Like a Caged Bird

by ThatOneWriter

First published

Scootaloo watches the world from a cage made of her own fears, hoping for somepony to come set her free.

Scootaloo watches the world from a cage made of her own fears, hoping for somepony to come set her free.


A story about depression. Pre-read by IceboxFroggie. Cover art provided by hunterz263. Help with description provided by Noble Thought

Like a Caged Bird

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I open my eyes and find myself in the familiar clutches of the iron bars. They surround me and snare me like a dragon’s paw. I stretch my wings, and they brush against the bars on either side. Huddling against myself makes it feel slightly bigger, but the sense of claustrophobia still remains.

Curious ponies stand outside. They tell me to leave the cage, as if it were a matter of simply squeezing through the tiny door and walking out. I remember doing that once, with the help of friends. I suspect it will not be so easy now, for they are elsewhere. They’re doing better things and talking to better ponies, I suppose.

The onlookers get bored and walk on. Maybe they hoped for some dramatic moment of triumph, where I leave the cage, slam the door, and never look back. One time, long ago, I had thought such a thing to be possible. I even thought I had done it last time, when my friends opened the door. Yet, like a seductress, the cage whispered in my ear. It offered me stability, a safe place to rest and suffer no more disappointments or doubt. So I, with my wounded pride, returned to its cold but familiar clutches, shutting the door on life outside.

I wonder what my friends would say if they were here. I want so badly to apologize for mitigating their efforts. But I suppose they wouldn’t understand the life of a caged bird.

A flash of blue rushes past, breaking me from my thoughts. My eyes follow the blur as she quickly climbs and then drops. Before she quite hits the ground, there’s a boom and a flash of prismatic light. By the time my eyes adjust, she’s turning back, toward the crowd of adoring fans.

One of them can’t reach her.

I slump in the cage. Oh, what it must be like to be her! Spreading one’s wings and flying higher, faster, farther than anypony has ever gone—that is the dream of a caged bird. But everypony knows that caged birds’ wings are clipped. They’ll never taste the sweet mountain air or feel the rush of the earth racing toward them, only to swerve at the last moment. They’ll never know the twin highs of adrenaline and oxygen deprivation from soaring above the clouds. No, we’ll only ever know the feeling of falling, no matter how hard we try and no matter how high we throw ourselves from.

Idly, I find myself rubbing one of my nastier bruises that covers almost half my chest. It’s a gnarled mess of yellow, with a purple that almost matches my mane. At least the cage keeps me safe. I have yet to bruise myself even once here. Peculiarly, the bruises never seem to go away either, as they would have on the outside. Here, I just sit and hurt.

The onlookers have all left to gawk at the pony who was—is still—my idol and inspiration. She deserves it more than me, I suppose. She performs amazing feats of speed and acrobatics that other ponies can only dream of. Me? I just sit in this cage and watch.

She drinks in the praise, strutting, bragging, gesturing wildly. Foals swarm her, begging for autographs that she’s only too happy to offer them. Before I was here, I would have been in the front of that line. A smirk creases the corner of her mouth as she talks to each foal. Despite the burning in my eyes, I smile a little. I’m genuinely happy for her.

That smile soon disappears, however. She’s searching for something. Or rather, someone. Her eyes scan the crowd, and her smirk turns into a frown. She says something I can’t hear and walks away from the other ponies, ignoring the confused looks and the glares of her fans.

I watch her walk around for a while. She calls out something, but she’s still too far for me to hear. She scratches her head, looking around frantically. At last, her eyes lock on me and she takes flight.

I’m frozen in place, not that it’s like the cage would let me go anywhere anyway. What would she want with me? I’ll never be as good as she is. I’ll never be worth something, or inspire a whole bunch of ponies the way she inspired me. I’m… broken.

I’m just a stupid crippled bird.

She grins as she approaches. She lands just outside the cage, and her hoof rattles the iron bars above the door.

“Heya, squirt!” She reaches out to ruffle my mane, but I shrink back. She frowns again. “What’s the matter?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I’m fine.” Turning away, I say, “Why don’t you just talk to your fans instead? I bet they’re pretty ticked that you just walked away.”

She snorts. “Yeah, they’re not happy.” She tosses her mane. “They’ll get over it. I’m talking to a friend right now.”

I just ignore that. She can’t mean it. My wings are pretty sore, though, so I stand and stretch them. To my surprise, they don’t touch against iron. I look up and see that the cage feels a little bit more spacious. The door reaches up to her chest now.

It’s then that my wings brush against the cage’s top. A weight sinks into my stomach. “Why would you want to be my friend? Aren’t you too cool for me?”

A smile forms, and she laughs just a little bit. “As if I could be too cool for you! You’re awesome! You can do all sorts of tricks on your scooter that I wouldn’t have thought of.”

The weight starts to lift, and I let a small smile appear.

Emboldened by my response, she continues. “I mean, I probably never would have thought of doing tricks on a scooter at all. Hay, I just thought of it as a way for non-pegasi to get around.”

Her words stab me. I collapse, feeling the cage press in on all sides.

“Er, I mean, before I met you, that is—” She drops her head and whispers, “Aw, feathers.” Her hoof touches my wing through the cage. I see her open and close her mouth a few times before her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry. I really suck with words, don’t I?” She laughs bitterly. “Y’know, as much as I complain about mushy stuff and everything… I care about about ya, squirt. It sucks to see ya so down.” She instantly shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t just suck. It… it gets me down. I don’t like to see ya talk bad about yourself.”

If I had any room at all, I probably would have looked away. “Well, what good is a pegasus who can’t fly?”

“There’s lots of good!” Her wings ruffle. “There’s more to being a pegasus than just flying. Hay, half the pegasi in Ponyville are weak fliers, and they get along fine. It doesn’t just matter what you can do, it matters who you are.” She sighs. “Maybe you can’t fly, but you’re an awesome friend. You really care about your friends.” She bites her lip. “I don’t think I’ve spent enough time with you lately. I never should have let you get this down.” There’s a pause, and I look up to see her wiping her eyes. “Scoots, do you still want to be my friend?”

My jaw drops. I struggle to stand. The cold metal chills me. It hisses at me. She’s lying. You’re no good. The time you spent out there only proves that. This is where you belong. As I look into Dash’s eyes, however, I have another thought. Maybe… maybe I’ve had the wrong focus. Maybe flying isn’t so important. As I stretch and approach the door, I smile. I don’t know for sure, but I’m sure as hay gonna find out.

“Who wouldn’t wanna be friends with the great Rainbow Dash?”

Her hooves clutch the bars of the door as she leans against it. “Heh. You’re pretty great too, kid.” She grins. “Now c’mere and give me a hug.”

Together, we open the door. The hinges squeal all the while, fighting my escape. Eventually, we open it all the way, and I walk through. With her help, I slam the door shut and turn away.

She picks me up, holding me tight against her. She blows a raspberry on my stomach and we both laugh. We collapse onto the soft grass. Turning to me, she smirks. “Do you want to fly?” She gets up and pats the empty spot on her back.

I almost accept, but I shake my head instead. Her jaw drops as a smirk of my own appears. “Nah. How about I take you on a scooter ride?”

She shrugs and climbs on behind me. “Sure. I mean, how bad could it—”

Her sentence is cut off when I take my first few kicks against the pavement. It’s not even as fast as I normally go when it’s just me, but I feel her hooves hold me just a little bit tighter. I cut off toward the skate park. She’s gonna eat her words for saying that scooters are for non-pegasi! I flap my wings, building speed. My laughter follows us all the while as I cherish being the fastest pegasus on wheels.