The Equestria Games

by Mitslits

So, Let's Recap

Bread Boy and I are guided into a separate rooms to make our last goodbyes. My room is small and wooden. Seriously, it's all wood. I sit down on the wooden bench and wait for the wooden door to open. It doesn't. Not one single pony comes through that door. They've all left me here to die on my own.

No, I'm totally kidding. My mom and Prim come in first. Prim looks awful, her eyes wide with fear and rimmed in red. Mom just looks like her usual uncaring self.

"Fire Mare! Fire Mare, you have to tell them this was all a mistake!" Primrose shouts, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clings to me.

I shake my head, holding her close. "No way, Prim. They'll take you instead. I won't let that happen", I tell her, pulling back and looking into her eyes. She nods, still sobbing, and releases me. I turn to Spitfire who is staring at the wooden floor, tracing circles with her hoof. "Mom."

She jerks her head up, half-closed eyes staring at me without really seeing me.

"Mom, you can't be like this anymore, alright? You have to start", I struggle to find a word, "caring." She just blinks and I sigh. "You have to take care of Prim, okay?" I wait for a moment, but she is silent. I finally lose it. "MOM! Dad is dead, okay? He's dead and gone and never coming back and you have to snap out of it!"

Spitfire finally reacts. Her head jerks back as if I've slapped her and she glares at me. "I hope Bread Boy wins", she says before grabbing Prim by the tail and dragging her out of the room.

"NO! NO!" she screams, hooves trying to get purchase. The Peacekeepers open the door and help my mom get her out.

I stumble backwards in shock, tripping over my own hooves and slamming my butt onto the cruel wood planks below. "Owwie", I mutter and immediately regret the childish word.

Gale Force pokes his head in, looking eerily like my mother with his apathetic expression. He sees me sitting in the middle of the floor, tears welling in my eyes, sighs and trots over to me. He plunks himself down beside me, letting me lean into him. "You okay?"

"Yes, Gale", I reply sarcastically. "I'm about to fight to the death and my mother just told me she wants somebody else to win", I say, fighting back tears again.

Gale looks at me, blinks, and gives me a small smile. "Owwie", he says, gently tapping my heart with one of his hooves.

Instantly I feel better. I smile and stand up again, suddenly confident in my abilities. I will win. For Prim. For Gale. Maybe even a little bit for Spitfire. For mom.

Gale's time with me is over far too soon. He gives me one last wink before striding out of the room and I can't help but think that this could be the last I ever see of him. But I can't afford to cry now. The cameras might pick it up.

___________________________________________________

Bread Boy and I are met by Rarity outside of our rooms. Bread Boy's eyes are as clear as mine, and I wonder if he even had anypony to say goodbye to. The little I'd heard his mom say to him all those years ago hadn't exactly been tender-hearted and loving.

Rarity escorts us onto a train, babbling on about how fast we're going and where we're going, even though neither of us are listening. I am too annoyed with her to care, and Bread Boy is just looking out of the windows. It's not much of a view, really, just a green blur of trees.

I wander over to a white sofa and plop down, throwing my hooves up onto a small coffee table, inwardly chuckling at Rarity's disgusted glare. "Manners", she mumbles, sitting down at a long table.

Soon the table is covered with food, brought in by white ponies with black manes and red dresses trimmed in gold. They leave as soon as their jobs are done and the three of us are left alone again. Both Bread Boy and I sit down as far away from each other and Rarity as we can get and begin to stuff our faces with all the glorious food. There's bread, cake, fruit, vegetables, hay fries, daisy sandwhiches, and so much more. I can barely finish one thing before setting my sights on something else I want to try, so I just try everything.

Bread Boy shovels food up with his hooves, scooping it into his mouth and trying to hide his grin every time Rarity winces. Which she does a lot of, actually. By the time we are finally too full to squeeze even one last morsel into our mouths I'm pretty sure she has developed a permanent twitch.

"So", I begin, mouth still full, "where's Big Macintosh? He's supposed to help us, right?"

Rarity stands, pushing back from the table and sitting down in a chair away from us. "He'll be here shortly, I'm sure. Until then, darlings, we can watch the reapings from the other districts", she says, turning on a large projection screen that I hadn't noticed before.

Both Bread Boy and I stay seated at the table while the reapings are replayed for everypony to see. Only a couple of the tributes actually stick in my mind.

One is a bright ginger mare with a dark brown mane. She looks wily and her face reminds me of a fox. Another is a large black colt with blazing red spiked mane and tail. His snout is pointed and his face seems to be permanently set in a scowl. Another brown colt with dark red mane and tail steps forwards as well. His eyes rotate oddly in their sockets and his mother, a gray pony with light yellow mane and tail, bubbly cutie mark, and ditzy eyes, sits crying in the audience. The worst is a small unicorn filly, twelve years old. She is dark brown with a crimson mane and tail and she reminds me so much of Prim I want to cry, but I don't.

Then it's me, wild-eyed and crazy as I volunteer to take my sister's place. Bread Boy's name is called, we're led off, and the screen goes dark.

We sit in silence for a moment before I repeat my earlier question. "So....Big Macintosh?"

Rarity sighed. "Ah, yes, the drunkard. Your mentor."

"He does get drunk a lot, doesn't he?" Bread Boy remarks with a small chuckle.

I nod. "Yes, every year."

"Every day."

"Every hour."

"Every second."

We start laughing before Rarity joins in, shrill and high-pitched. "Yes, and just think. He decides if you live or die! Isn't that just the funniest thing you've ever heard? You walk a thin line, and he can push you over one way or another, deciding whether you revel in riches and fame or burn in the flames of hell! Ha, ha, ha!"

At that moment, Big Mac stumbles into the room, a bottle of Applejack Daniels clutched in one hoof. He drops it and pitches forwards, landing in a big puddle of the alcohol.

Rarity smirks at us, hopping over his fallen body. "Had good luck with those odds lately?" Then she walked away.

Comments

[Mitslits]

2090255
I don't like Google docs very much.

[The Grey Pegasus]

I always forget how funny this story is. I also just noticed that it has a now-illegal story tag combination.

[Mitslits]

2091321

I-illegal?!

[The Grey Pegasus]

2093674
You can't create a story using [Sad] and [Comedy] together anymore.

[Mitslits]

2093815
Well, that's a shame.