My Name Is Branwen, And This Is My Book

by TRIBOT 4000

Entry 1

10/9/2018
12:35 AM

Hello, whoever you are. My name is Branwen. I am a Griffon but I do not currently reside in the Griffon lands. I took a holiday from my regular job: being a therapist. Before becoming a therapist, I started out as a book editor, and I was pretty dang good at it. My main thing was character development. I enjoyed that job so much, but there aren't very many writers in Griffonstone. Even minotaurs write more than us.

But, why am I telling you this? Because I need an outlet. It's really late right now and I haven't been able to sleep a wink. I keep thinking about my life and what it has turned out to be. I decided that as long as I'm up, I might as well write something, and I don't do that often. Contrary to popular belief, editors aren't that great at writing stories of their own. We lack the imagination.

I on the other hand happen to be a bit more imaginative than most. I have written my own stories, and a number of them have become best sellers, but it was all written under a pen name.

Right now, however, I plan on doing something different. Rather than change an already existing story, or creating a story about imaginary characters, I'm going to tell you about myself. I don't plan on anyone reading this before I die, so it shouldn't cause any security issues (not that anyone I know has security issues in the first place). There are some situations that I will have to change the names of those I know, for their safety. Not everything in this is going to be completely accurate. What you believe is up to you.

I guess I should start now, but where to begin? I guess...at the beginning.

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I am a bastard. Literally. I am by definition, a bastard. My mother and father were not married when they 'rolled in the hay' so to speak. I also have next to no information on who my father is. For all I know, he's dead. I'll admit this kinda tore me up a few times in life, but I've gotten over it.

My mother, Samara, wasn't the greatest of griffins before I was born. I don't know the whole story, mainly because I haven't felt the need to ask, but apparently she did a lot of horrible and immoral things as a teenager. Her and my Aunt Verge both. Neither of them are perfect now, but from what I know, they are both way better off then they were.

Anyways, my mother never once even considered having an abortion which I have to say, made me really, really happy. She had me and raised me for about a year or two before I was taken from her. remember what I said about her not being so great back then? Yeah, I don't need to explain why I was taken. I would've been placed in an orphanage had I not been adopted by probably the most important griffin in my life: Grandma Kalila.

My grandmother...is a loving creature, even if her ways of showing it don't match up with pony ways. She is very strict, refuses to let her rules be broken. She is also very religious, and taught me from the moment I could understand about Catholicism. She taught me about the coming Savior, the Final Judgement, God, and I firmly believe everything.

This isn't a book about religion though, so I won't preach to you.

As I was saying, my grandmother adopted me. I frankly can't say why, nor can she. I guess she didn't want me to grow up in an environment that would take me no where in life. Can't say I blame her. Grandma raised me in a little white cottage for some years. I don't have many memories of those times. I remember the building, the backyard, and my school, but nothing specific. I will admit, I lived a very privileged childhood, or at least, as privileged as you can get when you don't have any friends.

So, fun fact: I am an extrovert. Always have been. You'd think that with my personality, I'd have tons of friends. But no, I didn't. My thoughts on fun differed so greatly from the other foals and cubs in kindergarten. We never seemed to agree. If I wanted to play spies, they wanted to play superheroes, if I wanted to play superheroes, they'd play Congo Line. So, for most of my kindergarten recesses, I sat under a tree, by myself. Maybe I should have compromised and just went along with whatever they played. I just didn't want to. I honestly enjoyed sitting there a little bit more than playing. A little bit.

School wasn't much better. My teacher, Miss Piggybaker, didn't like me that much. Now, I know what you're thinking: Ugh, why does every student say that about their teachers? It's annoying! You have a full right to that opinion, but buddy...I'll be damned if it wasn't true. I can even understand why she didn't like me: I'M TOO HYPER! Or at least I used to be.

Now, this may sound a like a contradiction to my stating that I sat under a tree for recess, but consider this. Outside you have trees, plants, dirt, the sky, and so many beautiful things. Indoors...you have to make with what you got. I felt confined, and my body doesn't react well with close spaces. Thus, I was technically a nuisance and had to sit in a corner, away from the other students. You can guess what that did for my reputation.

I do have one very prominent memory from my time in kindergarten. Once, I discovered something really cool with the erasers: they bounce (before we go any further I must say this. I know Equestria and most nations use only ink, but for students it's different. You have to be able to erase). This simple discovery filled me with elation. These boring little devices, designed to rid the world of mistakes...BOUNCE! It was too much, I had to show someone. I got up and went over the nearest student I could see. Just my luck it happened to be Shadow Streak, my first crush.

Streak was pony (yes, my first crush was a pony, get over it) with a jet black mane and tail. Her coat was a beautiful amber color and her eyes were a deep ocean blue. My heart had been taken by her the moment I'd seen her, and like all good griffons filled with puppy love, I did not make a single move...until today.

After my discovery, I went over to show her.

"Watch this. This is so cool." I whispered to her so the teacher wouldn't notice. I dropped the eraser on the table in front of her, it bounced...and hit her in the freakin' eye! That's right, you heard me. I hit her in the eye with the eraser. Yes, it was an accident, but me getting up while we were supposed to be working? Not an accident. She immediately cried out in pain and I got in trouble. The rest of the day was filled with shame, guilt, and silence on my part. I don't remember my teacher telling my Grandmother but that's probably because my Grandmother didn't like how my teacher taught.

Another memory I have from school is even less pleasant. It's not just a memory of an event, but a memory of a very particular Zebra: Joash. That piece of crap kid was probably the most infuriating kid I knew. He mocked the teacher, talked behind her back, and was rude as hell. But guess what? Joash didn't get in trouble as much as I did! What's worse is that, because of my seating, I was the only one with a perfectly clear view of him, thus, I saw all his little behind-the-teachers-back antics. Sometimes I just wanted to punch his lights out as he made faces at her. I've never held anything against her, even if she wasn't entirely in the right. But this? This made me mad.

One particular day that just hurts me to think about is when Jaosh came back after being absent for a few days. When he did, all the other kids wanted to play with him. He was the star of the playground that day, and I couldn't understand for the life of me. He'd always been a jerk as far as I knew, and here he was being honored with the greatest honor a child got in kindergarten. I didn't join in, and decided to sit under my tree.

What's painful for me though is when I learned years later that he had a terrible home life. From what I heard his dad was horrible. I have no excuse for the hatred I'd felt for him before. I let hatred fill my heart, and that tore me up, so hearing about his home life being so bad made me feel...I don't know...like a bastard, but more...in the modern sense of the word.

Author's Note:

Like I said at the top, it's up to you what you believe. For all you know, I'm writing about a friend.

Comments

[Paloma]

Interesting.