Thirty Minute Pony Stories

Miriam had been her name. Miriam had been her friend; her best friend. After Dash, of course. After she left flight camp, she lost touch with Dash, but she had met Miriam.

Miriam had been a good friend. She had calmed her down, made her more even-mannered. She showed Gilda that not everything was ‘lame’ and ‘uncool’. They had spent so much time together. Miriam had made Gilda into a better griffon than she had been, and she was so glad for that.

She had met her first love because of Miriam, because she had made her less rough. His name was… had been Isaac. They had hit it off immediately. And then…

Gilda had gone to Isaac’s house for a surprise visit. She had brought flowers with her. She heard him in his room. She opened the door and found him and Miriam under the covers, atop the ruffled sheets. The flowers fell, replaced by a kitchen knife.

It was Isaac first. Forced to shed tears of scarlet for his betrayal. Next was Miriam, a great red grin slashed into her face. She had dropped the knife, preferring a more personal approach for a more personal offense. It hadn’t been quiet.

There was a thump on the door, then a crash as it came down. The window fell out and Gilda flew, so far away from her new life, back in time to Flight Camp, to Dash.

She wanted to spend her days with Dash forever, to forget what had happened just hours before. But the pink one… so much like Miriam. Such energy, so nice and happy all the time. Gilda had almost exploded right then. She couldn’t let them stay together; she would lose Dash, everything she had left.

It happened anyway. That pink whore had taken Dash from her with that goddamn party. If she hadn’t been so damn old-fashioned, if she hadn’t regressed, maybe even taken some things in stride… But, no. She had lost it, and now…

*****

Gilda lay on a cloud a thousand feet above the ground, miles from Ponyville. She stared up into the clear blue sky with a stone face. She was alone now, without a home or a friend. She was on the run, fearful for her life. Griffons were not known for their sympathy, and even then Gilda knew she deserved none.

The sky above her offered no sanctuary. It simply stared, accusingly, daring her to get up and try again, only to be smacked down. It spoke in hushed tones of disappointment and resent, egging her on, deeper into her sad, shattering mind. What was there left to do?

Gilda rolled from her cloud. She kept her wings tucked as she fell.

Obscure Comments:

Ooh. A very dark submission. And another interesting take on what might happen when a struggle with one’s inner demons ends in defeat. Good job.