Nemo Curatby UnpronounceableChaptersPrologue *Revised*Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Prologue *Revised*Prologue *Revised* It was an unusually breezy autumn evening in Manehatten. The beauty of the few trees that lined the streets was enough to lighten up anypony before the bone-chilling winter came along. Two ponies, a happily married couple, sat down in their living room after dinner to listen to the radio. The tension was in the air as Daring Do, the famous adventurer from a series with the same name, found herself in quite the pickle. Despite the fact they knew that Daring would be fine; they found themselves on their hooves in anticipation. The radio went to a commercial break just as the sand rose above the adventure’s head. The mare got up to turn the radio down when something unexpected happened. The doorbell rang. She trotted to the door and opened it, half expecting it to be the mailmare. Emptiness, the dark of night, pierced only by the occasional working streetlamp and lit-up window, stared her in the face. She looked left and right and left again. She even looked up for good measure. As the earth pony wondered, she looked down, the only logical direction left. She found, sitting on her doormat, a box. No postage, only a note. “Honey,” the mare called, “were you expecting something?” “No, Baby. Why?” Honey half-yelled back. “Umm… There is a box on our doormat.” she managed to trickle out of her mouth. “Just bring it in, Daring Do is about to resume! I can’t wait to see how she gets out of two straightjackets! Two straightjackets! I personally think it is overkill, but, hay, we got to trust the writers.” The stallion was quite the fan, almost as big a fan as another certain pegasus. The mare agreed, being a fan herself. As she picked up the box, she was greeted with a yelp. She nearly dropped the box after lurking backwards. She rushed the box inside, onto the oddly named coffee table (that is a discussion for another day), and did the only logical thing to do when you find a mysterious box; open it. Daring became the last thing on their mind. She stared at it, or rather, him. A small, light grey foal (notably lacking wings or a horn), with a streaked charcoal black mane and red eyes stared back at her. All three stood speechless; it was not hard to imagine why someone would not want him, but shoving him onto somepony’s doorstep? That was a shock. They gathered themselves to read the note: the note that expectedly changed their lives. To Whom It May Concern, As I brought this foal into the world, I realized quickly that I would not be able to fulfill my motherly duties to it. So, after much debate and thought, I decided to leave him at somepony’s doorstep. I realize that abandoning foals is cliché, but it was the best I could do for it. So, if you don’t want to take this foal as your own, I understand; just send it to an adoption center. If you do, however, decide to take him as your own, you will not be forgotten. Sincerely, Jane Doe “What should we do?” asked the pegasus. The three of them had been standing in silence for a solid ten minutes. The foal could not help but be quiet, as he was a foal. The couple, however, voluntarily basked in the awkwardness of the situation. The stallion was the most nervous, as he wanted to keep the child. His wife, still a nervous wreck from the doctor’s visit several years ago, probably did not. “I… I don’t know. Umm…” The wife was speechless. Ever since that horrible day at the doctor’s office, she gave up on having kids. She stopped wanting to have kids. Yet, here in front of her was a bundle of joy with a foal next to him. He wanted kids so badly. That’s why they got married earlier than most, to get a child of their own. But now, she didn’t want to have one. “I want to keep him.” Honey stated gingerly. “Keep? You want to keep him? Like an owner would keep a pet?” “No! Why would you assume that? I don’t even like pets!” “Then keep was not the right word, now was it?” “Don’t go all English major on me, miss!” “I’ll go all English major on your plot if I want to!” “Ha, you’re not supposed to end sentences with prepositions, Miss English!” The argument quickly devolved into one about the finer points of the (now that I think about it, oddly named) English language. Meanwhile, the foal sat there, basking in the heat of the argument. He didn’t know anything, not even his own mother. The garble that was the couple’s subject made no sense to him. Nothing did, really. “Well, the plural of octopus can also be octopuses!” “Octopi sounds better, though. And what sounds the best also is the best!” The pegasus was about to retort when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a grey ball. He did a double take and quickly realized that it was the curled-up figure of the abandoned foal. “What are we going to do about him?” asked the husband. “Ah, I see that you are changing the subject. Does that mean that I win?” “No, we can finish it later. Right now, though, we need to figure out what to do with him.” He pointed to the grey mass. “He doesn’t even have a name!” “Fine, if you’re so concerned for him, take care of him. I’m going to bed.” The earth mare stomped off to the bedroom. The stallion looked down at the foal. Then he noticed something peculiar. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a puddle of… “Oh, c’mon!” The mare trotted lightheartedly out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where her husband was in an insomiactic stupor. He barely noticed his wife approaching, but when she came close enough, he whispered loudly “Thanks, Miss English. I stayed up until one this morning trying to get him to sleep. Thank Celestia he’s still sleeping. Oh, and you know what? He made several messes last night, all of which I had to clean.” “Well then, maybe you should go into town and get some diapers for our lil’ Nemo here.” “Huh?” “Oh, and can you pick up a crib as well? Thanks. Well, of to work I go. Bye, have a nice day!” “Wha… what just happened?” asked Honey to nopony in particular. “She’s crazy. She must be crazy.” He looked into the living room at Nemo. How did she come up with a name like Nemo? He had so many questions, but right now, there was yet another puddle to deal with. Earlier… The earth pony lied down in the bed, almost guilty of her actions. She did not want a child. That she knew. But her husband wanted one so badly; that she knew as well. She was torn. She did not know what to do. She heard a loud crash, followed by words more colorful than a rainbow. Her husband was not faring well, but she still refused the guilt. He brought this upon himself, she reasoned. She laid her flank against the mattress and attempted to go to sleep. Yet, she couldn’t. Her husband needed her. The foal needed her. She pondered this; they needed her. She shot up as a realization came to mind. “Sweet Celestia, we’re keeping him, aren’t we?” She said this aloud, though the stallion was too busy to have possibly heard it. She slowly flattened onto the bed. With that out of the way, the foal needed a name. Arthur, Sinbad, Meek, and Fog all came to mind, but she eventually decided on Nemo Curat. She did not know what it even meant, but something, possibly her self-diagnosed schizophrenia, told her that it was his name. Anyway, with that out of the way, she moved onto more important things. “What color should his room be? Hmm… How about a nice pale green?” Author's Note The first (revised) chapter of my first published fanfic. Criticism is appreciated. Sorry if the sorry seems to go to fast. I hope to fix that in the future. I told myself I would rewrite this, and I have. I may actually be better. Now, go read something more deserving of views. (Ex:This ) Chapter 1Several years later… It was a beautiful day in the clearing. The flowers were blooming, the birds were chirping, the grass was bending to the wind, the clouds occasionally were passing overhead, it was truly a sight to see. He just laid there, looking first at the sky, then over to the pony at his side, and back again. He could just rest there, forever. Thud. He opened his eyes in shock, finding himself on the floor. He looked around his room. His pale green walls gentle on the eyes, yet incongruous against the concrete cityscape. His grey carpet, on the other hoof, blended quite well, especially with the clutter of personal belongings. Comic books, toys, video games, and the few clothes he had among the clutter, all pushed aside to form little grey strips. Posters for various games and series spread seemingly randomly across the walls. And amongst the mess stood Nemo’s mother, the one who Nemo suspected as the one who pulled him literally out of bed. Nemo inferred that his mother was not the sanest or most placid pony, a fact his father knew all too well. “Wake up, it’s time for school!” half-shouted the neither sane nor placid mare. Nemo tried his hardest to remember what school was, but it escaped him at the moment. Oh well, he thought, he will cross that bridge when he finds it. He, or rather his mother, dragged himself down the stairs in his deep thoughts. Nemo’s father was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. “Hear this: ‘Pegasus Preforms Sonic Rainboom… A Second Time!’ Isn't that amazing? Honey, are you even hearing this?” Indeed, his wife was not listening to him. “I think there is something wrong with him.” Her pointed statement almost punctured the newspaper. “Well, ummm…, I do believe that is how everypony acts at this age,” calmly defended the pegasus. “This is what the pediatrician told us to expect.” The earth mare was only comforted a little, scratch that, not at all by the defense. Nemo was unfazed by the brief argument that ensued, instead his thoughts drifting though his brain and eventually to his tail. In this winding train of thought, he started to cringe, for a passenger named School came aboard. The foal was physically cringing, which only fueled his mother’s fire. “See, just look at him. He is not fine. I knew it. We need to get him to the hospital.” “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit? He was probably cringing at your yelling.” Yeah, Nemo thought, I wish that was why I’m cringing. Or would have thought if he wasn't too busy lying on the ground, hard and cold as it was, reflecting his innermost thoughts of his limited, yet vivid, experience with this “school.” “Blank flank” was such a common phase around him; some teachers actually believed his name was Blank Flank. Other such phases that were uttered around him are so harsh; the author does not want to type them. He was in a constant state of dread during his imprisonment, as odd a sentence as it was, going to a facility every day to a group of ponies, of which few he trusted. His parents, meanwhile oblivious to the agony, were in a state of panic. And by his parents, I mean his mother. She was in a fury over his condition. So much so, that she would have required more medical attention than poor Nemo. In her distress, she failed to notice her foal bolt to his room, only to be dragged out by his father. The foal was given his pack and lunch, and waved off to the bus stop. To the melancholy of the gray pony, the bus stop was deserted. Nemo took the opportunity to think. He was resentful, and yet oddly hopeful, Nemo was about school. This year, he was going to a new school district. But his mind wandered as he boarded the new-fangled school bus. He wondered how the bus worked, and how one could drive such a thing, but was too nervous to come to any conclusions. The ride was uneventful, as he avoided his presumed schoolmates. He overheard a word here or there, but did not bother to comprehend them. He looked out the window, with something having caught his eye though it. He noticed a large building ahead, with an Equestrian flag in the front. Here is where he would live out his sentence, Nemo thought. As they filed out of the bus, Nemo avoided any contact. The gray pony tried to reach the school unnoticed, but to his disappointment, failed in this endeavor. “Hi.” This simple phrase caught him off-guard, making him stumble backwards into several fillies, who all strolled away. “Sorry about that, what’s your name?” He was thrown for a loop, who would want to talk to him? He glanced at the speaker. She was a filly, about the same age as he. She was an off-white (yellow-tint), dark-maned unicorn. Upon further inspection, she had brilliant dark-blue eyes that would make sapphires look almost cyan. He was speechless. A “Well?” from the filly broke the silence of what seemed liked hours. “Nemo. Nemo Curat. What’s yours?” he was able to force out. “Mine is Parva Manna. But everypony calls me Mea. Don’t ask, I don’t know why either.” The off-white filly had a certain charm to her, as was evident by the crown she attracted. “Sorry about startling you.” “That is fine, really. It’s just… I didn’t expect anypony to talk to me.” Nemo, in hindsight, regretted saying that, despite the fact that nothing came from it. He just regretted it. Their potential conversation was interrupted by the bell. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in class.” And with that, the filly dashed away into the school building. Nemo slowly crept up to the school. This would be it. There would be no turning back. So, he extended his hoof, and pulled the door open to the busy, bustling hallways of his new prison. Author's Note Hello, everyone who cares. It is me, again. I finally got around to finishing writing the chapter. Any criticism is appreciated. The chapter is rushed, I know. Hopefully the next chapter is a bit slower. Chapter 2Nemo crawled through the hallways. A myriad of ponies filled them. All sorts squished into one building. Unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, and maybe even a few griffons all under one roof. It was utter chaos, as a certain draconequus would say. The walls were a bland tan, the floor tiled white. It was the type of design the interior designers had nightmares about. Nemo certainly had nightmares, though not of the same origin. Unsure of what to do, he weaved his way to the nearest door. Above the door, there read the name “Ms. Heart” in black letters. He peered inside the doorway and, to his surprise, saw Mea. This must be his classroom. With the same tan walls, it screamed “public institution.” He gingerly walked in, careful not to attract much attention. Mea had other ideas. Immediately upon entering, Mea sprinted to his side, pointing out the obvious and not-so-obvious around the room. The fish tank was an honest surprise to him; other than that, nothing really caught him off guard. All was as expected, a miserable little hole in the wall filled with complete strangers. What more could he want from a school? Maybe an immediately-apparent bathroom, but Nemo could think of nothing else. Bells rang though the hallways. Mea was forced to her seat, relieving Nemo of his situation, and into a new one. The teacher standing in front of the class was Ms. Heart, a stereotypical-looking unicorn teacher with a hoarse voice. The scratchiness of it made nearly everypony wince, a trait that would remain for the next few weeks. She called everypony’s name out, one by one. “Salt Pinch” she called out, to be replied with a slightly Prench “Here!” “Frater Price” she continued. Nemo got bored listening to the teacher listing all the ponies that were all in the same increasingly-claustrophobic room. After about 30 seconds, though, his attention snapped back to the hoarse teacher. “Nemo… um, Carrot?” she half-asked. “Actually, it’s pronounced Curat, as in coo and rot.” “Very well then,” Ms. Heart stated condescendingly, “Nemo Curat.” Nemo gulped. He had already gotten on the mares bad side. “Parva Manna.” “Here!” At least class continued; it moved along like a tugboat, slow yet steady. “Now class, calm down. Thank you. So as you may know, this class is less about teaching and more about learning. More specifically, learning your special talent is the main goal of this class. In all actuality, that is what half the school system is about, your special talent.” Why Ms. Heart insisted on speaking to them as if they were teenagers has yet to be discovered. Maybe she was a high school teacher. Yes, that was it, she was a high school teacher. “Now if you would, please turn your attention to the easel up front. This is a portrayal of my cutie mark. As evident, it displays a chalkboard and some chalk. This signifies my talent of teaching. Now, for our first exercise, we shall take a gander at some other cutie marks, and identify the talent of the one who adorns such a mark. Please split into pairs. Of two, thank you very much. No, Salt, you may not join Mr. Re.” Mea bounced over to the lump of melancholy. “May I join you?” she inquired. “Fine, but…” “Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” cut off the ecstatic mare, “you will not regret it. I have a feeling that we are going to become, like, best friends.” Yay, he thought, I’m positive we’ll mix well. As well as gasoline and fire. Meanwhile, Ms. Heart was recollecting the class. “Class, eyes forward. Thank you. Now, please direct your attention to the papers in front of you. On these papers are various marks covering an assortment of talents and pony-types. Please try your best to identify the various talents. You may begin.” In front of them appeared papers with pictures on them, thanks to Ms. Heart’s magic. The first one was obvious to him. It was Daring Do’s compass. Everyone knew her cutie mark. Next up were three red and white balls. Three seemed to be a common theme though the exercise, which lasted the rest of the class day. Nemo disliked it, identifying what he didn’t have. It felt like it was mocking him. Of course, he felt that way about a lot of things, so he dismissed it as himself getting worked up. Mea disliked it because it was boring. Then again, she found a lot of things boring. Yup, they mixed as well as oil and soap; kind of, but not really. The last one was really hard, seven bubbles. Nemo was puzzled, but figured that the owner knew, so he didn’t need to know. The bell rang once again though the hallways, to the relief of the class. With an audible sigh, the teacher dismissed them, reminding them to show up the next day. That was apparently a problem. He dashed through the hallways, almost knocking over several foals and fillies. He ran outside to the bus, only to find Mea already on it. This filly would not leave him alone. To her credit, she was the nicest one there, as far as he could tell. She seemed genuinely concerned. Still, Nemo had a bad feeling about this school thing. The bus ride back was relatively eventful, compared to the morning ride. Mea was the reason; her rambling could be distributed as a podcast. The gray foal paid no attention to her, so he might have needed that podcast. He stepped off of the bus toward his house. He could hardly call it a home, but it was shelter, shelter to his self-diagnosed depression. He walked up to the door and extended his hoof, opening the next door. There really was no turning back. Author's Note So, this chapter... I would appreciate any feedback, even "I hate this crap, why are you even trying?" Also, I am apparently in love with commas. I am a surprisingly good at rambling on, in case you couldn't tell. Thank you for reading, since you cared enough to read this. Also, I must edit this story. I must. Chapter 3The next couple months were very boring, even for Mea. It was like Ms. Heart was trying to make it so boring that some fillies painted their wall and called in sick just to watch it dry. Nemo didn’t (call in sick, that is) because that is just the way he liked it, plain and boring. Mea didn’t so that she could make it not boring. Despite the conflicting interests, the two remained friends. As they say, “Opposites attract.” With few blips on the radar, Nemo let his guard down, slightly. His home life kept it up; parents arguing about his condition and being quite frank to him. Anyway, life was fairly routine for the most part. Get out of bed, go to school, be bored, come home, and go to sleep. Except for that one day that the bus driver got lost and turned onto Equestria Avenue, nothing significant happened, nothing life-changing. That streak ended on the day that was half-way expected to; it was the start of the second semester. The day that their search for cutie marks would begin. Several fillies already had their marks; as one would expect, there are early bloomers. One foal in particular, named Leaf Edge, got his weeks before the start of the unit. Unsurprisingly, he arrived with a duo of leaves one his flank that day, signifying his deftness in landscaping. Ms. Heart was very stern to the early bloomers not to laugh or joke at the others, orders they took to heart involuntarily. Mea was “nervouscited” and Nemo was for once out of the doldrums. He approached school that day with a feeling that he had rarely felt before, the feeling of looking forward to something. Nemo was going to seize the day by the horn and never let go. “I know you are all very excited for this semester, but we need to spend a few minutes going over some safety things. First of all…” Ms. Heart droned as Nemo tuned her out. “These rules are mostly for the unicorns and pegasi,” Nemo reasoned. His mind wandered until the teacher stopped droning on safety and started talking about the good stuff, the getting of the coveted marks. They would all go and first take a psych test to “discover interests, find interior motives, and take advantage of all the bits the Royal Sisters are throwing at this program.” Nemo swooped quickly back into a light depression at those words. A psychologist is just what would make his spirits bright. Mea seemed to be off-puttingly ignorant of what a “sike” test was as she entered the light-toned non-windowed room. Mea exited the room, disturbingly cheerful. Nemo wanted to ask what happened in there, but was shoved into the room. It screamed “interrogation room,” like the ones to the television. One-way glass; a singular table; two chairs, of which one was occupied by a brown mare with a dirty-blonde mane; and the hypnotically-swinging lamp gave it a minimalist look. The mare gave him a look of amusement. “So, you’re… Nemo Curat. Why don’t you sit down?” Nemo obeyed out of fright. “Don’t worry, I won’t kick. My name is Psyche Manic, but you can call me Psych.” “Is that why it’s called a psych test?” Nemo nervously joked. “No, but that is a good observation. So, let’s get this started. Are there any concerns that you have? Any “code” you live by?” “Does ‘Live in fear.’ count?” “I guess so. So, you’re a fearful foal? The kind of pony that stays in the sunlight?” “Not even the sunlight very much.” “Hmm… a shy pony, eh? Your friend seemed to agree.” “Mea?” “I do believe… Yeah, that was it. Mea. Quite the interesting character. I feel she will be an excellent entertainer.” “I guess so.” “Anywho, let’s talk about you. I want to hear about you.” “Well, I’m Nemo, and… um…” “Speechless? I understand. You don’t want to admit anything. You don’t want to burden me. Don’t worry, you won’t burden me.” “Fine… I am really depressed.” “Is that all?” “I guess.” “Well, it says here that you are the smartest in your class. I would think that is worth mentioning.” “Sure.” “Any interests outside of school?” “Not really.” “C’mon. You can tell me.” “No.” A brief pause followed, until finally, “Well, I can tell that you don’t really like to talk. I think we can be done… for now. You can leave, if you want to.” “Ok.” Nemo opted to leave, feeling uncomfortable. Except that this was a different uncomfortable than what the gray foal was used to, a personal kind. The foal nearly sprinted out of the room. As the next pony walked in behind him, Nemo thought about what happened. It felt like it was from a badly written cop show; the one where the plot advances too quickly. Nemo started to question the legitimacy of this “psychologist” when Ms. Heart told him to go back to the classroom. He sauntered back to the classroom, mind moving from topic to topic. Mea derailed his train of thought, though. “How did your analysis go? Mine went great! At least, I think it went great. I don’t know, really. She talked about sugar and extro-something. I don’t know, I stopped paying attention when she said sugar. I love sugar!...” Mea was very good at going on and on. She was going to be an entertainer someday. He realized something then that pushed him deeper. Mea knew what she was going to do. Everypony else had at least some idea, while he had no idea whatsoever. Nemo literally sunk into the floor. His world swirled around him as the wall grew closer and closer. Ms. Heart smacked him to stop him from hyperventilating. “Do you need to go to the nurse?” asked the concerned teacher. “Maybe a doctor?” Nemo just sat there, motionless. A panic attack maybe, conjectured the foal, or maybe a spout of depression. Nemo was confused, as would anypony who experienced such an event. So, he just sat there until the nurse came down, having an even more worried face than Ms. Heart or Mea. He woke up in a white room, filled with medical supplies and bright lights. Hovering above him was the school nurse, Mrs. Joy Heart (no relation to Ms. Heart). Joy stared at him for what seemed like hours before she broke the silence. Occasionally she would look at some sheets of paper filled with alphanumerical characters that had very little coherence to him. Finally, she spoke. “How… just how? This doesn’t make sense! I don't know what to make of it. I… I need professionals.” Nemo wondered what she was all worried about. Could it be him? Of course it was him, he thought, there has to be something wrong with him. His conclusions were affirmed when his parents came. When the parents come, nothing good follows. He was dragged out of the nurse’s office into the parking lot and was driven to the hospital. Oh yay, he thought, what happened? He continued in his thought until they came to the door. With a simple pull of the door, Nemo entered the hospital, completely in the dark on why. Nemo never felt so scared. Author's Note Sooooo.... I haven't published a chapter in a significant time period. School is my excuse, really. (Not that anyone really cares) Areas to improve: Dialogue. Not rushing. etc... Any and all comments are welcome, even negative ones. It may be a while 'till I publish the next chapter. Until then, find better stuff to read.
Prologue *Revised*Prologue *Revised* It was an unusually breezy autumn evening in Manehatten. The beauty of the few trees that lined the streets was enough to lighten up anypony before the bone-chilling winter came along. Two ponies, a happily married couple, sat down in their living room after dinner to listen to the radio. The tension was in the air as Daring Do, the famous adventurer from a series with the same name, found herself in quite the pickle. Despite the fact they knew that Daring would be fine; they found themselves on their hooves in anticipation. The radio went to a commercial break just as the sand rose above the adventure’s head. The mare got up to turn the radio down when something unexpected happened. The doorbell rang. She trotted to the door and opened it, half expecting it to be the mailmare. Emptiness, the dark of night, pierced only by the occasional working streetlamp and lit-up window, stared her in the face. She looked left and right and left again. She even looked up for good measure. As the earth pony wondered, she looked down, the only logical direction left. She found, sitting on her doormat, a box. No postage, only a note. “Honey,” the mare called, “were you expecting something?” “No, Baby. Why?” Honey half-yelled back. “Umm… There is a box on our doormat.” she managed to trickle out of her mouth. “Just bring it in, Daring Do is about to resume! I can’t wait to see how she gets out of two straightjackets! Two straightjackets! I personally think it is overkill, but, hay, we got to trust the writers.” The stallion was quite the fan, almost as big a fan as another certain pegasus. The mare agreed, being a fan herself. As she picked up the box, she was greeted with a yelp. She nearly dropped the box after lurking backwards. She rushed the box inside, onto the oddly named coffee table (that is a discussion for another day), and did the only logical thing to do when you find a mysterious box; open it. Daring became the last thing on their mind. She stared at it, or rather, him. A small, light grey foal (notably lacking wings or a horn), with a streaked charcoal black mane and red eyes stared back at her. All three stood speechless; it was not hard to imagine why someone would not want him, but shoving him onto somepony’s doorstep? That was a shock. They gathered themselves to read the note: the note that expectedly changed their lives. To Whom It May Concern, As I brought this foal into the world, I realized quickly that I would not be able to fulfill my motherly duties to it. So, after much debate and thought, I decided to leave him at somepony’s doorstep. I realize that abandoning foals is cliché, but it was the best I could do for it. So, if you don’t want to take this foal as your own, I understand; just send it to an adoption center. If you do, however, decide to take him as your own, you will not be forgotten. Sincerely, Jane Doe “What should we do?” asked the pegasus. The three of them had been standing in silence for a solid ten minutes. The foal could not help but be quiet, as he was a foal. The couple, however, voluntarily basked in the awkwardness of the situation. The stallion was the most nervous, as he wanted to keep the child. His wife, still a nervous wreck from the doctor’s visit several years ago, probably did not. “I… I don’t know. Umm…” The wife was speechless. Ever since that horrible day at the doctor’s office, she gave up on having kids. She stopped wanting to have kids. Yet, here in front of her was a bundle of joy with a foal next to him. He wanted kids so badly. That’s why they got married earlier than most, to get a child of their own. But now, she didn’t want to have one. “I want to keep him.” Honey stated gingerly. “Keep? You want to keep him? Like an owner would keep a pet?” “No! Why would you assume that? I don’t even like pets!” “Then keep was not the right word, now was it?” “Don’t go all English major on me, miss!” “I’ll go all English major on your plot if I want to!” “Ha, you’re not supposed to end sentences with prepositions, Miss English!” The argument quickly devolved into one about the finer points of the (now that I think about it, oddly named) English language. Meanwhile, the foal sat there, basking in the heat of the argument. He didn’t know anything, not even his own mother. The garble that was the couple’s subject made no sense to him. Nothing did, really. “Well, the plural of octopus can also be octopuses!” “Octopi sounds better, though. And what sounds the best also is the best!” The pegasus was about to retort when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a grey ball. He did a double take and quickly realized that it was the curled-up figure of the abandoned foal. “What are we going to do about him?” asked the husband. “Ah, I see that you are changing the subject. Does that mean that I win?” “No, we can finish it later. Right now, though, we need to figure out what to do with him.” He pointed to the grey mass. “He doesn’t even have a name!” “Fine, if you’re so concerned for him, take care of him. I’m going to bed.” The earth mare stomped off to the bedroom. The stallion looked down at the foal. Then he noticed something peculiar. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a puddle of… “Oh, c’mon!” The mare trotted lightheartedly out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where her husband was in an insomiactic stupor. He barely noticed his wife approaching, but when she came close enough, he whispered loudly “Thanks, Miss English. I stayed up until one this morning trying to get him to sleep. Thank Celestia he’s still sleeping. Oh, and you know what? He made several messes last night, all of which I had to clean.” “Well then, maybe you should go into town and get some diapers for our lil’ Nemo here.” “Huh?” “Oh, and can you pick up a crib as well? Thanks. Well, of to work I go. Bye, have a nice day!” “Wha… what just happened?” asked Honey to nopony in particular. “She’s crazy. She must be crazy.” He looked into the living room at Nemo. How did she come up with a name like Nemo? He had so many questions, but right now, there was yet another puddle to deal with. Earlier… The earth pony lied down in the bed, almost guilty of her actions. She did not want a child. That she knew. But her husband wanted one so badly; that she knew as well. She was torn. She did not know what to do. She heard a loud crash, followed by words more colorful than a rainbow. Her husband was not faring well, but she still refused the guilt. He brought this upon himself, she reasoned. She laid her flank against the mattress and attempted to go to sleep. Yet, she couldn’t. Her husband needed her. The foal needed her. She pondered this; they needed her. She shot up as a realization came to mind. “Sweet Celestia, we’re keeping him, aren’t we?” She said this aloud, though the stallion was too busy to have possibly heard it. She slowly flattened onto the bed. With that out of the way, the foal needed a name. Arthur, Sinbad, Meek, and Fog all came to mind, but she eventually decided on Nemo Curat. She did not know what it even meant, but something, possibly her self-diagnosed schizophrenia, told her that it was his name. Anyway, with that out of the way, she moved onto more important things. “What color should his room be? Hmm… How about a nice pale green?” Author's Note The first (revised) chapter of my first published fanfic. Criticism is appreciated. Sorry if the sorry seems to go to fast. I hope to fix that in the future. I told myself I would rewrite this, and I have. I may actually be better. Now, go read something more deserving of views. (Ex:This )
Chapter 1Several years later… It was a beautiful day in the clearing. The flowers were blooming, the birds were chirping, the grass was bending to the wind, the clouds occasionally were passing overhead, it was truly a sight to see. He just laid there, looking first at the sky, then over to the pony at his side, and back again. He could just rest there, forever. Thud. He opened his eyes in shock, finding himself on the floor. He looked around his room. His pale green walls gentle on the eyes, yet incongruous against the concrete cityscape. His grey carpet, on the other hoof, blended quite well, especially with the clutter of personal belongings. Comic books, toys, video games, and the few clothes he had among the clutter, all pushed aside to form little grey strips. Posters for various games and series spread seemingly randomly across the walls. And amongst the mess stood Nemo’s mother, the one who Nemo suspected as the one who pulled him literally out of bed. Nemo inferred that his mother was not the sanest or most placid pony, a fact his father knew all too well. “Wake up, it’s time for school!” half-shouted the neither sane nor placid mare. Nemo tried his hardest to remember what school was, but it escaped him at the moment. Oh well, he thought, he will cross that bridge when he finds it. He, or rather his mother, dragged himself down the stairs in his deep thoughts. Nemo’s father was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. “Hear this: ‘Pegasus Preforms Sonic Rainboom… A Second Time!’ Isn't that amazing? Honey, are you even hearing this?” Indeed, his wife was not listening to him. “I think there is something wrong with him.” Her pointed statement almost punctured the newspaper. “Well, ummm…, I do believe that is how everypony acts at this age,” calmly defended the pegasus. “This is what the pediatrician told us to expect.” The earth mare was only comforted a little, scratch that, not at all by the defense. Nemo was unfazed by the brief argument that ensued, instead his thoughts drifting though his brain and eventually to his tail. In this winding train of thought, he started to cringe, for a passenger named School came aboard. The foal was physically cringing, which only fueled his mother’s fire. “See, just look at him. He is not fine. I knew it. We need to get him to the hospital.” “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit? He was probably cringing at your yelling.” Yeah, Nemo thought, I wish that was why I’m cringing. Or would have thought if he wasn't too busy lying on the ground, hard and cold as it was, reflecting his innermost thoughts of his limited, yet vivid, experience with this “school.” “Blank flank” was such a common phase around him; some teachers actually believed his name was Blank Flank. Other such phases that were uttered around him are so harsh; the author does not want to type them. He was in a constant state of dread during his imprisonment, as odd a sentence as it was, going to a facility every day to a group of ponies, of which few he trusted. His parents, meanwhile oblivious to the agony, were in a state of panic. And by his parents, I mean his mother. She was in a fury over his condition. So much so, that she would have required more medical attention than poor Nemo. In her distress, she failed to notice her foal bolt to his room, only to be dragged out by his father. The foal was given his pack and lunch, and waved off to the bus stop. To the melancholy of the gray pony, the bus stop was deserted. Nemo took the opportunity to think. He was resentful, and yet oddly hopeful, Nemo was about school. This year, he was going to a new school district. But his mind wandered as he boarded the new-fangled school bus. He wondered how the bus worked, and how one could drive such a thing, but was too nervous to come to any conclusions. The ride was uneventful, as he avoided his presumed schoolmates. He overheard a word here or there, but did not bother to comprehend them. He looked out the window, with something having caught his eye though it. He noticed a large building ahead, with an Equestrian flag in the front. Here is where he would live out his sentence, Nemo thought. As they filed out of the bus, Nemo avoided any contact. The gray pony tried to reach the school unnoticed, but to his disappointment, failed in this endeavor. “Hi.” This simple phrase caught him off-guard, making him stumble backwards into several fillies, who all strolled away. “Sorry about that, what’s your name?” He was thrown for a loop, who would want to talk to him? He glanced at the speaker. She was a filly, about the same age as he. She was an off-white (yellow-tint), dark-maned unicorn. Upon further inspection, she had brilliant dark-blue eyes that would make sapphires look almost cyan. He was speechless. A “Well?” from the filly broke the silence of what seemed liked hours. “Nemo. Nemo Curat. What’s yours?” he was able to force out. “Mine is Parva Manna. But everypony calls me Mea. Don’t ask, I don’t know why either.” The off-white filly had a certain charm to her, as was evident by the crown she attracted. “Sorry about startling you.” “That is fine, really. It’s just… I didn’t expect anypony to talk to me.” Nemo, in hindsight, regretted saying that, despite the fact that nothing came from it. He just regretted it. Their potential conversation was interrupted by the bell. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in class.” And with that, the filly dashed away into the school building. Nemo slowly crept up to the school. This would be it. There would be no turning back. So, he extended his hoof, and pulled the door open to the busy, bustling hallways of his new prison. Author's Note Hello, everyone who cares. It is me, again. I finally got around to finishing writing the chapter. Any criticism is appreciated. The chapter is rushed, I know. Hopefully the next chapter is a bit slower.
Chapter 2Nemo crawled through the hallways. A myriad of ponies filled them. All sorts squished into one building. Unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, and maybe even a few griffons all under one roof. It was utter chaos, as a certain draconequus would say. The walls were a bland tan, the floor tiled white. It was the type of design the interior designers had nightmares about. Nemo certainly had nightmares, though not of the same origin. Unsure of what to do, he weaved his way to the nearest door. Above the door, there read the name “Ms. Heart” in black letters. He peered inside the doorway and, to his surprise, saw Mea. This must be his classroom. With the same tan walls, it screamed “public institution.” He gingerly walked in, careful not to attract much attention. Mea had other ideas. Immediately upon entering, Mea sprinted to his side, pointing out the obvious and not-so-obvious around the room. The fish tank was an honest surprise to him; other than that, nothing really caught him off guard. All was as expected, a miserable little hole in the wall filled with complete strangers. What more could he want from a school? Maybe an immediately-apparent bathroom, but Nemo could think of nothing else. Bells rang though the hallways. Mea was forced to her seat, relieving Nemo of his situation, and into a new one. The teacher standing in front of the class was Ms. Heart, a stereotypical-looking unicorn teacher with a hoarse voice. The scratchiness of it made nearly everypony wince, a trait that would remain for the next few weeks. She called everypony’s name out, one by one. “Salt Pinch” she called out, to be replied with a slightly Prench “Here!” “Frater Price” she continued. Nemo got bored listening to the teacher listing all the ponies that were all in the same increasingly-claustrophobic room. After about 30 seconds, though, his attention snapped back to the hoarse teacher. “Nemo… um, Carrot?” she half-asked. “Actually, it’s pronounced Curat, as in coo and rot.” “Very well then,” Ms. Heart stated condescendingly, “Nemo Curat.” Nemo gulped. He had already gotten on the mares bad side. “Parva Manna.” “Here!” At least class continued; it moved along like a tugboat, slow yet steady. “Now class, calm down. Thank you. So as you may know, this class is less about teaching and more about learning. More specifically, learning your special talent is the main goal of this class. In all actuality, that is what half the school system is about, your special talent.” Why Ms. Heart insisted on speaking to them as if they were teenagers has yet to be discovered. Maybe she was a high school teacher. Yes, that was it, she was a high school teacher. “Now if you would, please turn your attention to the easel up front. This is a portrayal of my cutie mark. As evident, it displays a chalkboard and some chalk. This signifies my talent of teaching. Now, for our first exercise, we shall take a gander at some other cutie marks, and identify the talent of the one who adorns such a mark. Please split into pairs. Of two, thank you very much. No, Salt, you may not join Mr. Re.” Mea bounced over to the lump of melancholy. “May I join you?” she inquired. “Fine, but…” “Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” cut off the ecstatic mare, “you will not regret it. I have a feeling that we are going to become, like, best friends.” Yay, he thought, I’m positive we’ll mix well. As well as gasoline and fire. Meanwhile, Ms. Heart was recollecting the class. “Class, eyes forward. Thank you. Now, please direct your attention to the papers in front of you. On these papers are various marks covering an assortment of talents and pony-types. Please try your best to identify the various talents. You may begin.” In front of them appeared papers with pictures on them, thanks to Ms. Heart’s magic. The first one was obvious to him. It was Daring Do’s compass. Everyone knew her cutie mark. Next up were three red and white balls. Three seemed to be a common theme though the exercise, which lasted the rest of the class day. Nemo disliked it, identifying what he didn’t have. It felt like it was mocking him. Of course, he felt that way about a lot of things, so he dismissed it as himself getting worked up. Mea disliked it because it was boring. Then again, she found a lot of things boring. Yup, they mixed as well as oil and soap; kind of, but not really. The last one was really hard, seven bubbles. Nemo was puzzled, but figured that the owner knew, so he didn’t need to know. The bell rang once again though the hallways, to the relief of the class. With an audible sigh, the teacher dismissed them, reminding them to show up the next day. That was apparently a problem. He dashed through the hallways, almost knocking over several foals and fillies. He ran outside to the bus, only to find Mea already on it. This filly would not leave him alone. To her credit, she was the nicest one there, as far as he could tell. She seemed genuinely concerned. Still, Nemo had a bad feeling about this school thing. The bus ride back was relatively eventful, compared to the morning ride. Mea was the reason; her rambling could be distributed as a podcast. The gray foal paid no attention to her, so he might have needed that podcast. He stepped off of the bus toward his house. He could hardly call it a home, but it was shelter, shelter to his self-diagnosed depression. He walked up to the door and extended his hoof, opening the next door. There really was no turning back. Author's Note So, this chapter... I would appreciate any feedback, even "I hate this crap, why are you even trying?" Also, I am apparently in love with commas. I am a surprisingly good at rambling on, in case you couldn't tell. Thank you for reading, since you cared enough to read this. Also, I must edit this story. I must.
Chapter 3The next couple months were very boring, even for Mea. It was like Ms. Heart was trying to make it so boring that some fillies painted their wall and called in sick just to watch it dry. Nemo didn’t (call in sick, that is) because that is just the way he liked it, plain and boring. Mea didn’t so that she could make it not boring. Despite the conflicting interests, the two remained friends. As they say, “Opposites attract.” With few blips on the radar, Nemo let his guard down, slightly. His home life kept it up; parents arguing about his condition and being quite frank to him. Anyway, life was fairly routine for the most part. Get out of bed, go to school, be bored, come home, and go to sleep. Except for that one day that the bus driver got lost and turned onto Equestria Avenue, nothing significant happened, nothing life-changing. That streak ended on the day that was half-way expected to; it was the start of the second semester. The day that their search for cutie marks would begin. Several fillies already had their marks; as one would expect, there are early bloomers. One foal in particular, named Leaf Edge, got his weeks before the start of the unit. Unsurprisingly, he arrived with a duo of leaves one his flank that day, signifying his deftness in landscaping. Ms. Heart was very stern to the early bloomers not to laugh or joke at the others, orders they took to heart involuntarily. Mea was “nervouscited” and Nemo was for once out of the doldrums. He approached school that day with a feeling that he had rarely felt before, the feeling of looking forward to something. Nemo was going to seize the day by the horn and never let go. “I know you are all very excited for this semester, but we need to spend a few minutes going over some safety things. First of all…” Ms. Heart droned as Nemo tuned her out. “These rules are mostly for the unicorns and pegasi,” Nemo reasoned. His mind wandered until the teacher stopped droning on safety and started talking about the good stuff, the getting of the coveted marks. They would all go and first take a psych test to “discover interests, find interior motives, and take advantage of all the bits the Royal Sisters are throwing at this program.” Nemo swooped quickly back into a light depression at those words. A psychologist is just what would make his spirits bright. Mea seemed to be off-puttingly ignorant of what a “sike” test was as she entered the light-toned non-windowed room. Mea exited the room, disturbingly cheerful. Nemo wanted to ask what happened in there, but was shoved into the room. It screamed “interrogation room,” like the ones to the television. One-way glass; a singular table; two chairs, of which one was occupied by a brown mare with a dirty-blonde mane; and the hypnotically-swinging lamp gave it a minimalist look. The mare gave him a look of amusement. “So, you’re… Nemo Curat. Why don’t you sit down?” Nemo obeyed out of fright. “Don’t worry, I won’t kick. My name is Psyche Manic, but you can call me Psych.” “Is that why it’s called a psych test?” Nemo nervously joked. “No, but that is a good observation. So, let’s get this started. Are there any concerns that you have? Any “code” you live by?” “Does ‘Live in fear.’ count?” “I guess so. So, you’re a fearful foal? The kind of pony that stays in the sunlight?” “Not even the sunlight very much.” “Hmm… a shy pony, eh? Your friend seemed to agree.” “Mea?” “I do believe… Yeah, that was it. Mea. Quite the interesting character. I feel she will be an excellent entertainer.” “I guess so.” “Anywho, let’s talk about you. I want to hear about you.” “Well, I’m Nemo, and… um…” “Speechless? I understand. You don’t want to admit anything. You don’t want to burden me. Don’t worry, you won’t burden me.” “Fine… I am really depressed.” “Is that all?” “I guess.” “Well, it says here that you are the smartest in your class. I would think that is worth mentioning.” “Sure.” “Any interests outside of school?” “Not really.” “C’mon. You can tell me.” “No.” A brief pause followed, until finally, “Well, I can tell that you don’t really like to talk. I think we can be done… for now. You can leave, if you want to.” “Ok.” Nemo opted to leave, feeling uncomfortable. Except that this was a different uncomfortable than what the gray foal was used to, a personal kind. The foal nearly sprinted out of the room. As the next pony walked in behind him, Nemo thought about what happened. It felt like it was from a badly written cop show; the one where the plot advances too quickly. Nemo started to question the legitimacy of this “psychologist” when Ms. Heart told him to go back to the classroom. He sauntered back to the classroom, mind moving from topic to topic. Mea derailed his train of thought, though. “How did your analysis go? Mine went great! At least, I think it went great. I don’t know, really. She talked about sugar and extro-something. I don’t know, I stopped paying attention when she said sugar. I love sugar!...” Mea was very good at going on and on. She was going to be an entertainer someday. He realized something then that pushed him deeper. Mea knew what she was going to do. Everypony else had at least some idea, while he had no idea whatsoever. Nemo literally sunk into the floor. His world swirled around him as the wall grew closer and closer. Ms. Heart smacked him to stop him from hyperventilating. “Do you need to go to the nurse?” asked the concerned teacher. “Maybe a doctor?” Nemo just sat there, motionless. A panic attack maybe, conjectured the foal, or maybe a spout of depression. Nemo was confused, as would anypony who experienced such an event. So, he just sat there until the nurse came down, having an even more worried face than Ms. Heart or Mea. He woke up in a white room, filled with medical supplies and bright lights. Hovering above him was the school nurse, Mrs. Joy Heart (no relation to Ms. Heart). Joy stared at him for what seemed like hours before she broke the silence. Occasionally she would look at some sheets of paper filled with alphanumerical characters that had very little coherence to him. Finally, she spoke. “How… just how? This doesn’t make sense! I don't know what to make of it. I… I need professionals.” Nemo wondered what she was all worried about. Could it be him? Of course it was him, he thought, there has to be something wrong with him. His conclusions were affirmed when his parents came. When the parents come, nothing good follows. He was dragged out of the nurse’s office into the parking lot and was driven to the hospital. Oh yay, he thought, what happened? He continued in his thought until they came to the door. With a simple pull of the door, Nemo entered the hospital, completely in the dark on why. Nemo never felt so scared. Author's Note Sooooo.... I haven't published a chapter in a significant time period. School is my excuse, really. (Not that anyone really cares) Areas to improve: Dialogue. Not rushing. etc... Any and all comments are welcome, even negative ones. It may be a while 'till I publish the next chapter. Until then, find better stuff to read.
