A collection of contest entries that are yet to be published or scrapped drafts that never made it onto the site.
This is where I will be posting my unfinished entries for writing contests or scrapped drafts that were canceled while being written.
These drafts will be given 0 edits whatsoever, so bear that in mind when reading.
For now, drafts and entries that I have no intentions of expanding into a story will be added here. That means that chapters will be added or even deleted from this collection.
EDIT: entries that have been expanded into complete stories will also be added to this list (02.11.2020.)
Cocktails. They’re a bunch of ingredients mixed to create the flavor the drinker wants. Every time I take a sip, dozens of different tastes tingle on my tongue before disappearing down my throat. The sting of tonic water, the sweet yet sour taste of oranges, and the burning of alcohol as it traverses down my throat.
And, if I’m being frank, being with my friends is exactly like that. They have different flavors, each and every one of them a unique ingredient, that mix together to form the best flavor friendship can offer.
Being with Applejack is like, well, the tinge of apple cider within the drink. She never dares to lie to another pony, just like how her family’s apple ciders never lie about the quality of their apples. Both are honest, even brutally so at times, but that’s what makes them a good pony and beverage to have around, respectively.
Rainbow Dash… she’s like the alcohol that burns my throat but warms me up on the inside. She acts all cool with pride, even brashfully at times, but underneath that shell she has a soft, warmer side that only those closest to her would notice. She can come off as inconsiderate at times, but at the end of the day, she’ll always stay by your side to warm you up, just like how alcohol does the job.
Pinkie Pie feels like the sweet tonic water mixed in the cocktail. Always a bubbly, laughing pony, it’s as if she’s full of gas that powers her happiness. She fills us with her happiness, a bubbly feeling that makes us laugh and feel like bouncing around along with her, just like how the tonic water fills us with gas that makes us burp and laugh.
From my peaceful slumber I fell out of the sky, And I huddled into a ball as the clouds froze my fur. Six miles from earth, detached from my blissful peace, I woke to death rays and the monsters from nightmares. When they got me, I fell to Hell, my resting place.
— Death of a Fighter, Unknown Poet —
“I can’t shake him, Danger!”
“Just keep turning, Fury, I’m coming for help!”
“I can’t keep this up, Danger, I— Aaaarrgghh!”
“Fury!”
I scream as I sit up in bed, my body covered in sweat. I gasp profusely for breath as my heartbeat thunders in my ears, the frantic rhythm going faster than a pegasus doing a Sonic Rainboom.
It was the same nightmare all over again.
As my eyes adjust to the dark and I take in my surroundings, my heartbeat slows and so does my breathing. I’m in the barracks, down in the safety of my cot and my fellow pilots. I look to my right and see my wingpony sleeping away in her bunk bed.
It’s been years, silly. Just get it over with, I berate myself internally as I pull myself out of my bed. I stretch my wings and limbs, the stiff joints popping and cracking into place as I stifle a yawn.
I look at the clock on the opposite wall and check the time: 5:02 a.m. I cast one last look at my wingpony before I leave the barracks. She’ll be able to wake herself up on time, anyway.
I finish my routine morning exercise by spiraling down towards the lake before pulling up at the last moment. Every pegasi I’ve met was horrified by the stunt I pulled every day, but that’s because they don’t know the feeling of falling through the air from three thousand feet above the ground. They don’t know the feeling of falling through the clouds, the thick, cold mist sticking to their fur and cooling off whatever tension their body built up during the night. They don’t know the feeling of their wings grazing the water, the tip of their feathers picking up those magical particles and leaving a spray of rainbow behind as the sun shines down upon it.
I circle above the lake, appreciating the majestic colors from the mist left in my wake before turning around and gliding towards the headquarters.
Commander Spitfire is going to throw a fit at me for being late again.
“Briefing room. Now.”
Commander Spitfire’s words leave me no margin for argument. I dutifully give her a salute before walking inside, where my fellow squadmates are having their usual morning chatter.
I find my seat and sit down as the Commander follows in and closes the door behind her. She steps up to the front of the room, and immediately silence falls upon the room as all eyes and ears turn to her.
“High Command just gave us orders. Suit up, head out towards east. Search for any sign of the rebel air force, and if we find them, destroy them. This mission is part of our bomber operations, so don’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Remember, every bogey down is a bomber saved. Now, move out!”
With that, all of the pegasi rushed from the briefing room and towards the lockers.
— Do not go gentle into that good night, Dylan Thomas —
Rage is simple.
Unlike love, which appears in many forms and comes from many places. Unlike happiness, something that becomes further and further away from you the more you pursue it. Unlike sadness, which creates the dilemma of one weeping while another laughing like a maniac while looking at the same scene.
No, rage is simple and consistent.
Rage is anger evolved into its final form. Without an exit to vent its pressure, the scarlet explosive gas of anger builds inside the container of one’s mind, increasing in pressure and temperature. The container is flexible, able to bend to accommodate the excess pressure building up, but it has its limits.
Eventually, the anger, the droplets of clouds that have coalesced and condensed over the years, become a ball of red mist, seeking for the tiniest of sparks to ignite itself and let it out in a massive explosion that would dwarf the Sun in its heat.
Hence the reason rage is so dangerous; not only because of its volatility but also because of how few danger signs it shows before the final explosion.
Rage, like any other grandeur, builds up from the smallest of things.
I knew Rainbow Dash ever since I was a filly. We went to the same flight school and took flight lessons together.
I was shy and timid, even more than I currently am, and was unable to fly very well. Because of that, there would always be foals who bullied me. And Rainbow Dash, like the loyal friend she was, would always stand up for me.
Then, one day, just to stand up for me as usual, Dash started a race with the bullies. But when the race started, I fell from Cloudsdale all the way to the ground, while I uselessly flapped my small wings to get myself to fly.
Just then, when I thought I was about to die, a group of butterflies came and caught me. They set me down on the ground, in a small town called Ponyville. It was at that moment when Rainbow Dash successfully pulled off a Sonic Rainboom, and so I gained my cutie mark.
I soon became attached to the small town and got a small cottage for me to live in. I was content with living in Ponyville since caring for animals turned out to be my talent, and there were a lot of animals that needed my care. So even though I didn’t get to see my family or Rainbow Dash that often, I was satisfied with it.
Needless to say that Dash and I no longer talked to each other that often. Time passed, and although we sometimes wrote between us through the mail, we weren’t as close as we used to be.
Looking back on it, that might have been the first danger sign that could have been noticed.
Robot: Term coined by Czech writer Karel Capek in 1920 in his play R.U.R. The term originated from the Slavic term robota, which was used to indicate peasants forced to work under the feudal system.
Limestone let out a grunt as her pickaxe fell hard on the rock. Thunk. She raised the pickaxe in her mouth and brought it down again. Thunk. She toiled away in the hot summer sunlight, not minding the sweat pouring down her face as she brought the pickaxe down another time. Thunk.
A few feet away from her, Maud and Marble were doing the same thing, bringing down their pickaxes on the unforgiving earth. Thunk. Thunk. They, too, were sweating profusely, yet neither of them uttered a word as they brought their pickaxes down once more. Thunk. Thunk. After watching them for a few seconds, Limestone went back to her work and brought down the pickaxe upon the rock. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
As she toiled away, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, a thought wormed its way into Limestone’s head. We’ll be stuck here for the rest of our lives, won’t we? We’ll just toil our lives away in the scorching sun, trying to make a living out of rocks. ROCKS.
Just then, a sharp voice rang across the rock farm towards Limestone’s ears. “Limestone Pie! Get back to work, or you won’t be having dinner tonight!”
Limestone grunted as she shook her head and got back to work, the heavy iron pickaxe falling upon the hard, unyielding surface. Thunk.
Hours later, the unforgiving sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, and so did the Pie sisters from the rock field. As they headed towards the shack they called their house, walking side by side, none of the sisters uttered a word. They were too tired and exhausted to utter a single syllable.
When the three sisters stepped into the house, they were immediately led into the kitchen where a small piece of bread and a bowl of soup was waiting for them. Silently, the sisters took their pre-determined seats and began eating without saying a word. The bread was hard and dusty while the soup was cold, but the sisters did not complain. They knew better than that.
After all, all three of them were robots, whatever that term meant. But one thing was clear: they were not meant to complain or meant to have breaks. They were meant to work for eternity.
They say that friendship is magic. And as the Princess of Friendship, I can attest to that. From the day until I arrived in Ponyville to this very moment, I never forgot how much my friends meant to me.
Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie. The five best friends I could have ever asked for. They are still my best friends, and they will continue to be. It was what I said when time itself set us apart, it’s still what I tell myself today, and it’s what I’ll continue to tell myself far into the future.
After my friends passed, I’ve made lots of other friends. I met the next generation of the Element bearers. I made friends with all sorts of species, from dragons to yaks, from griffons to hippogriffs, and from zebras to deers. During all that time, thanks to the legacy of my five best friends, friendship continued to be magic.
Time continued to flow after that. The second generation of the Element bearers passed away, and I met the third generation. My friends, my nonpony friends from all over the Equestrian continent passed away too. But I made new friends. After a handful of expeditions, we discovered a new type of creature on the other side of Equus that resembled frogs, except that they were sentient and could talk. Needless to say, we became friends fairly quickly.
More time passed, and now the Elements themselves were no longer needed. Thanks to the ideals and lessons of Friendship spreading throughout the nation, the creatures of Equestria stood united more than ever before. Most problems could be solved without having to rely on the elements or having to wait for me to intervene.
When a massive forest fire bigger than anything that was recorded in Equestria history burned through the Whitetail Woods, pegasi quickly stormed to gather rain clouds to put out the fire, while the unicorns used their fine-tuned magic to prevent the fires from spreading further. The Earth ponies worked to rescue any poor creature who was trapped within the burning forest. Thanks to their efforts, the fire was put out in record time.
When an earthquake devastated Manehattan, creatures, both ponies and non-ponies, rushed to and fro as they worked to pull out others from under demolished buildings, treat the critically wounded, or put the fires caused by the earthquake out. They celebrated together when long lost families found each other at last, and mourned together when they dug up the bodies of their loved ones. Their combined efforts brought Manehattan back up from ashes, keeping it the most prosperous city of Equestria.
When an eldritch monster threatened to level Ponyville to the ground, its citizens rushed to fight off the monster that had invaded their hometown. Once again they gathered their wisdom, sympathy, and bravery together, and with their combined strength they drove the horrifying figure back into the Everfree. By the time I had arrived, the situation was over, save for ponies greeting me as they began to go back to their lives.
And now, I feel like I finished my job as the Princess of Friendship. My ponies, no, my subjects have achieved so much without my help. They have learned the power of friendship, and with it, they have cleared so many obstacles without relying on the Elements or their princess.
They know how to deal with problems without my help, so I feel like I’m no longer needed. Therefore, I have made a very important decision.
I am abdicating the throne and giving the rulership back to my subjects.
No, this is not a decision that I made lightly. I put my thoughts into it for many days and nights, and have arrived at my current conclusion; I can put enough faith in my subjects for them to rule themselves with fairness.
Celestia, remember the five Elements of Harmony aside from magic? Honesty, Loyalty, Generosity, Kindness, and Laughter? When I left the palace while thinking about abdication to clear my thoughts, everywhere I went was full of those five traits. No one lied to each other, nor did anyone betray each other in times of difficulty. Creatures generously gave what they had to each other, and they almost never yelled at each other first. Laughter filled the air in every alley and every house.
That was enough for me to make my decision. Equestria was finally ready to move on without someone to guide them. For friendship was, and is, and ever will be, magic.
I’ll visit you sometime after I come down from the throne. Tell Luna I said hello, and I hope to see you in Silver Shoals.
I chugged down my mug of coffee I was gripping in my telekinetic grip, then put the cup back onto the table.
I let out a sigh as I brought a hoof up to my eyelid, rubbing my eye as I mused to myself: “Guess I’m pulling another all nighter.”
I shuffled the music sheets in front of my eyes, organizing them into a neat pile before setting them on the stand in front of me. I turned my head to the instrument sitting before me, its gracious lines and its healthy, taut strings enticing me to start playing.
Reluctantly, I lit my horn and lifted the instrument closer to me before carefully setting it on the ground. I took in a deep breath, and said to myself, “Just one perfect round, Lyra. Just one round, and you can go to bed.”
I took a deep breath then let it out, then began to play. Soon the soft, soothing notes swirled around me, wrapping me in its warm embrace that always made me feel at home. I closed my eyes and let my magic flow with the music and resonate with the song floating in the air.
Slowly I rocked back and forth on my stool, riding the smooth rhythms like waves on a warm summer beach. A smile floated up to my face as I pictured myself lying on the beach on an airmat, the waves splashing at the edges drowning out the music as bright sunlight gently warmed me to sleep, enough so that I started to doze—
Something bumped into my head. My eyes flew open as I jolted myself back into reality, gasping and frantically looking around for the object that hit my head. There was nothing but my harp and me, both of us sitting beneath a lone electric lamp that was bright enough to light up just beyond where my music stand and harp stood.
I let out a sigh as I vigorously shook my head, trying to chase the sleep away. I looked towards where my coffee pot was sitting. After a brief moment of feeling around with my magic, I finally found the pot, only to discover that, to my dismay, it was empty. But I couldn’t go and boil another pot of coffee. I would have to turn on the lights for that, which would inevitably wake Bonbon up. I wasn’t going to disturb her sleep, not when she herself had overworked during the past few days trying to match the insane demands of her brand new candy.
I carefully moved the harp away from my stool and stood up. Slowly, I took a step forward, careful not to make the floorboards creak. Then I took another step. Then another. Slowly but steadily I crept to the door and slowly turned it open, revealing a pitch black hallway beyond.
I took a quick glance behind me, first at my music stand and my harp, then at my bed that sat right next to me. The warm covers and the soft pillows looked so enticing, as if they were calling me to take a nap in it.
Don’t worry, they whispered in my ears, it’ll be fine. You can take an hour or two to catch up on your sleep. All this is going to be meaningless if you’re too tired to properly practice.
I stared longingly at the bed, at my gateway to the dreamscape. But, eventually, I shook my head and walked out into the hallway, straining to ignore my mind’s desire to slip into those blankets and just take a quick snatch of sleep.
I couldn’t afford to take a nap, however, and I knew that better than anyone else. For the moment I slide into my bed, I would most certainly end up sleeping until the Sun shone upon my face and ruin my concert scheduled in the morning.
As I hobbled out into the hallway, my legs threatening to give out as if they were made of jelly, I breathed out. I could feel the exhaustion crawling through my body, filling my insides and my muscles, intoxicating them with a dose of sleep I longed for so much and yet couldn’t allow myself to have.
I came to a rest against a wall, putting a hoof against my heart. I could feel the organ, my one and only source of life, thrumming madly against my ribcage, trying to beat its way out of the constricting prison it had found itself in. My eyes stung, giving me an unpleasant feeling despite me profusely trying to blink out whatever dust that got into them.
I groaned as I dredged up the last of my willpower to stand back up, and once again I began hobbling down the hallway. Heart beating madly and eyes stinging like a flock of bees, I finally reached my destination after what felt like an eternity.
I swung the door to the bathroom open before flipping the light switch. I squinted my eyes as I tried to shield my vision from the invasive bright lights that made my eyes water. For a moment squeezing my eyes shut was all I could do. But slowly the vision returned to me, and I carefully opened my eyes.
There she stood, a half-dead looking pony in the mirror. Dark bags hung beneath her bloodshot eyes while her mane and coat, usually a mint green color, was now thin and showing patches of grey here and there. I turned on the tap and splashed some cold water onto my face, the half-dead pony briefly disappearing from my vision as I ducked towards the sink. After rinsing my face and wiping the water off with a towel, the half-dead pony reappeared in the mirror.
I stared at her, and she stared back at me. We stared at each other for several minutes before we both broke into hysterical laughter, the half-dead pony mimicking my every move and every laughter.
And so when our laughters died and we calmed down, I whispered to her, “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
“Any final words, you miserable, worthless whore of a foal?”
Rose-colored irises locked onto mine, the only clue Scootaloo had as to who this blood-covered monster in front of me used to be.
She raised her chin as she stared directly back into those magnificent eyes, determined to keep the last piece of dignity she had left.
“You have… beautiful eyes,” she breathed out.
…
Something flickered behind those shades of magenta. Scootaloo could see the flames of fury and hatred in her eyes change. The fire still burned in her eyes, but now it had a different set of emotions.
Dash whirled around and barked at her henchponies. “Get everypony out of this room. Seal it off. Lock it down. No one goes in unless I say they can.”
“But Ms. Dash—,” one of the ponies in black began.
“Do as I say! Use the backup devices for now. The Main Theater Room is to remain off-limits to everyone!”
“Ms. Dash, what do you want us to do with the foal?”
“GET OUT!” Rainbow Dash screamed, “Just leave me be. I’ll deal with this meat sack.”
“Yes, Ms. Dash.”
Without further ado, everypony except Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo left the room. The massive doors closed, leaving them above the Pegasus Device.
Rainbow Dash hovered there, breathing heavily as she glared at the doors. She then turned to face her younger sister, but this time there was more than just anger on her face.
“Oh, Scootaloo… Why?” Rainbow Dash sobbed. Tears streamed down her bloodied face, revealing the thinnest trail of cyan underneath. “How could you fail me like this?”
“Rainbow Dash?” Scootaloo spoke, shocked by the sudden change in her sister’s demeanor, yet the slightest tinge of hope could be heard in her words.
“You were my sister, Scootaloo! I loved you as much as you loved me! You were there even when all my friends in Ponyville left me, and even when I lost friend after friend to the bowels of this cursed factory. You were the only one I had left, squirt!
“And so I returned the favor! I cared for you, fed you, raised you for all those years! I even trained you myself so you wouldn’t have to come to this damned place and see all of this wretched machinery! I loved you, so I tried to make sure you wouldn’t fail me! And yet…” Dash hung her head, her words replaced by suppressed sobs. She sniffled, then wiped the tears away with her arms.
“Dash… I’m so sorry—”
“And yet you failed me.”
The cold, unforgiving tone of Dash’s whisper left no room for Scootaloo to interject. She could only blink in fear as she uttered a single “Dash…?”
“You failed me, Scootaloo! You failed me!” Dash roared as she lunged at the failure in front of her. Scootaloo froze up in horror as she saw what was once her sister’s beautiful face. Dash grabbed Scootaloo by the neck and yanked her close, snarling as blood red irises made contact with murky lilac. “You, the sole pony I had trusted to not let me down, gave all of it up! On purpose! Because of a single Cloudsdale hater!”
Scootaloo didn’t respond. She could only gape in abject horror at the monster right before her, at the face that was now a smothered mess of blood red and brilliant cyan. Her mind and body locked up as the last glimmer of hope disappeared altogether, replaced by despair of knowing there was no way out of this.
“I should have known the day you skipped your practice!” Dash raged on. “I should have known what he would do to you when I found you and that… that worthless piece of manure in your room together! And look what he did to you!” She screamed, shaking Scootaloo by the collarbones. The chains rattled in accordance, adding to the eerie echoes of Dash’s words of anger and despair.
“Dash, I, I’m sorry. I won’t fail you a-again, I promise—”
“It’s a bit too late for that, don’t you think, squirt?” Dash growled, her voice low—almost a whisper. “You, my only friend, no, my only sister, failed me. On purpose.”
“Dash, I didn’t try to fail you, I swear—”
“SILENCE!” Dash roared, flinging a hoof at Scootaloo’s face. Scootaloo winced as the sharp pain shot through her cheek. “You let me down when it mattered the most. On purpose. My sister would have never done that.”
Scootaloo couldn’t believe what she just heard. Was Dash implying that she wasn’t her sister? Just because of one mistake? She panicked. “Dash, please! I love you, you are—”
Dash snorted, her breath like ice to Scootaloo’s heart. “Yeah, right. Love doesn’t mean jackshit, especially not from you. You’re just a worthless failure, one that doesn’t even deserve to be called a pegasus, much less my sister,” said Dash, spitting out the last word as if it tasted asinine in her mouth.
Scootaloo was hyperventilating now. “Dash, please, no, I’m your sis—”
Dash planted a firm punch into her lower jaw, the failure crying out in pain as her teeth clamped down on her tongue. “Shut up, you worthless husk of a foal. You’re not my sister. She was perfect, the best friend and family one could ever hope for, and you ruined her!” She turned away from the smaller pegasus and began to make her way towards the massive doors.
Scootaloo sobbed as she watched the red-and-blue pegasus begin to leave her. Tears streamed down Scootaloo’s cheeks as she desperately called after her former sister. “Dash, please! I’m your sister! I won’t fail you—”
“YOU’RE NOT MY SISTER!” Dash bellowed as she whirled around, glaring daggers at the orange mass of fur and feathers hanging above the Pegasus Device. She breathed heavily for a few seconds, then uttered one more sentence: “Not anymore…”
Dash turned around once more and made her way towards the exit. As the doors opened, she pulled down a switch, and the entire room plunged into darkness, the light from the doorway the only light source. Scootaloo squinted for a moment as the bright lights obscured her vision.
As the doors began to close, however, she cried out for the last time. “Dash, please, no! Dash! I am your sister! I AM YOUR SISTER!”
No one was there to answer, the sobs of the broken filly ringing throughout the cursed empty room.
As her cries, too, faded into the darkness and Scootaloo felt her consciousness slip away, she thought of a song from a faraway memory, one she sang a lot when she was still a foal.
In the Rainbow Factory, where fears and horrors come true… In the Rainbow Factory, where not a single soul gets through…
