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Racing Through the Moorlands

“Sugarbit, slow down!” My white and chestnut-spotted mare had been spooked, undoubtedly by some hideous varmint. “Whoah, whoah,” came my father’s deep voice as he rushed up behind us. “Sugarbit, halt!” With an abrupt jolt, my horse came to a stop.  I pushed my blonde, tangled hair up and out of my face, “Thanks, Da!… Continue reading Racing Through the Moorlands

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The Pride of a Scotsman

My #GSWP1 entry. As always, my submission is ineligible to be a Gold Star Writing Prompt Winner. His bagpipes were old and worn, but they were over two hundred years old. Made from the hide of a goat owned by his great-great-grandfather, they’d been carefully handcrafted for the large, burly man. Leith placed the instrument… Continue reading The Pride of a Scotsman