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Weekly Contest #347
They don’t tell you that trophies are hollow. Trophies, ribbons. Those things that marked that you’d accomplished something as an equestrian. That’s not why I wanted to ride horses. What mattered was the love I had for my pony, the trust I placed in him to carry me to the other side of my first jump. What mattered was the hollow clip, clop of his hooves on the dirt path that led into the forest, where I’d spent an afternoon away from the pressures of school and confusion of growing up as a little girl in the world. When I was with my pony, t...
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