The silver-maned pegasus stared intently out the window, out over the shining city of Cloudsdale. The moon shone down brightly, making her think faintly of Princess Luna.
She'd always liked those stories. She'd never seen another pony besides her parents, but she could imagine. Little Silver Bullet was full of imagination.
Her wings fluttered feebly at her sides. The yellow mare gazed across the clouds, imagining what it would be like to really open her wings, to truly fly...
"Silver Bullet. It's time for bed." A sharp command came from the dark chocolate pegasus by the fire.
"Yes, ma'am." Her parents were not to be addressed by their names, or Mom and Dad. Only sir and ma'am. Silver trotted obedientley to her bedroom. She stood in front of her mirror and stared into her own blue eyes.
"I will not fly, I will not fly, I will not fly," she recited. It was something she did every night, and it kept her from thinking rebelliously. It was bad to do that, and it would greatly upset her parents.
She tucked into bed, but as her eyes closed, she whispered into the darkness.
"Why do I have wings if I can't fly?"
Silver woke up at six o' clock on the dot the next morning, as she should. She obediently groomed herself and went to breakfast. It was porridge, like it always was. The pegasus was sick and tired of porridge, but she wasn't allowed to complain.
Her father, a deep indigo stallion, went to retrieve the mail. As he came back in, flipping through it, he cursed. "That damn mail pony screwed up our letters again. I swear, I'm taking this up with the post office if it happens again..."
"Couldn't you just tell the mail pony instead of yelling at her? From what I hear, she doesn't understand the problem. You're so vague when you talk to her about it."
"Did I ask for your opinion, you whelp?" The sharp tones of her father silenced Silver, and she resumed eating her porridge.
"I swear to Celestia, that mare's doing it on purpose. 'I just don't know what went wrong!' If I hear that again..."
There was a knock at the door. Completely forgetting his conversation, Silver's father rolled his eyes and answered the door.
Silver craned her neck as the door was opened. Standing beyond the threshold was whom Silver presumed was the mailmare. She was a soft gray color, with a blonde mane and golden eyes. With a pang of jealousy, Sliver saw she had her cutie mark: seven bubbles, arranged neatly on her flank.
With another pang, this time of pity, the pegasus realized that the mailmare's eyes went in different directions altogether. This was a fascinating pony, she thought. I didn't know eyes could be like that, that's really cool!
"Figured it out yet, have you?" Silver's father roared in the mailmare's face. She flinched, but stood tall. "Yes sir, Mister Cloudskimmer. You really should have told me I was mixing up your mail, the Cloudskirters finally told me yesterday after one too many angry visits from you--"
"I AM FULLY AWARE THAT YOU, MADAM, ARE A COMPLETELY INCOMPETENT MAILMARE! TAKE THIS RUBBISH, GIVE ME MY MAIL AND GET! OUT! OF! SIGHT!"
The mailmare's eyes brimmed with tears, and she angrily tossed a few letters in the stallion's face, took the Cloudskirters' mail, and fled. "DAMN RIGHT, YOU FREAK!" Mr. Cloudskimmer shouted after her, making her cry all the more.
He violentley slammed the door shut, leaving Silver Bullet staring. Surely not everypony was this rude to everypony else? Strangely, although her mother and father could be as mean as they wanted, but if Silver even tried to talk back, she would most likely be sent to her room.
