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Pristine Floors, Towering Statues, and Meaningless Conversation1,004 words
Haunted By These Nightmares390 words

Pristine Floors, Towering Statues, and Meaningless Conversation

Author's Note:

My second fanfic! I don't really have much to say here, other than that I hope you enjoy, and leave any suggestions or corrections in the comments!

Silver Spoon was gone, at her house, out of sight. Glancing back and forth, I quickly made sure nopony else was around before the smirk vanished from my face. I slumped down against a tree, running my hoof through my mane, thinking about what I had just done. It was terrible, truly terrible, worse than everything else I might have done. Making fun of Scootaloo's disability, something she couldn't help and already felt bad enough about.

But I had to do it. I had to win the flag competition. I always won. At home, I was expected to. Failing to do so would be failing my father.

"If only she knew... I don't want to hurt any of them." I sighed, and felt tears welling up in my eyes, the weight of countless insults and hurt I'd inflicted on others spilling out. What have I become, and what was to become of me if I carried on like this? I would be called despicable, ruthless... oh wait, I already was.

"Is this what you wanted, Diamond?" I whispered to myself.. "Thousands of broken dreams at your hoovess?"

Wiping my eyes, I forced them to turn to the usual cold glare, pushing the corners of my mouth into a wicked grin. I had long ago mastered hiding my emotions from everypony, and I had to start on my way home.

Home. It wasn't a home really. It was just a house, one where showing any sign of weakness or your true emotions was dangerous. I should know. With my father never home, always off in some faraway place "for business", I was always left with my stepmother. Stepmother always yelled, threw things; she had a short temper. And if she saw you sad, she would never, never comfort you. Instead, she'd probably throw something at you and tell you to toughen up. There was no comfort to be found in the Rich household. Within its grey walls and cold, pristine white floors, towering, intimidating archways and statues it was hard to even find a smile.

"Good afternoon, Stepmother." My voice was stiff and formal as I recited the usual meaningless words.

"Good afternoon, Diamond Tiara," She replied, in the same tone as I, with a small nod.

I nodded politely back and walked down the empty hall, my hoofsteps echoing hollowly. Almost as soon as I had turned the corner I could hear Stepmother grumble about what a nuisance children were and why did she have to be polite to me anyway? She was my mother, she didn't have to respect me, I should be respecting her.

I scowled, rolling my eyes. I wanted to pour maple syrup in that pony's mane.

The great spiraling staircase that led up to the bedrooms creaked every few steps, the only thing that gave away the house's age. The Rich family had been living here ever since Ponyville was founded, about three generations, give or take a generation. I couldn't remember exactly; I never paid attention in my geneology studies anyway.

I reached the top of the staircase, and was met with the usual eight doors. I opened the one with my name engraved on it, in neat, curly lettering. It's hinges opened smoothly, without a sound. My hooves sank into the pink, plush carpet as I closed the door and walked over to my large king bed, also pink. Everything in my room was some shade of pink or purple or blue, with white trim. Opening the door across from the bed would reveal a spacious walk-in closet, with about a million dresses that I'd never wear, and a large mirror taking up one wall.

To the right of that door was yet another door; this one leading into a roomy bathroom, complete with a bathtub that was essentially a smaller version of a hot tub, a high-end shower with several massage modes on the shower head, and a long marble counter that wrapped around the corner, which housed a wide sink and automatic soap dispenser.

My bedroom was lovely- a dream room, really, but much to big for one filly to use alone. The oversized everything just seemed to scream with wanting for company, at least three ponies more to share it with. Yes, the room was my sanctuary, but I still often found myself lonely.

Sighing, I took off my tiara and placed it gently on my bedside table, and stepped into the bathroom to take a bath.

The warm water and the aroma of various lavender soaps had soon calmed me into a peaceful mood, and the minutes flew by as I relaxed there in the tub. Finally, when my stomach started grumbling, I stepped out and rang the bell for dinner to be brought to my room as I drained the bathtub.

When the maid brought dinner up to my room, I ate in silence before climbing into bed and letting sleep wash over me.

A buzzing alarm woke me the next morning. Grumbling, I turned over in bed and basically punched the snooze button. The alarm thus silenced, I climbed out of bed and began the morning routine.

First of all: Eat breakfast.

Thanking the chef politely, I began shoving forkfuls of waffles into my mouth. "Thanks, Cookie." I said through a mouthful of waffles.

Second of all: Brush teeth.

Minty suds overflowed from my mouth as bristles went up and down, cleaning my teeth.

Next: Brush mane.

I ran the brush through my curls, until they were neat and shiny.

Finally: Head out the door.

I grasped the familiar tiara in my mouth and tossed it in the air, smiling when it landed exactly on top of my head, right where I wanted it to.

I trotted out the door, my face morphing into it's usual mask; that malicious smirk and that cold gaze.

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