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The Autobiography of Scootaloo - ForewordHello, dear reader. My name is Amber Dash, I am the daughter of a wonderful mother, Scootaloo, and a loving father, Featherweight. Upon the passing of my mother, I was willed her diary. She had it for most of her life, and filled it with entries of her everyday and her adventures. The text is slightly abridged to keep pace, removing only short common entries, but I assure you that you are only missing things such as "went to the store" and "nothing interesting happened today" or the most basic of mundanities. I assure you that I have left the story of my mother as in tact as possible. I want the world to know of how wonderful my mother was.
I appreciate you taking the time to look into the life of a mare who was there for me in my hardest times. My mother lived a good life, all things considered, though she, like all of us, had her struggles along the way. Her story here begins when she was nine, coping with the struggles of losing her parents. I may have never been able to meet my gra
SPD - Entries 344-348 *body image trigger warning*Entry 343:
Featherweight is still unsure of his father being in a new relationship. I finally put him in a headlock and shook some sense into him when he said his dad should have never found him. I was so mad it's a wonder I didn't knock him out. The nerve. I think I really freaked him out, because he was quiet for quite a while. I didn't want him to think I didn't want him to talk about what was going on, so I eventually asked why he was being so ridiculous.
He said more than anything right now he feels guilty. He said he feels like a real mule for being upset about his dad doing something for himself. He said Shutter Speed almost never does things for himself. He's always worried about Featherweight, and the fact that Featherweight acted so selfishly has him feeling rotten. I told Featherweight that what was happening right now was a life-changing event for everypony involved, and that he has a right to be worried, but he has to give his dad the room to live his life.
Then I told him
TunnelvisionIn this crippled, cracked cityscape of concrete and glass
I just watch from my window as the people walk by
Oblivious to the struggles of their fellow public,
Such as Eric, frantically searching for cash to get back his pick up
That his friend left double parked and resulted in a tow
Losing his job may as well be deathrow for his son
Andy's leukemia treatment cost is astronomical
The fear in Eric's mind digs a festering hole
In his heart as he goes for a payday loan
Knowing the debt will do nothing
But throw more obstacles
In the path of his escape from this fiscal hell
Established by coats who can't even tell the kind of
Destruction they've left on this man and child,
Their hearts are hardened and their wallets are padded,
With green like the weeds breaking through the sidewalk
As Eric signs the four hundred percent interest agreement,
No other choice
While businessmen in their highrises hold
No remorse for the rejected insurance claim
No sympathy to share for the man whose wife, the
Entries 337-42Entry 337:
The new year is here! I spent the night with Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom in the clubhouse. Several of our other friends were over until the new year began. Big Mac and Applejack walked everypony else home. Over the rest of the night we found out that we aren't drummers (although I still think I did a pretty good job. Sweetie Belle couldn't understand what I was saying afterwards, though. Maybe I was too loud?)
It's been a pretty slow couple of weeks. Class starts again, soon. I'm kind of ready to go back, but I still wish I could spend more time with Featherweight, he's still having troubles dealing with his dad's relationship. He's handling it better, but he's still nervous about becoming second colt. I've told him so many times that he's ridiculous, but he's just, well, Featherweight.
I sat next to Featherweight during class on the first day back. I didn't want him to think that things would be different just because class has started again. He seems a bit, I don't know,
Anything Will Do"Got any change?"
She asks, as you pass, clenching wallet in a guarded stance--lest you have to give your poker night spares to a nearly starved woman.
"Got any change?"
She pleads, groveling to the masses, staring desperately to her dog, sole companion of the scot-free foreclosure market that stole her, and her only friend's, home.
"Got any change?"
She cries. "I'll work for whatever you can give."
Nobody will hire the woman who can't pay her bills post-layoff in the scot-free we-don't-need-you-anymore factory, whose robots work harder and complain less than mere mortals.
"Got any change?" She pleads, not asking for cash--demanding action.
"Is your life any better?"
She rises from her defeated pose--A vigor in her heart carrying her starved body to its frail feet.
"Change. Stand for good enough no more.
Since when is good enough good enough?
Since when is just fine fine at all?
Since when is just getting by acceptable?
I'm not the only one who needs change around here."
A Lot To Be Thankful ForI've come a long way in life.
Once upon a time I was little more than a child,
son to two loving parents,
a thing I am always thankful for,
even if it doesn't always show.
Since then, a small handful of amazing friends
show me that love can extend beyond blood
Friends who show me true kindness, loyalty and trust
A relatively new gift, in many ways,
but absolutely glorious, and something to cherish.
I'm happy to be born in a place where, even if it's dubious,
I do have freedoms, I do have rights, I can safely
walk out of my door, and not fear getting shot.
A place where medicine may not be free, but it actually exists.
I'm glad I have a fully functioning body, and fully capable mind.
I have the golden ticket. I have a stable family, health, mind, and home.
I have little in the big scope to complain about.
While these are the greatest gifts one can experience,
There is a lot in life to be thankful for.
I live in a place that has come a long way. It may not be perfect
But compared to twen
MaskShe wears a mask like it’s nothing.
Sometimes I forget it was made by demons.
I forget there’s a person living behind it.
Raspy Hill"I don't quite feel like myself."
I haven't for a while now.
My mind seems displaced,
Like it's wandered too far away.
"I've been having strange dreams lately."
Images of strange creatures dance in my sleep.
I don't know them but I know they are malicious.
What do they want?
"But now you're here and I'll make you feel right at home."
My saviour, my protector.
You'll guard me from this evil.
"Welcome to Raspy Hill."
This is my hell.
And you'll join me.
I'll make sure of it.
"Enjoy your stay."
Roses and barbed wireThe beauty of the roses
Right there for me to see
So colorful and vibrant
A sight to behold
But I can't get any closer
A fence surrounds them
Keeping them safe
Keeping me away
Away from their colors
Away from their scent
Trapped in this grey world of mine
Behind the barbed wire fence
Bibliophilia --C.To all the books I haven't read:
I have become your bookshelf
of dusted titles and busted spines
with arms that are full of fantasy
and romance and a head full
of memoirs I haven't written,
their lexicon curling my tongue
around five dollar word-plays
just behind the sheaf of my teeth.
With definitions straight to the point
and description airy and lofted
a dictionary defenestrates pages
that whirl into the night, petal
papers gliding like elegant
prose in a blank journal.
There is no table of contents
to map your way; follow the veins
ink leaves in the margins of my palms
because the books I've read tell me
if they give you ruled paper,
write the other way;
you are someone else's collage,
all the worn sad evidence of humanity,
stirred and sorted by a poet
because good books,
like bad people,
don't give up all their secrets at once.
Where Lover's Dream DarklyFor it is not a fable; — that which bleeds..
And her soul may whisper obsidian,
— But I am the sea of Darkness she craves
O’ long I hath bathed in these ravenous winds,
Watching shadows weep across river’s dreary
Upon nightscapes that plunder our souls —
A bouquet of crimson shall enchant thy lips;
Where slowly we fade into requiem
Drink me naked in the abyss of hungry wolves
Among demons and insanity, I thrust and fall
Ravaged, eons of lust spill from mine eyes,
And behold the Forests sing of murder!
In a sombre kiss, we shall undress the skies
Time will yield to the treasures of melancholy
I covet thee, unto this blood-filled Moon
O’ thou art beautiful decay upon my skin,
A ghostly visage dripping wanton & darkly ..
We are Lover’s haunting deaths lullaby;
Assassins brooding in a bewailing fairy-tale
She is mystic poison; & elixir immortale
Seek you me, in the mystique of necromancy
For I am the dream of Serpents fea
Sweet darknessDarkness, my dear
Darkness, my element
With your cold embrace
And keep me hidden
Hiden from the world
Hidden from my past
You are my ally
You are my friend
The only one I can trust
Vanquish the light
And cast your shadow
All over this world
Poem promptThe sky is not falling
We are rising.
As time marches forward
We make some terrible mistakes where the sky seems to creep further out of reach
Yet over time we get back to our feet
We, as people
We are rising up
Making this world a better place
It has taken us a long time to see some of the mistakes of our past
But now that we do, we can make things better
Step by step.
The BeginningHe told them, of course. He told those idiots everything, the whole damn story, including the blunder he'd made, and its consequences. Looking back on it later, he realized he had probably been in shock the whole time. It made sense, anyone would have been.
Soph was about twenty years old, and he'd been that way for a couple of years already, ever since the Hoarde had started attacking humanity from the past. Every day that passed, they ate at another day in the past. It sickened him. Those creatures had absolutely no regard for proper time and causality protocols.
It didn't seem to affect anyone else that way, though.
The Hoarde was the result of a human creation, of course, like everything bad in the world, though no one else knew about them. Then again, no one else had undiluted access to the power of creation. Even he didn't know much about the Hoarde, only that they appeared through some tear in The Fabric of The World and started killing people off. They appeared at some point in
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