Bad Tail Day

As promised in the last post, here’s the short story inspired by the correspondence between LapinDeFer and me. Enjoy!

Bad Tail Day

Leaning against the wall of the barn’s central aisle, Émilie performed the ancient signal strength dance with her mobile in hand. Arm higher – zero bars. Turn to the right – null. Stretching to the left – why was she even trying?

Vahrenfeld was the largest ponygirl stable in private ownership; four separate barn buildings around a central corral hub, surrounded by tracks, trails, meadows and 600 square kilometres of wooded glens. And apparently not a single radio mast. The handlers’ quarters and the administrative area had Wi-Fi hotspots to satellite connections, but of course nobody could have been bothered to hand the password down to her. In vain Émilie had tried out the cardinal points of the cross-like structure arrangement. Now standing at the southern gate of the southern barn again she was running out of options and time. Her broom was waiting. Sliding her phone into the thigh pocket of her stable-issued cargo trousers Émilie shuffled back to her menial morning routine.

Village Road

It has been over half a year since the last chapter of Pony Boot Camp, so it is high time to get back in the saddle. To kick things off again, I gratefully accepted a special offer from LapinDeFer, a 3D artist and connoisseur of all things pony.

https://www.deviantart.com/lapindefer

Of course it was only a matter of time for our paths to cross, and he suggested to post his work Taken for a spin on my Word Press site. After some minor modifications it became Village Road. I had suggested a pony tail for the jockey (“not that kind of pony tail”) since she’d looked like having a bad hair day. And as this train of thoughts took up speed, my upcoming story Bad Tail Day was born.

Life Imitates Art

Posted on 10th May 2020

https://venomstories.wordpress.com/2020/05/10/aequinoctium-chapter-four-part-3/

Weirdly enough, the initial aspect Denise’s mind took from the scene before her was how loud a silenced gun actually was. In contrast, R’s presence didn’t qualify as a surprise any more. As that nutcase ex machina was crouching on the squat member, strangling him out with a knee to his neck whilst keeping her gun trained at the second Rapid Responder, Denise could glimpse the mean-looking sniper rifle with its black skeleton buttstock strapped to R’s back.