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Dear Visitor:

At ForeverPrized.com, Inc., we are most humbled to present epic poetry composed by the late Miss Lucy Acres of Whiskeytown, California.  In Life, Lucy wrote dusty rhymes about a dying breed, the cowgirl on horseback.  Thus, it is fitting that in Death, we have the privilege of watching her ride away forever in this perpetual e-memorial.

Lucy and her family are among the thousands worldwide who have saddled up on the horses of immortality with our trademarked Posthumous Vanity Publishing (PVP) services.   ForeverPrized.com, Inc. has been providing PVP and other e-memorial services since 1999 while the Scattergood family itself has been providing memorial services since 1989.

Twenty years later, we’re making Lucy Acre’s unrealized dream come true, and we can do the same for any other writer or poet who has passed on to the Next Life after having their work passed over during This One.   You can post your loved one’s prized creations to an all-accepting Universe, including  poems, short stories, and novel excerpts.  You’ll be amazed at the Reception.

(For other PVP sites, visit www.seeminglyforever.com and www.thehayfieldforever.com.)

My family and I look forward to serving Lucy’s family along with you and your family in This World and the Next One.

Yours truly,

Edgar Scattergood

Dr. Edgar B. Scattergood,
Chief Executive Officer
ForeverPrized.com, Inc.

P.S. Please visit our Facebook Page and hit the “Like” button if you fancy Lucy Acres, her cowgirl, the Hayfield poem, or any of my services.

P.P.S.  And please also consider some of our other services.  Over at www.ForeverPrized.com, for example, you may purchase an eGrave upon such eGrounds as the elite Whispering Dells or, in the medium price range, Harmony Glades.  For example, you can visit Lucy’s eGrave here. We also offer grexting (send text messages from your cell phone directly to your loved one’s eGrave), eUrns, eFlames, and all come with our trademarked eUlogies.

Lucy & Bell’s Last Ride

Near sundown she came back down the mountain trail on Bell. At this time of evening, with the sun low in the west, Lucy knew an old shadow of rider and horse followed them along the rock walls. And she knew sunset’s pinks and purples colored the ridges and peaks all around them.

But with labored breathing, Bell had struggled to make it up the hill and now the old mare had trouble with her footing on the way down, so Lucy kept her eyes on her horse and patted her and pushed out on the stirrups to give Bell some relief. Lucy’s own knees ached to do that, and even though they had ached for thirty years worth of evening rides, ever since her forties, Lucy knew this evening held something different in it.

“It’s our last ride, sweetie,” she said aloud.

Bell’s loud breathing quieted. She turned her head around as though to playfully bite Lucy’s foot. Funny, Lucy thought, I rid her of that habit long ago. And a few minutes later, when they came to a wide and level stretch of the trail, Lucy felt Bell step out briefly with the prance she used to make, her little bit of Arabian blood showing off one more time.

The little girl in her would have liked to cry but it wouldn’t have been decent for two old ladies like Lucy and Bell to start blubbering on any trail, much less their last one, which ended well after dark and into Bell’s stable where Lucy took the saddle off for the final time.

Lucy visited Bell several times a day for the next two years until Bell’s death. Their saddle is shared by Lucy’s granddaughters, and so most evenings the shadow of rider and horse can still be seen ghosting down the mountain trail.

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