Her memories of the events surroundings her birth were cloudy at best . If she remembered anything, about who her parents were, she did the best she could to push them out of her memory. She had been abandoned, dumped, and released of the gentle hold of a parent’s embrace when she was barely old enough to survive on her own.
She knew she had to have parents, she wasn’t totally naive after all, and they had already talked about reproduction in school, she hadn’t been born of sugar, spice and everything nice! But, whomever they were, she didn’t care to know. She would love to be loved by the ones who had conceived her but she had admitted to herself, begrudgingly, that, with all those years that had passed, if her parents did care about her, whomever they were, they still hadn’t shown it.
When she was younger little Scootaloo liked to fantasize, while on her bed, playing under the covers, that she was the daughter of some important prince, the prince of all pegasi! And that this was all some sort of test, that she had been sent to live among the other ponies whom her father ruled, to learn humility, and tact.
As time went on, that theory started to shatter.
She had found herself admiring Rainbow Dash, another pegasus, she seemed so awesome, capable of mouth opening, barrier breaking, air maneuvers! To her that kind of ability, to athletics ,and flight, was all she wanted to be. She had managed to bring on the attention of Rainbow dash onto herself, and she felt awesome about it....but she was more like a sister, and, as selfish as she was about it, she still wanted parents.
The mindless teasing of bullies, which was only worsened when she heard all the chatter all fillies and colts had, about what they would do when they arrived home, spend times with their mums and dads, only made her feel worse. As if not being able to fly, not having a cutie mark, and having a family weren’t bad enough, she had to hear others talk about their family.
She was resentful, but she didn’t blame them....for the most part, after all, if she had one she would certainly talk about them all day. Instead she talked about Rainbow Dash, about three point one four one something something to the infinite, a minute.
One thing that really grinded her patience was hearing some colt or filly, normally the same filly, talk badly about their dad, the culprit? Who else but Diamond “The most rotten of them all” Tiara? Every time Scootaloo heard the filly complain about her father not letting her do something, for a perfectly valid reason, that in her mouth seemed preposterous, with that little friend of her, Silver Spoon, she felt the urge to yell at her, yell at her about how she didn’t even imagine how good she had it, how she’d give everything to have a father, about....
About a lot actually, but she was always pushed back by her two friends, and she soon settled down, Scootaloo didn’t know if Diamond Tiara was simply such a brat that she had to had everything she wanted (which was likely) of if she was simply doing it to annoy her, which also seemed possible, but there wasn’t much she could do, except hope in vain that the other filly would learn to value what she had.
She had some issues about it, and no matter how many counseling sessions she had, at school, at her current place of residence, of with her “Big sis” Rainbow, she couldn’t really resolve them. They still pained her, with all the strength of a coursing river, yet mysterious as the dark side of the moon. She didn’t know, that was how she described them, she had heard the term in a film about a girl who had to pretend to be a man and stuff. She liked the movies of that company of animation, most movies had the protagonists parent’s dead, and even if her parents weren’t death, she could really relate to them. She couldn’t stand the “Little mermare” though, that one was really really bad.
Those issues aside Scootaloo lived a happy life, she had learned to balance the pursuit of a cutie mark, with her chores, the time with Rainbow, and school. She was, at last, happy.
But moods are a funny thing, and she couldn’t yet imagine how vulnerable she was, when pressed into her sore spot. Having recently failed to hurt her with the whole issue of “Non flight” (which, thanks to Rainbow and friends, she had overcome, even with a slight desire to grow up and be able to fly), the two fillies, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, decided to press on the whole “No parents issue”.
It was a low move, but it did its job, the clever resourceful Scootaloo had no words to retort, every time she tried to say something she stuttered. She didn’t know if she needed to fell angry, sad, upset, or just plain dumbfounded. T he two fillies snickered, seeing the beginning of tears, little small lakes of water, forming on her eyes.
She screamed before turning tail and running. She was a fast runner and no one could get to her. She ran and she ran, for what seemed like miles, she ran out of the fencing of the school yard, passing the Ponyville main gathering point, she ran until her legs couldn’t hold her. She feel into her own hooves, crying.
And it was then and there that Scootaloo revealed to her friends the truth about her parents.
No, they weren’t royalty, or nobles from Canterlot of wherever, no they weren’t dead, no they weren’t commoners or homeless.
She just didn’t know who they were, and why they had dumped her.
A single wail of pure agony flew through the air.
Scootaloo was hurt.
Author's Note
I can already imagine the huge ammount of dislikes and thumbs down this story will (or might) bring me.
Well, I had a time limit, and seeing it come nearing over me, I simply did my best to limit myself to it, and that implied cutting down about two to three paragraphs. If that freeze hadn't happened, who knows if I could have changed the ending?
As it is, this is how it ends, perhaps in the future I'll write a sequel, but as it stands, it's angst, and sad, and all that.
Well, I hope you, the reader, enjoyed it anyway!
Have a nice day/night/whenever you're reading this.
