A Day In The Life

Blood Orange was not a happy mare.

Blood Orange had just had to yell her filly out of bed again, and quite frankly, having to do this every day was getting annoying. She could've sworn she had done this same thing seven days in a row now, and the date, whenever she asked anypony on the street, hadn't changed. If Blood Orange wasn't so focused on making a decent living, she might've been concerned.

Whatever the case may be, Blood Orange wasn't bothered by it much.

Well... okay, she was bothered by the fact that she'd black-out mid-day, everyday, for the past seven days, but whatever the case may be, she was only slightly concerned with it. If anything was wrong, surely a fighter like her would notice it. She had enough experience with fishy situations to know when something bad was ahoof, right? Nothing gets past the perceptive...

...right?

'Oh well,' thought Blood Orange, "If something fishy IS going on, I'd notice it. I'm a fighter, for Krrashilka's sake! I'm all instinct and perception. I'd notice.'

'I would notice.'

How ever things may seem, she just did her morning rituals. Made herself a cup of coffee, did a bit of shadow boxing for old time's sake, and even had a smoke after. Nothing out of the ordinary for her. Just because she feels a sinking despair every time her daughter goes to school doesn't mean anythings wrong. Just...

'Somethings wrong,' she thought.

Blood Orange isn't a particularly protective mother, she isn't overly concerned about Babs, and she isn't usually very sentimental. If she is feeling an alien dread... well, not alien, as she'd felt it before, but... 'No, that can't be right. Nothing's gonna happen.' she thought. Blood Orange is feeling something she hadn't since... he died, and she has to know why.

Doom is headed her daughter's way, but she can't figure out why.

"Maybe I should just stay home today. I'm just... stressed, I guess," Blood Orange thought to herself.

Chestnut was feeling horrible.

Every day.

Every. Single. Day.

She and Babs would go for the same marks.

And Babs would die.

And she would wake up.

And the world would crumble.

And she would cry.

And she would go to school.

And Babs would die.

And Babs would die.

And Babs would die.

...

...

In the darkness, a lone figure stood. Cloaked in shadow, and with a quill in hand, she would write upon parchment the words to which we live by. Her words were no longer her own, however, and now the parchment was scratched with lies.

Lies of catastrophic proportions.

And these lies will tear Blood Orange and Chestnut's minds and souls to shreds.