Below are two essay entries for the Interscholastic Equestrian Association’s National Essay Contest. OVS equestrians Scout Mortenson and Danika Carver are vying for $1,000 in cash prizes.
Miracles Can Happen by Scout Mortenson
The magic of Christmas in Oregon isn’t just decorations or holiday cheer but the quiet moments when the world feels suspended, as if anything is possible. Four years ago, for the first time ever, something was different. The magic seemed dull. My mind felt foggy, weighed down by anxiety, and the past weeks of school had become excruciatingly hard. No matter how hard I tried to focus, my thoughts scattered, my eyes blurred, and nothing seemed to stick. I felt like a prisoner in my own head, unable to break free.
The holidays usually offered me a sense of comfort, but that year, the world around me felt colder and lonelier. I dreaded the return to school after Christmas break, knowing I’d be battling my way through assignments that never seemed to make sense and conversations that were too hard to follow. I was surrounded by people, but I still felt invisible, like a room full of voices I couldn’t quite understand. I always tried to hide that I was drowning. Everyone struggles in school, right?
Just when I was at my lowest, one magical December day changed everything. My mom and I had been searching for a horse, but I had no idea how far her search had gone without me. It wasn’t until after a trip to Mexico that things started to take shape. When we returned, she took me to the barn with a strange urgency. I had no clue why we were there, I didn’t have a horse to ride, and she didn’t usually come with me to watch the older girl’s lessons.
As we neared, I felt a change in the air. There was a strange warmth within the cool breeze, a feeling I couldn’t explain. I paused at the gate, suddenly struck by an unfamiliar feeling of excitement. The snow was falling softly which was not out of the ordinary for winter in Bend, but the world around me felt… different. As if something spectacular was about to happen. When we turned the corner, I stopped in my tracks. There he was. Standing in the sunlight, his coat shimmering like it was dusted with stars. Kinnan. Wrapped with a red bow. The moment I saw him everything clicked into place. His eyes, deep and knowing, met mine with an intensity that knocked the air from my lungs. There was something special about him.
I took a slow step forward, not knowing what to expect. My heart raced as I reached out to touch his nose. He was breathing heavily with interest, looking like a fire-breathing dragon in the cold air. He stood still towering above me, but I was not afraid. He saw into my soul and understood everything I had been going through.
For a while, I simply stood there. Transfixed by his beauty and humble strength. It was as if he understood the weight I carried inside, the invisible burdens I had kept hidden. I had never felt so seen, so understood by anyone, let alone a horse. Kinnan didn’t need to speak. He just stood there, and somehow, that was enough. It was the first time in ages that my mind was calm.
The following days felt like a dream. Rides with Kinnan were nothing like anything I had experienced before. When I climbed into the saddle, the world around me vanished into thin air. The weight of anxiety that had burdened me for so long seemed to lift. In those quiet moments with him, anything was possible. His steady presence was like an anchor, grounding me when everything else felt out of control.
I never told anyone how much school overwhelmed me, how the days felt endless and the work impossible. But Kinnan didn’t need words to understand. When we were together, it was like I was finally breathing again. The pounding rhythm of his hooves beneath me echoed in my chest, matching the beat of my heart. With every stride, I felt lighter, freer, as if he was carrying me, not just physically, but emotionally, through the dark places in my head. He didn’t judge me for my struggles because we were a team, for better or worse.
We spent hours together in the barn, outside, in the snow. Some days we rode quietly under the glowing arena lights, the cold air biting at my cheeks, while Kinnan’s warmth kept us steady. There was an unspoken understanding between us. In those moments, it felt like we were the only two beings in the world. When I felt scattered or confused, I could always count on him to be there for me.
One evening, after a particularly tough day at school, I found myself in the barn long after dark. I sat in the shavings with Kinnan’s head resting gently against my shoulder, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath. I hadn’t realized how much I needed him. His steady presence reminded me that I wasn’t alone, even on the hardest days. When I felt overwhelmed by everything I couldn’t control, Kinnan didn’t offer solutions. He simply existed with me, calm and put together, even at the age of seven.
He gave me something I didn’t even know I needed, a reminder that I could be strong and do hard things. When I was diagnosed with ADHD and Dyslexia, he never called me stupid or saw me as inferior. When my life changed and the world moved too fast around me, he was always there. He reminded me that I could be present in my own life, not just surviving, but living.
Kinnan is my heart and soul. He is the light that shines through darkness, the love of my life, and my best friend when I’m lonely. In the words of Zach Bryan, he has the “kindest soul on the meanest earth.” He is my beautiful, brave boy, and I hope to one day have a heart as full as his. He inspires me daily to be a better rider and, more importantly, the best version of myself.
Rising From the Ashes by Danika Carver
The night the fire came, the wind howled through the Ojai Valley, carrying the scent of smoke and fear. Emma had seen wildfires before—small ones that licked the edges of the dry brush, controlled burns set by the firefighters to prevent disasters like this. But nothing could have prepared her for the Thomas Fire.
Her mother burst into her room just after midnight, her voice edged with panic.
“We have to go. Now.”
She shot up from her bed, heart hammering. Outside her window, the sky glowed an eerie orange, flames dancing along the ridgeline. The fire was moving fast, too fast. The Santa Ana winds were pushing it straight toward them.
She threw on jeans and a sweatshirt, her hands shaking as she grabbed her phone and packed up what she could. The smoke filled the air. And then she thought of Ames.
The big bay Thoroughbred was her best friend, her rock in every storm life had thrown her way. Her father had bought Ames at an auction, rescuing him from an uncertain fate, and now she had to do the same. She sprinted toward the back door, but her mother grabbed her wrist.
“No! There’s no time.”
“I can’t leave him!” she sobbed, wrenching free and racing toward the barn.
The wind roared, embers swirling in the air like fireflies. She reached the stall and fumbled with the latch, her eyes burning from smoke. Ames neighed nervously, stamping his hooves.
“Come on,” she whispered, struggling to get the lead rope clipped. But then she heard it—the deep, thunderous crack of a tree snapping.
She looked up just in time to see flames racing down the hill. They were out of time.
The girl knew she had no choice. With trembling fingers, she unclipped the lead rope and flung the stall door open.
“Go, Ames! Run!”
For a moment, Ames hesitated, his dark eyes searching hers. And then he turned and bolted into the smoke-filled night, disappearing into the chaos. The flames created a beautiful but terrifying color in the air and shone on his coat as he galloped away.
Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled back toward the house. Her mother yanked her into the car, and then they were gone, joining the stream of taillights snaking down the road, leaving everything they knew behind.
Days passed in a blur of evacuation centers, worried whispers, and the acrid scent of smoke lingering in the air. When the authorities finally allowed them to return, the girl held onto hope. Maybe the fire had spared their house. Maybe Ames had found safety.
But when they turned onto their road, her breath caught in her throat.
The house was gone.
She bent down and grabbed a handful of ashes, the wind crumbled them out of her hand and blew them away.
Nothing remained but blackened beams and a few twisted metal fixtures. Her mother sank to her knees in the ash-covered driveway, silent tears streaking her soot-stained face. They clung to each other, eyes wide with shock.
Emma felt numb. Her home. Her memories. All of it was gone.
And Ames.
Her legs trembled as she forced herself toward the crisped remnants of the barn. The fence too was nothing but scorched posts. There was no sign of him.
She choked back tears.
“He’s gone,” she whispered.
For days, she searched. She put up flyers. She called shelters and rescues. She scoured every surviving patch of land, calling his name into the silence, it pierced her ears to hear nothing back.
Nothing.
And then, a week later, a call came.
“We think we found your horse.”
Her mother barely had time to park before the girl leaped from the car, racing toward the paddock of a local rescue. Her heart pounded. Please, please, please…
And then she saw him.
Ames stood at the far end of the paddock, his coat caked in soot, his ribs slightly visible beneath his once-sleek frame. But he was alive.
“Ames!” she called, her voice breaking.
His head shot up from the grass he was grazing on. For a moment, he just stared as if he couldn’t believe she was real, and she stared back the same. Then, with a deep, trembling whinny, he galloped toward her.
Emma barely had time to brace before he pressed his head against her chest, his breath hot against her neck. She sobbed into his mane, her fingers tangling in his soot-streaked coat.
“You found your way back,” she whispered. “You survived.”
Ames nuzzled her shoulder, his warm breath reassuring.
It wasn’t the homecoming she had imagined. Their house was gone, their lives changed forever. But as she stood there with Ames, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingers, she knew one thing for certain.
They had lost everything.
But they still had each other.
And somehow, they would rise from the ashes—together.
Author’s note:
I was 8 years old when my family and friends had to evacuate from the Ojai Valley because of the Thomas fire. In light of the recent Los Angeles fires, I was inspired to write about my own experience of having to leave my life and animals behind. Many people in the Ojai community were forced to release their horses and other animals during the evacuation and pray they would see them again. There just weren’t enough trailers and space to evacuate them all, which was a heartbreaking reality for many people. Luckily, my barn was able to evacuate all of our horses safely. I can’t even begin to imagine the heartbreak some of the owners felt when they had to release their animals, but I did my best to capture them. Shelters and the tight-knit community played an incredibly helpful role in the owners’ ability to find their animals again. I also decided to leave the main character nameless so the reader could more easily place themselves into the story. Thank you so much for considering me. I hope you enjoyed it!