A Stranger Amongst the Little One

The clocktower. Boy, what a place this is. Towering at least fifteen stories high, this place is basically my home, my hideout, and the place I can feel safe after a night of stealing. It’s also the place that tells Ponyville the time. I mean, duh, it’s a giant tower with clocks on all four sides.

When the builders were done making this place, which, by the way, took almost a whole year to build, I thought it would be a great place for a hideaway: mainly because not many ponies go tootling off into a clocktower for fun. The only visitors I ever get are crows and owls. Nothing else. And I plan to keep it that way: the last thing I want, as the town’s thief, is to have my hideout found.

At the very top of the tower—where all the gears, clock heads, and other mechanical junk are—are trunks where where I keep my most valuable trophies and steals. Mostly things I don’t want to sell or ever get rid of. I have a bed near the window for sleeping. A wardrobe. Mirror. Candles for light. And a water pump for, you know…water? Basically all the stuff I need is up here, where I call home.

I place the gold-jeweled mask in one of my trunks, next to a giant pearl I found sometime ago. I keep these because they are mine. Stolen, yes, but they’re mine. And no one can take them from me; even if they try and are successful, I’d track them down and take back what’s rightfully mine. Then again, I have been doing that for a long time now.

I walk up to the windowsill and gaze outside. Darkness is the only thing I see. Everypony has gone to bed. Figures. Resting for the next day of hard work to come. Not me, though. I don’t normally steal in the daylight. Nopony would be stupid enough to rob somepony in broad daylight. During the day, I normally rest up here and plan my next bust. Sometimes I just sleep all the way until the evening and go out to wherever I think I should go.

Tomorrow’s going to be different; at least I think it will. Scootaloo has got me thinking about life. Mostly about how lucky I am to be where I am right now. I mean, being a thief and having a bunch of trophies that are worth a buck ton is great and all, but realizing that there’s a filly out there who respects what I do is something…I inspiring about her? We may be total strangers, but maybe she’s exactly what I’m looking for. I don’t know. Could I give the kid a better life? Maybe. Only time will tell, I guess.

I get off the windowsill and glance at my pocket watch. Almost one. If there’s one thing I hate about this clocktower it’s when its big hand hits twelve. That’s when the stupid bell goes haywire. If it were up to me, I’d take the stupid thing apart. But that’d only draw attention to myself. I don’t think anypony wants a clocktower that doesn’t work, so that’s not exactly a good way to keep my hideout a secret. Still, I’ve put up with the bell for so many years; no reason I can’t do it now.

Later that night I lie in bed, look up at the high-up, narrow ceiling, thinking about Scootaloo and how she has to live in a total dump. Nowadays that’s where ponies live: In dumps and in the slums of wherever they are. That is, of course, unless you’re rich, or royalty. Or best friends to somepony who’s of royalty. But only to an extent. Rumour has it that Twilight Sparkle practically gave all her best friends a room at her crystal castle—which, by the way, towers over all the crummy little houses. If the rumours are true, someone them declined. Told her they had a place of their own.

Some of her friends, on the other hoof, accepted, and they all run their businesses in there. Except that crazy pony who’s obsessed with apples. She still has her farm and boy, she never stops working. I’be stolen from her a few times. Still, though, I wish Twilight could do something more for all her subjects, not just her friends. But there’s only so much she can do, I guess. And that doesn’t include helping Scootaloo. Still, I wonder if there is something more I can do for her…

Why am I thinking so much about this? All Scootaloo is to me is a poor orphan, who has to live the life everypony else does. A stranger. Nothing more. If it were up to me and if I stuck to the code I have for myself, I would’ve just passed her and not said a single word. I bucked up. Who knew that a little filly, a total stranger, could get me going? I never get attached to anyone or show compassion toward others. I’m a thief. I take. I don’t give. The only time I do give is to the very few friends I have. That’s it. Everypony else can go buck themselves. But Scootaloo…she’s just—she’s….

I get out of bed, head over the window, and look out again. Still dark. I sigh. A pause. Another pause.

But Scootaloo…she’s just—she’s different. Maybe I should try and help the kid out. Not take her in, but help her fend for herself. Maybe I can even show her my ways. Teach her the code. Have her carry my legacy when I’m gone from this place. Or…am I really thinking this?

I honestly don’t know why I’m so fixated on trying to help her. I’m never one to love. My inspired guess its because she is a lone filly who’s already on the verge of losing it if something isn’t done soon. But the idea of me helping somepony else…What a concept. Can I actually help Scootaloo? Can I give her the life I think she deserves? Maybe. If it do, does that mean she will love me? The last and only living thing in this world that could ever love me is Scootaloo; but that’s simply not possible. This isn’t self-pity but the coldest, clearest self-knowledge: I am unlovable.

Following my plan of the code, I have tired many times to involve myself in other ponies, in relationships, and even love. It doesn’t work though. It’s impossible to formulate; it’s like I was born into this world with the incapacity to love, even though, for some, it is the easiest thing to grasp. Something in me is broken, torn, or missing; and the sooner or later I realize that, the sooner I can stop chasing after love. It’s so stupid.

I lean against the windowsill, admiring Ponyville’s darkness. I still don’t know how the princesses could let our world go down the drain like this. I’m serious. You’d think that they’d be opposed to such a crazy idea, but nope. They were all in for it. Even Twilight. The four princesses agreed that it would be a great way to boost the economy and create more jobs. It obviously did, but at the cost of ruining our beautiful world. Forests were cleared to make room for the warehouses and factories and—you know, all the stuff needed for an industrial revolution. Even at that point, Twilight still supported the idea of the revolution. And when she did, it made ponies go bonkers, especially somepony named Fluttershy. Apparently she’s really into helping animals and seeing all the little critters get displaced isn’t exactly something she likes to see. Still, she helped them by taking care of them…but I know that all of of our lives will never be the same, ever again.

After a year of building, hiring, and working, all the smoke and junk being pumped out from the factories has poisoned the air. Makes it practically impossible to fly in the sky for prolonged time without choking on the air and dying. Even these so-called gas masks don’t work. Since then, they declared that Pegasi only fly for a maximum of two hours a day. Otherwise you’ll really mess up your lungs. This whole industry has me thinking why the hell did these idiots agree to put this ridiculous thing into motion. Even Twilight is one of them. Believe it or not, I steal from her from time to time. It’s really easy too. It’s the only time I feel partially bad, even though, in the end, I never really do.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a good flight. It’s been a while. I mean, yeah, I did technically fly tonight, like I do everyday, but that was just so I could get on top of a roof. That’s it. I haven’t actually done any stunts, or races in ages. Hell, I haven’t even been able to sleep on a cloud. That’s how bad it is. The only time I actually get to fly is when I have to.

Probably hard to believe, huh? Pegasi only being able to fly for two hours a day? The sky belongs to nopony now. Trust me, I know. I’d give up everything—all my trophies, my dignity, my hideout—just to get one more day in the sky. Too bad it only ever happens in my dreams.

I sigh again, and head back to my bed lie down, and stare at the dull ceiling again. My life may be great as a thief, but, deep down, I still face my inner demons. Still, I’m somewhat determined to help Scootaloo get a better life. And that’s what I’m going to do.

Every day I learn more about myself.