt or a whale sing. There were no sirens, no angry voices, this world was hidden from violence.

It was big beautiful sea. I could not smell anything. There wasn't any polution. My nose was filled instead with cool water. I must go up for air soon, but I cannot leave this place. I love it. It has no shadows. Everything is open, for anyone to see. Everything lives in harmony. No one hurts anyone, phisiclly or emotionally. They all love and care and help one another.

My lungs are gasping for air. I must leave now. I must go back to my world of hatred and violence and hardship. But I will return, you can count that.


I silently wave goodbye to my underworld fantasy, and swim up to the sunny surface

Torn Loyalties

Orange and pink skies dance across the Nevada plains, and the sand stone are thrown into shadow as the sun sinks below the intimidating mountains. It is sunset. The mares and foals graze or doze peacefully here.

This is my territory. They are my herd. I am the Beauty. The stallion of the west. The master of all leaders. It is my job to take care of my herd.

I must make sure they have water to drink, grass to graze on, and safe places to nurse their foals. Above all, I must watch for danger. They are bedding down for the night, but I must keep watch. Danger could come at every minute. It could strike at any hour.

As if I had summoned it, another stallion, stepped from his hiding place. He was as Black as midnight. I would have ignored him, but he walked with too much purpose in his stride and a much too determined gleam in his eye. I knew what he was up to.

He was going to steal my mares. How dare he challenge me? This was my turf, I would show him. He would be sorry. I charged! I was racing across the plain, startling a stray Rabbit.

I was close to him, so close I could see the gleam of battle in his eyes. My steps faltered. I had recognized him. He was my son. I stopped. How could I fight my own son?

Long ago, I had driven him away from my herd. It was the custom, made to make sure the young Stallion could make his own herd. I had driven him away from his herd and his family. He had returned. Now, I had to do it again, but how could I, Especially when I could hear his mother calling him. She had recognized him and was running up behind me. My lead mare drove her back.

I finally went into action. I reared and came down hard on his haunches, whinnying a challenging neigh. He neighed back and whirled around baring his teeth. I dodged him and gave him a swift kick to the stomach. I may be old as you could tell by the color of my teeth, but I could still fight. Still every time, I struck him, I felt like I was striking myself.

He quickly gave in, bowing his head and moving his lips. He retreated, and I chased him a couple of yards before I went back to my watching place.

I had faced my torn loyalties, and I had won. I was still in charge, and I still had my mares. I neighed to my lead mare to keep watch for a few moments, while I went into a fitful sleep.

The next morning I wake up felling refreshed. None of my herd was awake yet. I decided to check the grass. Looking around, I noticed the grass was disappearing. We would have to move to a different valley today. I neighed to my lead mare to keep watch over the herd and galloped out of the valley.

I ran, the wind in my mane the ground disappearing behind me, searching for another valley. I suddenly smelled grass and veered to the right. I galloped through a pine forest, the sharp scent floating all around me; I passed a stream, the water glistening in the sunlight, and galloped into a beautiful valley. I slowed to a stop. This was the right valley. We would rest here today.

The valley was grassy, on one side there was a forest, and the rest was surrounded by mountains. The stream I had passed cut through the middle. There was a ledge halfway up one mountain, across from the forest, that I could watch from. No wandering stallion, or predator could find it without me seeing them first.

Suddenly it all came back to me, the fight, my son, his sad mother. I slowly left the valley. How could I have been so happy one second, and plunged into sadness the next?

When I returned to my band, they had awakened, and was standing around. A few were grazing. A tiny white foal, the newest member of the herd, raced up to me neighing joyously. She quickly nuzzled her head against my chest.

Pride swelled in my heart. I was no longer sad about my fight. This is what it was about. My herd. I nuzzled her on her snowy head, and neighed to my herd. The foal’s mother came to retrieve her foal and then we ran.

We ran as one. We would always be together, work together and play together. I neighed a neigh of pure bliss and reared to the sky.