Attention: This is based on a famous MLP fanfiction called "My Little Dashie" by ROBCakeran53. I made it so it will be like it, but with some twists.
"My little Flutters" was the beta name for the story; since I am incorporating two or more ponies, that is now impossible.
"Could this reality be any more worth living, or better at a sanguineous level… Let's hope, but hope is all gone for where this place is now."
The boy, sitting in a very vintage library sat on a very antique and lacquered wooden stool with a pine smell, typing a blog on his laptop. All around him was silence, even the librarian was absent for days after days after months. The books in the library have gone odourous, and the whole entire library, especially the archive room, has a stench of mold coming from the aging books. The library is known for keeping various documents and archives that is notable to historical context. After the boy is done quick-typing his blog on the turtle paced internet, he quickly powered it off and placed it in his leather bag, which showed definite signs of wear and tear. He walked through the hallway and reached the entrance door. He opened the door and a cold blast covered the boy, but luckily, he was wearing only a sweater. He walked and turned at the street corner where a traffic light continuously flashes yellow. No cars in sight for meters on end. To him, being in the city brings a whole new level of melancholy into his psyche, it is like the chameleon effect, but he is aware of it somewhat. He walked down the lament street with simple and scornful graffiti on the brick foundation of the building. Many types of graffiti on the poles, signs and walls are mostly sexual, rancorous, and repugnant. Once he got to the next junction, he crossed the street and turned right to a road that is slanting downward; his house is still a distance to go. He walked down the slanted sidewalks, avoiding the suspicious elevations and depressions that it formed while rainwater made it crack and erode. When he traversed through here, he tripped quite a bunch of time, but, he is not the only one to blame. People riled enough to the point of filing a lawsuit, but the mayor—who is being a cynical asshole—decided to reject and not care about the sidewalks. Later, the downfall of the city began with the worst possible abysmal management. Places were run down, and houses were abandoned. Still, a few of the people the boy know still lives around his neighborhood, but they are planning to move out as well. A gust of wind blew to the boy's back, making him to the brink of falling, but from experience of walking on this sidewalk, he gained faster reflexes when it comes to balance. The slant is 10 degrees as the engineers managed to measure it, and when it snows, it feels as if you were walking on hell's ice rink. Once the road evened out to a nice zero slope. The skies got increasingly greyer than the time when the boy exited the library. Once he arrived at the intersection nearing his house, the potholes on the roads started to come into view. The city was neglected for so long; it has been a black hole. He continues to walk down and stopped at a 7-11. It was wrapped with police tapes, and the windows were shattered and the shards on the ground gleamed and sparkled as the boy moved closer and closer to the store. Inside, the shelves were rusting and a lone bag of Lay's original chips lies forgotten. He still remembers buying snacks for school while he is on his way to school when he was just a mere high school student. Now, he's graduated, and realized that his memories are shattered, but they are still there. He took a glance at it then slowly left his memory there. He continued on until he found his home, which is showing signs of aging. The paint is old any chapped, and the garden hose fixture was brown and rusty.
The boy reached into the front pocket of the leather bag and grabbed the key for the door, and slotted into the keyslot. It clicked five times before it was opened by pushing down the lever. Once in, he threw the key to the counter next to him.
Home sweet home. But it was not sweet before he smelled something sour and foul coming from the kitchen. He went into the kitchen and there was a rotting apple pit in the garbage can. He went and threw it into the trash collection bin outside and went back in. He grabbed his laptop bag and sat in the living room, which stood a lamp on a wood desk, a very old sofa and a television in which the screen is used as a dust collector. When he sat on the sofa, it gave some old creaking noises as a signal of age. He grabbed his laptop and opened and booted up. It was an old Dell laptop with Windows ME on it, which elevated the boy's blood pressure as it spontaneously hangs and crashes for indefinite motives. He whistles as the loading bar waddles its way across the screen again and again and again and again before taking him to the login screen. He quickly inputted his password and immediately greeted with wallpaper from My Little Pony… He sighed and slapped his palms on his face in disbelief. He is not a brony and his sister is, so he concluded that his sister must have used his computer. He did not care about the computer anymore as he went to to check on his orders. Last week, he ordered a MacBook air, and he hoped to god that it will come soon, because the brother and sister will leave this place forever for college abroad. It is still twelve, and he hoped that it will come today. He messed around with the computer and hope to find a software to boost up the speed during the game of waiting. Once he's had enough of it, he abruptly took out the battery and slammed it on the table in a malicious manner.
"I had enough of you…" He intimidatingly said to the old laptop. The laptop was ten years old, so it is customary to go through that end of a lifecycle. He went out the door and looked at the sky. The sky was vibrant blue, and now it is just ashen skies covering the city, as if it was a photo taken with a very vintage camera.
The wind blew with its menacing cold, forcing the boy into the house again, which is still a bit cold. He left the laptop there and went upstairs to his room. He opened the door, and his room contained arctic air. The room looked as if it was the stony lonesome. One old lightbulb is attached to a ceiling, and pulling a nylon line that attaches to the internal switch is the only method available to see the bright yellow glow of the tungsten inside it. There is a computer desk with nothing on it but layers of dust that was collected from days past, the cabinets are empty and dusty; the walls are nothing but grey concrete with an aura of cold when near it. Right under the window with the rusty frame, is a radiator. He went to the radiator and switched it on high. It clattered a little until it starts to be operational. He went near the suitcases behind the door and grabbed a book on psychology to read.
When the sun set, he's downstairs cooking marshmallows using the fireplace; It is the only cure for the chills in winter. He then opened the computer again with his rage reset. This time, the time went fairly okay, but it still lacks true speed and potential. He opened up outlook, and a fresh new email arrived from his sister.
"Hey… There is a snowstorm in my area… Our flight is cancelled. I will be staying at a motel for the night. I will come home tomorrow, promise me. Stay safe." The letter read.
He replied back to her that he is waiting for her and not to come back too late.
Once that simple chore is completed, he went outside again to see the sky darken to black. The streetlights, one by one lit up from right to left. The air has gone colder from the last time he stood on the porch. The neighboring houses are lifeless now, there are no lights and no observable activity lately, the neighborhood in general is a lament place to live now. The boy has gotten pretty bored already since everything is scarce. He went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of wine to drink in a seldom manner. Once he finished with the glass, he went to take a soothing soak in the tub, and then went to sleep after a nice long soak. When the light is off, the room is increasingly dark, even with the streetlights on outside, there is a suspenseful air in the room. The boy has practically gone used to it; the room is silent excluding the light whirring of the radiator.
The boy woke later than usual since the sky is still overcast. He traversed to the window, to see the dead ashen sky. His feet touched the running radiator, which sent him to an episode of swears and Freudian slips that usually offend. He turned the radiator on low so the room does not become arid like last couple of months where lazy appliance fixers overdone the system. Now, the radiator is starting to die on its own, due to the fact that it started to give mechanical noise and gives lower heat output even when on high setting. He then changed to a sweater and went to the attic storage room, which is an empty room full of that rotting wood odor, and that odor disturbs him. He went to the rooftop deck that is on the top of the house. He looked to the east, in which a tint of grey covered the skyline. He then turned to the west, which is just blank farmlands while on the north, are industrial areas that are abandoned. The ashen coating in the air covered the zone, making it extremely uneasy for individuals to trespass there since it is the scariest place in the city lately. He looked around some more and sat on the wooden railing.
After a moment of sitting around, a white flake of snow fell, then it fell in multiples until it turned into a snow shower that gets heavier as time went on. He went into the house and down to the living room. Hw went to the kettle and grabbed some dried tea leaves, and boiled them in some water. When boiling, he went to the laptop and booted it up at a normal speed. He went to Amazon to check the shipping condition of his new product. It still says "shipped" and it has been like that for two weeks. He sighed and turned the computer off again. Once the kettle is done boiling, he dumped the tea out into a small cup. He sat the cup there to cool for some minutes. The sky quickly darkened and the snow fell heavily. He sipped the tea, and finished the remnants and went back to his room. He looked out the window, and all was there was white patches of pure fallen snow. But it awed him when a curved flash of lightning appeared momentarily. He then sat on the bed and thought of his future in a college that is far away from this dump of a place.
The room was still silent, but then the silence broke when he heard a whirring of a truck engine. He looked outside, and it is an UPS truck. His eagerness grew as he concluded that it was his college computer. It stopped in front of the house, and the delivery person went and grabbed the package from the back. Once he emerges, the package was unusually large for an Apple laptop… He slowly went downstairs, and there was knocking, obviously. But, he went to the fridge to get a bottle of San Pellegrino. He placed it on the kitchen desk, and can hear the UPS truck leaving. He went to the door, and reveled the box that sat on the porch, covered with snow.
The boy was displeased at the condition. First, it was bigger than expected, about the size of a desktop computer box, and second, there are holes punctured, big holes, as if someone was powerful enough to punch the box. All there was is silence, but as he went for the box, he can hear faint sniffs coming from the box. He the lift it—with much effort—and sat it in the living room exhausted due to the fact that the box weighs like a rice bag. He can hear sniffs coming from the box. He grabbed a knife, and cut open the sealing tape with much precaution. He then put the knife back in its original position. He slowly opened the box.
It was a very quizzical and very sullen sight upon the opening of the box. On top of several sheets of cotton layering, there is a cream coloured… pony. It shivered and tremored as it desperately tries to fight the cold weather. Two drops of tears slowly inched down its delicate face. Her wings are locked shut in order to retain heat, and her pink hair gleamed under the light from the wet snow, and her fur is damp, especially on her face. He took a risk. He reached in and felt the poor delicate pony that is left for neglect. The pony felt the boy's warm hand, and gently opened its eyes that are filled with salty misery. The head of the pony turned to the face of the boy. He was captured and lured into awe as he looked at the pony's sparking turquoise eyes that are directed at the boy. The boy removed his hand from the pony, but after a while, she shivered again. So, there is nothing to do, but keep his hand on it. Then, he sat on the sofa, and took the pony out gently. The pony opened its eyes again, wondering what he is doing to it. When she looked downwards onto the floor, she perceived it as a quite a distance. Her irises shrunk and her teeth showed and clenched in fear. He brought her to his lap, where she felt relieved and warm after a while. He wiped some tears off her face, and smelled it; It smelled very bitter, bitterness that made the boy feel ashamed. He then went into the box, and took out the cotton layering, that is full of bitter tear of her suffering; he decided to not throw it away, and keep it for a the memory milestone. Down deep in the dampened box, is his Macbook air. He picked it up using one hand, while the other is on the pony's back, warming her up and giving her some life. He put his other hand on the laptop, which felt freezing cold, which is customary for metals since they have low specific heat capacities. But the strange oddity is that it is wet, and it concerned him that it won't function. He smelled the liquid. It was tears, morose, woeful, saturnine, and grieving tears from the unfortunate pony. He opened the Macbook Air up, but refuse to let the greed take over since there is a Pony to take care of. He sat there, petting the pony to its upmost comfort, until a while later, her eyes perked open. It looked around confusingly and quizzically, obviously it is a new environment for her. Her eyes then stared at the boy's face again, and her ears drooped down and started to water.
"Don't cry…" He gently said to soothe it down. He stood up, holding the pony, and sat her on the couch. He went and got a canister that sprays fire, and lit up the fireplace. The canister has gone dry after that one use, and was unable to make any more flames. He chucked it away as he looked at the burning fireplace for the last time. He took the pony, and using his foot, moved a small, rocking sofa to a safe proximity from the fireplace where heat can be still felt. He placed the pony there, and covered it with a thin sheet. He then moved another identical sofa next to it. He grabbed his new Macbook, and lifted the lid up. The screen is unscathed, and everything looked new and undamaged. He looked to the pony, who is laying there in the upmost comfort. He then turned his attention to the new gadget, and booted it up. The screen gently turned on after a soothing noisel thus begins the setup, in which he completes it almost immediately since he had an experience with Mac operating systems.
He looked to the pony, and she is comfortably resting in bliss. In the meantime, he decided to do some study on it using the new computer. He surched it up by attributes, and found it in a flash. He is belittled by what franchise it originated from. It is "My Little Pony," In which he knew because of his sister. She became an extreme fan ever since the return from the Chinese Foreign Exchange program held at ENCU (East China Normal University.) The boy has no clue about what goes on in the sister's room, but he can assume that tons of fan work and plushes inhabiting in her room. The pony's name is "Fluttershy." To shorten it so he can use less effort, he named her "Flutters."
He took the time to sync his accounts, his Gmail, outlook, Skype, Facebook… etc. He repetitively completed each single task until Flutters nudged the boy on his arm. It did scare the boy by a little. He turned his head to Flutters, and she opened her mouth, and pointed at it.
To him, it's like natal language, and safely assumed the obvious fact that she is hungry. He shut down the laptop and put it on the table kitchen table. He looked out the back door; at least around 25cm of snow has already piled up. The snow still falls at an increasing alarming rate, accompanied by some flashes of lighting with absence of thunder. The grey sky brings a somber mood, but since Flutters is by his side, he's jovial again. He went to the cabinet, and grabbed a white box. He opened up the box to reveal the ingredients to make S'mores-A bag of chocolate morsels wrapped in a rubber band, a box of marshmallows, and a carton of 25 graham crackers, and fourteen skewers. He took the box to the kitchen dining table, and went to get a plate, and a large tweezer. He looked out the window again and to the left. There is a row of boxcars that has been there for around two years, they sit there idling, collecting dust and snow.