• Published 23rd Sep 2018
  • 2,067 Views, 490 Comments

Playing House - Krickis

When Sunset learns about problems in Fluttershy's home life, she invites her friend to live with her instead. For Fluttershy, it’s a shelter from the storm she lives in fear of. For Sunset, it’s the hope to be part of a family for the first time.

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What was happening? Everything felt wrong. Bright lights. Slivers of movement. And someone… someone was crying.

People were talking, voices rapid and loud. The words all jumbled together. Something about blood?

Someone was crying. Crying. Was it Sunset? Or Sky? Don’t cry. I’m here. Everything will be okay.

The crying stopped, but the light grew brighter. Silhouettes blurred in and out of perception.

Where was Sunset? She should be here. What was happening? What had happened?

The people were doing things to her. Fluttershy didn’t understand. What were they doing? Why was she here? Where was she?

Nothing made sense. Thoughts jumbled together so that they could all fade away as one, only to be replaced by more confusion.

Sky. Is Sky okay? Please, God, let her be okay. She needs to be okay.

Someone was talking, but it was different. Quieter. Softer. A voice that cut through the sounds of whatever was happening. It called to her.

The voice was familiar, but distant. Fluttershy knew who it was, but that didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be.


She tried to look around, but she was unable to move. She had to go. She had to find the voice.


Fluttershy closed her eyes, and everything faded away. Even the sounds from the room around her ceased to exist. There was just her and the voice.


Fluttershy woke up with a start, sitting upright on her bed. She looked around, but all she saw was her bedroom. The sun was just barely rising, and she knew she should get back to sleep, but all she could think about was that strange room with all those shadows looming over her.

If she stayed in bed she might fall back asleep, and she didn’t want that. She rose, the wooden floor cold against her bare feet, and she crossed the room.

In need of a way to keep busy, Fluttershy grabbed a hairbrush. It was sitting atop a black dress, which she’d be wearing later for the funeral. She hated even looking at it, it was just another reminder that she was gone, as if Fluttershy could ever forget that.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair. She hated it. Why did she have to look so much like her? Why did her own image have to be another reminder? Just like the dress. Just like the dream.

When she closed her eyes, Fluttershy could still hear that voice calling her. She gripped the hairbrush tightly in an attempt to keep from crying, but she cried all the same.


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