Meet the Family
Scootaloo made her way back to class, Babs Seed’s insult still ringing in the back of her mind.
Chicken.
Scootaloo hated the name, as it served as a constant reminder of her inability to fly.
Her mind wandered, thinking back to the day when she had doomed herself to being ground bound for the rest of her days.
/////////////////////////
An eleven year old Scootaloo looked down the hill a few blocks from the bakery. She had set up a ramp at the bottom; it was rather flimsy looking, made from spare plywood that the young filly had found next to a dumpster.
A few of the foals from her school were gathered to witness her stunt on the street corner to her right, including Babs.
“She ain’t gonna do it,” Babs told the other foals confidently, a smug grin on her face. Some of them murmured their agreement; others simply shrugged and voiced their disagreement.
Scootaloo had never been the most adventurous of her classmates, but she wasn’t a scaredy-cat either. In fact, the week before she had finally earned her cutie mark by pulling a rather complex series of stunts on the very scooter she was getting ready to ride down the hill. Upon earning said mark, her confidence felt limitless. After all, what’s the point of having a scooter cutie mark if you never do any crazy stunts, she would tell herself.
Scootaloo tried to shrug off the presence of the others, instead trying to focus on the ramp at the bottom of the hill.
“You can do this,” she muttered to herself for the thousandth time since she came up with this idea. She was confident that she could handle any stunt on her scooter, especially since fate had decided that it would be her greatest talent.
Scootaloo pushed her foot against the asphalt, propelling herself forward. She caught the collective gasp from the group and smiled her confidence boosting. Her mane whipped in the wind as she picked up speed. She felt like she was in her element, like nothing the world threw at her would be able to stop her.
By the time she hit the ramp at the bottom of the hill, something her uncle had told her about playing in the street came to mind. “Don’t play in the street, you might get run over or something.”
As if the universe was hell bent on reminding her of this rule, a car rounded the corner and started up the street perpendicular to the hill. Scootaloo’s eyes widened.
Oh snap, was her first thought. She knew it was too late to stop, she had too much speed. Instead Scootaloo figured she’d risk it and waited until she hit the top of the ramp before she yanked up on the handle bars. She smiled. “I’m gonna make it!”
That’s when the sound of a loud clang told Scootaloo that something had gone horribly wrong. She was suddenly pitched forward, flipping over her handle bars. She slammed into the street bouncing and tumbling like a rag doll. An incredibly sharp and excruciating pain shot up her back.
“Let’s get out of here,” she thought she heard Babs shout, panic in her voice. Screeching tires told her that at least the driver had been kind enough to stop.
“Oh Celestia, Are you okay kid?!” shouted a grey unicorn in a suit, who Scootaloo guessed had been driving the vehicle.
The extreme pain proved too much for the young filly, however, as a black curtain fell over her eyes and she fell unconscious.
/////////////////////////
Scootaloo awoke to a soft beeping noise. She slowly opened her eyes and saw plain white walls.
Am I in the hospital?
“Is she going to wake up soon,” A voice, dripping with worry, said outside Scootaloo’s room. She instantly recognized it to be her aunt’s.
“She should be awake soon.” Another, less recognizable voice replied. “The main problem is the nerve endings in her wings. They were severely damaged in the impact,” Scootaloo guessed that it was her doctor. “I can’t say for sure, but it’s unlikely she’ll be able to fly after this. I’m very sorry,” the doctor finished.
Scootaloo felt her heart sink. I’m not going to be able to fly? She thought. What kind of pegasus can’t fly?
“If you’d like you can go see her,” The doctor continued, but Scootaloo ignored it, too wrapped up in the thought of never being able to fly again.
“Thank you,” the voice of Uncle Carrot replied. The door to the room opened and Scootaloo turned towards it, her eyes watery. Her aunt and uncle looked in, accompanied by the twins. The twins and Aunt Cup looked like they’d been crying quite a lot, their eyes slightly puffy. Uncle Carrot also looked concerned, but there was also a glint of anger in his eyes. No doubt because he had explicitly told her that morning not to attempt such a crazy stunt. The family gathered around Scootaloo’s bed.
Her uncle Carrot opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it, instead taking a breath. He then unexpectedly pulled Scootaloo’s head towards him so that their foreheads were touching. “Its gonna be okay kiddo,” he told her as he wiped away tears from Scootaloo’s eyes.
Scootaloo wrapped her arms around her uncle’s neck and started weeping into his shoulder. The rest of the Cakes quietly joined the embrace, with the twins clambering onto the bed to join their family.
/////////////////////////
Scootaloo sighed and shrugged off her bad memories, instead focusing on just getting the school day over with.
The rest of her day went by relatively without incident. Whatever strange power Featherweight had over Babs seemed to work, as the larger mare didn’t so much as approach Scootaloo for the rest of the day.
The bell eventually rang, indicating it was time to go home. Scootaloo gathered up her books and made for the door, hoping back on her scooter and making her way toward home.
The trip was uneventful as always. Since Scootaloo only lived a few blocks from the school the trip was a relatively quick one, usually less then fifteen minuets. Her home quickly came into view, The Cakes Bakery, a humble three story building on a remote street corner only a little bit outside city limits.
The exterior was decorated with a rather attention grabbing paint job consisting of bright shades of blue and pink. The windows displayed all sorts of baked confections, from cupcakes of various sizes and flavors, to layered cakes stacked so high it was a wonder they didn’t topple over.
Scootaloo was quite used to the sight, and she pushed the front door open, the bell attached at the top jingling loudly, alarming anyone inside of her entry. The inside of the bakery was colored the same bright color palette as the outside was.
Tables and chairs were spread out in the main room for customers to sit at and enjoy their treats. At the back of the store a silver register sat on top of a pink wooden counter next to a display case filled with a variety of colorful scones.
A rather plump light blue mare popped out of the kitchen in the back, smiling as she saw who had entered. “Scootaloo how was school, dear?” She asked, cheerfully.
Scootaloo shrugged. “Oh, you know, Auntie, same old same old; Science, math and English. All that boring stuff,” She answered awkwardly, trying to avoid the question.
Aunt Cup opened her mouth as if to ask a question, but was distracted by the sound of hooves scampering down from upstairs.
“Scootaloo!” the twins shouted joyfully as they appeared on the stairs. The duo, Pumpkin Cake, a unicorn filly, and Pound Cake, a Pegasus colt, launched themselves at their surrogate sister like a pair of heat guided missiles. Scootaloo’s eyes widened and she tried to move out of the way to avoid getting tackled, but found herself knocked over by the twins combined effort.
“Hey come on guys. It’s two on one here. At least let me clone myself before you ambush me,” Scootaloo giggled as she playfully pushed the two overeager foals away.
“You can do that?” Pound Cake asked, his eyes wide in disbelief.
Scootaloo chuckled as she tousled the young colt’s mane. “Give me a few years, I’ll figure it out,” she said winking. The two foals looked at each other, eyes wide.
“Hey Scootaloo,” Scootaloo looked up from the foals to see a light orange earth-pony stallionin an apron and a chef's hat, who was covered in black smudges that looked like soot, enter from the kitchen. “How was your day?” he asked, mimicking his wife’s cheerfulness.
“Oh hi Uncle,” Scootaloo replied, standing up, “You know, just boring school stuff,” she shrugged, once again avoiding the question. Her uncle gave her a quizzical look. Before he could press the issue Scootaloo asked, “So where’s the fire.” She smiled knowingly as Uncle Carrot gave his dirtied coat a once over.
He nodded. “Follow me,” he motioned towards the kitchen as he walked back into the kitchen.
“Seriously?” Scootaloo asked. She had just assumed her uncle had maybe burned some pastries again, not actually lit a fire. She was a little alarmed at the thought of an actual fire, but her uncle seemed pretty calm, as always. She quickly made her way to the kitchen behind the counter.
Once she got to the kitchen she saw one of the ovens billowing clouds of smoke, which, of course, set the fire alarm off. Uncle Carrot sighed, opened a window and started waving the smoke towards it. Once most of the smoke cleared, he turned towards Scootaloo. “So what’s the damage?”
The orange Pegasus grabbed a towel as she walked over to the dysfunctional machine. She held the cloth to her mouth as she waved away as much of the smoke as she could. She peeked inside for a few moments.
The inside of the oven was covered in black soot and ash, and a shriveled up pile of what Scootaloo assumed was whatever had been in the oven was lying on the rack. She scanned the back of the oven, looking for a potential cause of the problem.
“Ah, here we are…” she said, backing away. “Whatever you were baking in there gunked up the pilot light with batter, cleaning it probably isn’t gonna help much. You’ll probably have to replace it.” She placed the towel on the counter. “I would do it now, but I’ve got homework to get to, but I can pick up what you need tomorrow after school.”
Her uncle smiled, “Well damn. And here I thought we were gonna have to call a mechanic to come take care of it.” he said, rather impressed.
Scootaloo shrugged. “Well, okay then, if that’s all, I’d better get to my homework.” Scootaloo said as she made for the door.
“Hey wait, I want to talk to you for a minute,” he said halting Scootaloo’s escape. Scootaloo paused in the doorway and turned around, avoiding looking at her uncle. “What happened at school that you don’t want to tell me or your aunt about, huh?” he walked over and looked Scootaloo in the eye.
Scootaloo looked up at her uncle. He wore an expression of sincere concern that Scootaloo just couldn’t lie to. She hesitated, biting her lip. “A mare at school called me…” she trailed off, not wanting to continue.
“Called you what?” her uncle asked, gently pressing the issue.
“She called me a chicken,” Scootaloo sighed, her shoulders slumping. Her gaze fell to the ground at her feet.
Uncle Carrot’s expression softened. He walked up to his niece and pulled her into a tight embrace. Scootaloo held back the tears she felt coming as the memories came flooding back for the second time today. She pulled away from her uncle, shaking her head slightly to clear the memories from her mind.
“You gonna be okay?” Uncle Carrot asked.
“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, holding back a few tears. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to go up to the attic, check my tools see what I might need to fix the oven,” she rambled gesturing to the broken appliance.
“Alright, but be careful up there. And wash your hands before you came back down, we’re gonna eat in about an hour,” Her uncle said as she nodded and made her way out of the kitchen.
Scootaloo snuck past the twins, who were now distracted attempting to raid a cookie jar, as Aunt Cup Cake attempted to save the cookies.
She quickly made her way up the staircase to the attic, climbing the small collapsible latter that lead to the attic. Once inside the attic, she pulled a string and a rather old light bulb lit up, illuminating the room.
She started shifting around stacks of boxes to check behind them, trying to find her toolbox. “This is the last time I let Aunt Cup put my stuff up here,” she muttered, a little annoyed as she gave an extra hard tug on a heavier stack. The pile of boxes immediately toppled over, causing a large cloud of dust and smoke to billow, giving Scootaloo a coughing fit. Once the smoke cleared and Scootaloo stopped coughing, she let out a frustrated sigh as she dusted off her clothes. The contents of the boxes lay scattered across the floor. She leaned down and started to toss them into the various empty boxes rather haphazardly.
However, just as she was about to close the first box and move on to the next one, something caught her attention.
There sitting in a pile of her uncle’s old bake-off trophies sat a worn leather bag. Scootaloo reached for the bag, lifting it gingerly from the mess of trophies. She dusted off the thin layer of dust that had accumulated over time and examined it for a minute, scanning every side of it. There on the flap at the top was a name: Gene Splice.
Scootaloo's eyes widened at the sight. Is this dad's? she thought as she deftly opened the bag and peaked inside. It was packed with various folders and papers. This really caught Scootaloo's attention. I wonder what these notes are... She quickly closed the bag and tucked it under her shoulder, scampering down the ladder and towards her room.
She had a feeling that whatever those documents contained, it might hold the answers to a question that had plagued Scootaloo for as long as she could remember.
Whatever happened to mom and dad.
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YAY it's up!!!!
2253469 Yeah but the total wordcount is all wonky. Or is that just me.
2253476 Nah it's okay. Expect the chapters to get slightly longer as the story goes. That's typical.
2253587 No the first few times Iooked after posting chapter 2 the total word count was only at 2000 something
Ohhhhhh.... I'm gonna cry harder here when Carrot Cake dies....
shquee!
Sorry I haven't attacked your writing in a while, ambushes are normally more effective, but it was more to do with me distracting myself, I have a somewhat problematic attention span at times. Focusing, I defiantly like were you going with this. I couldn't imagine Scootaloo being outcast for a geek, but I can imagine her being outcast because she can't fly and she's labelled as chicken, that's certainly clever, I like, I like. Can't wait until she gets her spidey powers to see how you work with that.
But yes now onto the part where i attack your writing. There's just small issues, but I hope that from learning them, your writing will improve and people will enjoy the wonders of your writing a lot more and also nitpicking your writing will improve my writing and self-esteem more (Well self-gain helps me put much more effort into helping you)
“Don’t play in the street, you might get run over or something.” Or something? That sounds like something a drunken neglectful Dad would say, it's like Cake wasn't really that caring what would happen. Again this isn't too bad, but it does feel too out of character for me.
She knew it was too late to stop, she had too much speed. Instead Scootaloo figured she’d risk it and waited until she hit the top of the ramp before she yanked up on the handle bars. For something where we're suppose to be a loss of control, there's suddenly a lot of control here. If you want to express that Scootaloo can't control things in what should be fast paced. Like take away 'she knew', 'she had to much speed' and 'up on the' and you'll have a more snippy fast pace that shows the heckinesses.
She was suddenly pitched forward Again '-ly' words. I started hating them when I read over Bronyman1995's work, now I'm hating them more when I read over your work.
shouted a grey unicorn, who Scootaloo guessed had been steering the vehicle. The fact that Scootalooo was overcome in pain, you certainly don't express that when she considers who the unicorn is, it makes us imagine the pains not so bad if she's taking the time in this long a phrase to think who the individual is.
usually less then fifteen minuets Typo! I feel mature all of a sudden.
Tables and chairs were spread out in the main room for customers to sit at and enjoy their treats The idea that you need to tell us what the tables are used for in the dining part, let alone why the customers sit at them shows your lack of trust for the reader. I'm not sure if it was just because you actually didn't trust us or you were trying to add more description just doesn't do you any good to be honest.
Scootaloo’s eyes widened and she tried to move out of the way to avoid getting tackled, explaining why she tried to move again is like saying she did have time to move out of the way and ruins how fast and sudden this scene's meant to be. You could just leave 'she tried to move' or just leave it as her eyes widened, all we need to know really.
she shrugged, once again avoiding the question. I'm sort of in a hurry, so I'll attack this one briefly. We know she's avoiding the question again, she uses the same tactic, again trust the reader.
There were a lot more issues, but I went after the ones I had a bigger gripe. No they wouldn't have been that much longer, just another 2-3 gripes that I didn't want to hit you for until you understood this or read more recent writings of yours for you may have already overcome all the problems I've listed here. Again hope this helps and good work.
um wut?
4566156
Where do you see that
Spacebar "stallion in"