Bright Spark's Reflection
Book 1- Chapter 1
I’ve always wondered why my life started as it did. Having four secure walls around me, having ponies who would look after me; it all seems so negative and false now. But even so, I can feel the sickeningly warm fanning and painful humming of the air conditioners, the cosy safety of those metal shields and those warped voices of ponies from a family and home now long gone. In fact, I crave them. I only wish I could reach out and touch that fictional world which I once had; the world which should not have existed, which never existed, but was mine to live in.
I was lied to. No, I was pegged into the ground on a leash behind a five foot thick wall of lies, separating me from the truth which happens to be a rather large, open plain of luscious, war-torn and daemonic reality. Everything that was placed before me seemed to make so much sense yet at the same time made none at all. I was indoctrinated. Of course, I had no idea back then of what the hell was going on. Just the thought of… what wasn’t there, what didn’t exist, what must have been there but was never considered to be there at all. ‘Just don’t think about it and it will never haunt you’, they said. But of course I just couldn’t help myself. Those were the days of security, a security that lacked one fundamental thing.
Truth.
Then again, perhaps it was better living in a world of dirty lies with a surface polished with the blood of corrupt innocence instead of being out there. Out here… Wow, that’s something I would have never even considered back- there! Well, at least for a while.
For about seventeen years I was kept from the truth, the horrible, startling truth. I honestly can’t remember much of my early years. Why would I ever want to? Why should I remember something that isn’t even real? It’s not. It never was and it never will be. The Shell was just that, a huge, hollow, horrific lie, told by the most trusting of ponies. It was never real. Perhaps they intended to tell us at some point, but that seems much too unlikely. Why am I trying to defend them?
I remember the first time I saw Leader Warmblood. He stood so proudly on that pedestal, so high above anypony else around me in that huge gathering hall with his hooves planted so firmly into the platform you might have thought he was holding the place off of the ground by himself. You wouldn’t be far off to think that either.
He never faltered. He never twitched under the interrogation lamp of our politics, even as the matters delved deepest into the hearts of our ‘community’ and the masses questioned him down to the very bones he was built from.
As a very young colt I could only watch in awe as he took control of us. He spoke like a calm lake, pure and clean. He just didn’t warn us about the water snakes that lurked within if we dared challenge the crystalline pool. He was kind like that, keeping us from the horrors he faced. He put up warning signs around this lake in the form of his famous ‘I know what I’m on about’ voice. How I relished that voice back then. It made me feel so secure. This pony knew everything, and he was allowing us to live under this umbrella of knowledge.
That never changed, not for a second. Warmblood was us, and we were Warmblood. He declared his love on a daily basis, holding dinners for the aristocrats and other events for the lesser. He was quite simply the best pony in that place. But I’ll always see him as the worst now. Ponies like my family got along pretty well with him. I was fortunate to be where I was; just not where I was, when I was where I was.
Ugh, I apologise. I think I’ve been over thinking this again. It was all wrong, all of it. And if you don’t believe me you can just go die somewhere. Because that’s what I did… that’s what should have happened, at least. I tried to convince myself day after day after day that what went on behind closed doors was for the benefit of the hundreds of us that lived there. I tried to be a better Earth Pony of The Shell, because those ponies were loved. I tried…
But then I go back on myself, yet again, with this utter rage that has filled me to the brim for the past… how long now? I honestly can’t remember how long it was since I left that— place. The more I think about it, the more I remember it, the more I wish I had just left well enough alone; it just builds up and up and up until I become so frustrated that I nearly scream.
It’s not a filly’s scream. It’s a horrid mix of breaking voice and inward rage. It chews at me. It reaps my soul until it may yield no more. I dominate myself with my distressful chorus of shrilling noise, showing no mercy for my own insolence. But I’m the only one who can hear it, lucky bastards.
And here I go again, another flurry of this bullshit. Calming down is the hard part. I like to think that it makes me stronger somehow, turns me into some super-pony when it washes over me with its reddening screen over my vision. But I know it doesn’t. It just makes me a bit more reckless and turns me into a kamikaze on four legs.
Running at unicorns without a care in the world is a rather stupid idea, so I discovered. Granted, it was the first time I had ever seen one. There must be a balance with this over-under thinking business. And let me tell you, thinking is the only way to survive out here. Stupid ponies don’t last very long, and neither do the ones who are too smart.
This is my story. I hope you may learn from it as I did. What there is to learn is not a lesson so easily taught. The mistakes can only be experienced, followed by a self-drawn conclusion. The lesson is this:
The Wasteland.
Oh and by the way, my name is Bright Spark. It’s a pleasure to meet you.
Bright Spark-
S.P.E.C.I.A.L
S-4
P-7
E-7
C-4
I-8
A-5
L-5
Author's Note
This is my first real crack at the Fallout Equestria theme. I feel much more attracted to write for this theme than any other yet I feel as if my writing may not be quite on the mark. Comments and criticisms will be most gratefully accepted. The main purpose of posting this was to see what folks think of my writing tone/style and whether it will be worth continuing.
