Trapped [Sad short story] · 3:56am Jun 21st, 2015
Blaire paced the polished marble floor, eyes darting between the gathering crowd in the ballroom below and the staircase. Maybe he could get by unnoticed; after all, the crowd couldn’t be any more threatening than the crocodile infested river he came across in Zambezi. No, the real threat stood five feet away, rambling with one of his old college buddies as if he had not just dragged his fourth son into this orgy of opulence and status to find what essentially amounted to a mate.
After receiving a sharp glare from the sleek grey unicorn, Blaire stood, leaning against the nearest wall. They glanced over to him, but said no word, as if he were an interesting art piece in a gallery. Please no, please no. He repeated the mantra again and again, pleading for an understanding that Big Top had never once showed him.
His ear twitched as his father’s booming laugh broke the hushed whispering. “But of course! He’s a most sensible young man. Always mindful to his mother and myself. You couldn’t find a more laid back, genial husband anywhere.”
The stallion turned to him, jowls jiggling as he sized Blaire up. “But his work, surely it will take him away from Canterlot.”
Big Top waved a hoof dismissively, fidgeting with his massive handlebar mustache. “Bah, the boy needs to grow up. It’s time he stopped gallivanting around Equestria looking for animals nopony but himself cares about.”
The words struck him like an ice arrow to the chest, creeping into every fiber of his being. I don’t ‘gallivant’, and it’s important research! Somepony has to be brave enough to go into the field. Then they just assumed he wanted to live a quiet life of aristocracy in Canterlot. Wildlife biology was his lifeblood, everypony who spent a few minutes in his company knew that. Canterlot would suck the soul right out of him or take his sanity, whichever came first. And yet, his own father, the pony that should be defending him continued to forsake everything he stood for.
An overwhelming, familiar nausea gnawed deep in his gut. Their words rang in his head, gavels announcing his death sentence. Soon the hall, his father, and the stranger swam out of focus. “Dad, I don’t want to. I’m a field biologist not a noble . . .”
If Big Top heard him, he made no effort to show it. Blaire listened as his father’s pompous words became the steady rumble of distant thunder. Blood filled his ears and his legs started to buckle. Why’s it so hot? It wasn’t this hot before . . . Before he could register what was happening, his knees struck the marble with a painful thud.
Blaire tried to stand, but could not find the strength. His felt the panic seep in as he struggled and hit the floor again and again. Get up Blaire, get up. You promised you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself. Come on. The longer he tried the harder it became to breath. I can’t mess up. They’re counting on me. He challenged nature’s fury on a daily basis but couldn’t stand?
A steady pressure on his withers, then a deep, slow voice answered him. “Blaire, it’s okay, you need to calm down.”
‘Calm down?’ How can I calm down? As stupid as it was, Blaire found himself swallowing tears. His weak thrashing did little good. All he could do way lie flat, sides heaving. The walls closed in on him like iron bars. It didn’t matter if he ‘calmed down’ or not, he was just another animal in his father’s circus.
A dull red light, then the tie and jacket slid off, freeing him from their confines. Big Top murmured something, but he might as well have been speaking through a tempest for the good it did. A small thud and Blaire felt the stallion's side press to his back. Then, a familiar hoof began to stroke his side gently. This time he heard the words, “Blaire . . . it’s okay . . . it’s okay . . .”
“N-no. You nev-never listen. I don’t-don’t want to marry her.” He gritted his teeth, trying to stopped the sobs, “I li-like my job. I’d die in Canterlot. Please . . . please don’t-don’t make me stay,” he begged, closing his eyes.
“Blaire . . . hush, I’m not going to make you marry her or stay in Canterlot. I . . . I just got carried away. You’ve always been such a good boy, I . . . I take that for granted sometimes.”
A good boy? Yes, he supposed he was. Always the one son his parents could rely upon, the one child who followed orders without argument or question, and the one son they depended on to continue the bloodline. Blackjack, Flim, Flam, even Bjorn were allowed to live their own lives but somepony had to stay behind. Even if father didn’t make him marry this mare, there’d be another he’d push.
Blaire envied the animals. No matter where they wandered, they remained free, at least in spirit. His was a cage that followed him, as unavoidable as his shadow. For, somepony had to be relied upon, to sacrifice what they wanted for the family’s well-being, and his siblings made it clear to whom that duty fell.
[Note: Despite hardly writing on his story or including him in my other works, Blaire is the favorite out of all of my OC's. I can't get enough of his character. He's really got a lot of depth and I feel like the worst author ever for not showing that better. So, had to give him some much needed attention.]
So far so good.
Flesh this baby out and post it!
The first paragraph might be a little bit of a steep drop into Blaire's situation. Also, it'd be good to get more of a description of what's happening around him when he falls into his panic attack. Also-also, I'm not sure how to reconcile the claim that Blaire always does what he's told, with the hints that his parents don't respect what he's chosen to dedicate his life to.
But this is all stuff that can be worked on, especially if this were to grow into a longer story.
Now I'm a Sad Chad.
Have a baby donkey.
joebonkisawesome.files.wordpress.com/2012/09/baby-donkey-2.jpg
So that's why Flim disliked the nickname.
3167884 I must be half-awake because I have no idea which nickname you're referencing.
3167359 Yeah, well, this was originally supposed to be a short blurb to serve as a caption to the picture. But, I really liked the scene and wanted to finish it. Yes, I'd definitely flesh this out a lot if I were going to put this into a story. I'm probably going to to that actually. Though, I'll probably end up at least doubling the length, I think it'll be good.
3167945
The festival that took place in an Honest Life and This Cruel and Random World. They called Flim Big Top, a bit awkward for him considering it's his dad's name. But judging from your reaction this could be a coincidence.
3167958 You know it's sad when your readers know more about your story than you do.
Yeah, I did put that in there, didn't I! Probably was a subconscious thing. But, it works well, so I'm totally going to roll with the "it's his Dad's name" explanation now.
3167967
What does it say about me? There are over 70000 words and I remember such a small part.
What do you mean? This has always been the explanation. *Glances left and right*
3168235 Lol, probably.