Come gather round ponies, wherever you roam.

>>25907550
bump

>>25908319
Good job

what is this thread

>>25908597
A desperate cry for help.

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>>25908627
Can I bring friends?

>>25907550
Nooo. nooo. Everytime someone does sad, it becomes edgy. I would've done Octy right then and there if it had a decent prompt, and didn't land in the back page so much, but I gotta refuse.
Maybe if there's an Octavia thread.

>>25907550
Erm, do we need a story for this thread?
I have one I wrote a while go if we're not going to let this die.

>>25909475 Do it.

You guys have a sad pony thread and the first thing you thought about wasn't the rejection thread? See, this is how you get ants.

>>25909559
Well it's just one thread, and it's not specific about it's feels like the others.
Anyway, here we go...


>You are Silver Streak.
>And this can't be happening.
>You're surrounded by ponies, cheering and stomping, filling the world with joy.
>But you alone turn to run. You run far, far away 'til their screams died on the wind.
>Where you fall to the ground, exhausted, with a heavy heart and quivering gut...
>And begin to cry.

>22 years earlier, your parents, Autumn Streak and Bronze Tinker, gave birth to a beautiful baby Pegasus filly.
>Your beady little green eyes blended with your bright, new silver coat.
>A darker, metallic shade, topped your head and flank as a scruffy little mane and tail.
>Your parents were simple ponies. They owned a small tinkering shop on the lip of Horseshoe Bay.
>They built and repaired small things, like radios and watches.
>Daddy didn't make much money, and you couldn't afford much space, so you lived above the shop in a small little apartment.
>But that was okay, you couldn't fly anyway.
>The doctors had said you would have problems developing muscles and nerves in your wings.
>But that's okay. Daddy would always pick you up and help you fly when you played, even if he didn't have wings.
>But mommy did. Her wings were always so pretty. It was so fun to play with her shiny feathers.
>Daddy always told you not to, but mommy never minded. Her wings were always so warm and soft.

>When you started school, you couldn't hover as long as the other Pegasi. You always got tired.
>Some of them teased you for it. But you didn't care. You found new friends.
>Earth pony and unicorn friends who didn't make fun of your wings, and you didn't make fun of their horns or hooves.
>But two years later and you sure showed them! Your wings got better and you could glide just like they could.
>You loved gliding off the tower in the playground. You used to do it all through lunchtime.

>>25909672

>You didn't stop there, either. You always beat those meanies in every race your class had!
>You never won, though. The earth ponies were always faster on hoof than Pegasi could hope to be, no matter how hard you tried.
>But that's okay. Mommy always told you that silver was still something to be proud of.
>And you were silver! So you were proud.

>When you were a bit older, you learned about the Junior Speedsters.
>You were so excited, you couldn't wait!
>You were already so good at running. Along the way you became even better at flying.
>Even better than all those bullies. Nopony could keep up with you in the air!
>Well, one or two always beat you. But it was always really close, really neck and neck!
>All that mattered was showing those bullies, anyway. They could never get silver!
>Daddy didn't like the idea of it. Apparently flight camp was super expensive.
>But we weren't poor or anything. We had a house and food and clothes, so it couldn't be too bad.
>Mommy talked him into it, though. She always knew how important flying was to a Pegasus, especially me.
>So mommy and daddy worked really hard, saved money, and I finally got to go to flight camp.
>That was the first time I had any real training.
>They made us fly laps, and do wing ups, and wing wrestle, and all sorts of cool stuff!
>Every day we would time ourselves doing a lap, and I saw I got better and better every day.
>I was even getting better than some of the richer kids at camp.
>They always acted like they were so much better, but soon, I was the fastest, bestest flier in the whole camp!
>On the last day they held a huge race, where everypony got to see who was best.
>You were going to win that gold for sure!
>All the moms and dads were there, too. It was on the ground, too, so even your dad could come.
>You put your all into that race. Every bit of fighting spirit and courage you had.

>>25909684

>All the nights of stinging wings, every day of sweating like no kid should, and every bump and scratch you had, all just came down to this moment.
>But...you didn't win.
>Some other filly gained on you, little by little until you two were neck and neck.
>You were flapping your hardest. You couldn't go any faster.
>Somewhere inside was a small voice, crying and wailing at your no good body to just work a little bit harder, to just get that extra bit of speed.
>But you couldn't. The worst part was watching it happen. You were trying and failing to stop it and you just couldn't do it.
>You were bummed that you didn't win, but when that silver medal touched your neck, something super-duper amazing happened!
>You got your cutie mark!
>It was some kind of mountain with snow on the top, and two wings coming out on either side.
>Everypony in the crowd cheered for you, stamping their hooves and whistling!
>Mom and dad were so proud of you! You bounced all the way home that day, and couldn't sleep all night.
>You were so excited, every time you saw it you squealed with delight.
>When you asked mom and dad about what it meant, they didn't have much of a clue, which was weird. Grown-ups are meant to know everything.
>Maybe it was super special and a top secret mystery! Maybe some old wizard would come and teach you how to save the world!
>But the real answer came at the dinner table that night.
>You were stilled grumpy at someone because you had lost the big race. You didn't know if it was you or someone else, but you still sulked.
>Mommy told you not to feel bad. She told you that silver was never something to be ashamed of, and to her, silver was the best.
>It was daddy who figured out your cutie mark.
>He told you it meant you were brave and strong, and a good flyer. You were like a mountain with wings.
>Dad was always really smart. You knew grown-ups knew everything. Sometimes they just had to remember to know that they knew.

>>25909708

>When you got out of school and got a bit older, your dad put you to work in the family shop.
>It wasn't too bad. In fact it was kinda fun. You got to mess around with all kinds of cool stuff.
>Dad taught you new things about how stuff worked every day.
>It really made you appreciate just how much work went into everyday stuff that was taken for granted, like a printing press.
>But it was also kinda boring. You were still in the same house you were as a filly.
>It was almost like it had shrunk, because everything was so much smaller than you had remembered it.
>Whenever you could you would get outside into the fresh, open air.
>That usually meant just for lunch, though, or the weekends.
>Or at night if you were really desperate, or just angry at mom and dad.
>I mean, you stay inside all day working on dusty old clocks and machines, and they won't even let you go outside when the air is the best.
>But you still remember when they took you to see the Wonderbolts live at one of their shows. That was totally awesome!
>It that night, under the inky, cloudy sky, when you were busy staring out the window into darkness, that something clicked inside you.
>You were going to be a Wonderbolt.
>No more dreaming like a little filly, you were going to do it.
>You were going to wake up every day and work hard at it!
>Starting right now!
>You were so pumped, so totally hyped that you practically flung yourself out of your window and into the cool of night.
>Every day after that, lunch times weren't just a break anymore, they were training times.
>And every night wasn't spent tucked inside a house settling down, you were in your room, sweating from wing ups and weight lifting.
>When they heard the grunting from your door at night, your parents were silly enough to believe you were getting to 'that age' and started worrying about you.
>They were so silly. You wouldn't be chasing after colts, you would be training.

>>25909721

>As if you couldn't get a colt-friend if you tried. Your body was toned to perfection.
>Any stallion worth his sweet package would want some of you.
>You trained hard with every free hour you could. It really was something you loved, ever since you were a filly.
>Seeing yourself improve that tiny bit every day, racking up the changes, looking back in the mirror and seeing a better mare every time.
>You weren't gonna be stuck in this shop forever, you were gonna make something of yourself! Your cutie mark even told you so!
>But, one night at dinner, you realized a horrible truth.
>Your parents didn't believe in you.
>Whenever you brought it up, they would give that stupid fake smile that adults always do.
>Or they would look away, or change the topic, or reply with something typical.
>"I'm sure you will, honey. But you'll need a lot of work to get there."
>"Just remember, dear, the Wonderbolts isn't for everypony."
>"Well, you'll always have a place with your parents if you ever change your mind."
>Your own parents didn't believe in you. Even after they saw how hard you had worked.
>In a way, they were just like those bullies back in school.
>But you didn’t care! You were going to show them! You would just have to work harder, and longer, and eventually they would have to believe you.
>They would see how serious you were and they would come around.
>But, even if you didn't become one, you would still be a great flyer.
>Silver would be good enough.

>You let out a haughty scream, heavy with frustration. You bellowed at the indecency of it all. You yelled at the way the universe had bent you over a barrel yet again.
>This was the third time you had been rejected from the Wonderbolts recruitment program.
>You slammed the retched rejection letter down on the countertop.
>Years later and you were still missing the mark by a hair's width.
>The first time they said you were too young, and they wanted someone with more experience.

>>25909733

>That alone was enough to crush your soul for the next week at least.
>But you couldn't blame them. When you're a Wonderbolt, you couldn't be taking on rookies too young, either.
>And they didn't even get to see you strut your stuff. That didn't say anything about you or your skill.
>It just gave you another two years to prepare, anyway.
>The second time, you were of the right age, if still a bit on the young side.
>But they had let you come out, show off your moves, and flirt with the stallions...
>Nothing like the sweaty body of a hunky athlete to a mare lonely at night...or in the morning.
>You had always blamed those stupid sexy stallions for your failure on your second attempt.
>You couldn't focus with all those young stallions strutting around in those tight, clinging suits...
>So no more of that. You were only going to focus on your training, no more funny business.
>Not that there was anything wrong with funny business...Maybe just on the weekends.
>This time, however, you couldn't deny it. You were to blame.
>You were getting slack, and your parents getting older. You were the one running the shop most of the time, now days.
>They still helped, of course. But a pretty, smiling mare was always good for business.
>Because of this, you had less and less time to train. You could practically feel your tightly toned muscles slowly melting off.
>Not only your schedule was against you, but your will as well. Now there came days where you were far too tired for training of any kind.
>Serious training in the wee hours of the morning left you too tired for work during the day.
>Training after work, you were already tired, and had a belly full of food from dinner. Anything at night just left you tired in the morning.
>No, you didn't need a break. A break would only cement your laziness.
>You needed structure, order, and discipline.
>So, soon after your third rejection letter, you began a search for where you could find such things.

>>25909746

>The answer came one morning during your daily, light run.
>You met a Minotaur, draped in simple brown robes.
>You had heard of these guys somewhere before. Wandering Minotaur monks on pilgrimages, who cut their horns back and lived a very modest life.
>This was in complete contrast of the usual, well known stereotype of Minotaur’s.
>That they were all intense, testosterone filled, and uber-masculine.
>Anyway, who better to ask about discipline than a monk?
>When you asked, he told you of a monastery far into the mountains dedicated to just such a thing.
>It was over the next few nights you had made plans, packed a bag, and set your course.
>While mom and dad didn't like it, they understood.
>You had been working in this shop, day in, day out, for years now. You more than deserved a short break.
>It had taken over a week of travel to arrive. The first few days you could stay in towns. During the last four you would have no company but a single, small fire.
>As expected, it was a simple place, built of cold, precise stone.
>The hooded monks welcomed travellers, and very much made sure you were sure of yourself before they had started your training.
>The next three weeks were hell, on mind and body.
>You couldn't wash your main or tail without any shampoo, so by the third day it became oily and clumpy.
>Your coat became a scruffy, cow lick ridden mess. You resembled a well-loved cat toy more than a pony.
>The food was mushy and tasteless, complimented with water. The beds were far from a homely comfort.
>Many of the monks, beside your own teacher, would refuse to talk to you.
>They made you do soul-les, repetitive tasks.
>Your spent hours upon hours of daylight scrubbing moss and dirt off identical tile floor and brick walls.
>You pruned the gardens of shrubs and flowers daily, but your blood-soaked work was never good enough on the first try.
>Blood soaked wasn't an exaggeration, either. They had thorns in that garden.

>>25909762

>Minutes stretched to hours when they put you in stress positions. You held yourself up, bent backwards like an arch, with only your hooves.
>You had felt like your body would never stretch quite right again after those sessions.
>Honestly, you hated it. You hated every damnable day of it.
>After only a few days you were bored out of your own sanity. Your muscles ached constantly with a low pain, and you dreaded the looping, unending routine of daily life.
>But every time you had complained, they had been there to remind you of that young mare who had come to them with a dream and a purpose.
>For all the pain in the world, for every exhaustive night spent dreading the morning, and every day dreading the next, it all proved to be worth it.
>You had finally completed your self-imposed hell.
>Your mind had never felt clearer, your thoughts were so much more focused, and you had been far too busy to even consider a stallion's company.
>When you came to leave, the monks weren't particularly sad, nor were they happy to be rid of you.
>They just let you go with a simple goodbye and well wishes. You had just come and gone from their lives, like a bump in the road.
>When you asked if you had done well enough, they said you hadn't understood their lessons, but that you were very close.
>On the trip back home, you had noticed your hooves ached far less. Maybe your body didn't dare to complain after being rid of that place.
>Your parents were glad to see your safe return.
>The following nights would be spent being barraged with questions, as expected, while you settled back into normal life.
>Daily routine gave a much better chance to see your own change.
>You didn't complain nearly as much, in mind or out loud, and you were always much more focused on whatever piece you happened to be fixing.
>Your parents saw it in you, too. They didn't say it, but you knew they were proud of you. You were too.
>They were right.

>>25909772

>You didn't get gold, but silver with family was just as good.

>The time came for Wonderbolts’ try-outs.
>This time, unlike so many others, you were accepted.
>Just as you had as a filly, you squealed and stomped and danced. The glee spread from your legs to a smile bright enough to replace Celestia's sun itself.
>Your mirth proved just as contagious and intoxicating to your parents.
>The entire night, you reminded your parents back to the time where a certain young filly had discovered the joys of too much ice cream, for the first time.
>You felt invincible! You felt like the world was yours! In this very moment, this one fraction of forever, everything you had ever dreamed of was becoming yours.
>That very night you had packed a bag and planned your route, even though you wouldn't leave for another week.
>That week couldn't pass fast enough. Everything in the shop felt new and fantastic again, but also slower than it ever had been.
>It was only during your final few days at home that you noticed the toll this was taking on your parents.
>You were no longer that young, shining filly with stars brimming in her eyes.
>You were a fully grown mare, with a lifetime of blood, sweat and tears all conquered behind you.
>And you were leaving two loving, aging parents behind; to pick up the family trade you were going to leave behind.
>You talked to them. Your mother wasn't glad to see you go. She never wanted her child to leave, like all mothers.
>But the moment she saw that glimmer of hesitation in your eye she made you go. Told you that you had come too far to let your old mother hold you back.
>Your father still had a shred of doubt for you, and was fully honest about it, in a caring, protective way.
>This time you fully understood. He wasn't doubting you, saying you couldn't make it. He was just giving you a net if you fell.
>With a teary goodbye the night before, and a slightly less teary one the morning after, you set out.

>>25909782

>It would take a whole day of travelling. But you were more than prepared for another day of hardship after all you'd put in.
>You took a quick taxi ride into Baltimare, took the dedicated train right under Canterlot, through the small town of Ponyville, and finally, over to Smokey Mountain.
>It was surprisingly...plain for the Wonderbolts.
>A small runway and collection of buildings set atop the mountain, flanked on all angles below by a sea of fog.
>You never did have an eye for clouds, but these ones definitely looked sturdier than normal.
>Life at the academy was much like monastic life. Though, surprisingly, better.
>You got paired up with another lively young mare.
>It was akin to looking into a mirror, before you had gone through hell to learn the patience you desperately needed.
>You were the wingpony. You had looked at the silver badge in shock.
>After everything you had went through to get here, you wouldn't even be a lead pony?
>No, no that was okay. You still got here. Even silver was something to be proud of.
>Over the coming weeks, you had proven yourself time and time again.
>You had almost the entire academy beat. You could fly faster, for longer, and the instructors admired your humility in taking orders.
>You were beyond relieved that you had taken the chance on your little pilgrimage. You truly did need patience here.
>You had seen ponies kicked out after snapping at the instructors.
>Even your own lead pony had come close. If you hadn't been there to help her through it, her dream would have been long dead by now.
>Somehow, life here was better than with those monks. You had people to talk to, to joke and complain with.
>You could rest easy knowing your dreams were finally materializing before your very eyes.
>You /could/ rest, but you didn't let yourself. You kept up with the stressful meditations, and doubled the routines they had given you.

>>25909791

>Where the others would settle in, knowing they would scrape into the cut, you were going to go beyond that, to set the cut higher than ever before.
>Soon the days grew short, and the final days were upon you.
>There was no doubt in your mind, or the instructors, or anypony else for that matter, that you were one of their top recruits.
>On the final day they held a marathon of events.
>Every exercise you had done: straight racing, obstacle courses, endurance, nose dives, laps, and more would all be in it.
>This was it. This was the day you would get the gold.
>You and your companions in flight teetered on the starting line.
>You all waited for the final sound you would hear before it all became rushing air for the next who-knows-how-long.
>With the sharp blow of a whistle, you were off.
>A straight, sprinting flight section was first. You coursed past everypony, even your own leadpony, leaving a soft mist trail behind.
>You felt just like you had when you were first accepted here.
>Chest fluttering, heart surging with pride. The wind deafened your doubts and slicking back your mane.
>All the times those earth ponies had beaten you on hoof. But now you were in the lead, with only clear skies ahead!
>Next came the obstacles. If someone were to wander over and see you, they would think a snake had grown wings and taken to the skies.
>You felt the whipping of your tail as you went up and down, side to side, 'round cloud and rock.
>You took a moment to thank the monks again for your flexibility. That training was torture, but you were looser than anypony here.
>But not in /that/ way.
>It all reminded you of those snobby brats at summer flight camp as a filly. All the money in the world wouldn't move that wall, so they had better take notes!
>Next came the endurance: a stupidly long track with a constant, roaring headwind.

>>25909804

>But it wouldn't slow you down for a second. Your body barely dared to whine at the stress. It had finally learned some respect after all these years of hardship.
>The wind stretched long into the horizon. The deafening wind did well to cover any intruding thoughts and gave you time to think.
>You remember when you first caught wind of your parent's doubt. The way they barely hid it.
>The look they got when they found out their only daughter was wasting her life chasing an impossible dream.
>But you never gave up; you kept pushing on and look where you were. Still pushing on to be the best flier Equestria had ever seen.
>And nothing was going to take that away from you!
>After the endurance came the laps. After the laps came the nosedive.
>This was arguably the hardest exercise of all.
>They would gradually increase the speed every time, to the point where a normal pony would vomit before even being let off.
>This was where your patience gave you an edge. A strong body was one thing, but a pony needed a steady mind to overcome a Dizzatron.
>Gravity had wrapped its claw around you, and you began to plummet.
>All those late nights sleeping on a cold slab they dared to call a mattress, all the days of soul rending labour and boredom had lead up to this.
>With the practiced ease of a steady mind, you slipped from resembling a spiralling drill, to steady flight in the space of seconds.
>If they could see you now, you knew those old geezers would be proud.
>Now, you were strong, nobody could deny that. But everypony has their limits, and you're just at the edge of yours.
>By the final leg of the race you were a different pony.
>Your flight suit was stuck with sickly sweat. Your face was a striking red. Saliva constantly built up in need of swallowing.
>Your chest heaved more than you thought natural, heart bouncing against your ribs, and throat dry with constant, doggy, great wheezes of breath.
>Your wings ached more than they had in your entire life.

>>25909817

>Days of hard labour at the monastery, back to back, were but a gentle massage compared to this utter crime against nature.
>A quick glance back and what you saw astounded you.
>A single pack of ponies, the cream of the crop, were still trailing behind you.
>Not far enough to be a threat this late in the race, but you were still astounded by their own dedication.
>Growing up ahead you saw the finish line, with the staff all gathered and cheering you on.
>You could see the gold medal in the commander's hoof.
>This was it. The moment where everything you had lived and breathed for would finally become yours!
>Everypony had always told you to settle with silver. Well silver wasn't good enough this time. Hell, silver was never good enough!
>Your life had been a constant stream of almosts, maybes and never-weres! Not today! Not any other day!
>From this day on silver was a disappointment! Silver was a loser's colour! You wanted gold!
>As your testament to your own glory surged through your head, you became vaguely aware of another low panting.
>You could see another flyer gaining on you. His face was scrunched in a pain so pure you thought he might drop dead any second.
>No, no this couldn't happen! You wouldn't let this slip away! Not again!
>You kicked it up another gear. Your wings wailed in pain, your voice let a chocked cry out while you practically tore at the muscles to keep going.
>But he was still coming. Slowly, inch by inch, they gained. A snail would have beaten him in gaining ground, but it wasn't the speed that pained you.
>The screams of the crowd grew louder than the wind. You were close, you were almost there.
>You aren't a little filly at flight camp anymore, Silver. You're better than her!
>You were always better than her! And it was time to prove it!
>He creeped on the edges of your vision. First a nose, then a snout, eyes, strands of mane.
>The tiniest ghost of the thought of losing like this made pained sobs escape your throat.

>>25909841

>But you couldn't keep this up forever. The pain from the exertion was soon dwarfed by the pain in your heart.
>Forget the wings; your heart was the one hurting, now.
>It felt like it was being torn apart, slowly and meticulously, a single fibre breaking with each and every inch lost.
>It was all happening, all over again. You were begging your wings for a final push. You prayed to whatever god was out there.
>Tears could barely well up in the corners of your eyes before they were swept away in the wind.
>You saw the pony gaining, gaining, overtaking, and flying.
>They crossed the finish line.
>Then you did.

>This can't be happening.
>You're surrounded by ponies, cheering and stomping, filling the world with joy.
>But you alone were distraught. Your face scrunched up, you felt a putrid sickness stirring in your gut, and your heart finally being torn free.
>You were helpless as you watched every small moment of the gold being placed around another pony's neck.
>Tears brimmed in your eyes and you wished with every tiny, pinhead amount of your being that your countless sniffs would dispel them.
>The pressure you felt all over was like being on the bottom of the ocean. You didn't know if it was possible to sink any lower.
>It was. You saw another pony walking towards you, silver in hand.
>Silver was still good, Silver. You can be proud of this. You can...you...can't...oh god.
>Despite utter exhaustion, you turned tail and ran. You ran and ran far away.
>When you reached the edge of the mountain, you flung yourself off and into the mist.
>You flew, of course, deep into the silver air, found a small cloud to nestle in...
>And cried.
>The tears poured out, rough and coarse, as each drop was so alive itself with pain and regret and mortifying loathing.
>A wail of sorrow sounded out, stretching so long, so devoid of hope and laughter, so chocked with pain and accursed anguish that even the night sky itself would darken at it.

>>25909857

>You are Silver Streak.
>And your entire life has been a constant stream of failures.
>You were never the best. You were never going to be the best. You were almost, always.
>Everything around you was silver: your coat, your mane, this sky, even your cutie mark.
>A mountain topped with...silver snow.
>While you had never given up on your dreams, it looked like destiny has given up on you.
>Your life would never be one of greatness.
>It would never one in the history books, or told to small fillies in bed, alight with dreams, like you once were.
>You weren't cut out to be a winner.
>And you finally understood why...
>Deep down inside, you are, and always were, just a small filly with starts in her eyes.
>Well the stars were falling now.

~Fin

>>25909872
Christ man, that hits home.

Damn good story, that is. Got a pastebin?

>>25910084
Sure man.
http://pastebin.com/u/SomethingWicked

Glad you liked it.

>>25909872
I remember this one from several months back. It made it's rounds and got capped pretty good, if you asked you probably would've gotten someone to post it but hey, at least it's here now.

File: Sparkles.gif (47KB, 291x396px) Image search: [Google]

47KB, 291x396px

>>25910285
Someone...capped this?
If that's true, I'm genuinely touched someone found it good enough to save. I thought it may have died on the wind, and the only ones to have read it were Anons in the writefag guild.

>>25907550