Crackedby SuperKnightChaptersDelusionAlienSunshineDelusionI looked up at the grey tiled ceiling, listening to the tick-tock of the clock as if it were the opening a powerful orchestra; it's drums being the opening, bringing the crowd to the edge of their seats until the instruments came together to form a beautiful masterpiece. I listen intently, finding myself smirking in excitement as I close my eyes. Instead of the whole orchestra, I'm left with just the two drums still. Sometimes I like to think I do hear an orchestra. I haven't even looked at the clock for a while, I don't need to. Time only means two things to me now, 'alive' and 'dead.' The moments in-between just a bridge, leading you from one point to another. A constant blizzard would be sweeping across the bridge, unavoidable thorns would cover it, and the sky would laugh at you and all of your pain as you crossed it. Once you reach death, all these things would go away. You would be free. I wish I was free. My smirk fades, and I find myself starting to break out into a slight sweat. I wish I was gone from here. It doesn't take too long before I curl up into a ball, sobbing. I'm drowning. ***** I'm losing my mind. I don't really care, either. I keep telling myself that. I gaze towards the small window, looking at nothing in particular. There's a tree that blocks some of the sun's light, casting a crooked shadow into the room. There's also a good view of a street, where I find myself sometimes staring at the ponies that disappear just as fast as they came. Today, it's empty. I don't feel like i'm looking outside of the window, just at it. Like a TV, it projects images that I could only hope to be apart of. "All of you will be here," it says, "even your mind will not escape this room." It's true, even my dreams are focused around this awful place. I hate it. The door opens, causing me to cringe as the sound of the clock is interrupted. "Hey, Weaver. How ya' doin'?" I hate the way that he says that. It's the voice of a stallion that pretends to care, but really doesn't. I would honestly be more comfortable if he said "I don't really care about you, but I am getting paid to fix you up. So, let's skip all the un-needed stuff and get this over with." I hear him sit down behind me. I don't turn to face him, but it's not because of my feelings towards him. It's because I would end up looking at 'it.' Even thinking about -'it'- gives me chills. He coughs, awkwardly. I hear him shifting uncomfortably in his chair, probably wishing he hadn't tried to talk to me. A few seconds pass before I hear his voice again. "Your mom will be in soon." "Huh?" I don't even think, I just shift my body. I look straight at him, a middle aged stallion with a short brown mane. His eyes, quick and cunning, and his white fur like snow. His face is one that shows many emotions, when he only really has one. His white coat, adorning a medical symbol, hides most of his torso. "I called her, I think it's best if... we all have a discussion." Even though I had a reason to not turn around, I grow the urge to look at 'it.' I start turning back over again. ***** I've turned my attention back to the ceiling, analyzing it like a science project. I've already counted all the tiles, so I just run my eyes across the little lines between them. To be honest, i'm just trying to pry my attention away from the current conversation. I can never really not hear them, because every time he says "horn," I shudder. "I think he's ready to leave." I freeze. "Thank you," I hear my mom say. It sounds like she's been running a marathon, and I guess I would sound that way too if I were her. "Going to the same school though..." I'm still frozen, unable to move my eyes. I already knew about it, I wasn't going back; can't be a gifted unicorn if-... I halt my thoughts, hating myself for thinking like that. Just bringing back bad memories, no need for it. I feel my lips quivering a bit, but I mentally punch myself to get them to form a straight line. "I know of a good place to continue his education, though, and I have already spoke to them about medical worries. It will be able to satisfy his needs." My 'needs.' Another mental punch. "The nurse there is an old friend of mine, she's really nice." I can't tell if that's directed towards me or my mother. If anything, I wouldn't be able to trust his opinions that easily. His definition of 'nice' and mine would be different, I'm sure of it. There's a silence. I feel both my mother's and doctor's eyes drilling holes in the back of my head, waiting for me to add something. I'm not sure I can with a strong voice, but I decide to do so anyway. "..." "Okay." I can't find any other words to say. 'Okay,' is good enough, for now. I want to tell them I hate it; I want to tell them that I want everything to go back to the way it was. They know that's impossible, just like I do. There's another silence, one that I find extremely uncomfortable. It's soon filled with the two's voices again, so I guess they were fine with 'okay' too. I didn't have to pay that much attention to the conversation to know that they've both decided that they're sending me to the new 'school.' I can't help but feel it wont be much different than this. I make the mistake of glancing over at the doctor, my eyes instead falling onto a jar. I try to move them somewhere else, but they're already gazing at it. A dark blue horn floats inside, carried by green liquid. A jagged split runs down the middle of it, almost splitting it in half if it weren't for the little bit still together near the bottom. That's my horn. I force my mouth shut, not wanting to let out a cry. It was my horn. AlienAlright. Well, here I am. That conversation in the hospital was three days ago, but it felt like mere seconds. I must be so used to each second of the day being agonizing, that it just felt like a breeze. It was still tiring, though; preparing for school again. Not to mention, how I'm coming in so late in the year. My thinking halts, I'm just trying to distract myself. Standing here, outside the gate, looking like a confused zombie in the middle of the day. The gate, while nothing special to look at, does seem to make me oddly nervous. It's normal, after all, who wouldn't be nervous in my position? Going to a boarding school for the first time in my life, dealing with the condition- Take a deep breath. I put on my best fake smile, which admittedly is a bad one, and push the already slightly ajar gate open. Inside, I'm immediately met with a small, bending, pavement path. My nervousness fades slightly once I see how nice it is; small trees on either side of me, the multitude of colorful birds that fly around them, and the occasional bench here and there. Kind of nice, actually; like a park. I turn to the school complex, which looked smaller from the outside. It was giant, really, almost as big as my old school. That place was like a castle, though, hard to compete with that. I shake the thought from my head. If "Oak Boarding School" wasn't plastered above the entrance, it would have looked like a town hall- or something else important. Three stories high, made out of marble and brick, and overall really clean, it's nice. Also intimidating in it's own way, too. Not wanting to waste anymore time looking at the scenery, I start making my way down the path. I wasn't sure about this place, even still, but it feels good to be out of that hospital. To move, to feel the sun, to breath fresh air; all of it feels great. Maybe this place won't be so bad. I push past the doors, heading inside expecting not to find a soul in sight. Instead, I find a mare. Her coat's white, reminding me of a certain doctor I had at the hospital. Her eyes, settling on me, seem to instantly snap out of their previously droopy state. The smoke blue color of her mane reminds me of cotton candy, and the red cross for her cutie mark has the image of a syringe running through it. She take a step towards me, narrowing her eyes as she grows a smirk. "Late on the first day, huh?" Instincts kick in, definitely not prepared for this. "I was sick," "I wasn't feeling well," "We got stuck," All of these run around in my head. Instead of just choosing one, I make the mistake of trying to say all of it at once. "Well... I- uh..." That was fantastic. She lets out a little laugh, "Easy, kid. Just messin' with ya'." I mentally sigh, still a bit shaken. I thought I was seriously going to be in trouble there. A small smile crosses my face, anyway. I guess it was a little funny. "Well, you're String Weaver, right?" I nod. Was she waiting for me, just standing here? "Good. You won't have to worry about your things, I already had that taken care of." Huh, she does seem nice. "Thanks." She nods it off, continuing with her 'speech.' "I did want you to come with me, though. Just do a little checkup of you before I let you on your way." A groan wants to escape, but I hold it back. No need to seem like a jerk, and it does seem like she waited for a while. That would've explained the droopy eyes when I first came in. "Okay." She wastes no time, trotting down the hall. I hurry after her, not wanting to be lost in this seemingly massive place. The halls are like any other school's; pictures and trophies here and there, fluorescent lighting, the standard. Sometimes voices or laughter would spill out onto the halls from classrooms, then the sounds of a teacher trying to get it under control. We arrive at her office rather quickly, giving me chills. The inside looks like my old hospital room; various medical tools strewn across a table, the wall is painted in a light green color, and the smell of something fresh fills my nostrils. A single window, letting some sun show in, is beside a bed that looks neither comfortable or painfully uncomfortable. "Alright, just lay down on the bed over there. I'll get set up..." ***** I sat on the small dorm bed, looking over to the small cabinet with disdain. After finishing the checkup, the nurse was nice enough to give me the day off. It put me in a good mood, one that would quickly vanish once I entered my dorm. The best word to describe it is 'plain'; White walls, small bed, two windows, and a dark red carpet covering the floor. A dresser sits at the other side of the room, even though there's not much use for it. And then there's the cabinet. I don't hate it, the cabinet is fine. What really got my mood down was when I saw the stuff on top of it. Multiple bottles, uncountable at a first glance. Each clear, showing the small rounded pills inside. I estimate around seventeen of them. It gets worse, though, when I pick up the small note left next to them. Hey, Weaver. Below you will find the amount of pills that you need to take each day: Most pills I need to take once a day, but some of them are needed two or three times. I can't imagine they taste very good either. I try not to think of it, but a certain question makes itself very clear in my mind. Am I going to take these for the rest of my life? If you don't want to blow up you will. I try to stop it, but I can't help but think of something the doctor said. "We're making progress on this," the doctor's voice plays in my head, "We might see a cure within seventy years." Seventy years. Yeah, right. They might find a cure, that would require dangerous surgery where most ponies wouldn't even live through. Even if they did, the side effects would be so bad they would have been better off without it. I start grinding my teeth together, trying to calm down. I don't need to get worked up. I look at the clock resting beside the bottles, maybe I was looking for some sort of comfort in it; like at the hospital. 2:15 pm Digital, no ticking or tocking. I- Three loud bangs come from my door, I figure it's just the nurse knocking on my door. I trot over to it, opening the door to a surprising sight. A colt, can't be much older than me. Green fur, spiked up black mane, and a pair of glaring orange eyes. With his mouth in a visible frown, I'd have to say he isn't that happy right now. "Why did I see the nurse-," He says, prodding his hoof at me, "-Going into this room?" I start to say "None of your business," but my nice side quickly overrides that decision. This guy seems really hot-headed, and aggravating him more might not be a good idea. "Why?" He looks like I just smacked him in the face. "You mean- you don't know?" His voice grows low, almost into a whisper. "Know about what- Who are you?" He rushes inside, bumping into and almost knocking me over in the process. He slams the door shut behind him, almost dragging me with him to the other side of the room. "You don't know, this is could be bad. This is bad." He begins pacing around the room,with his face turning to one of pure terror. I'm still left in a dazed state, wondering why there's some colt going crazy in my room. "Why are you in my room...?" He freezes, his look of terror replace by one of deep thought. He turns, trotting over to me and looking me right in the eye. "She's working with them." "Who?" "The princesses." I have a feeling that this conversation is going nowhere. "So that's why you're in my room?" Again, he has that look on his face like I did something wrong. "Yes. Don't you see how serious this is, she could have planted a brain washing machine in here!" "..." We just stare at each other, the awkwardness creeping up my spine as the room becomes silent. I have no idea what to say, or if I should say anything. Whoever this is, he has just made my brain malfunction. It's a few seconds before he smirks, narrowing his eyes once again. "You got some balls, dude. Taking on the matriarchy head on without a care in the world. Brave, maybe a little foolish, but brave. I also liked your disguise, acting like you had no idea what I was talking about- almost as good as me." He holds his hoof out, looking at me expectantly. "Oversight, legendary operator against the sun." My hoof meets with his, giving it a quick shake. "Yeah- String Weaver. Kinda' new here." "Hm... String Weaver..." He says my name slowly, looking at me intently with knee-jerk seriousness. Another awkward silence fills the room, seemingly unscathing Oversight as he takes survey of me. He does this for a few excruciating seconds, finally taking his eyes off me with a exasperated sigh. "'String Weaver,' not a bad fake name, but not a particularly good one either." Does he do this with everyone he meets? "Now, I must go prepare some fake vomit to fool the corrupt teachers. If anypony asks; you praise Celestia, the sun doesn't go around the planet on it's own, and I was never here." I let out a "Okay," my brain working at the pace of a snail as it tries to comprehend this pony. "Cool, dude. By the way, you look awful. I know you gotta' do those all night operations, but try getting at least three hours of sleep. That's what I do." Before anything else could be said, he makes his leave. I'm left with my thoughts, that one statement hitting harder then it should. I trot over to the window, looking over my reflection. The first thing I notice is the almost distant look in my iris blue eyes, and then the dark circles that outline them. My mane, a frizzled and un-brushed mess of azure. My fur, usually keeping it's cobalt color, is a slightly paler version of itself. My cutie mark, a violin with a stream of magic twirling around it, makes me cringe. It requires magic, something I can no longer use. Deciding to avoid going down that railroad of thoughts, I look back to my eyes in the reflection. Oversight was right, I look terrible. I might take his advice, get some shuteye; I haven't done much today, but I still feel the tug of exhaustion against my head. I make my way over to the bead, sitting myself down with a sigh. With a quick glance to the pills, I decide now would be the best time. Deciding to get it over with as soon as possible, I levitate- Bzzt. A quick spark of magic. I find myself face-down on the floor in milliseconds, panting like I'd just ran a marathon. My heart's stabbing through my chest with each tremendous beat; one quickly after another. A headache like no other splits through my forehead like lightning, making me nauseous. Why did I try to use magic? Why? Why did I forget? "H-...elp..." I release a croaked plea; straining my vocal cords to make sound. It only sends another wave of pain and nausea as I use energy, but now is not the time to be laying around. I need to get somepony's attention; fast. I stumbled up; each leg on fire as I force them to keep me upright. I tremble as my headache gets even worse, making my eyes perspire and distorting my vision. Quick. Something. I have to make noise. Something that will bring attention. The alarming rate of my heard causes me to freeze for a moment, causing me to grit my teeth together in frustration. I look around the room; trying to find anything that could get me out of this dreadful situation. ...Door. I don't really have much of a choice. With one short leap, I throw myself at the door head-first; darkness consuming me as soon as I feel the impact. What a day... SunshineUgh. I'm dragged out of unconsciousness into the real world, where I'm instantly hit by drowsiness. I hear a familiar voice in the back ground; though I can't quite make out who it belongs to. Not that I care much, right now; I just want a little more sleep. Just a few more minutes of shut-eye... "Wake up, stupid." No... "...Comon', get up." No... "I'll pour water on you if you don't get up." Do your best... ... "Woah!" I'm jostled out of my hypnotic-sleep state by a shrill blast of cold to my face. I fell liquid dripping down my muzzle as I open my eyes to see a recognizable green Earth-pony, holding a bucket. "What are you doing!?" Oversight gives a self-boasting smirk, cocking his head towards the bucket, "I woke you up." I let out a tired sigh; unable to talk to such a pony after only waking up. I look around at my surroundings to see that I'm in that medical office again, apparently on the same bed I was on yesterday. I don't see the Nurse or any other ponies in here, so Oversight and I must be the only ones. Wait, why is he here anyway? "Mind telling me why you woke me up?" Oversight's smirk turns into a frown, and his eyes go wide; almost as if we were in shock. "I save your life, and that's how you repay me? No 'Thank you so much, Oversight!' or 'I wish I were you, Oversight! You're so cool!' not even money to repay me; just... "Why!?" "How'd you save my life, exactly?" He points to himself, raising his muzzle in the air in a self-pompous way. "Well, Weaver," he says in a offended tone, "No doubt that spies from the solar empire came into your room and knocked you out, but I was there! I heard a loud 'bang!' and came to your aid immediately! " He flexes his non-existent muscles, continuing his speech; "They were afraid of me and my elite-special-forces-combat-skills, so they ran away before I could catch them!" Oh, that's right. Yesterday... An accidental attempt at using magic; and a desperate act of hope. I have to admit, there was probably something better I could have done than throwing myself against the door, but it worked; so, no complaints. I really do need to give Oversight a better thanks; without him I could have ended up in the hospital again. "Thanks. I really owe you one, Oversight." He crossed his forelegs, nodding to himself with a grin. "Yep, that's more like it," he said while pointing a hoof at me, "That'll be ten-thousand bits." "Not a chance." After a defeated sigh, he looked up to the clock and grew a bored expression. "The reason I woke you up was so you wouldn't be late on your first day, but I guess that idea got shot down." He picked up a small towel from the Nurse's desk, throwing it over to me. "Here," he said while heading toward's the door, "might want to dry off." "Thanks." Huh, guess he can be a cool guy when he isn't going crazy. He stopped after opening the door, turning his head back towards me. "By the way, the Nurse got all your stuff to the classroom for you; but you're twenty minutes late, so you might wanna' get a move-on." ***** "Ha... ha... ha..." I stop running once I reach a almost identical looking door compared to the others in the hallway. There's a multitude of chatting voices, pencils, and movement able to be heard; although muffled by the door. I take one last big inhale, readying myself for my grand entrance. I'll make it like no other; one that will defy the ages, and make all who dare defy it cry with tears of pain! "Ahem." ...After I get pass the mare I just noticed. Beside of the door, a light grey mare peers at me through narrowed eyelids; showing her almost furious looking pink eyes. Her combed over smoke-grey mane is one I'm all to familiar with; having come from the 'rich' side of Canterlot. Her flank adorns the symbol of a violet treble clef, something that took me by surprise. The corners of her mouth lower into a frown as her furious eyes grow bored, she says "You're the new one, correct?" while flipping her mane back with a sharp spring of her head. Eh? "Well... Yeah." She couldn't be the teacher, could she? She has to be around my age, for sure, but why would she be standing out here waiting for me? She makes a 'huff' sound, sliding over a pile of books towards my direction. One glance at the top book cover shows the words "String Weaver" imprinted neatly across a clear space. Oh. "Well, uh- thanks." This makes it the second time someone has waited for me. Maybe the school thinks I'm too fragile to carry some supplies around... Well, I hope it's the last time, because I'm getting kinda embarrassed. She turns to the door, holding her head high like a princess would, still keeping her un-impressed gaze upon me while saying "We must not waste anymore time; lets hurry." I heave the pile of books on to my back, nodding to her true words. Alright, it's time. The door makes a 'click,' as it's opened, and all the noises previously heard stop. The mare walks in first, giving a stout cough before turning disappearing behind the wall. Let's do this. I take my first step inside; taking in everything at once. The first thing I see are about two dozen eyes; all staring back at me; well, one covered by glasses to be exact. All the ponies in the room are silent, looking at me like a foreign creature unknown unknown to pony kind. The classroom is pretty generic; spaced out single-seat desks, dull tile floor, and a few papers and such showcasing some work. There's a few large cabinets in the back of the room that look old and worn, heck, one of them is missing a handle. A large desk sits at the front of the room; behind it an adult mare who looks tired. There's a large window, allowing sunlight to filter in and bask the whole classroom in it's glow. "You must be String Weaver," the middle-aged unicorn speaks to me, sliding out of her chair. She levitates a clip-board to her face, nodding to herself and then turning to the rest of the fillies and colts. "Class, today a new student will be joining us," she says in a enthusiastic voice, grabbing some chalk. She writes my name on the board in the blink of an eye, glancing over at me. "Well, Mister Weaver, go on and introduce yourself." I freeze for a second, looking over the classroom one more time before averting my gaze and mustering up my courage. "Hi. My name's String Weaver... I hope I'll have a good time at this school," This is terrible. "Maybe I'll be good friends with a lot of you..." ... "And... Yeah, happy to be here." The class still just stares at me, creating a painful silence throughout the room. I shrink back a little, well knowing that I just gave the worst introduction possible. "Well," thankfully, the teacher comes for the rescue before things get too awkward, "you'll be sitting next to miss Heartstrings; in the corner of the room. We were just about to work in pairs so you came at the perfect time." I look at the floor as I trudge along to my seat, avoiding the gaze of my classmates. Thankfully, it doesn't take long, and within a few seconds I arrive at the desk. I shove my supplies on the desk, sitting down and letting out a tired sigh. "Hi!" I turn my head to the pastel unicorn beside me, my assigned 'partner' for whatever we're doing. Strange; another pony who's Cutie mark has something to do with music; a lyre. "You like classical music too, right?" The question catches me off guard, making me stare at the unicorn with wide-eyes. "Where'd you come up with that?" She gives a cheeky grin, saying "Well, your cutie mark is Violin." Oh, yeah. "Miss Heartstrings, please don't waste any more time!" The sudden shrill voice of the teacher makes me cringe, and causes a few of the other ponies to giggle. "Alright," I hear Heartstrings say in a quiet tone, "I gotta ask you something after class; but for now, it's time for some Algebra..." ***** I find myself worn out with two minutes of class left. I went into the problems head first, deciding it should be easy enough to do in a few minutes; but I found myself practically copying Heartstring's answers within the first few minutes. She didn't act like she minded though; and even though I was a burden, we were still one of the first to finish. If I hadn't seen her cutie mark, I would have thought her talent was math; no doubt a brainiac. I yawn, looking out the window. It seems clear today; no clouds, just pure, open, blue sky. A lone bird zooms past the window, no doubt enjoying itself, while I'm stuck here. A bell sounds off, causing everypony to rush out of their sets and begin leaving. I do so myself, hauling my books onto my back and joining the crowd as the teacher gets some last words in before everyone leaves. "Don't forget, finish the next lesson for homework! It's due tomorrow!" Hopefully I won't. I'd be labeled a good-for-nothing if I don't do the first day's homework. It's not long after I step outside of the classroom when I see Heartstrings motioning me over. What was it she wanted to talk about again? Music? I haven't had a conversation about music in over a year. I'd do anything to avoid it, but she was nice enough to let me ride off of her answers during class, so just this once won't hurt. I make my way over to her, still carrying the heavy weight of the books on my back. She raises her eyebrows at me, looking over the large amount of supplies. "So, why don't you just get a bag for those?" "Hopefully I should get one soon," I say while readjusting myself to correct the stack's posture, "hopefully." She gives an understanding smile; one that friends give each other."You can borrow an extra of mine if you want," she says while nodding to herself. "It's a little old, but still durable." What's this? "I... Might have to take you up on that offer." Her smile turns mischievous, and her eyes narrow slightly as I give my answer. In a vaguely dark tone, she asks "I'm going to need something in return, though." I knew it. Well, can't be much, can it? We're the only ones out in the hallways right now anyways, and I don't want to be late for anything else; so might as well speed this up. "Yeah, sure. What is it?" She wags her hoof in the air, as if waving something off. "Oh, it's nothing; just something simple for somepony like you." "...What?" She points to herself, saying "Well, since I'm the owner of the music club, I'm inviting you."
DelusionI looked up at the grey tiled ceiling, listening to the tick-tock of the clock as if it were the opening a powerful orchestra; it's drums being the opening, bringing the crowd to the edge of their seats until the instruments came together to form a beautiful masterpiece. I listen intently, finding myself smirking in excitement as I close my eyes. Instead of the whole orchestra, I'm left with just the two drums still. Sometimes I like to think I do hear an orchestra. I haven't even looked at the clock for a while, I don't need to. Time only means two things to me now, 'alive' and 'dead.' The moments in-between just a bridge, leading you from one point to another. A constant blizzard would be sweeping across the bridge, unavoidable thorns would cover it, and the sky would laugh at you and all of your pain as you crossed it. Once you reach death, all these things would go away. You would be free. I wish I was free. My smirk fades, and I find myself starting to break out into a slight sweat. I wish I was gone from here. It doesn't take too long before I curl up into a ball, sobbing. I'm drowning. ***** I'm losing my mind. I don't really care, either. I keep telling myself that. I gaze towards the small window, looking at nothing in particular. There's a tree that blocks some of the sun's light, casting a crooked shadow into the room. There's also a good view of a street, where I find myself sometimes staring at the ponies that disappear just as fast as they came. Today, it's empty. I don't feel like i'm looking outside of the window, just at it. Like a TV, it projects images that I could only hope to be apart of. "All of you will be here," it says, "even your mind will not escape this room." It's true, even my dreams are focused around this awful place. I hate it. The door opens, causing me to cringe as the sound of the clock is interrupted. "Hey, Weaver. How ya' doin'?" I hate the way that he says that. It's the voice of a stallion that pretends to care, but really doesn't. I would honestly be more comfortable if he said "I don't really care about you, but I am getting paid to fix you up. So, let's skip all the un-needed stuff and get this over with." I hear him sit down behind me. I don't turn to face him, but it's not because of my feelings towards him. It's because I would end up looking at 'it.' Even thinking about -'it'- gives me chills. He coughs, awkwardly. I hear him shifting uncomfortably in his chair, probably wishing he hadn't tried to talk to me. A few seconds pass before I hear his voice again. "Your mom will be in soon." "Huh?" I don't even think, I just shift my body. I look straight at him, a middle aged stallion with a short brown mane. His eyes, quick and cunning, and his white fur like snow. His face is one that shows many emotions, when he only really has one. His white coat, adorning a medical symbol, hides most of his torso. "I called her, I think it's best if... we all have a discussion." Even though I had a reason to not turn around, I grow the urge to look at 'it.' I start turning back over again. ***** I've turned my attention back to the ceiling, analyzing it like a science project. I've already counted all the tiles, so I just run my eyes across the little lines between them. To be honest, i'm just trying to pry my attention away from the current conversation. I can never really not hear them, because every time he says "horn," I shudder. "I think he's ready to leave." I freeze. "Thank you," I hear my mom say. It sounds like she's been running a marathon, and I guess I would sound that way too if I were her. "Going to the same school though..." I'm still frozen, unable to move my eyes. I already knew about it, I wasn't going back; can't be a gifted unicorn if-... I halt my thoughts, hating myself for thinking like that. Just bringing back bad memories, no need for it. I feel my lips quivering a bit, but I mentally punch myself to get them to form a straight line. "I know of a good place to continue his education, though, and I have already spoke to them about medical worries. It will be able to satisfy his needs." My 'needs.' Another mental punch. "The nurse there is an old friend of mine, she's really nice." I can't tell if that's directed towards me or my mother. If anything, I wouldn't be able to trust his opinions that easily. His definition of 'nice' and mine would be different, I'm sure of it. There's a silence. I feel both my mother's and doctor's eyes drilling holes in the back of my head, waiting for me to add something. I'm not sure I can with a strong voice, but I decide to do so anyway. "..." "Okay." I can't find any other words to say. 'Okay,' is good enough, for now. I want to tell them I hate it; I want to tell them that I want everything to go back to the way it was. They know that's impossible, just like I do. There's another silence, one that I find extremely uncomfortable. It's soon filled with the two's voices again, so I guess they were fine with 'okay' too. I didn't have to pay that much attention to the conversation to know that they've both decided that they're sending me to the new 'school.' I can't help but feel it wont be much different than this. I make the mistake of glancing over at the doctor, my eyes instead falling onto a jar. I try to move them somewhere else, but they're already gazing at it. A dark blue horn floats inside, carried by green liquid. A jagged split runs down the middle of it, almost splitting it in half if it weren't for the little bit still together near the bottom. That's my horn. I force my mouth shut, not wanting to let out a cry. It was my horn.
AlienAlright. Well, here I am. That conversation in the hospital was three days ago, but it felt like mere seconds. I must be so used to each second of the day being agonizing, that it just felt like a breeze. It was still tiring, though; preparing for school again. Not to mention, how I'm coming in so late in the year. My thinking halts, I'm just trying to distract myself. Standing here, outside the gate, looking like a confused zombie in the middle of the day. The gate, while nothing special to look at, does seem to make me oddly nervous. It's normal, after all, who wouldn't be nervous in my position? Going to a boarding school for the first time in my life, dealing with the condition- Take a deep breath. I put on my best fake smile, which admittedly is a bad one, and push the already slightly ajar gate open. Inside, I'm immediately met with a small, bending, pavement path. My nervousness fades slightly once I see how nice it is; small trees on either side of me, the multitude of colorful birds that fly around them, and the occasional bench here and there. Kind of nice, actually; like a park. I turn to the school complex, which looked smaller from the outside. It was giant, really, almost as big as my old school. That place was like a castle, though, hard to compete with that. I shake the thought from my head. If "Oak Boarding School" wasn't plastered above the entrance, it would have looked like a town hall- or something else important. Three stories high, made out of marble and brick, and overall really clean, it's nice. Also intimidating in it's own way, too. Not wanting to waste anymore time looking at the scenery, I start making my way down the path. I wasn't sure about this place, even still, but it feels good to be out of that hospital. To move, to feel the sun, to breath fresh air; all of it feels great. Maybe this place won't be so bad. I push past the doors, heading inside expecting not to find a soul in sight. Instead, I find a mare. Her coat's white, reminding me of a certain doctor I had at the hospital. Her eyes, settling on me, seem to instantly snap out of their previously droopy state. The smoke blue color of her mane reminds me of cotton candy, and the red cross for her cutie mark has the image of a syringe running through it. She take a step towards me, narrowing her eyes as she grows a smirk. "Late on the first day, huh?" Instincts kick in, definitely not prepared for this. "I was sick," "I wasn't feeling well," "We got stuck," All of these run around in my head. Instead of just choosing one, I make the mistake of trying to say all of it at once. "Well... I- uh..." That was fantastic. She lets out a little laugh, "Easy, kid. Just messin' with ya'." I mentally sigh, still a bit shaken. I thought I was seriously going to be in trouble there. A small smile crosses my face, anyway. I guess it was a little funny. "Well, you're String Weaver, right?" I nod. Was she waiting for me, just standing here? "Good. You won't have to worry about your things, I already had that taken care of." Huh, she does seem nice. "Thanks." She nods it off, continuing with her 'speech.' "I did want you to come with me, though. Just do a little checkup of you before I let you on your way." A groan wants to escape, but I hold it back. No need to seem like a jerk, and it does seem like she waited for a while. That would've explained the droopy eyes when I first came in. "Okay." She wastes no time, trotting down the hall. I hurry after her, not wanting to be lost in this seemingly massive place. The halls are like any other school's; pictures and trophies here and there, fluorescent lighting, the standard. Sometimes voices or laughter would spill out onto the halls from classrooms, then the sounds of a teacher trying to get it under control. We arrive at her office rather quickly, giving me chills. The inside looks like my old hospital room; various medical tools strewn across a table, the wall is painted in a light green color, and the smell of something fresh fills my nostrils. A single window, letting some sun show in, is beside a bed that looks neither comfortable or painfully uncomfortable. "Alright, just lay down on the bed over there. I'll get set up..." ***** I sat on the small dorm bed, looking over to the small cabinet with disdain. After finishing the checkup, the nurse was nice enough to give me the day off. It put me in a good mood, one that would quickly vanish once I entered my dorm. The best word to describe it is 'plain'; White walls, small bed, two windows, and a dark red carpet covering the floor. A dresser sits at the other side of the room, even though there's not much use for it. And then there's the cabinet. I don't hate it, the cabinet is fine. What really got my mood down was when I saw the stuff on top of it. Multiple bottles, uncountable at a first glance. Each clear, showing the small rounded pills inside. I estimate around seventeen of them. It gets worse, though, when I pick up the small note left next to them. Hey, Weaver. Below you will find the amount of pills that you need to take each day: Most pills I need to take once a day, but some of them are needed two or three times. I can't imagine they taste very good either. I try not to think of it, but a certain question makes itself very clear in my mind. Am I going to take these for the rest of my life? If you don't want to blow up you will. I try to stop it, but I can't help but think of something the doctor said. "We're making progress on this," the doctor's voice plays in my head, "We might see a cure within seventy years." Seventy years. Yeah, right. They might find a cure, that would require dangerous surgery where most ponies wouldn't even live through. Even if they did, the side effects would be so bad they would have been better off without it. I start grinding my teeth together, trying to calm down. I don't need to get worked up. I look at the clock resting beside the bottles, maybe I was looking for some sort of comfort in it; like at the hospital. 2:15 pm Digital, no ticking or tocking. I- Three loud bangs come from my door, I figure it's just the nurse knocking on my door. I trot over to it, opening the door to a surprising sight. A colt, can't be much older than me. Green fur, spiked up black mane, and a pair of glaring orange eyes. With his mouth in a visible frown, I'd have to say he isn't that happy right now. "Why did I see the nurse-," He says, prodding his hoof at me, "-Going into this room?" I start to say "None of your business," but my nice side quickly overrides that decision. This guy seems really hot-headed, and aggravating him more might not be a good idea. "Why?" He looks like I just smacked him in the face. "You mean- you don't know?" His voice grows low, almost into a whisper. "Know about what- Who are you?" He rushes inside, bumping into and almost knocking me over in the process. He slams the door shut behind him, almost dragging me with him to the other side of the room. "You don't know, this is could be bad. This is bad." He begins pacing around the room,with his face turning to one of pure terror. I'm still left in a dazed state, wondering why there's some colt going crazy in my room. "Why are you in my room...?" He freezes, his look of terror replace by one of deep thought. He turns, trotting over to me and looking me right in the eye. "She's working with them." "Who?" "The princesses." I have a feeling that this conversation is going nowhere. "So that's why you're in my room?" Again, he has that look on his face like I did something wrong. "Yes. Don't you see how serious this is, she could have planted a brain washing machine in here!" "..." We just stare at each other, the awkwardness creeping up my spine as the room becomes silent. I have no idea what to say, or if I should say anything. Whoever this is, he has just made my brain malfunction. It's a few seconds before he smirks, narrowing his eyes once again. "You got some balls, dude. Taking on the matriarchy head on without a care in the world. Brave, maybe a little foolish, but brave. I also liked your disguise, acting like you had no idea what I was talking about- almost as good as me." He holds his hoof out, looking at me expectantly. "Oversight, legendary operator against the sun." My hoof meets with his, giving it a quick shake. "Yeah- String Weaver. Kinda' new here." "Hm... String Weaver..." He says my name slowly, looking at me intently with knee-jerk seriousness. Another awkward silence fills the room, seemingly unscathing Oversight as he takes survey of me. He does this for a few excruciating seconds, finally taking his eyes off me with a exasperated sigh. "'String Weaver,' not a bad fake name, but not a particularly good one either." Does he do this with everyone he meets? "Now, I must go prepare some fake vomit to fool the corrupt teachers. If anypony asks; you praise Celestia, the sun doesn't go around the planet on it's own, and I was never here." I let out a "Okay," my brain working at the pace of a snail as it tries to comprehend this pony. "Cool, dude. By the way, you look awful. I know you gotta' do those all night operations, but try getting at least three hours of sleep. That's what I do." Before anything else could be said, he makes his leave. I'm left with my thoughts, that one statement hitting harder then it should. I trot over to the window, looking over my reflection. The first thing I notice is the almost distant look in my iris blue eyes, and then the dark circles that outline them. My mane, a frizzled and un-brushed mess of azure. My fur, usually keeping it's cobalt color, is a slightly paler version of itself. My cutie mark, a violin with a stream of magic twirling around it, makes me cringe. It requires magic, something I can no longer use. Deciding to avoid going down that railroad of thoughts, I look back to my eyes in the reflection. Oversight was right, I look terrible. I might take his advice, get some shuteye; I haven't done much today, but I still feel the tug of exhaustion against my head. I make my way over to the bead, sitting myself down with a sigh. With a quick glance to the pills, I decide now would be the best time. Deciding to get it over with as soon as possible, I levitate- Bzzt. A quick spark of magic. I find myself face-down on the floor in milliseconds, panting like I'd just ran a marathon. My heart's stabbing through my chest with each tremendous beat; one quickly after another. A headache like no other splits through my forehead like lightning, making me nauseous. Why did I try to use magic? Why? Why did I forget? "H-...elp..." I release a croaked plea; straining my vocal cords to make sound. It only sends another wave of pain and nausea as I use energy, but now is not the time to be laying around. I need to get somepony's attention; fast. I stumbled up; each leg on fire as I force them to keep me upright. I tremble as my headache gets even worse, making my eyes perspire and distorting my vision. Quick. Something. I have to make noise. Something that will bring attention. The alarming rate of my heard causes me to freeze for a moment, causing me to grit my teeth together in frustration. I look around the room; trying to find anything that could get me out of this dreadful situation. ...Door. I don't really have much of a choice. With one short leap, I throw myself at the door head-first; darkness consuming me as soon as I feel the impact. What a day...
SunshineUgh. I'm dragged out of unconsciousness into the real world, where I'm instantly hit by drowsiness. I hear a familiar voice in the back ground; though I can't quite make out who it belongs to. Not that I care much, right now; I just want a little more sleep. Just a few more minutes of shut-eye... "Wake up, stupid." No... "...Comon', get up." No... "I'll pour water on you if you don't get up." Do your best... ... "Woah!" I'm jostled out of my hypnotic-sleep state by a shrill blast of cold to my face. I fell liquid dripping down my muzzle as I open my eyes to see a recognizable green Earth-pony, holding a bucket. "What are you doing!?" Oversight gives a self-boasting smirk, cocking his head towards the bucket, "I woke you up." I let out a tired sigh; unable to talk to such a pony after only waking up. I look around at my surroundings to see that I'm in that medical office again, apparently on the same bed I was on yesterday. I don't see the Nurse or any other ponies in here, so Oversight and I must be the only ones. Wait, why is he here anyway? "Mind telling me why you woke me up?" Oversight's smirk turns into a frown, and his eyes go wide; almost as if we were in shock. "I save your life, and that's how you repay me? No 'Thank you so much, Oversight!' or 'I wish I were you, Oversight! You're so cool!' not even money to repay me; just... "Why!?" "How'd you save my life, exactly?" He points to himself, raising his muzzle in the air in a self-pompous way. "Well, Weaver," he says in a offended tone, "No doubt that spies from the solar empire came into your room and knocked you out, but I was there! I heard a loud 'bang!' and came to your aid immediately! " He flexes his non-existent muscles, continuing his speech; "They were afraid of me and my elite-special-forces-combat-skills, so they ran away before I could catch them!" Oh, that's right. Yesterday... An accidental attempt at using magic; and a desperate act of hope. I have to admit, there was probably something better I could have done than throwing myself against the door, but it worked; so, no complaints. I really do need to give Oversight a better thanks; without him I could have ended up in the hospital again. "Thanks. I really owe you one, Oversight." He crossed his forelegs, nodding to himself with a grin. "Yep, that's more like it," he said while pointing a hoof at me, "That'll be ten-thousand bits." "Not a chance." After a defeated sigh, he looked up to the clock and grew a bored expression. "The reason I woke you up was so you wouldn't be late on your first day, but I guess that idea got shot down." He picked up a small towel from the Nurse's desk, throwing it over to me. "Here," he said while heading toward's the door, "might want to dry off." "Thanks." Huh, guess he can be a cool guy when he isn't going crazy. He stopped after opening the door, turning his head back towards me. "By the way, the Nurse got all your stuff to the classroom for you; but you're twenty minutes late, so you might wanna' get a move-on." ***** "Ha... ha... ha..." I stop running once I reach a almost identical looking door compared to the others in the hallway. There's a multitude of chatting voices, pencils, and movement able to be heard; although muffled by the door. I take one last big inhale, readying myself for my grand entrance. I'll make it like no other; one that will defy the ages, and make all who dare defy it cry with tears of pain! "Ahem." ...After I get pass the mare I just noticed. Beside of the door, a light grey mare peers at me through narrowed eyelids; showing her almost furious looking pink eyes. Her combed over smoke-grey mane is one I'm all to familiar with; having come from the 'rich' side of Canterlot. Her flank adorns the symbol of a violet treble clef, something that took me by surprise. The corners of her mouth lower into a frown as her furious eyes grow bored, she says "You're the new one, correct?" while flipping her mane back with a sharp spring of her head. Eh? "Well... Yeah." She couldn't be the teacher, could she? She has to be around my age, for sure, but why would she be standing out here waiting for me? She makes a 'huff' sound, sliding over a pile of books towards my direction. One glance at the top book cover shows the words "String Weaver" imprinted neatly across a clear space. Oh. "Well, uh- thanks." This makes it the second time someone has waited for me. Maybe the school thinks I'm too fragile to carry some supplies around... Well, I hope it's the last time, because I'm getting kinda embarrassed. She turns to the door, holding her head high like a princess would, still keeping her un-impressed gaze upon me while saying "We must not waste anymore time; lets hurry." I heave the pile of books on to my back, nodding to her true words. Alright, it's time. The door makes a 'click,' as it's opened, and all the noises previously heard stop. The mare walks in first, giving a stout cough before turning disappearing behind the wall. Let's do this. I take my first step inside; taking in everything at once. The first thing I see are about two dozen eyes; all staring back at me; well, one covered by glasses to be exact. All the ponies in the room are silent, looking at me like a foreign creature unknown unknown to pony kind. The classroom is pretty generic; spaced out single-seat desks, dull tile floor, and a few papers and such showcasing some work. There's a few large cabinets in the back of the room that look old and worn, heck, one of them is missing a handle. A large desk sits at the front of the room; behind it an adult mare who looks tired. There's a large window, allowing sunlight to filter in and bask the whole classroom in it's glow. "You must be String Weaver," the middle-aged unicorn speaks to me, sliding out of her chair. She levitates a clip-board to her face, nodding to herself and then turning to the rest of the fillies and colts. "Class, today a new student will be joining us," she says in a enthusiastic voice, grabbing some chalk. She writes my name on the board in the blink of an eye, glancing over at me. "Well, Mister Weaver, go on and introduce yourself." I freeze for a second, looking over the classroom one more time before averting my gaze and mustering up my courage. "Hi. My name's String Weaver... I hope I'll have a good time at this school," This is terrible. "Maybe I'll be good friends with a lot of you..." ... "And... Yeah, happy to be here." The class still just stares at me, creating a painful silence throughout the room. I shrink back a little, well knowing that I just gave the worst introduction possible. "Well," thankfully, the teacher comes for the rescue before things get too awkward, "you'll be sitting next to miss Heartstrings; in the corner of the room. We were just about to work in pairs so you came at the perfect time." I look at the floor as I trudge along to my seat, avoiding the gaze of my classmates. Thankfully, it doesn't take long, and within a few seconds I arrive at the desk. I shove my supplies on the desk, sitting down and letting out a tired sigh. "Hi!" I turn my head to the pastel unicorn beside me, my assigned 'partner' for whatever we're doing. Strange; another pony who's Cutie mark has something to do with music; a lyre. "You like classical music too, right?" The question catches me off guard, making me stare at the unicorn with wide-eyes. "Where'd you come up with that?" She gives a cheeky grin, saying "Well, your cutie mark is Violin." Oh, yeah. "Miss Heartstrings, please don't waste any more time!" The sudden shrill voice of the teacher makes me cringe, and causes a few of the other ponies to giggle. "Alright," I hear Heartstrings say in a quiet tone, "I gotta ask you something after class; but for now, it's time for some Algebra..." ***** I find myself worn out with two minutes of class left. I went into the problems head first, deciding it should be easy enough to do in a few minutes; but I found myself practically copying Heartstring's answers within the first few minutes. She didn't act like she minded though; and even though I was a burden, we were still one of the first to finish. If I hadn't seen her cutie mark, I would have thought her talent was math; no doubt a brainiac. I yawn, looking out the window. It seems clear today; no clouds, just pure, open, blue sky. A lone bird zooms past the window, no doubt enjoying itself, while I'm stuck here. A bell sounds off, causing everypony to rush out of their sets and begin leaving. I do so myself, hauling my books onto my back and joining the crowd as the teacher gets some last words in before everyone leaves. "Don't forget, finish the next lesson for homework! It's due tomorrow!" Hopefully I won't. I'd be labeled a good-for-nothing if I don't do the first day's homework. It's not long after I step outside of the classroom when I see Heartstrings motioning me over. What was it she wanted to talk about again? Music? I haven't had a conversation about music in over a year. I'd do anything to avoid it, but she was nice enough to let me ride off of her answers during class, so just this once won't hurt. I make my way over to her, still carrying the heavy weight of the books on my back. She raises her eyebrows at me, looking over the large amount of supplies. "So, why don't you just get a bag for those?" "Hopefully I should get one soon," I say while readjusting myself to correct the stack's posture, "hopefully." She gives an understanding smile; one that friends give each other."You can borrow an extra of mine if you want," she says while nodding to herself. "It's a little old, but still durable." What's this? "I... Might have to take you up on that offer." Her smile turns mischievous, and her eyes narrow slightly as I give my answer. In a vaguely dark tone, she asks "I'm going to need something in return, though." I knew it. Well, can't be much, can it? We're the only ones out in the hallways right now anyways, and I don't want to be late for anything else; so might as well speed this up. "Yeah, sure. What is it?" She wags her hoof in the air, as if waving something off. "Oh, it's nothing; just something simple for somepony like you." "...What?" She points to herself, saying "Well, since I'm the owner of the music club, I'm inviting you."
