My Sister Fluttershy

by brokenimage321

Scene 16: Int., House, Morning. Age 20.

“Go ‘way, Mom, it’s not time for school yet…”

The tapping comes again, and I open one eye blearily. There’s a red and white blur inside a blue blur. I blink: there’s a little red bird hovering outside my window, holding an envelope that’s almost as big as he is.

I sit up and rub my eyes, then get up and open the window. The little bird flies inside and drops his envelope on my bed, then flops down beside it, exhausted. I pick him up, carry him to the kitchen and give him a little dish of water. He looks up at me gratefully, then starts gulping it down.

I walk back to my room and sit on my bed. I pick up the envelope and look at it carefully. It’s addressed to me in a flawless cursive, with a Ponyville return address. I swallow and slowly open it.

Dear April,

Yes, I would love to meet with the family! I’m really looking forward to spending time with you, and Skittle, and Mom and Dad! Will they all be there?

I clench the letter tighter. I feel like someone’s punched me in the stomach.

I was thinking maybe we could do 7 o’clock on Tuesday, if that works for you! Though I don’t want to interfere with any plans you might have already! Just make sure to let me know as soon as you can, and I’ll be there whenever you need me!

Also, please take good care of Huey! He’s probably exhausted, and I don’t want him to get hurt or anything! I’m sure you’ll do fine, though!

See you soon!

Love, Fluttershy

As I fold the note, I notice my hooves are shaking. So, Fluttershy is finally coming home. But what if she’s not the Fluttershy I remember? Maybe she’s still bitter about... about everything. I had robbed her of everything a young filly deserves—friends, schoolmates, two older sisters, a mother, a father—

A father. Sweet Celestia, what on earth am I going to tell her about Dad? She has no idea he’s gone.

I lay back on my bed and let out a long sigh. There’s so much pain here—maybe it would be better just to...

No. I grit my teeth. I’ve come this far. To back out now would make me even more of a coward. I swallow hard, then go and dig a postcard and pencil out of the cupboard. I manage to write in a shaky hand,

Fluttershy,

7:00 Tuesday is fine.

April

I quickly walk back into the kitchen. Huey has just finished his water and is now lying flat on his back. I grab him, thrust the postcard into his claws, open the window, and toss him outside.

I slam the window shut and lean on it, shaking.

Had I waited any longer, I would have torn up the card.