//------------------------------//
// Blue Coat 
// Story: strange love 
// by creepsalotcam 
//------------------------------//

Soft winds, shining sun, clear blue skies. The pegasus ponies had really outdone themselve this time. I pulled a bag of blueberry muffins out of my satchel, my favorite, the earth ponies really do know how to bake a good pastries. Then I pulled out a leather sheath from my satchel, inside; a hand crafted butchers knife, fine work only a unicorn could do. 

Its too bad I didn't fit in with anypony. I'm too clumsy on my wings, so the only job I can be trusted with is mail delivery, I cant use magic, and I cant farm or bake (I've tried, and the result was a disaster) Worst of all there is nopony left to love me. My mother and father died when I was very young. When my father died I was almost happy. He abused me, hit me, pulled feathers from my wings. Once, when I was a little Philly, he threw me off a bridge and laughed as i struggled to keep myself from falling and getting killed.

My mother on the other hand was caring and sweet. She would tell me she would love me until the sun goes out, and I would look up into the sky to see if the sun was still shining, it always was. He hit her too, so I was glad when he died.

When my mother died they took me away. I didn't cry (if I did my father would hit me) and I didn't frown (my mother told me to always smile) as that carriage took me from my home to that cramped orphanage. And just when I thought I had gotten away from my father, there he was, in the form of a young colt named Jewel Counter. He would tease me and bully me because of my eyes, and because I couldn't fly, and because I didn't know what my cutie mark meant. 

I ran away from the orphanage to the town of Ponyville, where I spent countless nights cold and hungry in an old abandon theatre. 

The rest of my life, leading up to this moment is probably exactly what you think. I got a job working for the mail delivery service, I didn't talk to anypony, and nopony talked to me. They looked at me like I didn't belong, and who would blame them, I don't belong here.

All these things fuel me. They fuel me to unsheathe my knife, and that's exactly what I do. But first I take a bight of that blueberry muffin. When my mom was still alive she would bake me blueberry muffins. I want the last thing I eat to be a muffin, because it reminds me of my mother.

With that done, I hold the knife in my right hoof. I am not going to slice my neck, too painful. Instead I will plunge it through my chest, quick and easy.

If there is an after life, I want to remember the last thing I see. A flash of blue soars across the sky. Beautiful. now, Its time to leave.