So i wrote a beginning to a story. i dont know how good it is. it was a rushed job of a write. but ill post it here and see if anyone likes it so far.
Growing up in our desperate little town, you learn things. You’re forced to, first off. You learn to keep your friends and family safe. Because if no one else can you have to.
Things being like that you naturally learn to fight and steal if necessary to survive. First being born, the doctor was quite astonished, for she had never seen a colt that looked quite like me…
As I grew older, into my teen years, the little town I called home just became worse and worse. Gangs of colts and filly prostitution were over most of the territory. Everyone I walked, I could either ignore it or become a part of it. My father had run away and my mother was sick. So I had to take care of everything I could, no matter what it took.
“Hey look, there he is” I heard the snickers of the constant few colts that teased me. I kept walking. I was an easy target because I was an outcast.
Where we were there were three forms of living. Gangs were mainly colts and sometimes mares; the prostitution was usually the middle class while the gangs were high. Then there were simple ponies and stallions. Forced to work for what they got because they either refused or wouldn’t be allowed into gangs or the prostitution ring.
My mother and I didn’t belong to any of these groups. Neither my mother nor I worked. I would if I could, but no one would hire me because of my violent nature. So I either stole or traded what I could find. I was basically a scavenger.
“Where you going now? I wouldn’t head in that direction, Butch is still pretty pissed you stole his lucky shoes!”
I ignored them and continued trotting along. Butch… piece of shit had silver shoes so I snagged them and traded one for medicine and the other for some food. I don’t regret it either, I’m not afraid of him or his gang. Sure he had numbers, but I had fear.
You know the saying people fear what they don’t understand? Well no pony knew anything about me. And as I said before, I was the oddest looking colt anyone had ever seen.
As I passed some more of the gang they eyed me carefully. My black fur glistened in the sunlight and my blood red mane was enough to make people wonder and fear at the same time.
Don’t take my concept of fear as me being a coward. I will gladly kick someone down if they wanna step up. But I don’t fight unless I have to.
I tightened my pouch and sped up my trot a bit. There was more of the gang than normal and that wasn’t good.
A place for writers to gather and discuss their craft.
1 post • Page 1 of 1
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 2 guests