//------------------------------// // #278. My Life as a Teenage Dragon // Story: Gone in 1800 Seconds // by True Blue Spark //------------------------------// The Prompt: A lot changes when you're a teenager. ------ When Spike fell off of his hoard and landed head-first, he knew it was going to be another lousy morning. He growled under his breath and sat up, rubbing his forehead grumpily. The only real bruise was going to be on his pride. How long ago had he outgrown that little basket, and he still couldn’t even sleep right? Another chapter in the tale of the World’s Worst Dragon, an autobiography. At least there were no witnesses to his foolishness this morning. Twilight was already up and out, once again getting an early start with her princessly duties. Which left the library, of course, to him. Spike leapt over the balcony to the room below and started gathering up the stray books and papers. He’d been working there so long that his body practically ran on automatic. This tome on medieval armorcrafting went here, this old grammar study went here, this lovely encyclopedia volume went upstairs on his hoard— “No.” Spike slammed the encyclopedia into his face. Maybe he would have a bruise there after all. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have just stayed a baby forever—and how freaking weird was his life that this was a choice he had to make in the first place? Being a teenage dragon was a constant balancing act, a constant struggle with that voice in the back of his head that wanted everything, that voice that didn’t care if somepony would miss this globe or that football. It had gotten easier to ignore since he’d started his hoard, in the sense that it was a constant dull murmur instead of a constant dull roar. But Spike couldn’t help but wonder if he’d have to fight with himself all his life, just to stay the right size for the ponies he loved... and more importantly, to keep from hurting the ponies he loved. And even that new size came with its disadvantages. He’d only ever known Ponyville from a couple feet off the ground, and now he was constantly misjudging distances and overestimating spaces. Heck, it was probably only Twilight’s royal influence that had kept the town from classifying his tail as a Ditzy Doo-caliber weapon of mass destruction. He couldn’t seem to fill his stomach for more than five minutes at a stretch, he found himself scratching at the floor with his claws like a cat... And then there was the pettiest and most annoying complaint of all: his back would not stop itching. Had those teenage dragons he’d met at the migration had such a list of grievances? Suddenly Spike thought he could understand why they kept themselves distracted with all those violent and destructive games. “Hello? Spike, darling, might I beg your assistance for a moment?” Spike knew he had to be in a pretty severe funk, if even Rarity’s sudden arrival couldn’t bring a smile to his face. He faked one anyway and turned around to greet her. “Hey, Rarity! What do you need?” Rarity gave him a smile that under normal circumstances would have warmed him up from the inside out. “I was wondering if you might have something on fashions dating to the immediate pre-Equestrian era. I’m thinking of putting together a line based on a judicious combination of the three tribes’ styles, in preparation for Hearth’s Warming Eve.” “Wow, you sure do plan ahead, huh? But I think I know just the book!” Spike padded around to the shelves just right of the door, glancing up to the top. Here was one advantage to his new size, at least—no more need for the rickety old ladder. Leaving one of his back claws on the floor to brace himself, he carefully climbed up, body stretching and foreclaw extending, until he was just able to snag the book he wanted off the uppermost shelf. “Here you are, Rarity,” he said, settling back down and turning to meet her eyes. Which seemed to be aimed well south of his face. Rarity made a cute little sound that sounded like “Eep!”, jerking her head up and belatedly looking Spike in the eyes. Was she blushing? “T-Thank you, Spike. I-I’m sure it’s just what I’m looking for.”* “Uh, glad to help,” Spike replied, handing the book over. It wobbled in the air when Rarity’s magic took hold of it. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Her cheeks turned even redder, and she shook her head with much more force than he’d ever seen her do. “No! No, thank you, darling, I should be perfectly fine. But I really should be going, inspiration calls, you know how it is, ahahaha... Ta-ta!” As swiftly as she’d arrived, the unicorn was gone. Spike sat there for longer than he would have liked to admit, going over the last few minutes in his head. Eventually, he decided that he had to be imagining things, reading too much into it. But as he returned to his work, he found that he just couldn’t suppress his smile.