Disgraceful

by narwhalunicorn

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Tragedy, Lightning Dust, Slice of Life, Wonderbolts, Spitfire, Sad
Length: 1054

She had a dream. But it was all torn away like the golden badge that had once struck her brave, strong chest.

She had a dream.

But it was all torn away like the golden badge that had once struck her brave, strong chest.

Published 2014-03-01 19:20:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-01 19:20:04 UTC

Shattered Dreams

Disgraceful
Shattered Dreams
by NarwhalUnicorn

Disgraceful. She was disgraceful.

Why push yourself, when you just push yourself away from your dreams? She pushed and pushed, but only hurt herself. Shoving past the goal, defeating only herself.

A dream is a journey, but it needs a destination. She had none. She only drifted through her life, awaiting glorified victory. She desired a victory so sweet, but she had no reason to achieve it.

She wanted to fly above the skies and reach the stars, but her dream was defeated, delayed, futile. She was inevitably a failure; she was infinitely disgraceful. She sprung for championship, but was not worthy of the title.

Her dream was right in front of her, but she had turned backwards. She had gone the wrong way. She had ruined herself.

A frustrated glance headed her way, and one pony stepped towards the sorrowful mare, giving her a glare of frustration.

The intense stare bled into her eyes, and the fiery beholder pushed her aside, ripping the golden medal from her sleek, prim coat. A gaping hole resided in her uniform, where the lightning badge had crossed and ripped itself from its owner. The ragged tear spread coldness through the pony's heart, and she knew that it was all over. All that she had been given was thrown away... but it was she who threw it all down. Down like the tornado; down like the coiling winds she had once controlled, but it had all rampaged away from her grasp. She could not control herself; she could not control her team. Her actions were a penalty she never desired, but they were something she always deserved.

The commander's yellow hoof abruptly pushed her aside, and with her head drawn low, two bodyguards silently escorted her away. It was over.

The bodyguards shoved her out the gateway and retreated, only to come back, throwing her belongings out the door with the carelessness matching her own. They had thrown out her bags; she had thrown out her dreams.

And it was all her own fault.

Her polished badge had been revoked and her dreams had been destroyed. What was there left, when all that you were was gone? What do you do, when all that you were could never be?

She silently departed from the place of her dreams. She flew into the colorful sky, and briskly headed away from her dream, following the flowing, dragging winds through the vibrant, endless sky.

What is a dream left alone, with only her former winds and glory to shriek in revolt? What is the worth of a pony with no dream? When she was left to graze in her own filth? To abandon her dream, and untie her wealth from her happiness?

There is nothing to delay her screams. There is nothing to rekindle her spirit. There is nothing.

There is nothing.

What was once everything? What was once worthwhile, but could only become nothing?

She was brazen. Mighty. Determined. Strong.

Or was she reckless? Broken? Worthless? Tense?

She was what she chose to be.

And now, she chose to be nothing. It was a choice she didn't understand, but it hit her with the same might of the blasted screams of her past. She had everything.

But she was only nothing.

She was nothing, flying through the evening skies, overlooking the beauty of a sky she could have painted. She flew through the clouds, feeling the water she could have shifted. She fell through the brash winds that she could have drifted. But it was all what she once was. Her wings strained like her heart, pushing herself towards nothing. Where was there to go, in a world full of everything, when you have suddenly become nothing?

She could not go home; what home was there, when nothing is left?

As the pastel sun lowered itself into the fresh, cold night, she bit her scraped, battered lips and flapped her wings, flying towards a broken life.

She had a dream. A beautiful dream, full of victory and graceful flight. It was a beautiful dream. A beautiful dream.

But nightmares are dreams, too. And even the most glorious of dreams can transform into one. Sometimes, even the dreamer becomes her worst nightmare. Sometimes, you can float through your dream. But you can also drown.

And so she drowned.

Drowned like the sweet sorrow of what once was. Drowned like the pittance of trust she never deserved.

Drowned like that falling mare, locking her wings and drifted towards the inevitable night sky. Falling towards the doom of her refreshing past, and eternal future.

Falling.

Falling.

The night sky hung above the horizon, and the bleak, soulless night spread like her worthless dream. The air, clear and refreshing, whispered into the strong, thick night sky. Her wings clenched her sides, refusing to move. She fell above the cold, shivering clouds, and the drifting nighttime air clung to her damp, tear splattered fur. The winds coiled and spit, clashing towards the falling, desolate mare. She fell towards the ground, awaiting an impact to shatter her heart. Her dreams. Herself.

One day, she jumped off the edge of the world into an everlasting void of darkness. And it all meant nothing. She was nothing, but her world was everything. The sky breathed with a rhythm she could never grasp. The air lived with a brash leap of glory. But she dragged her wings and hung her head, letting her tears fall down onto the beautifully frozen clouds.

Little bits of sadness drift through a pony's heart when broken. They are torn here and there. Everywhere. It was this sort of trouble that led itself into everything she knew. Once, she had freedom. She was happy. She was true. But it was all torn away like the golden badge that had once struck her brave, strong chest.

She had jumped off the dark side of the moon into an inevitable bowl of black. And all that she knew was a lie. An infinite jumble of crumpled up lies, sitting there, mocking her. But really, they had no one to mock.

She wasn't anything anymore.

She was nothing.

Author's Note

Meh. I shouldn't try to write half my stories at two in the morning.

Oh well.