Here I am, a few weeks later, at his funeral, with my brother, and my mom. my brother was crying, but I could tell he was trying to hold his tears back. My mom made no effort to stop them, she was quiet, but the tears flew out. She'd sniffle every minute or so. I was crying too. It hurt so bad. What would we do now? My dad would have no more work to put out.
I looked up again. We were the closest ponies to his tombstone, which was located right next to My aunt's, and Grandfather's. My grandma was right beside us. She was probably the most devastated. She lost her husband, her daughter, and now her son. My grandma hugged my mom, and all of us. I looked behind us for a second. There was quite a crowd. My mom's friends were near. All five of them stepped up.
"I'm sorry, sugar cube. I kknow this hurts really bad." Said a southern sounding pony, putting her hoof on my mom's shoulder.
"Darling, I wish I could help." Said an English sounding pony. They all hugged her. Me and Treble were invited to the group hug too. I didn't know any of them, but it was okay, I guess.
Later in the funeral, someone I would never expect to be there, attended, and gave a eulogy. Princess Celestia? Was he THAT famous? As she trotted to the podium, I had some weird flash back, or something. I saw a letter, it had my Dad's name in it. I couldn't make it out long enough to read it. I flashed back to reality. It stayed on my mind the whole time.
We got home, and My mom fell asleep on the couch, probably exhausted from crying so much. I saw something on the coffee table. It was a book. "Separated Wings Never Fly as Fast" I didn't pay too much attention to it, and moved on.
`.....................
It's now been a couple years. I've been getting random first person flash backs. At random times. One time, when I looked at Dad's tombstone, I saw the other two beside it. I remember the two bottles that were right there. One for my Aunt, and one for my Grandpa. I got a flashback, and saw what looked like my dad writing a poem.
Another one happened just today, this one has to mean something. I saw a book in my mom's room, "Separated Wings never Fly as Fast" I've seen it before. But a flashback came with it. Many of them at one time. I saw what looked like younger versions of my mom, and my dad, at like 9 years old. Mom was crying,and dad was hugging her. I had another one, My Dad jumping off of a cloud. That was it. This can't be coincidence. I grabbed the book. I went back in my room to read it... I was now 10. I saw a new flashback every chapter....This book was about my Dad, and my mom meeting each other.
I read the first chapter. My dad was a young colt, lonely, and friendless. How is that possible, for such an amazing pony to be lonely? I got a flashback of it. After reading the first chapter, I put the book down...This is freaky.
.............
I took the book to school the next day. I looked at it during free time, and recess. A filly from my class, who I considered my friend asked if I wanted to play tag today.
"No thanks, maybe some other time." I replied.
I looked at chapter two. It was about My mom and dad separating, after only just meeting. Mom fell off the cloudsdale flight camp race track. That's weird, she would have been dead...
Recess ended. When we got back in class, we were told to write a story. Something random.
I didn't think too much. I wrote a story about Treble getting in trouble at school. It wouldn't ever happen normally. I wrote that he was being made fun of and just snapped, and kicked some other pony's butt. I thought it was weird, but whatever.
Later that day, I got home, and mom was yelling at Treble.
"He was REALLY ANNOYING!!" He yelled, already in the middle of a conversation.
"It doesn't matter! You don't beat up somepony, just because they make fun of you!"
What?....Did I just write out the future?! That has to be coincidence. I'm going to try again.
I wrote a story about me finding 100 bits on the ground tomorrow after school. If this happens, I'll be convinced. Just to make it random, I made a weird number 154 bits.
Next day, school ended, and I walked home. I saw a small bag on the sidewalk. I looked at it. It was pretty heavy, and it felt like.....money. I looked in it....bits....lots...NO WAY!!! I...How is that.....HOW?
I took it home, and ran to my room, and counted it.
"149...150...151...152....153...............154......." I....I can write the future....I...I....I have to USE THIS!!!