Author Topic: A Stitched Past  (Read 101 times)

Offline Patches

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Re: A Stitched Past
« on: January 10, 2014, 11:55:56 pm »
"... and this is where you will be sleeping, Patches."

The young filly looked around the barren room wide-eyed. Where were the toys? All there was was a bed, a table, and a picture of some mountains on the wall. It was so much different than the colourful room she had before, even if it was incredibly dark all the time, and it almost always had something in it to keep her occupied. Not this room. There wasn't even a single stuffed mare that she could call her friend...

"Do you have any questions, young one?"

She looked up at the stallion, and then over to the door that he did not point out yet, and he followed her gaze to it. His friendly voice took a unexpectedly cold turn and he looked at it for a few seconds before apathetically addressing the young unicorn.

"That is my study. You must promise me that you will never set hoof in there without my permission. Ever. Do you understand? If you disobey this, there will be consequences, child."

The filly backed up slightly, whimpering a little bit from the sudden change of his tone, managing to stammer out, "I-I promise, M-master." He stared her down for a good ten seconds and she waited, terrified of what he would do, until his face finally softened once more and he gestured to her room.

"Good. Now get some sleep, student. Tomorrow, we will begin the first steps of your long journey to becoming a Samareai, a warrior like myself."

Patches walked into the room obediently and he shut the door behind her, leaving her standing in the barren and dark room. It was eerily quiet, and already she was afraid of things in here. It was too foreign, it was too quiet, it was too dark, it was too blank, it was not a room fit for a child, it was a room built for a minimalist, no place for a child.

After a few more seconds of standing there, she sulked over to her futon, her stomach now full with all the rice she ravenously ate to satisfy her three days worth of hunger. She wriggled under the covers and rest her head on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling and around the room before she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. Almost immediately, she could see her parents being gruesomely ripped apart, and tears started to form in her eyes once more. She couldn't sleep. Not after witnessing that horrible event. She just wanted her mommy and daddy back so they could all go home together. She didn't want to be a Samareai. She didn't want to be a warrior. She just wanted to be Patches.

Tossing and turning a little bit more, wishing that she had her stuffed mare with her to hold onto, she finally resorted to bunching up her sheets in her legs and holding onto those. She closed her eyes and hugged them tightly, wishing that she had some sort of friend that she could talk to, some sort of friend that could protect her, a friend that would listen to her troubles and always tell her that everything would be alright.

Patches hugged the blanket tighter the more she thought of this friend, what they would be like, and what they would look like, what they would sound like, becoming lost in the absent-mindedness of a child's imagination until sleep finally took her. The last thing she thought of was what this imaginary friend's name would be. She couldn't figure out a proper name before she was finally unconscious.

 


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