• Published 18th Oct 2012
  • 1,530 Views, 72 Comments

Dear Rainbow Dash - fluttershywriter



Scootaloo records her move to Cloudsdale in a series of unsent letters to Rainbow Dash.

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August 26

Dear Rainbow Dash,

Well, I'm back.

I don't really know what happened to me. It's just that I woke up today, and I saw my crumpled letter to you in the bottom of my box, and my heart went all sappy. I sound so dumb and cheesy, and I know that you'd hate it, but that's exactly how I felt. Now I know why some ponies say "sleep on it." Everything seemed so much easier to understand after a long sleep, even if I did have to sleep under a stupid itchy blanket.

So I walked over to the box and pulled out my letter, smoothing it out. Then I hid it under my pillow—Miss Cheerilee says that if you really want to think something over, legend has it that sleeping with it will help you. I figure it'll help me decide if I want to keep writing these dopey letters. I'm still definitely not sending them—I've decided on that. There's way too much personal stuff in these letters, and I don't know where the mailbox is here anyway.

I stared at my pillow for a few seconds, feeling proud for no reason. Then my stomach started growling, and I smelled Grandma's oatmeal. I know that some ponies don't like oatmeal, but that's because they've never tried Grandma's oatmeal. She always suggests that I cook it with her, but I know I'd screw it up somehow.

Anyway, I trotted out of the room with a smile on my face. Grandma noticed me smiling as I entered the kitchen and placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of me.

"You look happy, Miss Scootaloo," she said cheerfully, kissing me on the head. "You went to bed without getting any gingerbread last night, so I assumed that something was wrong."

I considered telling her about the letter and you for a moment, but I decided against it. Grandma's nice and a good cook and all, but she's too nosy and might end up telling Momma and Daddy. "Nope," I said, taking a gloppy spoonful of oatmeal and filling up my mouth so I couldn't talk. "Just tired."

She gave me a wary glance. "I see," she said criptick criptika criptically CRYPTICALLY. (I'm not exactly sure what that word means, but Miss Cherilee said it a couple of times last year.) For a few minutes, we were quiet. I was eating as much oatmeal as possible, and Grandma was looking at me sideways, her hooves pressed together.

"Have you learned which school you're going to?" she asked finally. Since my mouth was filled with oatmeal, I shook my head. The oatmeal in my mouth turned to stone, and it felt like I was swallowing a boulder.

"Not yet," I mumbled. Pleadingly, I looked up at her. "Can't I go to Ponyville Elementary? Even if I can't see Applebloom and Sweetie Belle all the time, I still want to—"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Scootaloo. I wish you could see your friends. But there's so way I can strap myself up to the chariot every day, and your parents will be busy, and I'm not sure if the public chariot times are coordinated with your school schedule."

Thank you, Grandma, for crushing every bit of hope I had left.

She paused, and I realized that she had an opening to start complaining about my flightless state. Frantically, I started thinking up new conversation starters, but she beat me to it.

"Of course, you could fly down, but of course your wings are far too small. You can't fly a foot, let alone a couple of miles! I'm telling you, Flighty Breeze" (that's Momma) "and Strong Hoof" (Daddy) "have got to start giving you some training. Why, when I was your age, I was flying from Ponyville to Cloudsdale in under an hour. Of course, plenty of young pegasi are soft nowadays, but not the ones going to flight camp. Hmm," she said, looking deep in thought, "that's not a bad idea. Perhaps I'd better talk to your momma about—"

"So, do you know which school I'm going to?" I asked loudly and desperately.

That snapped her out of her full-blown rant. "Ah, yes. Cloudsdale Elementary. An excellent school." She pushed her glasses up her nose, looking dignified. "When I was your age, I went to Cloudsdale Elementary. I always dreamed that my daughter, or perhaps my granddaughter, would attend. When your mother chose to move to Ponyville and have a child there, I believed my hopes were shattered. Luckily, though, you're in Cloudsdale now!"

I was considering giving her a black eye for her complete lack of tact, but of course that wouldn't go over well with Momma and Daddy.

She seemed to realize her poor choice of words. Luckily? "Of course, it's nothing special. And I understand that you're not happy about your situation. Perhaps once you're finished with your oatmeal, we can go out and visit the school? Your mother and father are already aware of what the school looks like, so it's unnecessary to stop them from searching for new jobs."

That made me realize that maybe this whole thing is better thought out than I know. If they know what my school looks like, how much did they plan this? I mean, obviously they didn't plan it, since we don't have a home anymore, but maybe they're more responsible than I know. Or not.

Anyway, since it was clear I didn't want to eat anything more, Grandma rinsed out my bowl and led me around Cloudsdale.

You know, I've always wondered why you, a pegasus, don't live in Cloudsdale. I mean, sure, you want to stay with your friends and all, but it's not that far away. Today, I learned why.

Cloudsdale sucks!

Sure, to the unbiased eye, it might not. But to me, it's uglier than one of Applebloom's pigs. There's only white clouds everywhere, expect for the occasional rainbow. I thought that the rainbow factories might be kinda cool, but they creep me out a little. And guess what? In Cloudsdale, they don't have any good food places. Grandma and I spent the whole day out in Cloudsdale, so we ate lunch in some joint. The cucumbers tasted a week old the so-called "treat" was a mud pie disguised as a brownie, and the apple I tried had a worm in it. Ugh. I'll take Sugarcube Corner and Sweet Apple Acres any day.

We finally got around to visiting Cloudsdale Elementary, and I'm not impressed. Sure, it's all fancy and has pillars and it's got its own rainbow fountain, but whatever. The playground looks boring, and that's really the only thing that matters. Also, the ponies there are annoying. Grandma started reminiscing about her days at the school, so I ditched her and tried to swing. "Tried" being the important word in that sentence. Because this is what happened after I had, like, five seconds to swing:

SCENE: CLOUDSDALE ELEMENTARY. THE TALENTED YOUNG ORANGE FILLY (SCOOTALOO) HAPPILY SWINGS.

Jerk Filly: (Walks up to Scootaloo) Why are you swinging?
Scootaloo: Because I'm bored and this is the most interesting thing in this stupid place.
Jerk Filly: Uh, you're a weirdo. What I mean is, why are you on my swing?
Scootaloo: I don't see your name on it.
Jerk Filly: (Points to bottom of swing, where "DIZZY BREEZE" is clearly written.)
Scootaloo: Oh, ha ha. Brilliant, Dizzy Breeze.
Jerk Filly (Dizzy Breeze?): You're weird. You're new here. I don't like you.
Scootaloo: Whatever. (Walks away from filly.)


She reminded me of Diamond Tiara, except a pegasus. That was one of the good things about Cloudsdale: no Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon to deal with! Now I've got this stupid Dizzy Breeze (most idiotic name ever) to deal with. To make things worse, she has her cutie mark, and it's not just some dumb tiara. The awful thing is, it's cool. It's a few puffy pink clouds, and the pink goes perfectly with her dumb white coat and pale yellow mane.

If she's in my class, I will die.

Anyway, it was around that time that I walked back to Grandma and told her that I wanted to go home. She was all for giving me the complete tour, but I told her that I had seen more than enough for the day. Since the sun was getting lower in the sky every minute, she agreed.

When we came back to her house, we noticed Daddy sitting alone at the kitchen table.

And he was crying.

He didn't notice us, so Grandma nudged me out of the house and told me that we'd be eating out tonight, and maybe we could look at the rainbow factory after dinner. Even though I didn't want another wormy apple, I agreed. Because I couldn't bear to see Daddy's face.

Grandma and I came home late, and by that time, Daddy was in his room with Momma. They weren't arguing, which I figured was a good sign. Grandma went up to check on them, and I slipped into this new room of mine.

I looked again at the letter I had written to you, and I felt so small. I still feel small, and that's why I'm writing this to you. Because I'm hoping that using lots of words will make me bigger than I am. Maybe they'll fill up some of the empty spots that seem to have formed in my heart. Maybe they'll make my wings larger—that should make Grandma happy.

I don't know. I'm scared, Rainbow Dash. Daddy crying was the scariest thing I've ever seen: scarier than ziplining, scarier than Momma yelling, even scarier than that one time he got real angry and hurt me bad. To tell the truth, I think I prefer Angry Daddy than Crying Daddy.

I hope he gets better. I hope he finds a job.

And I hope that Cloudsdale Elementary burns down so that I don't have to see other stuck-up fillies like Dizzy Breeze.

Your (scared) admirer,
Scootaloo

P. S. I've decided to save the box I packed in. I'm gonna keep it in my closet, and I'm going to keep these letters in it. I kind of like the feeling of writing.
P. P. S. Maybe I can get my cutie mark in writing!
P. P. P. S. Except that would be kind of lame. I want something cool, like your cutie mark.
P. P. P. P. S. I miss my scooter.