Misguided

by Tungsten Carbide

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life
Length: 2326

Most young colts have many lessons to learn, but this story isn't about most colts.

Most young colts may have many lessons to learn, but this story isn't about most colts. This one didn't have parents to help him learn. WIP

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-20 20:40:02 UTC

Chapter 1

I've lived here for so long. In fact I have been here my whole life. This is my home. A place for fillies and colts to go, when they have nowhere else to go and nopony else to turn to. It sounds like great place, right? But it isn’t. The word home can’t be farther from what it is to me. It feels more like a prison. A home shouldn't have concrete walls or barred windows. A home shouldn't have bare floors, and cold meals. Should it?

But until a while back I thought that was just how things were in Equestria. That everywhere was like this. I didn't know, they wouldn't tell us about the world. They only told us that life outside was harder, more demanding. But I should have seen through that. The ponies that run this place treat us like a chore. Not like colts and fillies that needed help, but as if they never get paid enough to just smile at us. Everyone does the bare minimum. They do what they are paid to do, not much more. We are treated as problems, and we know they didn't want to be there. Neither did we but, here we are.

The lack of any help or moral compass in life gave way to the oldest of us running the place like a jail yard. If they were having a bad day, they would beat you up or worse. This lack of guidance led to a lot of issues but nothing worse than this. We shed our veils of innocence and cast aside all inhibitions, and found comfort the only way we knew how... we had sex. Clumsy, ignorant sex but sex nonetheless.

They never told us it was wrong. They never told us anything. Some of us don’t even know how to read or write. But we did what came naturally. And I was not above them; those ponies who jumped hooves first into the unknowns of maturity. I too became prey for my own desire. I only did it once, and I didn't like how it felt. Not physically, that was good to say the least. But something else didn't feel right. Like what I was doing was bad, like stealing. I thought that then; and I think that now.

       After a while life has become little more than part of a cycle: Sleep, wake up, eat, and go to classes provided by this "home". Here I was, 15 years old, and already bored of life. But it didn't matter because I'm about to age out of this place anyway. Soon I'll be out of here and probably be more confused than ever.

"Hey Poetic, Stop writing in that gay ass diary!" somebody called to me from the doorway. It's one of the ponies in charge. A colt not much older than me, yet he was a full head taller. "Some ponies are waiting on you."

"I'll be there in a sec." I respond. then I chuckle. The voice in my head sounds nothing like my speaking voice.

"What's funny?" he asked. I can tell he is annoyed.

"Nothing, sorry"

I put my notebook under my mattress. Other than a roof, two meals a day, and some lack luster education, this notebook and pen are all this orphanage ever gave me. And in it I have started writing the story of my life. Hoping that someday someone somewhere will read my story. That's what I want most in life for somepony to read my book. My story. Mine and no one else’s.

A quick glance at my reflection in the window, a quick hoof through my black mane and...

"Hurry the buck up."

"Sorry"

Today I was lucky I was one of the lucky few that had a meeting with some prospective parents. I was told only the time and the names, Miss Vinyl Scratch and Miss Octavia. At first I thought it was strange that there was no stallion but there is still so much I don't know about the world yet.

I begin walking out of the room, the other pony close behind, down the halls of our "home" and out the double doors to the area that they keep clean for the prospective parents. It's nothing special but its miles apart from our living conditions. Beige walls, blue carpet and dark wood trim. A theme that carried into the rest of the building.

Before I can go any further the older pony stops me and pushes me against the wall. "You better not let this meeting go to your head.  Because nopony will feel sorry if they don't take you home."" he hissed into my ear, his foreleg pushing against my neck.

At first I was confused but then I noticed he had no cutie mark. I understood now. He was another orphan that was never adopted. Most of the time ponies don't find their special talent behind the walls of an orphanage. And sometimes the orphanage hired the ponies that reached the legal age of adulthood. Not to be nice or anything. But because they knew that these fillies and colts are full of anger. And they know how to keep us younger ponies in check.

"I won’t, jeez. Ease up jerk."  That was smart, really smart.

But before anything can happen, before I can see the rage on his face another pony pulls him off of me. I've never met this mare before, a chalk white mare with a blue mane; it’s a blue that to me seems almost electric. Like just the color of it would power a light bulb for some time. And she's angry.

"You think it's cool to pick on little ponies, punk?" She shouted at him.

I don't know where she came from. I know she doesn't live here. What kind of cutie mark is that anyway? Headphones? Music notes? Both?

The colt stood up to get in her face, he almost made it to her nose.  This only made her even angrier. Then a grey aura wrapped around her sunglasses she took a step closer to him. Now she towered over this colt as if he were a foal. Seconds later he slowly started backing away. Another second later and he all but ran away.

As she turned around I could see why he ran, her eyes were as red as red could get. Almost like blood. I only got a glance at her eyes before she put her sunglasses back on. Glasses with lenses like purple mirrors. When she looked to me I catch the reflection of my brown coat in her lenses. And on her face, all traces of anger are gone, as if what had just happened… never happened.

An awkward moment passed. And she was the first to talk. "Are you okay little guy?" Her voice was far from angry.  Her voice was sweet and smooth. Like the marshmallow she resembled. "Y-yeah, I'm fine.” I almost choked on my reply.

Then this mystery mare smiled "Well...My name is Vinyl Scratch. But I’m better known as Dj-Pon3." As she said this she held out one of her hooves as if expecting something.

"Thanks, but..."I try to back away but I can’t. I put myself into the wall "I don't have any money… s-so." I try not to look at her walking closer to me. She starts to raise her hoof, and I close my eyes waiting for her to hit me. But instead of feeling the pain I was expecting, I feel her mess up my mane with her hoof.  Wait did she say her name was Vinyl Scratch?

I push away from her and smile "My name is Poetic."

"No way!" She almost yelled that. Her voice echoed in the empty hallway. “Well we don’t want to be late.”

At this she turned the other way and started walking. For a moment I had a feeling of doubt.  But I knew that if I didn't follow her my story would end here. My story would never be read or heard.

“Miss Vinyl, wait up.”

Our short walk to the office was not what I had in mind. Vinyl hadn't said anything since helping me get away from that bully, and I had so many questions to ask. What do you do? How do you do it? What is it like being a unicorn? Does magic hurt? What were you doing in the hall? Questions I didn't ask. I don't know why. Maybe it would help break the silence. But she didn't say anything. She was just walking next to me.  A full head and a half taller than me too. I felt really short. Her blue mane made me feel out of place. My dull black mane felt boring looking at it now.

I wanted to talk; I've never wanted to talk so badly before. But she didn't talk... so neither did I. She kept walking. Staring straight ahead, a serious look stuck on her face. It was like she was thinking really hard. So instead of breaking her concentration; I started looking down as I walk. I see my plain brown coat, my hooves, my uncut fetlock, and the tiles on the floor. I tried everything I could not to talk. It became a strict unspoken rule for me; if Vinyl talked I would too.

"UGH! Are you always this quiet?" she said loudly, not missing a step. "Octavia would LOVE you."  A soft smile on her face.

"Sorry" I tried flashing the same one.

"It's whatever." She started looking over her shoulders as we walked left and right. It was like she thought somepony was following her. She did this for a minute or so. When she stopped she looked me square in the eye (or at least I think she did.

The sunglasses kind of threw me off) and said.  "But where is the office?"

I stared at her for a second, mouth wide open. ”...It’s this way.” I nodded my head in the direction of the place I thought we were going.

We continued walking as silent as before. Before anybody could object to the quiet, we found the office door. This door looked so out of place I actually laughed. All of the other doors were a light brown with gold colored handles.  It was the same size as all of the other doors and it had a gold handle. But it had carvings of griffons and unicorns in some kind of battle.

Vinyl put a hoof on the door and walked in. I followed behind her into the office. It’s a small room, a bookshelf, a big wooden desk and plastic plants. The principal was at his desk, but Vinyl and I weren't the only other ponies there. In one of the seats sat the principal sat a grey mare with black a black mane. Vinyl walked over to her and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Vinyl, what took you so long?" She must know Vinyl, and she had musical cutie mark too. This grey mare looked at me then left the chair she was sitting in and gave Vinyl a smirk. "Make a new friend?"

She turned to me with a friendly smile "What's your name?"

"That is Poetic, Miss Octavia" The principal said before I could speak.

"I'm sure he could have told me himself"

"Sorry Miss." He replied not even looking up from the folder floating in his magic aura.

She gave an irritated look in his direction. So this was Octavia. Compared to Vinyl her colors were boring. Instead of a pearl white there was a dull grey. Instead of a flashy blue there was a sleek black. The only real color on her was on her cutie mark. It was a very light purple, another musical symbol. And in her eyes, the color matched her cutie mark. But her eyes were so much... more than purple. She may not be as vivid as Vinyl, but she was every bit as pretty.

"We are ready to start when you are. Since he is here now, we don't have to wait" The principal said. I took a seat in the only other seat available in the room, a small wooden stool. Then the older ponies began talking. I didn't pay much attention to what they were talking about. I just wanted out of there. And these two mares were my ticket to getting out of this place.

"Poetic" A voice interrupted my thoughts. It was that principal.

"Yes?" I responded, looking him in the eye.

"Did you hear any of what we just said?" He said a bit irritated. He brought a hoof to the bridge of his nose. "They want to take you to lunch." Then he motioned his hoof to the door. I got out of my chair and made my way to the door. Outside  they were waiting for me, talking to each other sitting just outside the door.

When I finally stepped out of his office the door slammed loudly behind me, almost shutting my tail in between it. Vinyl and Octavia both whipped their heads in my direction. The grey mare was the first to speak "Whoa, you startled me."

I looked behind me and I saw just how close my tail was to being slammed in the door. "Sorry."

Vinyl was the first to speak up again. "So what are you in the mood for?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Octavia giggled, "What kind of food do you want?" She said this with a small smile.

"Uh-mm... Can we get Mexicoltan?" When we had history class they would always talk about a place called Mexicolt. They talked about this food called a "burrito". It was kind of like a sandwich except it was wrapped in bread called a "tortilla". If I get to pick what to eat, might as well make it something I've never had.