Toast to the Ever-Changing Future

by Horsegirl123

Childhood Endeavors

***

He leaned forward in the chair, hooves up to his mouth in concentration. He read over me, as if I was a book that he couldn't seem to open.

"Looking for something?" I asked in an irate tone as his eyes traced my body up and down.

"You're unique," he said.

I snorted. "That isn't very much an answer."

"I suppose. I just can't wrap my hoof around you."

I leaned forward in my seat, placing my face close to his. "I assure you I am one to be trusted, and I assure you I am one who can finish what she starts."

He laughed. "I wish I could count the number of ponies who have said those exact words to me."

I grabbed his necktie and pressed his forehead to mine. "I'll do it for you: one. Now, we both know what I want, so unless you're going to oblige, I have ways of going around you," I threatened, eyes beating down into his.

He didn't quaver, but instead unraveled my hoof from around his tie and slowly leaned back into his chair. "You've got spunk, I'll give you that, little filly. But as you may have noticed, I am a stallion who follows the rules. So we'll start with the basics, shall we? Background, go."

***

"Mom, I'm bored," I whined, my head resting heavily on a toddler's coloring table.

"I don't exactly know what you want me to about that, honey. Why don't you color some more? Make mommy a picture for the fridge," said a pink unicorn mare while washing the family's dishes.

"I don't wanna color anymore!" I squeaked, rolling a colored pencil around the table with a hoof. "I've been coloring all morning."

I saw my mother glance at the fridge and wince slightly in defeat, for like I said, the refrigerator was so cluttered with scribbly creations that the handle was barely even visible.

"I guess you got me beat there..." she said slowly, never losing her smile. "No problem, sweetheart. How about you go find your sister?" she suggested.

I slid slowly off the table until I reached the ground, rolling onto my back to feel the chill of the kitchen floor as a relief from the hot summer air wafting in through an open window. "She's at Caramel's house," I moaned.

"Again?" said my mother in a slightly irritated tone. "Thats the third time this week! I doubt any extra credit project could take such time. For Celestia's sake its summer!"

Mother levitated the last bowl into the cupboard before hustling out of the kitchen and into the mudroom adjacent the door. I stood and trotted after her, even if the heat did severely slow my pace.

"Where ya goin' mama?" I asked.

"To go find you sister!" she said somewhat angrily as she plopped a large sunhat atop her head. "I'm hoping this won't take long, but if anything happens, your father is taking upstairs taking a nap."

"Can you get me some candy on the way home?" I asked with a large smile and pleading eyes.

"Oh ho ho no, darlin' darlin'. You had enough sweets last night to last you a lifetime. Why don't you try writing a story and I'll proofread it when I get back? Then you can show it to Ms. Cheerilee on the first day of school?"

"Ok!" I said excitedly, never missing a chance to write a new story. I cantered back to the kitchen to get my supplies, and by the time I had turned to say goodbye, mother had already left in search of my rebellious teen sister.

"What should this one be about, Rosie?" I asked to my imaginary friend, a zebra-slash-alicorn who had the power to do anything she wanted.

"I don't know," I answered for her in a disguised voice.

My ears flattened at the response, even though I had created it. "I know!" I exclaimed. "I'l write one about you!"

"Sounds like a great idea," answered 'Rosie'.

****

"What does this have to do with your request?"

"Patience, sir. You asked for background, and you're going to get it."

"I'm starting to wish I never asked."

"Shut up."

****

I smiled down at the papers in front of me, reflecting back the crudely scribbled words of an aspiring writer. Besides a spilled juice box and a few broken crayon tips, the small table remained in relatively good condition, or at least fair enough that I wouldn't be receiving a lecture on cleanliness. My ear perked as the bell above the kitchen door chimed, and eight hooves shuffled in.

"I can't believe you would embarrass me like that!" yelled my sister, refusing to look at my mother. I shrunk down low, knowing full well how heated these arguments could get.

"Don't use that tone with me, missy! I'm not about to let my young girl slut around!" screamed back my mother, her temper boiling.

"Why do you always have to overreact!?"

"Why do you disobey me?"

"Because you're the worst!"

"To your room!" cried out my mother, and with nose high and tears rushing, my sister galloped up the stairs. I shuddered as the house shook at the pressure of her slamming the door.

Mother stood in place, eyes closed, heavy breaths shaking her body. With a small flare of her magic, her loose hairs situated themselves back into her clipped bun, all while I stayed hidden.

"Ah-choo!" I cursed slightly under my breath for letting my allergies get the best of me.

"Honey, is that you?" rang out my mother's voice. I heard her suck back a few sniffles, and as I slowly crawled out of my hiding place, I saw her toss a tissue into the trash bin.

"Mommy, why are you mad at sissy?" I asked naively.

"Well," she paused, looked at the sink, and back to me, "she was being a bad girl."

"What did she do?"

She exhaled. "Things that are against the rules."

"Oh, oh! Like drawing on the walls? Or did she break a glass? She didn't do her chores did she?!" I guessed excitedly.

My mother clapped her hooves together loudly. "My little pony!" she interrupted, quickly drawing my attention, "How about that story?"

A wide grin erupted on my fact, and I quickly grabbed the papers off the table to give to her so they could be corrected in time for school.

Mother opened the kitchen's somewhat tacky swinging doors, leading into the formal dining room; from the second level, I could faintly hear Papa's snoring and my sister's dramatic cries. Two candlesticks sat in the middle of pre-set placemats, decorating the otherwise bare mahogany table; my mother pulled out a seat, wide enough that a full grown pony could comfortably lay, but small enough to not take up too much room. I never felt very comfortable in the dining room, probably because we usually ate dinner in the living room in front of the television, much to my mother's dismay. Several family portraits hung about the walls, along with several of my sister's artwork and a shelf holding my papa's ceramic frog collection.

Positioning her glasses carefully on her nose and squinting slightly, Mother began to silently read my latest creation, red pen in hoof, ready to point out errors for future correction.

For the first minute I stared intently at her, reading her facial expression for anything that might hint whether my work had turned out good or bad.

I learned that day that my mother has an excellent poker face.

Minute after minute I waited for her eyes to glance in my direction, and after an insufferable four minute delay, I resorted to rolling around on the floor just to stay awake during the agonizingly long wait.

Sure enough, however, she finally called me over to her, and I hurriedly jumped up on the seat to join her.

"Well, I must say I am rather impressed!" she exclaimed.

Nervous butterflies fluttered in my stomach, because I had always been scared of criticism for my work. "Really Ma? It's good?"

"Why yes! For your age, the vocabulary is superb, there were few spelling errors, and the story plot was interesting and engaging!" Mother nuzzled me softly. "I say we might have a writer in the family. I'm going to run upstairs and wake your father so he can have a look." She kissed me gently on the cheek before slipping off the seat and trotting upstairs.

As soon as she was out of sight I started racing around the room in a fit of excitement. My stuff was good! I may have a future in something I loved! I was so excited, so high on this one simple accomplishment, that it wasn't until I walked down for breakfast the next morning that I realized a paper and pen had emblazoned themselves on my flank.

I was a writer, and nothing could make me happier.

Author's Note:

Much more in store. This story is going to be epic I promise

Comments

[Sorren]

Whoa. Now this is a premise I don't think I've seen around here before. I like it.

Take my like.

[Horsegirl123]

glady