Chapter 1: A Really Bad Day

Featherweight dragged himself around town, head down, pain and tears edging around his eyes as he tried to force them back, too upset to gaze through his camera around at the world that he had once believed to be so full of beauty and vibrance. The event that had just taken place at the school house was what had set him off on his disillusioned trek to Sugarcube Corner, only heading that way in order to wash away the sulfuric cruddy taste in his mouth with a nice, smooth strawberry milkshake.

‘I’m not important enough for the Student Council summer vacation trip? My position isn’t essential enough to warrant me to go? I haven’t done my job enough?!’

Featherweight started to fume and bite back tears as he remembered the comments that came from the parents of the other Student Council members. ‘How many nights have their kids stayed up to work on their re-election poster? How many days did they have to cancel plans with friends to go to a photoshoot? How many times did I come in at the last second of good natural lighting for the photo that they need the next day. How many days I end up going home because it’s late and we can’t do it well enough?’

A slight buzzing noise made his ear flick as he grew angrier and angrier, looking down at the ground to hide his face to those who might look. ‘How much of their parents’ money do they spend for the equipment they need for their position?! None! Zilch! Nothing! It’s always me that gets pushed around and told what to do! It’s always me wh-’

The buzzing got louder, a faint rumbling was heard. He scratched his ear trying to dig the noise from his mind, but kept moving forward ‘-and… and gets yelled at by the others if I miss a small thing! It’s always my fault when THEY don’t show up for the shoot, always my fault when I show up late to meetings that I wasn’t informed about until the last second! I’ve been ok with most of it. I could handle it. I was tough, but to say that I don’t do MY job enough?! No! I don’t even ha-’

Featherweight was ripped from his internal tirade violently as he was pulled by two hooves around his camera strap, away from the road and his destination. He tripped, hitting his head to the ground hard enough for it to bounce off of the rock it landed on. Rumbling vibrated the ground beneath them as he opened his blurry eyes to see a blitzing bovine stampede roaring toward him and- “Pipsqueak? What are you doing? What’s going on.” He asked, still dazed from the hard hit to the head.

“Can’t talk, we’ve gotta go. Come on!” He yelled as he grabbed featherweight and ran for a nearby alley that the cows were curving away from.

Featherweight followed him, dazed and stumbling, but still following him. ‘Mr. Class President himself came to rub it in my face’ He thought in his stupor. He regained a bit of his awareness, leading him to sprint quicker with pip so they could get to a safer area.

Pip Finally stopped in an alley, panting and coughing, while Featherweight stood up, body swaying as his ears rang and his head pounded. He looked around and wiped the tears from his eyes. It was hard for him to hold his concentration on any one thing. The buzzing in his ear returned, but he looked over to Pipsqueak to realize it was him talking

“-you doing in the middle of the street like that? Didn’t you hear me call after you? You could have gotten killed! Look, What’s happening? Are you ok? Is this because of the meeting?” Pip asked, looking at his friend who was worse for wear, shaking and shuddering.

“Huh?” Was all Featherweight could get out.

Pipsqueak sighed and sat down, Featherweight following suit. “W-What is wrong, Feather? Are you okay? You’re worrying me.” Pip said, genuine concern evident in his tone and body language.

“I think I hit my head when you pulled me back. It really hurts. N-nothing is really making sense.” Featherweight said, raising his voice to talk over the ringing. He took a hoof and rubbed it lightly against the area that hurt the most. His fur was wet to the touch. He winced as he pulled his hoof back to see the sickening, crimson liquid taint his beige fur. The ringing subsided, and he began to hear the drip of blood plip and plop onto his back from the open wound on his head. “What, what were you asking, Pip?” He asked again, not fully processing the fact that he was bleeding yet.

“That’s gonna ‘ave to wait. You must of hit your head hard. Do you need to go to the hospital? I can help you walk down, since you don’t look like you’re in the best of shape right now.” Pip asked as he inspected the back of Featherweight’s head to see a light visceral catastrophe.

Featherweight started to nod, but decided against it to not worsen the condition of his headache. “Yes. Please.” He croaked. ‘I don’t know what hurts more; the fact that I might have a concussion, or that one of the ponies I was trying to get away from is helping me get to the hospital.’ He started moving along with Pip again, this time just opting to follow the smaller colt’s tail. His eyes tried to focus on it, but they jerked around too much. He groaned and gave up trying to control his focus walking straight.

The stampede had ended and the dust had cleared by that point, leaving only ruined cart shops, disgruntled former shop owners, and pulverized cannon fodder that had the unfortunate opportunity to be in the path of the frenzied beasts. Featherweight would have taken a few pictures here and there if he were able to walk without the need to focus on the act. The fact that his camera lens was cracked didn’t help the situation either.

Featherweight chuckled a bit, “Today sure is great, isn’t it? Everything seems to be going my way!” He said coldly before chuckling a bit more. It was bitter. Pip could tell that without even needing to look back at the downcast colt. The laughter diminished into choked sobbing, choked sobbing turned into shaky wailing, and shaky wailing turning into silence as Featherweight’s pain only reached the ears of Pipsqueak, being drowned out by the casual talk of ponies around the area about what happened and other trials of the day. Around them, life moved on and society pushed forward to rebuild, blissfully unaware or simply uncaring of the pain that one of their own bore on himself. The splash of tears he shed dropped into the ocean, destined to be drowned out by the clashing waves and perpetual tide that he felt surrounded him.

The walk felt indefinite, but soon enough, their destination was right in front of them: The hospital.

Author's Note

This is the first chapter of a story that I didn't think I would be making last week. I was nervous about writing something like this, well, more of writing anything at all. I have to thank Milo_Chalks for giving me that push that I needed to start something like this. Also thanks a bunch to him for editing this for me as well!