My life was never easy. Ain't never been that way and it never will be. I've tried being happy. I've tried being sad. None seem to fit me, and death isn't the right size either. I have many memories, both happy, sad, and sometimes a mix of both. But my first memory is of fire.
I remember the flames, burning like a thousand suns, screaming death. They licked at the air and grew larger with every taste. Fire flew out the window. Fire flew out the doorway. Smoke lurked into the air, gray and dull and slow. It puffed out of the shabby gray building looking like tiny clouds. They rolled over each other and flew into the air, slow and muggy. It wasn't happy. It wasn't lifeless. It was sad.
I stared at it with wide, sad light purple eyes. There were scars on my face and bags under my eyes. I was comforted by a nice fire pony with a rag-like blanket. It was dirty and soggy and stained, but it was better than what I usually had.
The building on fire was dull and gray. It had only one room in it. I couldn't remember who it was in there. The nice fire pony said I had taken in a lot of smoke.
It wasn't until days later in the hospital that I remembered. The light blue stallion with the black and dark gray mane. I remember him telling me to flee. He said: "After the death of your mother, why should I bother?" He said that I didn't deserve him. He said that I was too much of a trophy to be bothered with. At least for the likes of him. I remember him picking something up off of the floor. He set it on the stool with the broken leg. It was the only chair we had. The stallion took something out of the small saddle pack in the corner of the room. It was a clear glass bottle. I could hardly read at the time, but I know that it said: "Warning: Alcohol. Do not use around fire." The stallion opened the bottle and poured the liquid content in a circle around him on the floor. He threw the bottle into a wall. It shattered. It exploded. It smashed onto the ground. The liquid ran down the wall real slow. It was brown and strong. So strong that I could smell it from where I was standing. The stallion reached to the stool and took the thing off the stool. It was a little package with sandpaper on the side. He took a little stick out of it with his teeth. And then he slid it across the sandpaper. I gasped with fear as I saw the first little orange-and-yellow flame on the black tip of the stick. Tears ran down the blue stallion's face. I watched with confused, dazed eyes as he stood in the center of the circle. And the match dropped.
Then my memory just turns into blurs of orange, yellow, and blue. I always see crying green eyes. They are filled with regret. With sorrow.
With death.
And then I was released from the hospital. They told me the stallion was not found. That he was gone. I half-understood what they meant. But they just gave me that blanket and a little broken dolly and I was pushed to the street like a rat. I just trudged into a dark, dirty alleyway of the busy city. I was four. Four years old. The mere thought of being independent scared me. But I had to be strong. For some reason, I felt something towards that stallion. I didn't realize until three years later that he was my father. So I fell asleep in that little alleyway. I didn't wake until much later.
I spent the next six years traveling to Ponyville. I didn't know that I would stay there, but I'd hear how the ponies there were the nicest and the friendliest. Once I got there, a nice mare by the name of Lyra took me in. She fed me dinner and gave me a nice little room. She even painted a rainbow on the door! She spent a lot of time with her sister Bon Bon and this one stallion by the name of "Whooves". She eventually earned lots of bits and was able to enroll me in school. There, I met two other ponies like me: blank flanks. That was my problem. I didn't have a cutie mark. I used to think that maybe I would get my cutie mark with my scooter tricks that I did. I would speed through town everyday with the little gift Lyra got me one Hearth's Warming Eve. I would jump ramps, crash through windows (which earned me a hospital visit once or twice), and sometimes I would even be able to land on clouds! I wasn't a very strong flyer.
After a few years of living in Ponyville, and trying to find my cutie mark with the two friends, I found myself with a new sister. Well, that's how it started out. Rainbow Dash adopted me from Lyra (who had become my sort of guardian) and she got me a nice little room right next to hers in her home in the skies. She even had her friend Twilight, the princess with the most powerful magic, eventually make a stable bridge from the top of the hill to Rainbow's home ninety feet in the air. This was mostly because Rainbow would have to fly me to her house rather than me fly up there myself. My wings still weren't strong. After a while Rainbow Dash turned into something other than my sister. She turned into my mother. Through all of her coltfriends and cancelled weddings, I was the closest thing to family she had. I figured out that her parents weren't around either.
Many years passed. I earned my cutie mark in running. So I often tried out and competed in the Equestrian Games (thought I only won once). My friends found stallions and got married, had some kids. Even Rainbow Dash found a stallion at last, one of the Wonderbolts I think, and they had one daughter. A few months afterwards, I met a nice stallion too. Though I think something was wrong with me. I couldn't have foals. Twilight examined me and she regretfully told me that I had damage done to my organs. She asked me if I had ever inhaled heavy smoke or been around fire.
I ran away crying.
Soon after my colt friend and I got married, I decided to go to the one place that might let me take a daughter or a son: the Ponyville Orphanage. I went there to see if there were any up for adoption. The lady was nice and showed me all of these nice older fillies and colts, but I told her: "Sorry mam, but do you have any foals under the age of four?"
The woman smiled at me. She got sparks in her eyes and the white circles in her pupils turned to stars! She led me to a room in the back. It was colored a dark teal green and had smiling flowers and butterflies painted as designs. There were two beds, side by side. One had a pink butterfly bedspread while the other had a blue turtle bed spread. There were many smiling stuffed animals all over the room and there were shelves over the beds, whose heads were against the back wall, with pictures of rainbows and smiling suns. The lady called "Foals!" and one filly and one colt tumbled out of the closet. The filly had a long purple mane curled at the end, a coat of ebony black, and eyes of a deep blue. The colt had a short black mane, a light blue coat, and eyes so blue that they looked like the ocean. The two foals stood there and blinked at me, smiling happily.
"These are the youngest foals we have here," the lady replied happily. "They don't even have names! They just showed up at our doorstep a few weeks ago!"
And of course I took them! I even bought all of their stuffed animals and their beds. I had enough bits from all of the money I "inherited" from Rainbow Dash. Since they didn't have names, I decided to name them myself. I named the little filly Amethyst Skies and the little colt Night Shores. Amethyst and Night for short.
I took them home. I fed them every meal. I cared for them like they were my own.
They changed me. And I changed them.