Three itty-bitty stories inspired by writing prompts, including Noises in the Night: Lemon Scratch forgets the key to her house; Expectations: Cyan Skies is now a superpony...sort of; and Empty Slots: Scootaloo looks through an old photo album.
Three tiny stories about Dinky, Scootaloo and more.
Noises in the Night [Slice of Life]: When Lemon Scratch forgets the key to her house, she waits to decide on a course of action. Until she hears hoof steps.
Expectations [Slice of Life]: Cyan Skies now has a superpower! It's spectacular! Unbelievable! Amazing! On second thought, maybe it's not so awesome...
Empty Slots [Sad] [Slice of Life]: Alone in her grandfather's attic, Scootaloo finds an old photo album from before it happened.
Author's Note: Keep in mind that this was written when I was going into the seventh grade.
The earth pony frantically tried the door again, in denial. It was locked. Lemon Scratch sighed, sliding down the door to the ground. Why did she have to leave the key at home?
She looked up again at a nearby streetlamp. It was dark outside, she was alone, and she was a foal. It would probably be best to hide in the shadows. The party DJ P0N-3 played at had only finished a few minutes ago, and Vinyl was still there, talking. There would most likely be at least one of the partiers walking this way.
The earth pony filly knew this house like the back of her hoof. It was her big sister Vinyl’s, so she stayed here in the summers. In the winters, she lived at her parents' house in Canterlot.
She squeezed between a bush and the house until a thorn raking down her side caused her to stop. Maybe earth pony magic could be concentrated. A bush was part of nature, so maybe…
The foal closed her eyes and tried to focus on the thorn moving, but to no avail. It didn’t move. Lemon sighed. She couldn’t turn around and move it because she would end up scraping her light yellow fur even more. The filly pushed forward.
Lemon wished she could have moved the thorn with her magic. Well, to be more accurate, the foal wished she was a unicorn. Badly. Why was it that out of three children, one just had to be born an earth pony?
The filly freed herself from the bush and sat down in a tiny clearing between the house and an even larger shrub that rose well above her head. It was just big enough for a filly to sit comfortably. A mare couldn’t even get back here, and that was why Lemon liked it.
Her parents were unicorns, and Long Play, her older brother, and Vinyl Scratch, her older sister, were unicorns too. Dad had tried to explain it to her one time. He said that her grandfather—
Lemon Scratch froze. She had heard hoof steps. The filly stood up and slowly crept out of the bush, stopping near the exit. Her plan was to peek around and see what was going on, but fear paralyzed her as something scraped the ground. It sounded big and heavy and…
Is it a giant ax to hack off my head?! Lemon Scratch froze as the idea entered her brain. She tried to calm herself down.
It’s not a ax, silly, it’s just…um…the pony who delivers newspapers! The sound is him dragging all the newspapers!
At midnight…yeah. The more reasonable part of her mind caught up and discredited that explanation.
The filly froze again as she heard the hoof steps getting closer. And closer. Out of her peripheral vision she spotted a pony standing right next to the hedge through the twigs and leaves. Lemon Scratch began to panic, breathing faster and faster.
Suddenly, the bush was pulled back from behind her. Lemon began to scream at the top of her lungs, certain today was her last. A hoof was placed on her shoulder, and firmly held her. The murder pony turned her around. Lemon Scratch, still screaming, covered her face with her hooves instinctively and cringed.
However, when the anticipated blow didn’t come, the filly let her scream fade off and peeked over her hooves.
Holding her by the shoulder was a very, very annoyed Octavia.
Lemon Scratch lowered her forelegs and grinned sheepishly. “Oh, uh…hi.”
The purple unicorn filly turned around in her swing on the playground, letting the chains above twist. Her pegasus friend, Cyan Skies, came bounding down the hill and plopped into the swing next to the unicorn’s.
“What?” Dinky Doo asked.
Cyan grinned. “I have a superpower! Can you believe it?!” She shouted.
The unicorn raised one eyebrow. “Super ponies aren’t real.”
“Who said so?” The turquoise pegasus questioned.
“Twilight Sparkle. I asked her after an argument with Silver Spoon.”
“Hmph.” Cyan Skies said, refusing to acknowledge it.
“Anyways, wanna know what it is?” The pegasus asked. Dinky Doo sighed. She was so energetic at times. Before the filly could respond however, Cyan blurted out the answer.
“I can cause you to hurt with my mind! Watch!” The filly said, closing her eyes and straining. Dinky Doo rolled her eyes, waiting.
Cyan opened her green eyes. “Why aren’t you like, crying out in pain or something?” Suddenly, she bent over and rubbed her neck.
“Ow…ow…my neck is hurting.” The filly said, grimacing.
Dinky rushed over to her friend, concerned. The pain faded after a few seconds and the pegasus stood up straight again.
“I don’t know what’s wrong! I stood here and focused on pain in your neck but—agh!” She rubbed her neck again.
Dinky stared at Cyan for a few minutes. Then, she got it.
The unicorn filly burst out laughing. Cyan looked up at her from where she sat on the grass, massaging an aching hoof. “What?”
“You have the ability to inflict pain on yourself!”
Cyan Skies smacked her forehead. “Oh! That’s why!” Dinky had calmed down to a few giggles now.
“Okay, that is like the lamest superpower ever! The ability to hurt yourself telepathically!” Cyan groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have gotten that potion from those two unicorn stallions!”
“Who were they?” Dinky asked.
“They said they were ‘Flim’ and ‘Flam’. I’d never really heard of them before.”
“You never, ever saw any of the commotion the last two times they came to town?!” Dinky said incredulously.
“No,” Cyan said, embarrassed. Then she raised her voice, annoyed. “Dinky, you know I live in Cloudsdale! I just go to the Ponyville School because I know you!”
“Oh, so I guess you weren’t there.” Dinky said. She explained what happened when they came to town and swindled the Ponyville residents, both times.
“I feel like an idiot now,” Cyan Skies said, sinking slowly so she was lying down on the grass. Dinky leaned over her to pat her back and try to console her, but the pegasus leaped to her hooves, and the other filly almost fell over herself trying to scoot back in time.
“I’m going to get them!” Cyan shouted, rearing up on her hind legs and holding her hooves like she was going to box them. Suddenly, she fell back onto the grass, touching her cheek.
“Ow…,” The filly moaned as Dinky, standing above her, giggled at her friend’s plight.
The dust swirled as the filly exhaled into the air, the sunlight illuminating each speck. She sighed, letting the light heat up her fur. Lying down on the floor, she stretched, looking around the attic.
There were boxes stacked on top of boxes, and in the few spots there weren’t boxes, random things lay strewn about. An old toy from when she was little. The deconstructed clock...buckets of paint.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her warm fur. Twisting around, she arched her back and opened her eyes. To a spider less than an inch away from her muzzle.
The pegasus shrieked, leaping to her hooves and hovering up into the air. The spider, sensing the vibrations, scuttled away. Calming herself down, the foal squished the bug under her hooves.
Turning a hoof over, she grimaced at the spider guts smeared on her orange fur.
“Eww,” Scootaloo said and wiped her hoof on a nearby box. She didn’t find spiders scary; they were just gross when dead.
She proceeded to clean her hoof until the original idea for coming up here came to her: She had to find the picture of her as a filly for a school project. After asking her dad repeatedly for a chance to come out to her grandfather’s house and work on the assignment, he finally gave in and flew her out to his house in the countryside. The filly could hear them talking below her. They had let her come up on her own; giving some directions that she had already forgotten to find pictures. Sighing, she glanced around.
The pegasus filly quickly spotted the box with the words ‘Photos’ scribbled on it. Dragging the box out into the clearing she was previously in, she opened the box. Luckily, it hadn’t been taped shut or anything.
Peering down into the box, she coughed as the stench hit her. Reaching in, Scootaloo pulled out the first photo album. It was silver with a metal cover. The filly ran her hoof over the stars engraved in it before flipping it open.
The first picture was of ponies she didn’t know eating at a table. She turned the page again. More unknown ponies. Scootaloo turned the page again and considered putting away this album. She didn’t know what was even going on, and the pictures looked old enough to be before she was even born.
One more picture, and if I still don’t know what’s happening I’ll try again.
The next picture was of her father and mother at their wedding. The idea of putting away the album was gone as Scootaloo gazed at the photos.
Most of them were of her mother at the reception. She looked pretty; an orange pegasus with a bright orange and white mane. There were a few pictures of the cake, and other ponies, but Scootaloo skipped those, she wanted to look at her mom.
Turning the page, the filly looked at her mother, without her dress, leaving for her honeymoon. Scootaloo remembered what her father had said: it was a cruise.
The filly didn’t know how long she spent up there, gazing at each photo. They still continued to feature her mother, which the pegasus was grateful for.
Suddenly, the page grew blurry. Scootaloo rubbed her eyes, but her hooves came away wet. She looked at her mom again. If she had been here, things would have been different. Things would have been better.
A tear slid down Scootaloo’s cheek as she turned the page to find the slot blank. And the next slot. And the next one. All the way till the end.
Memories they never had together as a family. Because she left.
Scootaloo curled up on the floor of the attic and began to cry, for the first time in years, for her dead mother.
