I am amazed. About to be two sad stories out of five in one day. Once again, Song is Rise por Skillet. Also I made a fórum thing. so you're welcome to check that out. On with the story. This time, Shy dies. I don't even know how I'm gonna write this... Shy, too, takes her life. I have warned. You should listen, if you don't wish to hear how Shy kicks her bucket. Super super short. Imagination stores running low.
arco iris, arco-íris Dash was gone. Spike and Twilight were gone. Who was next? When would it end? The answer was plain to see, if one looked in the right place. Fluttershy had taken to wearing strips of fabric on her front hooves. Take those away, and you found scars. Some were fresh. Others, years old.
They started at Dashie's death. It got worse as others died. Now, new cuts were made every night. Shy hated it, but it was a way of relief she could repeat as long as she had a patch of skin not yet cut up. She refused grief counseling, stayed in her cottage, and refused company.
To describe Shy's appearance when she went to the doctor's would be to describe someone who was haunted, or was going to die very soon. She took several bottles of pain pills. "For my animal friends." She lied.
At home, she took all the pills out and set them in a bowl.
She took one, swallowed it, and sipped her water. 1. She began to mover almost mechanically, swallowing and sipping.
Numbers slipped by.
Shy swallowed, sipped, counted.
...12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 2--
Shy stopped, head thumping down onto the table.
The yellow mare shuddered, and was still.
"Spike? Twilight? ... DASHIE!"
Welcome Fluttershy.
arco iris, arco-íris Dash was gone. Spike and Twilight were gone. Who was next? When would it end? The answer was plain to see, if one looked in the right place. Fluttershy had taken to wearing strips of fabric on her front hooves. Take those away, and you found scars. Some were fresh. Others, years old.
They started at Dashie's death. It got worse as others died. Now, new cuts were made every night. Shy hated it, but it was a way of relief she could repeat as long as she had a patch of skin not yet cut up. She refused grief counseling, stayed in her cottage, and refused company.
To describe Shy's appearance when she went to the doctor's would be to describe someone who was haunted, or was going to die very soon. She took several bottles of pain pills. "For my animal friends." She lied.
At home, she took all the pills out and set them in a bowl.
She took one, swallowed it, and sipped her water. 1. She began to mover almost mechanically, swallowing and sipping.
Numbers slipped by.
Shy swallowed, sipped, counted.
...12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 2--
Shy stopped, head thumping down onto the table.
The yellow mare shuddered, and was still.
"Spike? Twilight? ... DASHIE!"
Welcome Fluttershy.
Nemo
