The Ones Who Walk Away From Canterlot
Look as the sun rises by the god like powers of Princess Celestia. The colours, so vibrant, in all shades of pink, orange, and even some purple. See as the ponies, already awake, set up their shops. Hear them chatter excitedly about the festival that day. Hear the clopping of hooves as the marching band practices in the main square. This sight would fill anyone with glee.
The festival in question is one to celebrate their happiness, their wealth, and their pride. A fesival that only comes once a year, so they must make it special. Drinking and dancing as they celebrate that day. They all wait eagerly as the set up for the parade, imagining the decorated carriages that they know are going to be wonderous to behold. And the weather is perfect, not one cloud in the sky. The Pegasi making sure they kept this day nice and pristine. Never did the sky look more proud than on this day.
The sun rising steadily now, as if it too is anticipating the festval that is set for today. Shining ever brighter and rising high on the horizen, the ponies waiting impatiently to rise fully for the festival to begin.
The foals wake up and put on their best festival clothes, the colts looking dapper and the fillies looking charming. Watch as they run, and gallop and play! Their parents warning them not to get too dirty before the parade, and their little hearts promising they won't. And the choras of ponies scheduled to perfom, practice their sweet songs for passers by to listen to. They all thinking about the picnic to enjoy after the excitment of the parade is finished. All are joyful, all are polite. All can't wait for the festival.
The castle staff is busy as always and taking special care that the ball room is looking perfect because of the get together to be held there at night for more drinking and friendly gossip among friends. Placing everything just so and so meticulously placed. The floor especially is mopped and then swept. The stage is put up with the piano polished to a shine. The ponies talk and laugh as well, excited for the festival. One stallion even plays the piano briefly in a joyful, polka tune while the ones mopping the floor dance a little. Cheers and aplause erupt the room before everyone gets back to work. Wiping windows, placing center pieces, working hard so ponies have a good experience.
Celestia and Luna, the princesses of this land, practice their opening and closing speaches with ease. Emphasizing certain words to give them more meaning. They both eating a tasty fruit salad of pineapple, oranges, grapes, and strawberries prepared by Celestia herself. Celestia has often said, and proven that breakfast is her favorite meal of the day therefore wanting to make sure she has a good one. They each give opinions of eachothers speaches, and secretly wonder to themselves if anything will go wrong, but knowing deep down and full well it won't.
This is because in the basement of the castle, held in a dark closet, is placed a foal. The gender doesn't matter anymore, as if it ever did. The foal itself has become dirty, and lost so much of its' weight, that it barely looks like a pony at all. At first the foal was confused and bagged its parents to stop torturing it so with little food and no sunlight. But now sits in silence, its voice no longer with it. And it sits all day in the unclean, cramped closet filled with dread, and not knowing when it will escape. And this is something that lives in its' brain like a parasite.
It is treated this way to let everyone else feel joy and love and happiness. For if it wasn't being tortured, how would anyone feel any of that? The thought is just ludicrous. There are ponies that visit it sometimes. Like the pony that brings its bread crumbs in the morning and evening and daily cup of water, and some times a princess, but it is also visited by ponies of many different ages.
A lot of them are foals around the same age as it is. Their friends call them brave for seeing it in real life and not get scared. At least, they act brave around others and the foal, but when they are alone, the brave foals have nightmares of the hidious thing. Never wanting to go near it again for fear it'll eat them. But of course, it never would eat them.
Most of the other ponies point and laugh and kick dirt into its eyes from the floors. Some stare at it in wonder and confusion, trying to make out any kind of signs that would confirm life, but find nothing other than the faint outline of its chest rising and falling at its grey eyes staring back at them with fear. There are very few that look at the foal with pity. These are the ones that walk away from Canterlot. They are so overwhelmed by the sight of its features and living conditions, that they can find nothing but heartache until they force themselves to leave. Some even thinking of bringing the foal with them, but never following through with their plan.
So they leave. Never to walk into Canterlot again. Never to feel whole again once seeing that sight, making the superstitions, in a way, true. Those ponies sometimes relay the horrors of the town to ponies who don't live there, but are quickly shut down by ponies saying that they are lying. These are the ponies that walk away from Canterlot. But what would you do in their situation?
Would you take the foal? Would you raise it and care for it as your own? Or would you do what they do and leave without another word to anybody living there? Would you be one of the ones who walk away from Canterlot?
