Magical Adventures & Pony Tales Boxset (Vol 1 - 6)

by Angharad Thompson Rees

  MAGICAL ADVENTURES & PONY TALES (1-6)

  6 Magical Stories in 1 Spellbinding Book

  ANGHARAD THOMPSON REES

  Copyright © 2017 Angharad Thompson Rees

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission

  To Hillside Sonnet, the little red pony who saved my life…

  CONTENTS

  The Painted Pony

  I. In the Beginning

  1. Stargazer Ponders

  II. A Strange Occurrence

  2. Stargazer Imagines

  The Girl and her Pony

  1. A Right Royal Parade

  2. A Right Royal Find

  3. A Right Royal Name

  4. A Right Royal Discovery

  5. A Right Royal Predicament

  6. A Right Royal Friendship

  The Galloping Pony

  1. Warmheart of Pennydale

  2. Humble Beginnings

  3. A Gentleman’s Bet

  4. The Big Day

  5. Off and Racing

  6. Humble Endings

  The Runaway Pony

  1. The Wooden Bridge

  2. The Wild Winds

  3. The Land of Faerie

  4. The Bog of Eternal Endurance

  5. The Princess Redemption

  6. The Journey Home

  The Desert Pony

  1. Lake Furkan

  2. It’s a Goat’s Life

  3. Market Day

  4. A Seeker’s Tear

  5. Sky High

  6. Lavender and Primrose

  7. A Fond Farewell

  The Wooden Pony

  1. London at Night

  2. Many Colours

  3. Eyes Open

  4. The Midnight Hour

  5. Freedom

  Free Bonus Pony Tale

  Pat the Ponies

  Coming Soon

  About the Author

  THE PAINTED PONY

  ‘In an instant, Stargazer had a child upon his back. He waited until the music started and the magic happened.’

  I

  IN THE BEGINNING

  1

  STARGAZER PONDERS

  Stargazer lived in a kaleidoscope of colours such that the rainbow looked bland in comparison. In his world, blue turned into every shade of pink, and gold glittered and shimmered. There were colours neither you nor I have ever before seen or heard of – such as popilet and shimmereen, which look like falling stars and burning sunsets. Music filled Stargazer’s world with tunes as warming and comforting as a grandmother’s hug. And above the constant lullaby, sweet scents of candy floss and fudge tickled the noses of all.

  Stargazer was a carousel pony and the very finest sort, for he lived on the outside of the grand, golden ring. Children licking their toffee apples would watch the painted ponies gallop and frolic in never-ending circles. And Stargazer always caught their attention. Every time a ride began, a new rider clambered onto his back at once. With sticky hands and stickier smiles, his riders held onto his golden pole, which rose from his saddle to the canopy and secured him down to the circling ground.

  But every evening the carnival lights dimmed, the gates shut, the music stopped, and the last of the magic left with the last child to leave the fairground. And there, Stargazer waited in the darkened silence until the gates reopened the following day.

  This particular day started as every day had done since Stargazer could remember. Crowds of excited faces peered in between the iron gates. The gates were quite a spectacle—shaped of birds and butterflies, and dragons of solid gold and crimson. Cheers roared as music blasted from the carnival organ, and the fairground master called out, ‘Roll up, roll up! We have helter-skelters, crazy mirrors, and our world-famous carousel!’

  The crowd gasped as if they were watching fireworks.

  ‘We have the world’s strongest man, the world’s strangest creatures, and the world’s smallest woman. So small, you may even consider her a fairy!’ the fairground master bellowed. He smiled while stroking his groomed black beard, which reached right down to his gold-buckled belt, as did his long, curly black hair.

  The crowd cheered as he marched towards the gates, his knee-high boots squeaking against the springtime grass as he did so. And once there, he pulled a large golden key from the pocket of his scarlet overcoat.

  ‘Welcome, welcome!’ he called, and a stampede of boys and girls galloped past him.

  In an instant, Stargazer had a child upon his back and he waited until the music started and the magic happened. Giggling and laughing erupted around him as the carousel moved around and around, and up and down. Now, Stargazer was familiar with being patted and petted upon his wooden neck of violet and yellow. He was accustomed to having his mane of silver stroked (although it never moved or blew in the wind). It was also usual for Stargazer to hear the voices of riders talking above him. But what he wasn’t familiar with was being spoken to.

  ‘Don’t you ever get bored?’ the little voice asked.

  Bored? thought Stargazer. Why on earth would I ever get bored?

  ‘Because you see the same things every day. Don’t you want an adventure?’ the little voice continued.

  Confusion spread through Stargazer’s mind. Did the little boy hear me? Surely not! The painted pony laughed to himself in a low whinny.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ said the boy. ‘I’m Sebastian, by the way. But you can call me Seb. Just don’t tell my mother; she hates it when friends shorten my name.’

  At that point, other than the fairground sounds there was silence, as Stargazer was so alarmed that he had no thoughts at all. The boy enjoyed the ride for a few more moments and then spoke again. ‘I often think about being a pony. But I would be a wild pony, a free pony, galloping across the marshes, jumping over fallen logs and feeling the wind blow through my long mane. Do you ever think about things like that?’ Seb asked.

  Where Stargazer and Seb had been happily rising and falling to the music, now they simply went around, with no rise at all, and the melancholy motion mirrored Stargazer’s thoughts.

  I have never thought about it before, Stargazer thought sadly. I only know this life on the carousel, going around and around, and up and down.

  ‘I’m not saying it’s not a good life!’ Seb said with a nervous laugh, trying to make his painted pony feel a little better. And it must have worked, as they started rising and falling to the music once again, although perhaps not reaching quite as high as they previously had. Not wanting to leave the pony feeling too sad, Seb asked Stargazer what his favourite thing was about being a carousel pony.

  I love the colours and the lights. I love the safe rhythm and the squeals of laughter from the children upon my back, Stargazer thought fondly. But tell me more about the wild, free ponies. Do such things really exist?

  ‘Oh, yes!’ said Seb. ‘I see them all the time around the Camargue marshes. They run in groups of ten and twelve, thundering across the ground like flashes of lightning with their white coats. Nearly every one I see is white or nearly white. They don’t seem to mind the wind or the rain or the blazing sun. Mind you, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a painted pony like you joining them!’

  All through Seb’s exciting stories, Stargazer went up and down, higher and faster than ever before.

  Tell me more, tell me more about the Wildlings! he called, imagining he could feel the wind blowing through his wood-carved mane. Seb’s smile was tinged sadness, for although he loved telling
stories (it was his favourite thing of all), he was worried he may upset the painted pony with his tales of adventure.

  Please, tell me, the pony insisted.

  ‘Well, on a spring’s day, they run through the streams, which spray up towards them and cool their bellies. And in the summer, they make their way to the big lake and swim right up to their shoulders…’

  Swim? thought Stargazer.

  ‘Oh yes!’ said Seb. ‘They are terribly good swimmers; and when they are tired of swimming, they lay down on the lush green grass to sleep, and their coats glisten like moonbeams.’

  What else, what else? thought Stargazer. He was a little worried because he knew his time was nearly up for this particular ride, and any minute the bell would sound and the music would stop and so too would Stargazer, whether he liked it or not.

  ‘Sometimes they rear up, right up on their hind legs as if they are standing on their tippy toes. And they look so tall and majestic it very nearly brings tears to my eyes. Yes, if I were a pony, I would be one of those!’ Seb said, clinging on tightly as Stargazer rose higher and higher with the exciting thoughts of freedom.

  So would I, thought Stargazer, with a heavy sigh.

  The bell rang and the siren wailed. The fairground master jingled his moneybags, taking coins from the children waiting (not so very patiently) to mount their carousel ponies.

  Wait! thought Stargazer. You will come back, won’t you? You will come back and tell me more stories about the Wildlings?

  ‘Of course!’ Seb said, and then, looking left and right just in case anyone might have been close enough to overhear, he whispered in his pony’s carved wooden ear, ‘I’ll come back tonight when the sun sets and the gates are closed. That way, I can tell you all about them and even show you sketches I have drawn.’

  But before they had time to say their goodbyes, Seb was bustled along and another child was already in his place, and the rest of the day seemed quite colourless for the painted pony.

  II

  A STRANGE OCCURRENCE

  2

  STARGAZER IMAGINES

  The day dragged along slowly. When the sun finally set and the fairground master locked the gates, placing the big key into one of his pockets stuffed almost full with gold and silver, Stargazer felt positively bored and dizzy. He had never felt bored or dizzy before, but then again, he had never had so many thoughts swirling around in his mind.

  True to his word, Seb appeared by the bird-and-butterfly and dragon-shaped gates, and expertly climbed his way over them. Very soon, the two friends were reunited under the warm light provided by the carousel’s night-time bulbs.

  Out of his tatty brown jacket, Seb pulled a selection of sketches of wild ponies, galloping and swimming and, most impressively of all, rearing.

  Oh! How I would love to stretch up so high, thought Stargazer, not moving from the spot.

  ‘Maybe, if you want it enough, you will,’ suggested Seb, but the painted pony thought it utterly impossible.

  Do you speak to the others? the pony thought.

  ‘You mean the other ponies, the wild and free ponies?’

  Well, I wasn’t thinking that; I was thinking of the other painted ponies here. But please do tell me if you speak to the Wildlings too.

  ‘The answer is quite the same really. I have never heard another pony think in all my life,’ Seb said, which wasn’t really that long, although to him it already felt like a lifetime. ‘But I did speak with a donkey once!’

  Then why on earth can you hear me?

  Seb thought about this question for quite some time. It was true he had spoken with a donkey in a rotten shed once, and a hamster on a wheel in a cage, and even a big goldfish in a little bowl. He wondered what they all had in common, and realised the common link was a desire for freedom.

  ‘I think I hear you because you long to be free!’ Seb stroked the pony’s wooden neck.

  But I was happy here, at least before you told me all the wonderful stories of adventure and freedom, thought Stargazer, almost unkindly.

  ‘Perhaps you just thought you were happy, but maybe you were always longing for something more. Perhaps you have always been an adventurer,’ Seb said, and continued by telling him the story of the donkey, the hamster and the fish.

  Did they all become free? asked Stargazer, and Seb was almost sure he saw the pony’s eyes widen.

  How, oh how? Please, you must tell me how. I am so tired of the same thing every day. I am so tired of the same music, the same sounds, the same sticky, candy floss-covered hands upon my neck. I’m so tired of the nights, waiting for something to happen, only to relive the same old day again. Do tell me! Stargazer begged, and Seb was nearly sure he saw the wooden pony stamp a hoof in frustration. So much so, Seb cocked his head to the side like a dog trying to understand something he could not quite understand.

  ‘Well, I didn’t set them free, because I would get into all sorts of trouble. They had to free themselves,’ Seb said, wishing he had some candy floss now the pony had come to mention it. He brought the sketches up to the eyes of the wooden pony once again. ‘You have to want it with all your might. You have to dream it, and imagine it, and savour it. But more than anything, you have to BELIEVE!’ he said, jumping up and waving his hands into the air, sending the sketches falling upon the floor.

  Believe the impossible? thought the painted pony, with only the tiniest amount of hope.

  ‘Yes! Anything is possible! Look, like this,’ and Seb began imitating a free pony. He galloped around, rolled on his back on the floor, and reared up with his arms as front legs high up in the air. He neighed, he whinnied, he snorted, he laughed, and he pretended to toss his pretend mane. ‘Come on, copy me!’

  And Stargazer found himself imagining being wild and free. He imagined the soft grass beneath his hooves and the wind upon his body. He imagined feeling the sun warm his back and swimming through water to cool it. He imagined new adventures, galloping across sands and ocean spray, cantering through forests and trotting around pretty villages. He imagined with all his wooden heart until he could feel it pumping with life. He imagined with all his soul until he could feel real tears roll from his beautiful black eyes.

  ‘Look! Look!’ shrieked Seb, jumping on the spot.

  Stargazer turned his head to see the golden carousel pole disappearing. The stretch in his neck felt so good he tossed his head, and felt his forelock graze his ears and his mane shiver. He swished his tail, which lifted high over his back.

  ‘Neeeeeeeeeigh!’ A powerful neigh escaped from his mouth.

  ‘You’re free!’ called Seb, spinning and dancing and laughing with so much force he had to hold his aching sides.

  The scarlet bridle disappeared, the saddle of every colour faded into nothingness. Patches of popilet and shimmereen slid from his painted sides, to leave his coat as bright and glowing as the summer’s full moon. Stargazer reared up high and took his first galloping stride, making a huge leap and jumping down from the carousel.

  Seb could no longer hear the pony’s thoughts, but he did not need to. It was very clear how happy Stargazer was by the way he pranced and danced under the moonlight. And it seemed to Seb, although he could not be quite sure, that each carousel pony turned its head to watch Stargazer frolic.

  Then, as if this were not unexpected enough, Seb noticed another carousel pony shake its mane, and then another and another and another, until dozens of wild, free ponies danced around him, neighing and calling, kicking and rearing, and feeling their wooden hearts beat for the first time. It was as if Stargazer’s quest for freedom allowed them to believe that they too could be free.

  ‘Farewell, Wildlings,’ Seb called, removing his dusty hat and waving it above his head as he watched his once-painted pony leading the herd of beautiful, wild and free ponies. They jumped over the bird-and-butterfly and the dragon-shaped gates, and galloped off into the distance, until the drumming of hoof beats could be heard no more.

  Seb turned around to see the e
mpty carousel and felt a little lonely. He walked towards the gates, noticing the dark for the first time and worrying about the walk home through the countryside at such a late hour. His mother was sure to be cross. Yet his thoughts about the Wildlings made him smile, even if it was a half smile, because he already missed his friend. Then, in the distance, he saw a glowing white light. It came closer and closer and just before Seb thought he should hide, he recognised his friend with the moonshine coat.

  Stargazer walked right up to him and motioned for the boy to climb up onto his back. In an instant, the pony reared, leaving Seb laughing and hollering, and holding on tightly to Stargazer’s long, flowing mane.

  And there we shall leave them, knowing that they were reunited and Seb was taken home safely. And although Seb never heard Stargazer’s thoughts again, they spent their summer days together, galloping through the Camargue marshes, swimming in the cooling lakes, and sleeping under the sun on the lush green grass – together.

  THE GIRL AND HER PONY

  “There is nothing as beautiful as a girl who loves her pony and a pony who loves her girl…”

  1

  A RIGHT ROYAL PARADE

  Loveheart Heath was a charming little village made up of cobble-stoned lanes and fields of various shades of green, separated by neat hedges. As the crow flies, as it often does, the land below appeared as a large patchwork quilt all shades of emerald green, full of fat cows and happy sheep. Dotted hither and thither were thatched-roofed farmhouses and smaller dwellings for townsfolk. But the most impressive thing about this little village was that it stood closest to the royal castle. And that was a privilege indeed.

  Often the royal parade rode through the township on magnificent horses. They rode four abreast in a line so long you could never see both ends at the same time. A trumpeter, always leading the royal procession, announced their impending arrival with much fanfare and pomp. And as a result, farmers stopped working and children stopped playing in anticipation of seeing royalty, even before the sound of clattering hooves struck upon the ground.