Blue had left school, slowly plodding in the general direction of home. He was planning
on spending the rest of the day in the forest. He wanted to put the embarrassment and
humiliation of yesterday out of his mind. It still burned; he hated crying in front of
others. His face flushed again as he recounted the events of the previous day.
He’d had a crush on Cherryheart for years. He’d met her when he started school here
and fancied her from that day. He was never able to get the courage to say anything until
yesterday. He’d drawn a beautiful portrait of her. Done entirely from memory, he wanted
to impress her with it.
When lunch had arrived he nervously approached her and handed it to her, wishing her
a happy birthday. Cherryheart took the paper and looked down at it. Her eyes flew open
wide with joy when she saw what he’d drawn. She turned to him to say something, when
Boulder, a huge earth pony, snatched the drawing out of her hands. He looked it over for
a moment and began to mock Blue.
“Look what the faggot drew for his little girlfriend!” He yelled to anypony that could
hear him.
“You two should go get your hooves done later!” Boulder continued.
Cherryheart tried to get her present back from Boulder.
“Give that back! Its mine!” She yelled in frustration, jumping at him to retrieve her gift.
This only fueled Boulders behavior. He dangled it above her, letting her get close, and
pulling it away at the last second. This went on for a minuet or so when he grew tired of
his new game. Boulder looked right at Blue, while he kept Cherryheart at bay with one
hoof; he took the drawing, dropped it on the ground and ripped it apart, by dragging his
hoof across it, laughing. He genuinely enjoyed destroying Blue’s efforts.
Cherryheart began hitting the bully, yelling at him to leave. After a moment of laughing,
Boulder trotted off, proud of himself.
Cherryheart moved over to the fragments of paper that had once been a beautiful image
of her. She gathered the pieces together and looked over at Blue. He was gently crying.
She looked at him with an ‘I’m so sorry’ look in her eyes. She walked over to him and
kissed him on the cheek, saying,
“Thank you”.
Emotions he hadn’t felt in years welled up. He started to bawl. He didn’t know why, but
he was more embarrassed now than anything. He just wanted to get away. He stared at
her for a moment trying to form words. They wouldn’t come through the heaving breaths.
He turned away in shame and ran towards home.
Lost in his memories, He didn't notice Boulder, Rocky and Racer.
The trio of ponies had galloped up to Blue. He finally became aware as they formed a
circle around him.
Boulder stood right in front of Blue, blocking his path. Blue looked up at Boulder, the
biggest of the three. The big pony glared down at Blue with hate in his eyes.
Boulder and his friends had been tormenting Blue for years. They seldom passed an
opportunity to cause the smaller pony harm. One day might just be a few harsh words,
other days they would beat him, or steal what little he owned. When they destroyed his
art supplies, it hurt the most.
Early on Blue had asked why they hated him. The only answer that came was a busted
nose and a bruised face.
"Where are you going crybaby?" Boulder sneered.
Blue didn't answer; he just stood there, shaking a little, resigned to his fate. Soon the
beating would begin.
"Answer me, faggot!” Boulder yelled.
Rocky grabbed Blues new saddlebags and jerked them to the ground laughing with glee.
He stomped on them repeatedly, ripping the seams apart. Rocky could feel the contents of
the bags breaking under his hooves.
Blue just stood there, unmoving, unflinching. He waited; there was no point in fighting
back now. These ponies had grown considerably over the last year. Blue was so much
smaller, they could seriously hurt him if he resisted. Half again as big as Blue, Boulder
was an intimidating sight.
"I bucking hate you." Boulder said emphasizing the word "hate".
“Why? What did I do to you?” Blue asked his voice shaky.
Instead of striking him, Boulder leaned in close to Blue,
“You were born.” Boulder’s voice was full of venom. He kept leaning closer to Blues
face.
"You’re a waste of hide. You're a loser! No pony likes you. Nopony wants to hang with
a faggot like you!" Boulders voice was cold and his lips curled into a sneer.
At that moment, Blue started to realize something awful. What Boulder was saying
no longer cut him. The words didn't hurt any more. Blue had started believing what
Boulder had been saying these last few years. That deep, wide hollow feeling crept into
his heart. All other feelings faded to nothing. Blue wasn't frightened anymore.
In that realization, the last flicker of hope in him, died.
Boulder had been speaking, but, lost in thought, Blue hadn’t responded.
In a fit of rage, Boulder struck Blue in the muzzle. Blues head snapped back and blood
gushed from his nostrils. A pitiful yelp came from his lips. Dazed by the blow, Blue
stood there...the attack hadn’t surprised him.
Seeing that Blue wasn't resisting, Boulder started bashing Blue in the head with his
forelegs, knocking him to the ground. Lying on his left side, he curled into a ball.
The three Earth ponies began stomping on their unfortunate victim. As they repeatedly
struck him, they let out hoots and hollers of joy while they mercilessly beat the helpless
dark blue Pegasus.
As hard as he could, Racer kicked Blue in the flank, right where his cutie mark was. It
would leave deep painful bruising for several weeks.
Blue had been so proud of his cutie mark, it had been one of the few things that he was
truly happy about. Seeing it reminded him he was somepony. That he mattered in some
way in the world.
The last several years of neglect at home and abuse at school, had taken that joy and
ripped it out of him one blow at a time. He no longer looked at his cutie mark; it had
become a symbol of longing for what should be, but never was to come.
Blue grunted and spasmed as the blows landed. A tear began to flow from his eyes--not
so much from the pain and indignity, but from realizing nopony was going to save him;
nopony would see this and help him. He felt utterly alone now.
His three assailants began to get tired from their efforts. The beating stopped. Blood was
coming out of his nose, mouth and several gashes in his flank.
As they stood over him, inspecting their work, Racer leaned over Blue and yelled in his
ear,
“You should just kill yourself!"
Racer‘s high pitched laugh, cut through the afternoon air like a knife.
Blue remained on the ground, curled-up in a ball. He stared off into space, a grounds-
eye view of his world.
As a final insult, Rocky opened his victims’ saddlebags, dumped the contents
on the ground and examined them. Pencils, blank paper, drawings and a box of
crayons lay scattered pitifully at his feet. Rocky looked at the box of crayons on the
ground, his lips drew into a sadistic grin, and he stomped on them. He ground the broken
chunks of rainbow into the dirt under his hoof. The bullies laughed at the spectacle.
He laid there on the ground breathing heavily until the attackers left him alone.
"Let's go, I have hoof-ball practice in a little bit." Boulder said to his friends as they
turned and walked back towards town, their work done.
Boulder turned his head back to look at the battered Pegasus.
"And don't come back to school Monday...or you'll wish you were dead." He said
matter-of-factly and laughed.
Bleeding, Blue lay crumpled on the ground until the trio had walked out of sight. He
slowly got up into a sitting position--he hurt all over. His right eye was swelling, and he
was pretty sure his nose was broken. Blood was beginning to dry around his nostrils
and it itched. Reaching a hoof up to his nostril he scratched. Pain exploded in his
face causing him to gasp. They had really broken it bad this time. He settled down a
moment, and gingerly scratched his nose.
Blue looked over to his saddlebags. Rocky had ruined them. His drawings were blowing
around in the light breeze. The crayons were no longer usable for anything; they were
garbage now, broken like his frail body.
He sat there, no longer caring what happened. New itching on his nose caused his hoof to
come up to scratch. He wiped his nose and fresh pain exploded in his muzzle. Carefully,
he wiped blood off his nose and face as best he could. He stood up on all fours, testing
his legs. His right rear leg hurt the most, where Racer had kicked him in the cutie mark.
His dark blue coat would cover the bruising very well. He tried stretching his wings; no
bones broken, but they were very sore. Some of his primary feathers had been ripped out
and lay smashed in the dirt
Blue let out a sigh as he moved over to his meager pile of possessions. Gathering them
together, he stuffed them haphazardly into the remaining good pouch of his once-new
saddlebags. He picked up the saddlebags in his mouth and immediately dropped them.
The pain in his jaw told him that Boulder had knocked some teeth loose. Carefully this
time, he managed to balance the trashed saddlebags on his back and began the trek home
limping as he did.
Arriving home he quietly stepped through the front door and listened. The house was
silent.
"Whew” he thought to himself.
It meant his mother was still asleep. He carefully walked to his room, entered it and
closed the door. He gingerly set his saddlebags on his makeshift bed, moved to his desk
and withdrew the first-aid kit from under it. He had become quite good at tending his
own wounds. He worked for a short while cleaning the cuts with iodine and wiping the
dried blood from his sides and face, placing bandages where necessary.
His physical wounds would heal in time.
After he had finished and put the kit away, he turned his attention to his drawing table.
He tried to focus his thoughts on finishing the drawing he had begun the night before.
It was of a sunset at the coast. The warm, happy yellows and oranges of the sunset played
counterpoint to the darker majestic purples and blues of the approaching night sky. There
were small fishing boats in the harbor, docked for the night. The ocean was unfinished.
It just wasn't in him right now to continue. None of the colors were bright, no joy jumped
from the page. He slumped ever so slightly in defeat. Even this one retreat had been
taken from him. Blue exhaled slowly, folded his forelegs on the desk and laid his head
on them. His mind was in a haze; nothing made sense now, only the deep hollowness in
his heart. He wanted to cry, but no tears would come. He wanted to express the hurt and
rejection he was feeling but he was no longer able to fight the ever-growing hole in his
soul.
He got up from his desk and walked to the bed. Moving his saddlebags to the floor, he
crawled into bed and fell asleep, his small, frame barely making a lump under the ragged
blanket.
The sound of a slamming door woke Blue from his sleep. His father had come home
from work. Through the paper thin walls, he could hear his father's heavy hoofsteps
moving through the house.
“Please don’t come in here,” He thought, not wanting a confrontation with his father
right now. He simply didn’t have the energy for it.
But, like so many other things, he didn’t get his wish. The hoofsteps stopped outside his
door, which shuddered open on its aged hinges. His father looked over to the bed where
his son was lying, and noticed the bandages and swollen eye.
"What the hell happened to you?"
"I got beat up again.” Blue stated without emotion.
Through his swollen eye, he watched for his father's reaction. Not knowing what to
expect, Blue waited.
"That was bucking stupid." His father snorted. A look of disgust crossed the
elderpony's face. Leaving, he slammed the door to the colts’ room.
Silence filled the room for a while as he laid there in bed. He didn’t want to move,
or think or feel right now. He just wanted peace again, like in the days when his
friend ‘Bighoof’ lived in the area. They had been best friends years ago. Nothing
bothered Blue then, he was free. He nearly lived at his friends house, their family had,
in a way, taken him in. He likened it to taking in a stray. He was happy, and coveted his
time there as a starving pony would a secret apple orchard.
Bighoof and his family had moved away though, and it broke Blues spirit when they did.
He felt lost and unsure of himself after that. Without a support system, Blue began to
fade. He spoke up in class less and his grades fell. The harassment began in earnest after
they had moved. Tearing at him daily, he folded into himself. The torment had become a
way of life.
With some effort and grunts, Blue sat up in bed, every muscle in his body seeming to cry
out in pain. He just sat there on his small worn-out bed. Not thinking, not remembering.
He just stared into space.
In his heart he didn’t feeling anything any longer. He had expected to feel some sort of
rejection or hurt from his father’s words.
Slowly, a feeling of peace began to form in his mind and heart. It felt good, a small smile
formed on his bruised lips. It wasn't a kind of peace he had ever experienced before. It
had a numb quality to it.
Blue let out a sigh, almost happily, as this new feeling filled him. A dark thought formed
in the back of his mind, and it said ‘everything was going to be okay.’
He moved to the window in his room and stared out into the yard.
Blue sat there for some time just staring out the window, not really focusing on any one
thing. Peace had come to his heart and he was going to enjoy it for as long as he could.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" His father's voice had finally registered.
Turning around, He saw his father in the doorway again.
"Get your busted face to town and get me something to eat." His father stated, throwing
a small bag of bits on the floor in front of the colt.
Without speaking a word, he picked up the sack and went to his closet to retrieve his
old secondhand saddlebags. Putting the bits into one of the pouches, he gingerly set his
saddlebags in place, and left for town.
Blue slowly walked towards town; he passed the spot where Boulder and his cronies
had attacked him. He barely gave it a second glance. He made his way to the Ponyville
market.
He wandered around in the market finding his father's favorite foods.
Green apples, some fresh hay fries, and a big cucumber and tomato sandwich. The
bustling noise and busyness of the other ponies never really registered to him. It was
all just a blur. He didn’t notice the looks on the ponies’ faces when they saw him. Some
stared; others looked at him with concern or sadness. But, no pony reached out to him.
He barely recognized the expression of the cashier as he paid for his father's hay fries.
"What happened to you?" The cashier asked as he handed over the bag of hot, fresh, hay
fries. His normally friendly face held a look of shock.
Blue looked right at the cashier and bluntly stated.
"I got beat up again." His voice was weak and soft.
Before the cashier could continue, Blue took the food, turned around, and limped off.
Normally, he would take this opportunity to go and buy some paper or pencils, perhaps
a few bits worth of candy. Those thoughts never materialized in his mind, they no longer
held any desire for him.
Blues world had collapsed, his hopes and dreams had been replaced with an emptiness
and longing. That longing, had changed and become this strange new peace. In his haze
the pain in his body seemed dim and distant; nothing that had happened to him mattered
now.
The walk home was nothing more than a blur. He went into the house, set his father's
food on the kitchen table and went back to his room. Blue walked to his desk and began
to look through his artwork.
His father came to the door and demanded his change.
He turned and looked at his dad, blinked once and pulled out the small bag with the
remainder of the bits that he had been given. Handing it to his father Blue turned back to
his desk and resumed searching through his drawings.
His father left, counting his change.
Blue selected the pictures that meant the most to him and set them aside.
A portrait of himself and Bighoof from when they were little colts. A nearly perfect
rendition of the night sky, as it is on the night of the summer sun celebration. All the stars
were in their correct location. It took years to get it right. One of Cloudsdale he’d drawn
after learning he wouldn’t get to go to flight camp. Another one he’d done years earlier of
Cherryheart kissing him on the cheek. A favorite among them was the drawing of a box
of crayons that had spilled out on the ground. The last one was a self portrait; it was just
a bust, he was looking to the left, with a single small tear in his right eye.
All the others he returned to the pouch where he kept them.
He delicately placed his treasured drawings into his saddlebags, and returning to his desk,
he organized it carefully. He put everything back in its proper place, and threw all the
trash in the bin.
From the top right drawer he withdrew a small brightly coloured box. A box of crayons
cherryheart had given him for hearts and hooves day, a long time ago. Setting them on
the desk, he pulled a rope out of the bottom drawer.
The rope had come from the fort that he and Bighoof had built, years ago. They
pretended that it was their ‘castle’. Using long sticks as swords, they defended it from the
monsters that lived in the woods. It also served as their Pirate ship and bunkhouse in the
summer when they’d ‘camp out’.
They had raised a mast of sorts and used the rope to hang different flags from, depending
on the game du jour.
Letting out a weak little sigh, he placed the rope in the saddlebags.
The sun would be sitting soon. Blue sat in his room staring out his window and watched
the warm colors of evening fade to the beautiful solace of night. This is when he felt best,
just after sunset.
After night had fallen, he got up, grabbed the little box off his desk and left the house.
Neither of his parents noticed.
Walking into the woods near his home, he stopped and sat down in the same clearing he'd
met that yellow Pegasus pony with the long pink mane.
He’d been here stargazing that night, when rustling in the undergrowth snapped him
back to reality. Hopping up on all fours, Blue stared into the woods where he had heard
the sound. The moon was overhead, and he was able to make out a small, cute, white
rabbit. It was looking to where it had come from. It turned around and saw Blue. The
rabbit smiled an impish grin and ran across the clearing to the ponies left, reentering the
undergrowth.
Blue smiled and laughed a little. The sound of his own voice startled him in the stillness
of the evening.
In the distance from where the rabbit had appeared, he could hear a voice calling out. He
turned back towards the woods where the rabbit had first appeared. A yellow Pegasus
mare with a long pink mane appeared at the edge of the clearing. There were twigs, grass
and leaves in her mane and tail. She started crossing the clearing in the general direction
the rabbit had gone, when she noticed Blue. She stopped cold in her tracks, staring at
him. An awkward moment of silence passed, neither said anything. Finally, he pointed
in the direction that the rabbit had run off.
"umm.. Thank you..." The yellow mare said very softly. She broke into a full gallop in
the direction that he had indicated. She crashed into the underbrush and began calling
out. She was so soft spoken he couldn't understand what she was saying. That was last
summer. Tonight, no yellow mare appeared.
He looked up into the vast night sky. The stars were visible now, pinpoints of silver in a
sea of the darkest blue.
He watched the sky for hours; eventually he fell asleep where he was sitting.
He awoke with a start, he was cold and it was still dark out. Looking around and then up,
he saw the stars had moved. Several hours had passed and dawn was on its way.
He sat up and brushed the loose grass from his silver mane, and turned his head towards
town. Grunting softly, he got up and started walking.
A short while later he arrived at the school play yard. He saw the swing set and
approached it. An object of joy, turned ominous in the dark of the night. He stared at it
for a few moments, and struggled to climb to the top. One last effort, in a tired pony’s
life.
Finally, he did get on top, and situated himself. The top beam, just wide enough to sit on.
Pulling his rope out of the saddlebags, he fastened one end securely around the top beam
of the swing set. He rested the opposite end of the rope on his right rear leg.
He looked around at all the familiar settings, the merry-go-round, the schoolhouse, even
the hoof-ball field in the distance. He drank in the view for a few lingering minuets.
It was so quiet here, he was quiet now too.
“No one’s gonna to miss me anyway... “
As Blue sat on the top of the swing set, his heart was no longer heavy, no emptiness, hurt,
or yearning. Just a sickly sweet calm remained. A small grin on his face now, he finally
felt at peace, and for once, he wasn’t hungry.
He held his little box of crayons tightly. These were his; no pony could take that away
now. Their bright colours had brought him the only real joy he’d felt in a very long time.
His drawings were carefully packed in his worn-out secondhand saddlebags. His favorite
pictures were with him, a reminder he was somepony. A pony whose hopes and dreams
had been crushed by indifference and cruelty. He was a colt that hadn’t mattered to
anypony else. Emptiness had consumed Blue, his young mind never fully grasping what
was happening. There was a love shaped hole in his heart that yearned to be filled, but
never was.
The sun would be up soon, he took his rope and looped it over his head, pulled the slack
out, setting the noose tight to the back of his head just behind his right ear. Looking
around he fixed his gaze to the east. The gorgeous night was giving way to dawn. He
paused, looking at the predawn sky for several minuets, and then he looked around at the
stars. They were beautiful to him. Even as young as he was, they looked so beautiful. He
glanced down at the little stars that made up his cutie mark. The dark blue of his coat,
made the sliver stars stand out. In the end they had become a mockery of happiness and
joy.
The rope was comforting in a way; it had a sad finality to it as it gripped his neck firmly.
A final embrace to replace all the ones he never received growing up.
Slowly, Blue relaxed his body, pitching forward he dropped off the swing set. The rope
went taut. A muffled grunt escaped his lips as the weight of his malnourished body was
brought to bear on his slim neck. His frail frame didn’t have the weight to snap his neck.
He was still alive as he hung there, swaying gently. His head was pulled at an unnatural
angle to the left where the rope looped around. His old, used saddlebags fell to the
ground.
Something popped in his neck and he could taste blood in his mouth. His small wings
were beating the air in an attempt to escape what was happening. Their motion caused
Blue to continue swinging pitifully forwards and back. His jaw open and closed trying
to gulp air. The noose closed tighter as he struggled feebly. He couldn’t breathe. Blue
dropped his crayons; the box flew open when it hit the ground spilling the contents
carelessly in the dirt. Their happy colours a sharp contrast to the grotesque scene that
played out above. Moments of suffering passed...
He didn’t know it would hurt this much, the pain grew worse as all his muscles screamed
for relief, relief that was never coming. His lungs felt like they were on fire.
The rope was embedded more than its thickness into the flesh of his neck. His belly was
hitching in and out in a vain attempt to get air into his lungs. His whole body was crying
out in agony, he hurt so much.
Tears formed in his deep blue eyes. He kicked his rear legs weakly, his strength was
fading. Everything was growing dim and he couldn't hear anything other than a roar in
his ears. Snot, and a little blood dripped out of his nose, bloody drool flowed out of the
corners of his mouth. His limbs felt heavy, he was dying, and he knew it. Slowly his
forelegs relaxed at his sides, and his rear legs stopped kicking. His wings beat slower
and slower. Finally, his belly stopped moving. Blues vision faded to black, and his little
wings stopped, unfolding to their extended position, the light left his eyes.
The first birds began to chirp their morning songs.
