Alita Swift

United States

Book Loving Girl
Love Anime
Love Manga

Joined July 25, 2020

Message from Writer

I am currently waiting for season 2 of Violet Evergarden to come on Netflix... Fingers crossed!
To my family, friends, and all writers... Thank you.

In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.
-Robert Frost


November 10, 2020

There was a filly I once had. Her name was Porsche. My Dad named her, because she was as fast as the wind. My sister and I loved her so much, and would often pick the greenest of grasses to feed her. We petted and talked to her from the day she was born, telling her about our day and our hopes for the future. Her mother’s name was Mercedes, after the car, so maybe that’s why Dad named the filly Porsche. Mercedes trusted us with her baby, but would watch us with a wise eye when we came near. Then after a while, she would walk up to where we were and nudge us with her head, as if saying, “Time for you to leave, my baby needs to sleep.” We would leave, saying our good byes and promising to come the next day.

After a while, Porsche began to follow us around. She always wanted attention, and we were always happy to give it to her. Whenever she saw us, she’d come running with a mischievous look in her eyes, as if saying, “Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?” Then she’d lift up her head to shake it before nickering, “I know, I’m impossible to stay away from.” When we weren’t there, and just watching from the distance, she would nuzzle up to her mother, asking for milk. She would drink so deeply, as if it was the best thing she had ever tasted, which I guess it was. There came a time when Mercedes decided that it was time to start weening her, but Porsche would always come sneaking back for more milk. One day Mercedes had enough, so when Porsche came trotting up for milk, Mercedes kicked her. It wasn’t the type of kick where Mercedes was using all of her strength, but it was just enough for Porsche to understand that it was time to grow up. My Dad chuckled as he told us this, saying, “Mercedes has had enough of babysitting, she wants to see Porsche jump at life.”

After that incident, it seemed that Porsche became stronger. I remember there was a time I was watching her from far away, when suddenly her ears pricked up and her whole body went tense. She looked hard into the distance, then broke into a fast gallop. She dodged the trees, going left to right, then stopped. She looked around as if pleased with herself, then tossed her head up and went running back to her mother, kicking and bucking as if nothing could hold her.

At that moment, I wanted to ride her. I wanted to feel the wind in my face, see the trees become a blur, let it just be a moment where it was just the two of us, riding faster than any horse and rider ever could. Being free to live with excitement and joy. I wanted that so badly, but I didn’t tell anyone. I wanted it to be my little secret, that no one else could know or try to take from me.

We didn’t have a fence around the horses, so we would have a halter on one horse with a long rope attached to it, tied to a tree. We called it a lead rope, and it worked well for us, even though I felt bad about having to type up the horses. Our neighbor owned Mercedes, even though we took care of her and Porsche. When Porsche was a few months old, and getting faster, our neighbor decided that it was time for her to get her own lead rope.

Dad was kind of hesitant, but Porsche would often run around in the night and this seemed like the easiest way to keep watch of her, so he agreed. It went well for the first couple of days, my sister and I would check on her daily, making sure she was comfortable and had water. 

But one day, my Dad went out to check on them, and came back pale. My Mom asked him what was wrong, and he sighed rubbing his head. He told us that Porsche’s leg was ripped off. At those words, time seemed to stop. I couldn’t believe what he was saying, surely he was joking. But my sister gasped, and we just sat there it shock. I think he called our neighbor, telling him what had happened, and our neighbor called up some of his friends. When they came, my Dad went out to meet them. My Mom had gone to look at Porsche, and when she came back she told us, “Don’t go to see Porsche.”

My sister and I didn’t understand what was happening, since we were only five and seven years old. But my sister being the younger one, ran off to look for Porsche. I didn’t want it to be true, but I didn’t want her to go alone, so I ran after her. I saw that she had stopped, staring into the distant, so I ran faster to catch up to her. I heard her crying.
I looked and saw these people drive up with a small trailer with my Dad. Then I saw Porsche. 

Her leg was completely torn off, hanging on by some of her skin. It dragged on the ground as she limped, trying to get her balance. It was horrifying. She was in pain and scared. I felt like throwing up. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, but I didn’t want them to fall. They fell anyway. My sister and I sobbed as we walked home. I wrote “Porsche” on a wall, wanting to never forget her as tears rolled down my face. Then we heard the gunshot, and my heart felt like bursting. My Mom came out to hold my sister, but I wanted to be left alone in my grief. 

Mercedes called for Porsche all night, and accepted Porsche’s death three days later. Mercedes was never the same.
This is kind of sad, but my Mom recommended it.


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  • Huba Huba

    The car names are interesting though. The ending was sad :(
    Re: Thanks for the comment!

    10 months ago
  • Abigail Faith

    Awww :( I'm gonna cry!!!!! Great job!

    10 months ago
  • resident philocalist

    absolutely incredible. i was in tears. keep writing <3

    10 months ago
  • midnight.summerrose

    This is amazing!! :)

    10 months ago