The house was dark. No, the closet was dark. Cozy looked up and could see all her mother's dresses hanging above her. She tried to focus on those, not the screams coming from just beyond the door.
The three year old trembled. She knew she wasn’t safe. The knock on the door in the middle of the night was the first thing to scare her. Then her mother ripped her from the bed and shoved her into the closet. From there, she could hear every little thing happening in the little house. It was barely one room. It was all they could afford when they were kicked out by Cozy’s father and had to relocate to some small town on the ground. She thought it might be called Ponyville, that’s what the big stallion who sold them the cottage said.
Cozy carefully and silently lowered herself down to the floor, resting on her stomach and drawing her front hooves as close to her body as she could. Her little wings flapped as tears escaped her amber eyes. The screams outside were getting louder, closer. She scooted back in the closet as far as she could. It wasn’t very big, but to a little filly like her it was giant. She huddled against the far right wall, as far away from the door as she could get.
She closed her eyes, wanting to escape. She wanted to go back to Cloudsdale, back to her little daycare and back to her daddy. She pressed her hooves against her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears.
There were hoofsteps approaching the closet door. Cozy shook with fear. She looked up and saw the doorknob turning. She tried to push herself against the wall farther but soon realized she was already as close as she could possibly be. The door began to creak open and Cozy realized the screams outside had stopped.