They say if you feel inspired you should go and write immediately..... So here's a little writing exercise. · 7:36pm May 20th, 2019

Or, at least four days later..... Here's a little story snippet that jumped into my head on Thursday morning while I was still lying half asleep in bed. This happens quite often and I have a strong urge to write this one down. That's also the first time I'm just writing a story idea in a blog entry, like so many other authors do! It sounds good, but doesn't fit anywhere else, so I put it here.
Certain details in the following snippet are lacking, this is just an early idea with very basic scenes:

The stallion grunted. The cart he was pulling was getting heavier. Which was no surprise, it contained food and water for weeks, after all, alongside a few of his most treasured belongings. But he couldn't afford to stop. The sirens were still blaring every couple minutes and it reminded him on the grim fate he sought to avoid.
The stables had filled up quickly. He tried it at most of them, but all of them had been locked already. He was late and he cursed himself. All he could do now was trying to privately owned ones. Some ponies had built their own bunker years ago, when the news reported about the first international tensions. The moment the news reporter took the word "War" in this mouth for the very first time. He remembered that moment clearly. It's when some ponies started to build bunkers. Unfortunately, he could never afford that.
The stallion huffed. With his milky vision, he could see a large building in about ten meters distance. He rubbed over his eyes to take a better look at it. It was the barn he was looking for. Eagerly, he moved towards it, pushed open the gate and trotted down a sturdy, broad ramp. At its end was a corridor and he followed it in the same tempo. He could see a massive gate in the distance, a round, thick piece of medal, perfectly suited to cover up the hole in the concrete wall it was built in airtight. A mare and a stallion were carrying boxes, that looked like they contained supplied, inside the gate. He approached them, feeling hope rising. Now he needed to be polite.
The mare and the stallion eyed him suspiciously as he came closer. The shotguns they were holding didn't go unnoticed by him.
"Excuse me," he began, "I was wondering if you'd have room for one more–"
"Scram it," the other stallion said. A tiny jerk went through his shotgun. "This is a private bunker. Go to one of the stables."
He lowered his head, feeling the hope starting to sink. "I tried most of them already, they are already full. They didn't build enough for everypony, it seems. And it looks like yours might be the last bunker I can reach in time. My cart is heavy and I am searching for a safe place for a couple hours already. The bombs will drop soon. If you'd just–"
He got cut off again, this time by the mare. "I'm really sorry for that," she spoke, with a slight trace of sympathy in her voice. "But we don't have a place for you here. You need to leave." The last word slightly raised in tone. Then they were pointing his guns at him. It happened so simultaneously, it looked like they had practiced it.
The stallion did a step back. But he wasn't going to give up. His heart started to pound faster as panic began to overtake him. He had to give this another try. "I understand," he began, diplomatically. "Everypony has to look out for themselves, I know." The mare and the stallion nodded. They didn't lower their guns, though. "But you don't need to feed me through all of this. I have brought my own supplies, I can assure that I won't go at–"
"Shut up, buddy!" The response by the other stallion sounded generic, once more it seemed to him that his opponent did something that was the result of practice, but it did nothing to mask the aggression. "My wife said you leave and that means you leave." Now the stallion and the mare lifted their shotguns even higher. Both of them were pointing at his head now.
And in this moment, something broke. It happened faster than even he could perceive it. He had always been a good shooter. One shot, two, and the mare and the stallion dropped to the ground with a hole in the forehead each, caused by the small hoofgun he had pulled out of his holster in a split second. They could not even react.
The stallion huffed. Mechanically, he took down his gun and put it back into its holster. He felt horrified as he looked at what he did, what panic and fear for his life drove him to do. "Idiots," he muttered. "All three of us could have lived here in peace, this wasn't necessary." He shook his head. He always knew that post-apocalyptic scenarios change a pony from the many books he read about the subject, but he never expected it would happen so fast. He gave the bodies a last look and sighed, then cast his eyes away and looked into the inside of the bunker. And he froze.
After another, shorter corridor, a second gate towered. And in the middle of it, just a few steps into the first room of the bunker, stood a small, yellow filly. Her eyes were widened in shock and her mouth gaped open. "M-Mommy? D-Daddy?" she asked. Then tears emerged in her eyes and she sat down. The filly erupted into loud, hysterical crying.
The stallion cursed. Guilt washed over him. "Great....." his exhausted voice rang out. "Looks like I gained a daughter now. If she even wants to have me here after I killed her parents."
Not knowing what else to do, and nothing else would have been wise in this situation, he approached the bodies of the stallion and the mare and carried them outside. One after another, he grabbed the two corpses and leaned them against the wall opposite of the bunker's gate. Doing a glance over his shoulder, he could see that the filly wasn't noticing anything. Her eyes were closed.
As he was done removing the corpses, he pulled his cart in the inside of the bunker. He shut the thick metal gate and locked it tight. Then he moved behind the second gate and did the same. "Alright, now we're safe," he mumbled. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it also hurt. "We." The word burned on his tongue.
The stallion turned around and looked at the filly. She hadn't left her position, nor changed her posture. Forehooves neatly placed between her hindlegs, she cried relentlessly. He reached for her and picked her stiff body up, then sat her down on his cart. He moved it to the side and into a niche left of the bunker's gate, then slipped out of the bunker's gate.
For a few minutes, he looked at the distraught, now orphaned filly and tried to say something, but everything he could think of sounded dumb in his head. He let his eyes wander around in the room, until they got stuck on a teddy bear that was lying on the floor. His face lit up. He trotted up to it, took it and gave it to the filly. She reached out with her hooves immediately, clasped it tightly against her and buried her face into it. Her crying didn't stop, though.
"Maybe it's better to let her cry for now," he mumbled as he turned away from the filly.
Instead of attempting to calm her down, he decided to explore her parent's bunker first. He looked around. There was nothing of interest here. The walls were bleak and grey, adorned with nothing, not even shelves. The middle of the room was occupied with a quadratic construct formed by four walls. It was big enough to accomodate another room behind them.
The stallion trotted to the other side of the large room and found a door. It was a wooden door, very elegant and with complex ornaments that made it a stark contrast to the rest of the room. He opened it, went inside and whistled. He stood in a living room now. The walls were adorned with wooden panels of a soft brown and the floor covered with red carpets. He ventured further inside. There were large sofas everywhere and in one corner was a huge TV. His face reflected in its shiny, black surface. Next to it were cabinets and they were filled to the brim with movies. He whistled again at the sheer amount of modern movies and old classics. "Her parents must have been rich," he deduced. The words caused his heart to sting and he closed the cabinet.
He walked through a door to the left and found himself in a massive kitchen. Instinctually, he approached the large fridge first. It towered above him and reached all the way up to the ceiling. It was also twice as wide as any fridge he had seen previously. He pulled the door of it open.
The fridge was completely stocked. He spotted cheese, milk, vegetables and so much more food of all sorts, all of it neatly arranged in rows.
"Wow....." he breathed. "The food here will last for weeks!" Feeling a grumble in his stomach, he opened a bulky glass bottle filled with long and thick pickles and took one out. He ate away at it as he continued to explore the kitchen.
Turning up a faucet revealed that the bunker had running water. That meant there were water tanks somewhere, probably with enough water to last at least a couple months, considering the purpose of the bunker. But even that would run out eventually, so he decided to only use it when it was absolutely necessary and turned it off again.
Next he found himself in front of a large, white door. A chill breeze greeted him as he pulled it open and he shivered. A look inside confirmed him that it was a walk-in freezer. Taking a look through the different cabinets inside it, a quick one, because the temperature advised him to not stay there for long, he found massive amounts of bread, packaged milk, fruits, vegetables and even gallons of ice cream! Like the fridge in the kitchen, all of the cabinets reached up to the ceiling. He increased the estimation for how long all the food in here would last in his mind and made a mental note to look out for a ladder.
Back in the kitchen, he noticed another door and opened it curiously. The stocked shelves let him conclude that it was a pantry. He wandered around in it, once more being awe-struck by shelves that reached all the way up to the ceiling. He found more bread, pastries, cake and pies, glasses with peanut butter and hazelnut spread, honey, sweets and chocolate. Everything was there and it was there in massive amounts. He took a chocolate bar from one of the shelves and whistled again, noticing that it was an expensive one. "How much money did these ponies have?!"
As if his words were a cue, he suddenly heard a sound to his left while he was busy unwrapping the chocolate bar. The little, yellow filly stood there, looking at him with wide eyes, a distant expression in them. No, not distant. Judging. That was the correct word. She had stopped crying, but her eyelids were red and puffy and he could see the veins in the white of her eyeballs. She wasn't saying a word.
He did a step closer. "Hey, uh....." But the words had barely left his mouth and the filly turned around and galloped away. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a door getting banged shut, then silence. He couldn't figure out from where the sound came and he had no idea about the size of this bunker yet, so he did not attempt to follow her.
Checking the shelves at the far end of the room, following a sudden thought, he found bottles filled with a white, powdery substance. Powdered milk. They really have thought of everything. All in all, he estimated, letting his eyes fly over all the supplies, this food would last for two or three years. It was crazy. And that for three ponies. Now it needed to last for only two ponies anymore, so he could revise it upwards by another year. The stallion bit his lip as the meaning of the words dawned on him. "Murderer," something at the back of his mind whispered.
Swallowing, but not because of the last piece of chocolate in his mouth, he went to a door at the far end of the pantry, right next to the shelves with the countless bottles of powdered milk. Opening it and trotting inside caused him to stop dead in his tracks. He stared at the sight in front of him from wide eyes. There were rows of tables and on them were trays filled with soil. "Cucumbers, tomatoes, corn, peas....." he began reading the small signs in front of each. Looking up, he noticed lamps radiating a red light. Behind the tables he could spot more shelves, equipped with bags that were filled with soil and seeds. They were growing crops here, under the ground!
His mind began to put the pieces together. The owners of this bunker must have been rich business ponies with several companies under their belts and they probably poured all their income and capital into building all this and equipping it with enough supplies to last them here for many years, so that their family has a safe and comfortable place to stay if the war should escalate! Except, that it wasn't a family anymore. Another sting. It stiffled the euphory he felt over the sheer luck he had with having found this place.
Morosely, he went through the pantry and the kitchen back into the living room. On the way, he discovered a large dining room behind yet another door, just as opulently designed as the living room. He took the door on the opposite, which was open, and found himself in a narrow corridor, with doors at both sides. The lights were on and he made another mental note. There had to be a generator room somewhere. And fuel. Lots of it.
The first door on the left had a colorful sign hanging on it. Clumsy letters were on it, written by young hooves. He immediately knew what room it was and he turned away from it, neither daring to open it nor to decipher the name. He opened the door at the opposite wall and stepped into a bathroom. Crystallized walls, a lavatory on the wall, a bathtub and a shower stall at the end of the room. The shelves in here were equipped with a number of white towels.
He closed the door again and motioned to the next one. A white toilet seat came into his view, at the end of a room that was longer that it was necessary. A large ventilation was above it. The next door to the left showed him the exact same thing. "Two separate toilets, fair enough," he commented on it. It was nothing too uncommon. There was no toilet paper, though. Somewhere, there had to be storage room where he could find some.
What he discovered behind the next door, though, was uncommon again. It was a toilet too, but the seat was much, much smaller. And it was of a pink color and so were the tiles on the walls. The sting, that had become his familiar companion by now, returned as he saw what lengths this parent has gone for their daughter. Nothing had been too expensive for her. He choked a little.
As he had gotten his composure back somewhat, he continued. The next door revealed a bedroom, with a double-sized bed in the middle, fully prepared for a good night's sleep. Then he found a library. Its bookshelves were equipped with literature from all eras and for all ages and it has a cozy, little reading corner with the softest chairs he had ever sat on. The walls were adorned with classical paintings from Equestria's most famous, contemporary artists.
As there were only two doors left, the next one revealed a staircase to him. It led downwards and he followed it. After trotting through another door, he entered a small room. There was only bookshelf and a desk in it. A computer stood on top. The newest model. "Has to be a study room," he figured. It made sense, down here, where the sounds from above didn't reach. The only odd thing was its tiny size. Every other room so far had been HUGE. "Guess all money runs out eventually," he mused before getting back up the stairs and closing the door behind him.
His words betrayed him behind the last door. Shedding his last disbelief, he looked at a gigantic indoor swimming pool. It was long, long enough for a trained swimmer to stay in form. There were extra showers behind doors at the other side, even some more toilets. Right next to it was even a bar, its fridges filled with more beverages, lemonades, juices and soft drinks than he was able to count.
As he was back in the corridor, his mind felt completely overwhelmed. He had arrived in paradise. While the apocalypse would happen on the surface, he would wallow in luxuries down here, where everything was safe for him. "For them," his mind corrected him and the stinging returned.
As he moved back through the corridor, now beginning to notice how tired he was, he realized that he still didn't find a generator and the fuel necessary to run it. But it had to be somewhere, the lights above him were the proof.
Almost back at the corridor's entrance, he came back to that door. The stallion sighed, then he pushed himself to place a hoof on the doorknob and to pull it open. It wasn't locked, surprisingly enough. Inside, the lights were on, too. The yellow filly was lying in a bed that was surrounded by toys and stuffed animals and white shelves filled with foal's literature. Everything else was pink, even the bedding and the bed itself. He shuddered over how cliched the room looked.
Still quiet, he approached the bed with his heart bumping in his chest. The filly was sleeping, as he had figured already. She laid on top of her blanket and tightly clasped a teddy bear, probably the same one. Her tiny forehooves were holding it so tightly that she would have choked it if it were alive. He could see that her eyeballs were shifting restlessly behind her eyelids and, occasionally, her lips got smacked, like she was attempting to talk in her sleep. The picture got completed by her left hindleg, which was twitching every three or four seconds.
Carefully, he grabbed one side of the blanket and spread it over the sleeping filly in front of him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, then he averted his eyes, turned off the lights and left the room.
The stallion turned off the lights in the corridor as well, he had no way of estimating how much fuel there was in this bunker even though he reckoned with massive amounts, then he entered the large bedroom again. He removed the gun from his holster and placed it on a nightstand right next to the bed. Then he let himself fall into the soft cushions. His tired body fell asleep quickly.

.
I'm not exactly sure what that is, or might become, yet, but it's a strong idea that fought its way to the surface of my mind and demanded to get written down. It's not necessarily set in the "Fallout: Equestria" universe, despite the mention of stables, I could also make my own thing out of it.
For now, it will rest here. If you like, tell me what you think about it.