Flying Low

by Word Wizard

Chapter 4: Coping

It was a long day at the Ponyville schoolhouse, especially for Thunder Rain. The usual bullying and teasing went on, but this day there was a new factor...energy. For three days now, Thunder had been staying up late, usually until eleven or so, sometimes later, and it was starting to take it's toll.

Earlier that day, Thunder was rudely awakened by his mother, urging to go or be late for the pegasus school bus. The pegasus school bus was a bus that took young pegasi, too young to fly, to the Ponyville schoolhouse, so their parents didn't have to carry them. Thunder was the oldest on the bus, as flying never sat comfortable with the little stallion, and, despite a year of disappointments, Thunder's father was still trying to change that.

Each day after school, Thunder would come home to an eager Storm Valor, dressed in full weather factory regalia, as he hadn't time to change before Thunder came home, waiting to take his son off for flying lessons. Though stubborn and annoying at times, Thunder had to admit: His father had a lot of hope for him.

"Schoolbag dropped off?" Storm asked his son after he had gotten off the bus one afternoon.

"Negative," Thunder replied coldly, cranky because of lack of sleep and his budding love for sewing.

"Well, fix that!" Thunder's father replied hotly, picking up on his son's feelings.

"Affermitive," Thunder said in a monotone of disgust after dropping his school saddlebags on the front porch with a thump.

"Alright, lets warm up with some simple flying," Storm Valor said, "Just follow me." As much as he hated it, Thunder was starting to get better at flying, mostly because he wanted to be able to see Rarity that next weekend without having to jump off his cloud.

"Yes, father," Thunder Rain called to his father as he took flight. The wind rushing past his ears, Thunder flapped his wings as hard as his little body would let him, shooting straight up to his father, watching the look of surprise on his father's yellow face.

"Great job!" Storm said to his son after revcovering from the shock of the colt hovering in front of him actually DOING something besides crashing.

"Thanks," Thunder replied, obviously bored, "Can I go in now?"

"Um, no, that's just warm ups," Storm Valor said, checking his clipboard, "Now, today's lesson is...hmm, lets see....ah yes! Diving."

Thunder gulped, that was the part of flying he most hated, looking down. The little colt brushed his yellow mane back over his head, the blue eyes on his face narrowed in an act of determination.

Thunder's new philosophy on flying was: Do it well so you don't get bothered, and do it fast so you don't waste too much sewing time.

"Ok son, follow my lead," Storm Valor started to plunge toward the ground, a yellow streak left in his wake. Storm had selected the training for this lesson over the marsh, that way, if Thunder crashed, as he usually did, at least he'd land in water.

Putting his head down, the little dark gray stallion gritted his teeth and plunged after his father, leaving a trail of gray smoke, intermixed with bright yellow lightning, in his wake. The world was a blur as Thunder Rain dived after his father, his teeth chattering in the wind. Despite being blurry, Thunder recognized something on the ground, something getting closer...fast. It was the ground.

"Pull up!" Storm Valor called to his son, shifting his wings so he skimmed just above the lake. Thunder, working very hard with his mind and wings together, he shifted into position two, or upwards position.

Thunder had been taught in a variety of ways, trying to hammer the ideals of flying into the poor colt's head, but only one method really stuck with Thunder; The Yaskervich position method. Yaskervich was a professor at the school for not so gifted fliers in Canterlot. Working with many teaching ideas, Yaskervich was able to hammer together a practicle, simple and effective way to remember wing positions...well, numbered positions, as it were. Each position had it's own purpose, one that Thunder was painfully aware of, as he had had it hammered into his head ever since his parents discovered he was learning something from the method. Although it hadn't helped him with his flying until now, it was useful to know.

Pulling up in the second position, Thunder evened out with the lake, still directly in the wake of his father. Switching back to position one, gliding position, Thunder patted himself on the back, well, metaphoricly speaking.

~~~~

After flying lessons that afternoon, Thunder went inside to a warm welcome by Rain Verge.

"Well, look who did a good job at their lesson!" Thunder's mother said, coming over to noogie the little colt on the mane. Thunder had never before had this sign of affection from his mother, but he embraced it as a sign of doing things right.

"Thanks! Now, I really have some homework I need to get to upstairs..." Thunder said after finishing the embrace with the brown mare.

"Honestly! I'm just so proud of you, taking school so seriously as well, you've been studying for the whole afternoon for the last few days, keep it up honey!" Rain Verge called to her son as he excitedly ran up the steps.

"Honey, you forgot your schoolbag," Thunder's mother called, her voice sounding extremely un impressed.

"Heh, oops! Thanks!" Thunder snatched up the leather saddlebag and ran back up stairs, panting as soon as he closed the oaken door to his bedroom.

This was Thunder's method of not staying up all night, he would sew all afternoon and into the evening while claiming to be doing his homework. Then, before going to bed that night, he would rush through his homework, not bothering to check it. As far he knew, this was a great system, his parents didn't suspect a thing! And, since he packed a notebook in his pockets every morning, in which he jotted down all his thoughts about passing pony's clothes, he didn't have to mention clothing to his mother at all! His parents were the happiest two ponies in Equestria, their son was finally following the 'right path', or so far as they knew.

Opening the curtains to allow the slanted rays of the mid afternoon sun into the bedroom, Thunder Rain ran to his bed, under which he promptly stuck a hoof, rummaging about in the various items stored under there, until it came to rest on a certain pair of old lent saddlebags.

Excitedly pulling the worn leather bags open, the little colt started to pull out one bolt of fabric after the next and set them on the wooden floor of his bedroom. At last, after three brightly colored bolts of fabric lay on the floor, little Thunder Rain pulled out a metal locket, one of his most prized possessions.

Opening the metal case with a grin, Thunder carefully pulled out several spools of thread, in matching colors to those of the fabric and set them on the on the floor next to him. Finally, the last piece of equipment came out from the locket: a little metal needle.

Pulling out an old patchwork quiltish thing that he started the night before, the little dark gray colt sat down to spend many happy hours adding a number of colors to the messy creation, not caring at all what it looked like, just relishing in the joy of threading and stitching.

Comments

[Swirls]

yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes

so you don't wast too much sewing time.

I'm going to wast all my time correcting errors.

[Word Wizard]

2880745
WAST, thank you....
EDIT: Fixed, apparently wast is a word, so spellcheck didn't catch it.

[Swirls]

2881935 I know. I think its past tense of something.