Scootaloo dreams of Shire Lanka

by Mica

Rating: teen
Tags: Scootaloo, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Death, Sad
Length: 1694

You are Scootaloo. You are here in Ponyville, alone without your parents. Your parents now live in this faraway land called Shire Lanka. You imagine what it must be like there.

You are Scootaloo. You are here in Ponyville, alone without your parents. Your parents now live in this faraway land called Shire Lanka.

You imagine what it must be like there.

My other story Tyler dreams of Equestria was derived from this story, however I decided not to publish this until later.

Rated T for mentions of death and dark themes. No Scootabuse to be found here, I promise. :scootangel:

(Beautiful) cover art credit: https://derpibooru.org/387132

Published 2019-08-30 20:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-08-30 20:20:01 UTC

Scootaloo dreams of Shire Lanka

Would your ears ring in Shire Lanka?

Would it be just like your house in Ponyville? Where you come home from school and you shut the door, and when you take off your saddlebag and lie down on your bed it gets all quiet. Because you are alone. And a draft blows through that window that’s stuck open by a few inches.

So quiet. So quiet that your ears ring in the silence. Monotone, like this: hmmmmm. Incessantly. That ringing just won’t stop. It is the sound of silence. It is the sound of loneliness.

Hmmmm.

During the day, you’re at school, you talk to your friends. Rainbow Dash comes over to take care of you, but she doesn’t arrive until sunset. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle are busier now they’re older, so nowadays you only meet up at the clubhouse on weekends most of the time.

The silence is bad enough. It’s the contrast that kills you. The sound of laughter and cheerful banter, and the sound of you joining along—and then silence. It’s all so sudden. Slam! You shut the door. And the sound is suddenly extinguished.

It makes that noise all the more jarring. Hmmmmm.

That monotone ringing in your ears.

You hate that sound.

Maybe in Shire Lanka, your ears still ring. But they don’t ring in a monotone hum. Instead, maybe they ring with the sounds of…company. Nature.

Where would you live in Shire Lanka? Maybe a little cabin, deep in the jungle of Shire Lanka. Mum and Dad would choose something like that, since it’s close to their work. It’d be a simple cabin. With a kitchen, living room, the bathroom, and Mum and Dad’s room in the back. And there’d be a little loft at the top. Just for you. And you can see the forest outside your window.

What kind of forest, though? Would it be like…the Everfree forest? Or would it be a kind forest? A kind forest, with gentle streams and sunlight filtering through a leafy canopy. A melodious forest. A forest where birds sing outside your window, and it sounds like they’re trying to tell you something. Something very important.

And you’d smile. Your muscles would relax. You’d feel a strength surge through your body, so strong that you’d almost feel like you could soar out your loft window and into the clouds. And breathe in the air up in the sky.

And perhaps you could. Would you be able to fly in Shire Lanka?

Would you cry every day in Shire Lanka?

You probably would. Why would you cry every day? You’d cry every day because Mum and Dad would have to leave the cabin to go out and do their work, and then they’d only come back in the evening. And then you’d miss them. You’d miss them really bad. And you’d wish they would come back soon.

And you would never forget them.

Would you hug them? Yeah. You’d hug them goodbye in the morning, a big group hug, and you’d feel their warmth pressed against your fur. And the sounds of snuggling. Mmmm.

You never cry in Ponyville. And you hate that. You remember getting that letter in the mail that Dad was seriously hurt after being mauled by a swamp cragadile and he had to be airlifted to a hospital—and you didn’t even shed a single tear. You never forgave yourself for that. You slapped yourself with your lame right wing until the tears came out.

In Ponyville, sometimes you forgot about Mum and Dad. Sometimes, their letter would get caught in the post and it would be four months before you got it, from whatever faraway land they were exploring in favor of spending time with you. You, Scootaloo. You, their only daughter. You, their only child.

Sometimes, you were angry. If you ever did cry, it was out of anger. You were angry that you forgot Mum and Dad. You were angry that they left you alone so then you would forget them. You were angry at yourself for being a bad daughter. You were angry at Mum and Dad for being bad parents.

You forgot to send Dad a care package when you found out he got hurt by that cragadile. It was only when you got another letter that Dad was on the mend and ready to go back to work and Apple Bloom said, “Hey Scoot, why don’t ya send a sorta care package to yer Dad? Y’know, to show like yew care.”

You know that you can’t send packages to Dad because you don’t know where they are at any given moment for their work—but at least if that thought had popped in your head, even once.

You forgot to think about sending the package. And that made you angry.

Would you be able to fly in Shire Lanka?

Would you flap your wings and then touch the sky? And breathe in the air in the sky? The sky air? The air in the sky—the sky air—is it different from the air at the ground? It sorta is. The sun shines on sky air more intensely. The sky air is brighter. It’s lighter. It’s…free.

Could you use your wings lift yourself high up into the sky air? And rest on a cloud on a warm, sunny day, where you can just sit there and breathe in that sky air? Maybe you could hover above the ground in that sky air all day if you wanted to. Effortlessly. Without pain.

Maybe you’d even forget about the ground. And the taste of dirt as you fall to the ground. And the rashes as the dirt scrapes through your orange fur.

In Shire Lanka, you never fall.

Do miracles happen in Shire Lanka?

You don’t like to talk about how you can’t fly. You don’t like to talk about…that crippling weakness you feel in your wings that gets worse and worse with each passing day. Because it makes you wonder if you will never fly. Never.

Nopony can figure out why you still can’t fly. You think about it all the time. Are your wings…atrophying? Are you sick? Maybe you’re sick. Very, very sick, but nopony knows it. Sometimes when you’re alone at home in Ponyville and you hear that incessant hmmm in your ears that you just hate—you feel like your body is wasting away, with every passing second. Are you wasting away?

Is it just your wings? Or could it become something more? Your legs? Your back? Your lungs? Your heart? Will you become crippled? Will you be stuck in a wheelchair unable to breathe on your own? Will you be living in constant pain and suffering for the rest of your life? Will you?

And how soon?

You don’t know.

You’re scared of the future.

Are Mum and Dad scared of the future? They’re not. They believe in miracles. They write you letters and tell you that they know in their heart that you will get better—against all odds, you will get better, and you will be happy.

“You will fly higher than anypony could even imagine. You will soar.” That’s what Mum and Dad wrote to you.

Are they just lying to you? Do they even love you? Like, actually, love you? They’re so far away, so distant. Contrary to what some ponies say, love doesn’t work over long distances. You know it doesn’t. The ink fades and smudges on Mum and Dad’s letters by the time it reaches you in Ponyville. Sometimes it’s barely legible.

Yet you can’t yell at them for lying and not loving you. Because you can’t really do that on a sheet of paper.

You don’t like to talk about…it. Because then you’re forced to think about…it. It. Your future. That impending doom. It isn’t…disability isn’t cute anymore once you’re a grown mare. It…begins to show its true colors. It’s true color: darkness. No, not black. Darkness. Nothingness.

Death.

Only miracles will shine in this kind of darkness. Do miracles happen? Or do they only happen if you believe in them?

Do Mum and Dad believe in miracles? They must do. How else do they deal with it every morning when they step out into that forest? You worry for them. Any day, you could get a letter sent four months ago that Mum and Dad died in some horrible accident. Mauled by a ferocious creature. Poisoned by a toxic plant. Robbed and murdered by jungle thieves.

How did Dad carry on after being mauled by that cragadile?

Mum and Dad must believe in miracles too. How else do they stop that…crippling fear? How else do they make that fear finally melt away? What keeps them alive and carrying on, other than…a miracle?

But you need Mum and Dad to tell you that they believe in miracles before you will believe in miracles too. They need to tell you that. They need to whisper it in your ear, while they’re snuggling you at night, just before you go to sleep in your jungle cabin loft. Mmmmm.

Mum and Dad are in Shire Lanka. Wherever Mum and Dad are, miracles will happen.

You will fly in Shire Lanka.

What if you got out of this place? What if you ran away? If you ever ran away to somewhere, far away, would it all be better?

Somewhere, far away, maybe your wings will be strong enough for you to taste that sky air. Maybe the monotone ringing in your ears will never return. Maybe you’ll always remember to cry when you say goodbye to Mum and Dad.

Somewhere, far away, it’ll be better. Somewhere far away.

Like Shire Lanka.

Author's Note

END. Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it! Feel free to comment on your thoughts. :pinkiehappy:

PLEASE NOTE: This was written before Growing Up is Hard to Do aired. So, whatever happened (or may happen) regarding Scootaloo being able to fly...I have no knowledge of it, one way or another. I have a funny feeling we'll see Scootaloo fly in that episode, but we'll have to see.