"I'm not a Chicken"

by TrebleBass

Regret

Author's Note:

Talk about a delay to a chapter coming out. It's been a while, huh?
Just some quick statements;
I've tried to write this chapter similar to the format of the previous ones, while still using some better writing techniques that I've learned in the past 3 years. Nothing major, no, but it's enough to look back at this old stuff and kinda go ech
And yes, it's weird to make a new chapter before the last one, but 19 year old me is trying to dig myself out of the hole that 15 year old me put this story in. I hopefully plan on making a final final chapter after this. Hopefully
I'm not trying to win any prize, just finishing the crap young me started.
Anyway, enjoy.
If you see any grammatical or spelling mistakes, feel free to point it out! Kinda wrote this out on a whim tonight.

Boredom.

That was the bane that plagued her existence. Sure, for a few years she felt regret; Heart-aching, soul-crushing, cry-inducing regret. Even now, a pang struck her chest when looking back. But Scootaloo quickly learnt that there was no changing the past, so no point in wallowing in it and self-pity alike. Well, no changing the past without some sort of crazy time spell anyway, but that was unicorn stuff. She took a quick glance at her wings, sprawled out over a cloud bed.

Nope. Not a unicorn.

A quick pat of the forehead brought a similar thought.

Not a princess either.

For the first few months, a court case had taken up most of her free time. It sucked, but had to be done. After all, she did kind of kill somepony. Well, not only kind of. The Equestrian legal system, as kind as it was to first time offenders, couldn’t exactly let the filly off scot-free. It took a lot of pleading, but her lawyer had managed to snag her magical house arrest until she was 18. The house in question being Dash’s old cloud home in Cloudsdale. The magical enchantment placed on her made sure she never missed her curfew, and especially never flew away from the city. That, in turn, made sure she never had any fun for the following years.

Maybe it was a little despicable to not be cursed with a permanent pain of regret or to not be crying herself asleep to reoccurring nightmares for her mistake. She admitted to herself it was a tad cold-blooded of her, but there wasn’t any point in hurting herself for the rest of her life. Even if the consequences of her actions were abhorrent, she regarded that event as a foal-hood mistake. One that couldn’t ever be fixed and was possibly the worst mistake a pony could make, yeah, but one nonetheless.

But where was was she? Oh yes, boredom.

Her current life could be described in five words. School, Fly a little, Sleep. With an early curfew and magic anchoring her to a little half mile sphere, any possible idea to take up her free time was soon described as impossible, or at the very least improbable. Any chance of social life was out the window, and any chance of a part time job was lost the minute her possible employer found out about the whole magical house arrest thing. No, they couldn’t deny her a job based on that fact, but by some ‘crazy’ happenstance any others applying to the job seemed to have a much better chance at getting it. The few things that broke up the monotony were Dash’s visits, her monthly heavensend. Once a month, for a week or so, Dash would figure out some reason to do some work in the weather factory. As the one in charge of Ponyville’s weather, it wasn’t too hard.

But today wasn’t a part of one of those weeks. Instead she lay there, body in a position one would assume to be uncomfortable, staring at the cloud ceiling from her cloud bed. Sometimes she would look at the cloud walls, or maybe even the cloud floor. If she were in the mood, she might look out her cloud window at the cloud city. Even her mind was cloudy; a routine that included ‘sulk about at home’ for a good portion of the day didn’t lend itself to a creative environment in which to think. That lack of ideas ended the way it usually did; thinking about the future.

Scootaloo shivered.

She didn't really have a plan for after she turned eighteen; with only a year left, it was slowly falling off her list of "Important things to ignore". Plainly, step one would be to get out of the tartarus that would have then plagued her for five years; as cool as a city of pegasi and clouds was, being a prison tends to worsen ones notion of a place. Step three was to get a job and try to live normally. Maybe join a local weather team in some small town where no one has ever heard of her. Step two; therein lies the problem. She knew it had to involve ponyville somehow. After all there were probably ponies that had expectations of her to make some sort of return, though triumphant likely wasn't an adjective they'd use to describe them. What could she do anyway? There weren't many options currently perceivable to her, and those that were were already on her mental list of things to do.

-Heartfelt, emotional reunion with the old crusaders.

-Some sort of emotional apology to Filthy Rich

-Some sort of emotional apology speech to the town

-Have some of Applejack's cider

That last one wasn't really necessary, but it made the list a third larger.

Scootaloo could've sat there all night pondering the possibilities of her one day catharsises. Catharsi? Catharsen.
Her one day emotional releases.

But she decided against continuing her late night prospection. After all, while it was slowly falling off it, it was still on her list of "Important things to ignore".

With a smirk at her ever procrastinating self, Scootaloo's eyes shut as she fell into a dream of elsewhere. Hopefully an elsewhere with a fraction of cloud.