Mustang of Smaller Size Blog Archive on March 9, 2010, 9:00

by Violet Inkpen, age 13

My name was Sissy. I was born on a beautiful island, where the grass grew up to your chest (or your nose if you were a foal), where the sea could always be heard in the distance, where the sandy beaches were pure and untainted, and where life was perfect. There were herds of horses like me, we all grew up on the same island, we all lived the same life basically, but one day would change those lives, and force us together. They say the island was called Assateague, and we were called Chincoteague Ponies. Life seemed perfect when I was a foal. I was 5 months old