The White Stallion

by MIdnightLovesScootaloo

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Sad
Length: 1153

The white stallion, he sees his prison, laying in a field of grass, the poison of the world slowly dims his mind, yet still he pushes on, through his shame and depression, he forces his way forward.

The white stallion, he sees his prison, laying in a field of grass, the poison of the world slowly dims his mind, yet still he pushes on, through his shame and depression, he forces his way forward.

The stallion, he is white, yet his coat is darkened by more than just the sun. Struggling against himself, he plots his own way through life.
The stallion is more than what he appears to be.

Notes: yes, this story is more than a little true, its also greatly exaggerated and somewhat false. I am not entirely the white stallion, there is more to me than the fact thatt I am running from myself. Do i want pity messages and comments? naw, i just wanted to write a story. This story wasnt written by me, it already existed, when I wrote it, i was discovering a story that already existed, not making a new one. It will probably end up being a song eventually, judging by some of the lyrical qualities of some of my lines, and Ive got a decent riff emerging for it.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-05-15 13:30:02 UTC

Chapter 1

The white stallion, he sees his prison, laying in a field of grass, the poison of the world slowly dims his mind, yet still he pushes on, through his shame and depression, he forces his way forward. The white stallion is in pain beyond any emotional measure, he sees the other ponies, the people, going through their day, cheerfully going from place to place, they all seem to know what to do, how to act, and where they are going. The white stallion has none of these things, his days are spent running, running from himself, his only joy is found in the occasional dreamless sleep, for only there do his nightmares leave him alone. The white stallion continues on until nightfall, having walked from sunup until sundown, now his pace quickens and he threatens to break into a run, for the nightmares of his past haunt him in the night, who he was, who he could have been and who he is, all tear at him until the only thing left are tears and the fierce desire to live. The stallion runs until he drops, knowing that sleep will only bring more nightmares, memories of what has happened to him, and fears of what will happen if his past catches up to him, so he prays to Luna and keeps going. The white stallion, he met other ponies and tried to connect to them, to find the magic of friendship, but, he could not understand them, and they could not understand him, so on he ran. He found a marefriend once, and he took comfort in her, yet her life was full of other things, and she had no time for one such as him, so he kept running, The white stallion has a future set out for him, but not the future he wants, a future of relative ease and comfort, if only he gives up everything he has left and joins the rest of society. Of course, he will never fit in, knowing what he knows, he prays to Luna and keeps going, for he knows the future is inevitable, the forces allayed against him feel like the universe himself, yet he knows his future is bleak, so he keeps running, for to give in is to accept defeat. sometimes, the stallion considers ending it, taking the step to the other side, and securing his fate, but the stallion knows that giving up will leave his efforts forgotten and his struggles made worthless, so he plows on, desperate to escape his fate, even if he doesn't know how to...

Once, the stallion knew where he was going. He had grand plans, dreams of touring the world over and using music to preach his visions, but now, all he sees are empty visions and daydreams. His vision was a peaceful one, if hard to accept and that is what led him to where he is now. The stallion, he wanted equality, he wanted true equality for everyone be them ponies, griffons, minotaurs, diamond dogs, zebras, dragons, anything that could speak, that was sentient, he wanted to be equal, that was of little contention, tons preached about that, but, what irked society was that he preached for rights and equality for the youth as well, foals, cubs, calves, pups, drakes, all of them. They could think too, why was a meaningless number attached to whether or not you were considered equal to the rest of society?

And this stallion, a colt at the time, and still more or less a colt, had the audacity to argue for such a cause, and as such, his struggles began, though, what spurred such arguments? the colt had a problem, he liked a little fillies TV show, A Lot, and so, his parents decided that was a bad idea, and tried to get him to stop, they found him talking to his friends about it, pretending to be characters, creating his own, drawing them, and they couldn't take it, they told him that, although he had a brilliant mind, it was broken, that his ideas and the way he lived equated to him being a worthless piece of shit marring the F:yay:KING PERFECT SOCIETY THEY LIVED IN, even though he worked for the father, with his adult employees, and was taking three courses a term, with straight f:yay:king A's at the local community college So he fought, he kicked and screamed and yelled and wrote and talked and tried and tried to get someone to hear his pleas, he got some sympathy from his peers, but they didn't understand. When he couldn't figure out how to get people to listen and his friends had all left him, he ran, nopony would ever listen to a foal anyway, they're helpless. The colt, broken, his will smashed, ran, he ran until he fell over from exhaustion, got up, and ran some more. One day, the colt will be grown up enough to be considered adult and his words will have some merit, he will be equal with the world, and free to live how he wants to, no matter what society thinks, and his life will be better, meaningless, but the pain will stop, the endless cycle of hope, followed by a dullness, then the wound reopens when he thinks to much, the pain returns, and slowly dulls, then he has some hope that his nightmare will end, then everything gets dull again, and the cycle continues, The scars may heal, but until then, I am running.

For now, the stallion runs, his fate is undecided, he chooses to keep going despite everything thrown at him, although he has his moments of weakness, moments where the barest thread of something unknown holds him back from killing himself. Most of the time, the stallion keeps himself composed, a calm, cool mask of an insufferably smug, abrasive person, to hide the inner turmoil tearing him apart, though, when the day ends, he doesn't want to fit into his self imposed image of a stallion, he likes dressing up, he wants to be pretty, by some somewhat masculine use of the word, he wants to be able to be gentle, to take extra care to protect the world instead of taking as much of a slice of it as he can for himself. The stallion stopped caring about individuals a long time ago, now all he wants to do is show the world that behind his coat, he is not a stallion, nor a pony, but rather a person. He doesn't care that he's got something extra between his legs, or that he's a quadrupedal, that his coat is light instead of dark, those don't matter to him, he just wants to be a good person beyond such petty categorizations of race or gender or coloration. But the world doesn't spin for just one stallion, so he runs.