Feather fall

by TheSourceCode95

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1034

Unable to change it's destiny, following the path the winds create.

Feathers are fragile, delicate and most of all, unable. Unable to control where they are going, unable to change their destination. Destined to one day fall, and stay where they end up, until the outer world decides it's time.

This story is a short story based on (and created while writing) Old memories.

Published 2013-05-23 04:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-23 04:30:02 UTC

Feather fall

By darkness surrounded, kept warm by the ones close near you. Small and fragile, unprepared for the outer world.

By heavy shaking awoken. Blinded by light, chilled by winds. Unprepared, unable to do anything, cast out into the outer world. Carried away by the flowing air, ones once close near you far gone by now.

Away and away, further and further. Away from the known, away from the protection. Out into the open, alone. Destination unknown, decided by the rest of the world.

Slowly going down, caught by a soft breeze. Faster and faster. Not a chance of going back. Not missed, plenty of others to replace you.

A sudden change of winds, and the downwards motion stops. Carried up again, further away from the start. Ready? No. But the outer world has chosen not to wait. Time has come, and you will have to experience the path it has laid out for you.

Slowly hovering through the world. Not on own strength. Nor on others strengths. Alone, and unable to see, unable to react. Unable to do anything.

Landscapes going past in a breeze. Smooth and green or sharp and grey. Covered in trees, grass, flowers. Sometimes, a clear lake, reflecting the skies above. Reflecting you.

Ponies living their everyday lives down below. Walking through the streets, greeting each others. On their ways to their own destination. Each and every one of them unique. Not a single one exactly like another. All with their unique special talents.

Fillies and foals playing. Chasing one another, laughing with each other. Sometimes stopping, looking at a colorful butterfly or busy worm coming by.

A downwards draft. Quickly falling down, towards the ground. Towards the smooth and green landscapes. Towards the trees. Towards the grass. Towards the flowers.

Coming closer. Closer to the busy ponies, walking around trying to fulfil their destination. Closer to the playing fillies, still uncertain what their destination will be. Closer to the colorful butterflies, and the busy worms. Their only destination being survival.

Just as your time seems to be there, the downwards draft dies down. Again slowly descending, moving away from the ponies down below. Towards the open fields, occasionally interrupted by a lonely green tree or shining white flower.

Birds flying around, looking for each other, trying to find food for their young. Little bunnies following their mother out of their holes for the first time, catching their first sight of the light of day. Just like you.

Deer majestically leaping from one spot to another. Eating the fresh grass, under the light of day. Drinking water from one of the lakes. Resting covered by the shades of a tree.

The sun lowering down on the western horizon. Slowly turning from yellow into a shining white, surrounded by bright orange. Skies around it turning red, blending into pink before merging with the last parts of blue.

Clouds, once clear as snow, now turning gold in the last rays of the setting sun. Animals eating their last bit of food for the day, drinking their last drink of water, before returning to their shelters for the night.

Parents being told about the adventures of their fillies or foals of that day. Walking into their homes, to get dinner, and then fall asleep after a day of hard work or playing.

The last bit of blue sky darkening into black, the last bit of red disappearing over the horizon. Clouds clearing away, revealing the eternal night sky. Lit up by thousands and thousands of small lights.

One of them larger than any other. On it’s surface, the face of pain, hatred, sorrow and loss. The mare in the moon. Locked away for a thousand years, shedding her light over the sleeping ponies of Equestria.

Winds picking up, trees moving their leaves. A lonely field mouse crossing the field, trying to get into the safety of his shelter. Two bright red eyes, focussed on the animal. Not losing sight of it a single second. Ears aimed at it, tracking every little noise. Every piece of grass swinging back up, ever soft thumb of a paw touching the ground.

Head shooting down, wings folding alongside. Paws folded in between the feathers. Diving down towards the ground, towards the defenseless mouse.

Wings swinging open again, claws in front, wide open, aimed at the mouse. Pinpoint accuracy, precise timing. All coming down to that one moment. A squeak as the mouse gets pierced by the sharp nails, then silence. The owl has got his meal for this night.

Two young ponies laying back on the ground, next to each other. Not knowing the happening that took place right behind their own heads, only paying attention to each other. Bathing in the light of the moon, looking up at the star filled sky.

Small crickets chirping as they hop around in the grass. Playing their night song, accompanied by the rustling of the leaves, and the rare call of an owl hunting it’s prey.

Fireflies buzzing around, trying to find a source of warmth to stay alive. Performing their nightly show, unseen by most, but a miracle to those who have lifted their blindfolds and dared to look during the time the light is sparse.

A lonely wolf howling up at the moon. Walking away, back into the taller grass and bushes, disappearing from the gaze of the moon.

Clouds forming, casting grim shadows across the earth. Darker and darker, blocking out the light of the moon and stars. Slowly forming into a solid grey mass, ready to pour down it’s rain onto the ground down below.

Struck by a single raindrop, and already starting to fall down. Soon more raindrops follow. Winds pick up, sounds die down. A dense row of trees appearing on the horizon, followed by more and more trees, as far as the eye can see.

Soaked and wet, plummeting down towards the ground. Finding shelter of the eternal downpour of rain drops in between the leaves of a bush. Down on the ground, resting until the outer world decides it is time again. Time to get on the move once more. But for now, resting.

A feather has fallen.