Coming Home

by P0nies

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Scootaloo
Length: 1229

We all have a story to tell, even if we don't remember it.

We all have a story to tell, even if we don't remember it.

Published 2013-01-08 21:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-08 21:30:01 UTC

Happily Ever After.

Happily Ever After.

The summer sun set behind the far mountains, a subtle orange peeking out from behind them. A gentle breeze flowed through Ponyville, some already asleep while others huddled around fires and enjoyed the company. It had been a rather nice day for most, warm but also cool enough as well. Foals played through the day, and parents watched over them with wide smiles.

In what was just another home, of another average pony, a foal layed quietly in the peace of its cradle. An indigo pony, roughly 29 years of age, stood with its hooves rested lightly on the rails. A gentle hymn trickled through the room, the young ponies eyes glazing over with each moment. It held a smile upon its lips, as it was lulled to sleep by its mother. It was in a sanctuary all its own, a place where it was safe, where adventures lurked around every corner, and where the ones it cared about rested through the days.

A slight smile came across the mothers lips as she stifled a giggle, leaning down to kiss her foal upon the forehead, whispering, “Goodnight, my child.” She retracted from the cradle slowly, taking in the serene environment she had given it. It was something that she never had as a child. A warm place to sleep with parents that loved her until their last breath, but that was something she was determined to give her little foal, no matter if it meant working three separate jobs. The mother raised her hoof, giving the mobile a gentle flick. The hoof carved figurines of Princess Luna, Celestia, and Discord chased each other in a circular motion. The figurines meant more to the mother than they did to the child, as they were the work of her own hooves; carved out of love and made for one. The mother left the room, walking lightly on her hooves and closing the door with a light, echoing click.

Even though the mother had thought the petite foal had fallen asleep, it held one eye open, waiting for the chance to play in the night. It had large, purple eyes, and a coral coat covering its body. Spiked, A fragile pair of wings were strapped to its back, fluttering as it moved. It gathered its strength, climbing up onto all fours, promptly falling back onto it haunches. It let out an annoyed huff, just as it had in the many times before. It gave a glance up to the dancing figurines above, smiling and reaching up towards them. Reaching up, and pushing itself up onto the railing, it attempted to grab what it considered to be toys. It reached, time after time, and continued to attempt to reach them. Eventually, the foal came to terms with its constant failure, as she sat back again, another sigh of discontent coming from her.

Toys were scattered around the room, ranging from teddy bears to wooden trains. She reached through the balusters, reaching for her favorite teddy bear, hoping she would be able to reach it. But at her age, she had little sense of depth. What seemed to be so close, was across the room in reality. It was saddening to her that there was nothing to do, and in partial understanding she knew why she was sent to rest in the crib she currently lay in. To her, there was no light outside, so that meant that everypony was quiet and asleep. At least that was what she thought of the world, and nothing more.

Her lower jaw stretched far as she let out a rather large yawn for a foal her age, and her eyes began to fall closed again. This time, it was real as she plopped onto her pillow, pulling a blanket over her and snoring herself into the night.

Dreamland was yet another place of peace and serenity, where the young child could fly anywhere it wanted, and do anything it wanted without any repercussions. This was her time to be free, and let her true imagination run free. There was nothing she wanted more than to fly through the clouds as other ponies did, popping in and out of the white tufts in the sky. It seemed like something that would be graceful and relaxing, having the air flow off of your wings, and having the freedom of the skies. The only feeling that ever came close to what she imagined it to feel like was standing against the wind as it coursed through the streets in her neighborhood.

The skies in her dreams suddenly turned a dull Grey color, and all ponies disappeared with a barely audible pop. She was alone in her own mind, the skies empty and the town seeming to be all the same. She stood with ease, walking down the cobbled streets, her hooves clicking with each step. She tried to find the trace of anypony she could, but as far as evidence suggested to her, there was nopony else. It was all her, all alone.

So she flew, and took to the skies with ease, a tingling feeling surging through her body as she enjoyed the view of the countryside, flying through the clouds, and performing tricks with her seemingly invincible body. But with each cloud she passed through, it became harder, and harder to breath. She ducked below the clouds, expecting her breathing to return to normal, but it just became thicker... and harder to breathe. She coughed once, and took a deep breath in. The breath she took was filled with something other than air, and it smelt almost of that of the toasty winter nights drinking hot chocolate.

She cracked her eyes open, coughing violently as she did so. It was far more painful than anything she had ever come to experience, and the burning sensation through her eyes forced tears form in the corner of her eyes, some running down the sides of her cheeks. She didn't understand what was going on, or why she felt so sick to her stomach, why her lungs and eyes burnt, or just anything of the situation as a whole. She stayed in the same position she had fallen asleep in, calling to the ones she loved.

“Mommy!” She called, and she waited.

“Mooooommy!” She called once again, going into a coughing fit.

And she waited for what seemed to be an eternity. Once the wait had became unbearable, she clambered to her hooves and made her way to the far end of the crib, looking to the door she both entered and exited from. But this time, it was different.

“Mommy? Is that you?” She asked.

A small light flickered from underneath the door, glimmering off of the hardwood flooring. She tilted her head in confusion, wondering why Mommy wasn't coming at her call. Thick, black, smoke was forcing its way into the room from under the door, staining the white backside with soot. The air was getting thicker, and the urge not to cough was beginning to be nearly unbearable.

A small crackling and squeaking noise emanated from above her, as a large support beam fell on her with a blare of agony.

“So Scoots, what do you know about your mom?” Sweetie Belle asked.

...

...

...

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“I... I... don't remember...”