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Jasmine Miller; The Dream Chaser. Daryne Towne; The man atop the world. Naomi Kindle; The Broken Hearted. Jake Ocean; The Cowboy. Only a few years ago, these four people came together, and created something that'd forever change the people around them.
A few miles away from where the salty waters of the Atlantic ocean lap the sandy shores of North Carolina, A school unlike your average High is opening it's doors to a new generation Equestrian enthusiasts and riders. Silent Pine Riding School, however, is not a set place. Teens from all over the Americas and beyond have flocked to this school for the years that it has been open; weather they need to simply enjoy a simpler time in the companionship of similar people and the amazing creatures and friends they have come to respect, or a life needs to be shed in it's entirety. Silent Pines is like a pristine, quite shelter in a world that is constantly becoming more complex and rushed.
But more than horsemanship is being taught. Acceptances. Patiences. Even Hope. These messages have been spread throughout a community of all whom enroll as students pass into the barns and grounds. But perhaps one of the greatest messages; never give up.
However, behind the closed doors, is everything as perfect as it could be? After a few years in running, can the school be dissolving from the founders down. If so, is there anything the students can do to keep their haven open?
Strengths will be tested, weaknesses pushed, and dreams reached or broken.
Welcome to Silent Pines.
The Academy Equus « Result #1 on Jul 6, 2009, 12:48pm »
Love horses? Love role playing? Hate rhetorical questions? Then ‘The Academy Equus’ is the site for you!
The Academy Equus is a school for people who love horses. Although people take part in lessons too, it’s the equines that everyone really cares about. No matter how much you know about horses, you can join the Academy and enjoy it.
Intermedate-Advanced Word count 250 Earn money and experience from competing Own your very own horse Join as a teacher or a student and take part in lessons.
3 Times A Cheater « Result #3 on Mar 20, 2009, 10:23pm »
Jack and Betty are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary, when Jack asks his wife, ¡°Betty, have you ever cheated on me?¡±
Betty replies, ¡°Oh Jack, why would you ask such a question now? You don¡¯t want to ask that question.¡±
¡°Yes, Betty, I really want to know. Please.¡±
¡°Well, all right. Yes, three times¡¡±
¡°Three?!? Well, when were they?¡± he asked.
¡°Well, Jack, remember when you were 35 years-old and you really wanted to start a business on your own, and no bank would give you a loan? But, then one day the bank president himself came over to the house and signed the loan papers, no questions asked?¡±
¡°Oh, Betty, you did that for me? I guess I can¡¯t be too upset about that. Well, when was number 2?¡±
¡°Well, Jack, remember when you had that last heart attack and needed that very risky operation that no surgeon was willing to perform? And, remember how Dr. DeBakey came all the way up here, to perform the surgery himself?¡±
¡°Betty, you should do such a thing for me, to save my life. To do such a thing, you must truly love me darling. How can I be upset with that?¡±
¡°So, all right then, when was number 3?¡±
¡°Well, Jack, remember a few years ago, when you really wanted to be president of the golf club and you were 17 votes short?¡±
Violin Lessons « Result #5 on Mar 20, 2009, 9:48pm »
"Daddy, can I learn to play the violin?" young Sarah asked her father. She was always asking for things and her father was not very pleased.
¡¡¡¡"You cost me a lot of money, Sarah," he said. "First you wanted to learn horse riding, then dancing, then swimming. Now it's the violin.
¡¡¡¡"I'll play every day ,Daddy." Sarah said. "I'll try very hard.
¡¡¡¡"All right," her father said. "This is what I'll do. I'll pay for you to have lessons for six weeks. At the end of six weeks you must play something for me. If you play well, you can have more lessons. If you play badly, I will stop the lessons."
¡¡¡¡"0. K. Daddy," Sarah said. "That is fair.
¡¡¡¡He soon found a good violin teacher and Sarah began her lessons. The teacher was very expensive, but her father kept his promise.
¡¡¡¡The six weeks passed quickly. The time came for Sarah to play for her father.
¡¡¡¡She went to the living room and said, "I'm ready to play for you, Daddy.
¡¡¡¡"Fine, Sarah," her father said. "Begin.
¡¡¡¡She began to play. She played very badly. She made a terrible noise.
¡¡¡¡Her father had one of his friends with him, and the friend put his hands over his ears.
¡¡¡¡When Sarah finished, her father said, "Well done, Sarah. You can have more lessons."
¡¡¡¡Sarah ran happily out of the room. Her father's friend turned to him. "You've spent a lot of money, but she still plays very badly. he said.
¡¡¡¡"Well, that's true," her father said. "But since she started learning the violin I've been able to buy five apartments in this build very cheaply. In another six weeks I'll own the whole building!"
From the time each of my children started school, wow power leveling,I packed their lunches. And in each lunch I packed, I included a note. Often written on a napkin, the note might be a thank you for a special moment, a reminder of something we were happily anticipating, or a bit of encouragement for an upcoming test or sporting event. In early grade school they loved their notes-they commented on them after school, and when I went back to teaching, wow power leveling,they even put notes in my lunches. But as kids grow older they become self?conscious, and by the time he reached high school, my older son, Marc, informed me he no longer needed my daily missives. Informing him that they had been written as much for me as for him, and that he no longer needed to read them but I still needed to write them, I continued the tradition until the day he graduated.
Six years after high school graduation, Marc called and asked if he could move home for a couple of months. He had spent those years well, graduating Phi Beta Kappa magna cum laude from college, completing two congressional internships in Washington, D.C., winning the Jesse Marvin Unruh Fellowship to the California State Legislature, and finally, becoming a legislative assistant in Sacramento. Other than short vacation visits, however, he had lived away from home. With his younger sister leaving for college, I was especially thrilled to have Marc coming home.
A couple weeks after Marc arrived home to rest, regroup and write for a while, he was back at work-he had been recruited to do campaign work. Since I was still making lunch every day for his younger brother, wow gold,I packed one for Marc, too. Imagine my surprise when I got a call from my 24?year?old son, complaining about his lunch.
"Did I do something wrong? Aren't I still your kid? Don't you love me any more, wow gold,Mom?" were just a few of the queries he threw at me as I laughingly asked him what was wrong.
"My note, Mom," he answered. "Where's my note?"
This year my youngest son will be a senior in high school. He, too, has now announced that he is too old for notes. But like his older brother and sister before him,wow gold,he will receive those notes till the day he graduates-and in whatever lunches I pack for him afterwards.
I first heard this story a few years ago from a girl I had met in New York's Greenwich Village.wow power leveling, Probably the story is one of those mysterious bits of folklore that reappear every few years, to be told a new in one form or another. However, I still like to think that it really did happen, somewhere, sometime.
¡¡¡¡They were going to Fort Lauderdalethree boys and three girls and when they boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags, dreaming of golden beaches as the gray cold of New York vanished behind them.
¡¡¡¡As the bus passed through New Jersey, they began to notice Vingo. He sat in front of them, dressed in a plain, ill-fitting suit, never moving, his dusty face masking his age. He kept chewing the inside of his lip a lot, frozen into some personal cocoon of silence.
¡¡¡¡Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard Johnson's, and everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in his seat, and the young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life: perhaps he was a sea captain, a runaway from his wife, an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus,wow gold, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.
¡¡¡¡¡°We're going to Florida,¡± she said brightly.¡° I hear it's really beautiful.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°It is, ¡± he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.
¡¡¡¡¡°Want some wine?¡± she said. He smiled and took a swig. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.
¡¡¡¡In the morning, they awoke outside another Howard Johnson's,and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously as the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches.wow power leveling, When they returned to the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again, and after a while, slowly and painfully, he told his story. He had been in jail in New York for the past four years, and now he was going home.
¡¡¡¡¡°Are you married?¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°I don't know.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°You don't know?¡± she said.
¡¡¡¡¡°Well, when I was in jail I wrote to my wife,¡± he said. ¡° I told her that I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn't stand it, if the kids kept asking questions, if it hurt too much, well, she could just forget me, I'd understand. Get a new guy, I saidshe¡®s a wonderful woman,really somethingand forget about me. I told her she didn't have to write me for nothing. And she didn¡®t. Not for three and a half years.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°And you're going home now, not knowing?¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°Yeah,¡± he said shyly. ¡° Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was coming through, I wrote her again. We used to live in Brunswick, just before Jacksonville, and there's a big oak tree just as you come into town. I told her that if she'd take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I'd get off and come home. If she didn't want me, forget itno handkerchief, and I'd go on through.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°Wow,¡± the girl exclaimed. ¡°Wow.¡±
¡¡¡¡She told the others,wow gold, and soon all of them were in it, caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children. The woman was handsome in a plain way, the children still unformed in the much-handled snapshots.
¡¡¡¡Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. The bus acquired a dark, hushed mood, full of the silence of absence and lost years. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face into the ex-con's mask, as if fortifying himself against still another disappointment.
¡¡¡¡Then Brunswick was ten miles, and then five. wow gold,Then,suddenly, all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying, doing small dances of joy. All except Vingo.
¡¡¡¡Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree. It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner of welcome billowing in the wind. As the young people shouted, the old con rose and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.
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