Mute
I’m not autistic, I keep telling everyone that, or I would if I could. You see, I am a mute, I can’t make any sort of noise from my voice-box. But that’s not all, I don’t react to stuff. I used to of course, it’s not some disease I have, it’s just that one day, I stopped reacting. Back when I was a young colt I used to have to rely on facial expressions to get my point across, making faces in order to tell my parents I was hungry, it was demeaning. When I became a teen though, my parents started to give me more independence, they would let me rely on myself for food and drink whenever I needed it, they told me that it would help me work with myself being a mute if I learnt to do more things on my own. I liked the idea, I hate having to rely on others, it gives them too much responsibility over you, and if it carries on you’ll become dependent, and then you’re stuck. Since I rarely ever had to ask others for things, I didn’t need my facial expressions, others don’t need to know if I’m happy or sad, I cut myself off from reactions, not reacting to sadness, happiness or pain. And I began to develop my magic, I practiced and practiced, used it for everything, only using my hooves for walking. Eventually, lifting something with my horn was as natural as breathing. I would go about my day with a passive face on, performing the necessities for sustaining life, eating and drinking when I needed to.
I think my parents liked this setup better too, they were both hard working ponies, spending up to 8 hours a day at their jobs, sometimes more if they worked overtime. As a result I was usually left alone all day, with not much shortage of bits. However, as I became more reclusive, my passive face and inability to speak labelled me as a loner, initially I would gesture to my mouth and shake my head whenever someone would ask me something, but as time wore on, and I became an adult, setting off on my own into the world, I would just ignore it whenever ponies looked at me. I became thought of as autistic, not really in tune with this plane of existence that everypony else seemed to be in, I didn’t try to confirm or deny it, I let them have their own ideas. I had my own life to worry about without having to think about others, and at the time, my main concern was what to do with myself, my parents had asked me what I wanted to do on my 18th birthday, I told them, by writing it down, that I wished to have some of my inheritance and be allowed to set off on my own. They agreed, complimenting me on my independence and cheering me on with a farewell wave as I walked away from my house, saddlebag filled with bits, my own personal items, writing stationary and other essential items for one such as I.
I set off without a direction, just knowing that I wanted to get away from Manehatten, the packed streets and buildings making me fell claustrophobic, yet I was always alone in the crowds. As I walked I heard two mares talking to each other, manes recently cut and done up in crazy styles that were certain to draw somepony’s attention. The light blue one was talking avidly whilst the other just nodded along with the conversation.
“...so then she was thinking of going to Ponyville for the Summer Sun celebration that was going to take place there...” I heard a snippet of their conversation as we crossed paths. I stopped in my tracks, the stallion behind me bumped into my back and quickly skirted me, mumbling angrily. I had heard of Ponyville before, back in my geography classes we had to do a study on the more rural areas of Equestria, and Ponyville was one of them, we had taken a train to the village and taken note of the way they lived. It seemed like a nice place at the time and as good a place as any to start my adult life.
With a destination now in mind, I continued walking with renewed vigour, exited at the prospect of a new life where no-one knew me, a fresh start. Of course, none of this registered on my face, emotions long since detatched from anywhere but my brain. Spying a carriage off one of the main roads I plotted a course and sped up slightly, determined to get on it before somepony else did, I was lucky, sitting myself down just as another pony walked up, the stallion was a light brown colour with matching mane and tail, cutie-mark in the shape of shovel and a piece of coal. His face was contorted into one of extreme frustration as he silently walked off away from the carriage. The ponies at the front of the carriage, the ones who would be pulling me, turned around to face me, they were almost identical, same almond shaped eyes, same neck length grey manes and same snout shape.
“Where to?” The one on the left asked in a deep baritone. I quickly levitated a chalk board and white chalk from my saddlebag and scrawled ‘Ponyville’ on it using my magic. The ponies nodded in reply and the one on the right spoke up.
“For a destination that far away we require payment up front.” He said in a slightly higher pitch than his partner, I nodded in reply and they named their price, 75 bits, non-negotiable. I pulled the required amount from my saddlebag and silently handed it over, where they placed it into a waiting bag at the front of the carriage. They simultaneously turned around to face the road once more and set off, setting a much faster pace than I would have been able to. I was glad they hadn’t questioned my lack of speech, ponies always did, then they would apologise, I was long since tired of hearing people feel sorry for my suffering, while I knew they were just concerned, or pretending to be, it still got annoying after the first thousand or so times. I settled back into my seat and got ready for the long ride to my new life.
