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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Leap of Faith
Day dawned cruel at the edge of the world.
Scootaloo felt the sun long before she saw it. At first, it was just a vague heaviness and a vibration low beneath hearing. Gravity increased, and for a fleeting moment, if she'd closed her eyes, she could have imagined herself to be standing atop the barren rock of Canter Peak; then the true, terrible force of it hit, and her knees buckled, and she sprawled to the floor of the cave. The rumble became a roar became an all-consuming static gnawing at her brain through her ears; spread-eagled flat, squeezed breathless by the lead weight of her lungs, she slid along the smooth arc of the cave floor and up the curve of its back wall—
light
—and kept sliding as white seared her eyes through closed lids; as the suddenly superheated air broiled her skin; as the all-consuming roar was overpowered by a bang that sounded as though Creation Herself had stretched taut the flat, circular surface of Equestria and pounded the disc with one mighty hoof.
When the shockwave of sunrise had passed, as gravity inch by inch released its grip and she gasped to fill her lungs with burning air, as the dancing spots retreated to the edges of her vision and the world-rattle retreated from her ears, she struggled back to her hooves. Gravity tugged her upward, and she realized with a start she was standing on the ceiling. She spread her too-small wings, setting them to hummingbird motion, and pirouetted in midair as the sun's tug finally ceased and the gentle pull of the Rim returned her to earth.
Outside, with a noise like a herd of deaf drummers with different-sized instruments, the rocks lifted by the sun's approach began to hail from the sky.
She remembered the Cutie Mark Crusaders' last meeting. Sweetie Belle had come in beaming, a pair of beamed quavers adorning her flanks, and they'd laughed and cried and danced and hugged.
And asked. Of course they'd asked.
Sweetie got a funny look on her muzzle which instantly silenced the others. "It's not about what I did," she said quietly. "It's that when I listened to the applause…I suddenly realized that I couldn't imagine anything I'd ever want more for my life."
Apple Bloom got a funny look of her own after that. The next morning at school, her flanks were adorned with an apple topped by a five-petaled white flower.
They'd stayed in touch, of course, but it wasn't the same. Their sleepovers had fewer crazy ideas and more talk of the future. It got more and more awkward as Scootaloo's flank stayed resolutely pristine.
A year later, they put into words the chasm that had been growing between them.
"Scootaloo," Sweetie had said. "I care about you. I want you to be happy."
"We all do," Apple Bloom softly added. "You're tearing yourself up."
"Shouldn't you…you know."
The ex-Crusaders glanced at each other.
"…Settle?"
Ten minutes later, when the last of the stone-hail had fallen, Scootaloo finally dared to leave her shelter, squinting against the too-bright sky. It was no wonder the Rim was bare rock; the night's glacial chill had, in an instant, grown so hot that the ground was almost painful underhoof.
Scootaloo took a trembling breath and walked away from the cave. Some unicorn had sculpted it out of the Rim, a tiny teardrop-shaped pocket at the furthest edge of a flat wasteland. Days and days from any living soul. Leagues from the next nearest shelter. A stone's throw from the yawning infinite.
She stepped to the edge with trembling legs.
Scootaloo hoofed the edge of the world—glancing down the sheer cliffs into the starry void—and backed away. Not for the first time, she wondered how crazy she was for clinging to her dream. Her journey to the Rim's edge already put her in an elite group; shouldn't that count for something? She could see herself being happy to spend her life exploring. All she would have to do would be turn around and leave.
And then, she thought, forever be defined by my failure.
No…there was only one way this could go. She had no idea how it would end, but she knew the next step.
She backed up, feeling a strange calm settle over her.
Then Scootaloo spread her wings, galloped forward, and leapt.
Scootaloo felt the sun long before she saw it. At first, it was just a vague heaviness and a vibration low beneath hearing. Gravity increased, and for a fleeting moment, if she'd closed her eyes, she could have imagined herself to be standing atop the barren rock of Canter Peak; then the true, terrible force of it hit, and her knees buckled, and she sprawled to the floor of the cave. The rumble became a roar became an all-consuming static gnawing at her brain through her ears; spread-eagled flat, squeezed breathless by the lead weight of her lungs, she slid along the smooth arc of the cave floor and up the curve of its back wall—
light
—and kept sliding as white seared her eyes through closed lids; as the suddenly superheated air broiled her skin; as the all-consuming roar was overpowered by a bang that sounded as though Creation Herself had stretched taut the flat, circular surface of Equestria and pounded the disc with one mighty hoof.
When the shockwave of sunrise had passed, as gravity inch by inch released its grip and she gasped to fill her lungs with burning air, as the dancing spots retreated to the edges of her vision and the world-rattle retreated from her ears, she struggled back to her hooves. Gravity tugged her upward, and she realized with a start she was standing on the ceiling. She spread her too-small wings, setting them to hummingbird motion, and pirouetted in midair as the sun's tug finally ceased and the gentle pull of the Rim returned her to earth.
Outside, with a noise like a herd of deaf drummers with different-sized instruments, the rocks lifted by the sun's approach began to hail from the sky.
She remembered the Cutie Mark Crusaders' last meeting. Sweetie Belle had come in beaming, a pair of beamed quavers adorning her flanks, and they'd laughed and cried and danced and hugged.
And asked. Of course they'd asked.
Sweetie got a funny look on her muzzle which instantly silenced the others. "It's not about what I did," she said quietly. "It's that when I listened to the applause…I suddenly realized that I couldn't imagine anything I'd ever want more for my life."
Apple Bloom got a funny look of her own after that. The next morning at school, her flanks were adorned with an apple topped by a five-petaled white flower.
They'd stayed in touch, of course, but it wasn't the same. Their sleepovers had fewer crazy ideas and more talk of the future. It got more and more awkward as Scootaloo's flank stayed resolutely pristine.
A year later, they put into words the chasm that had been growing between them.
"Scootaloo," Sweetie had said. "I care about you. I want you to be happy."
"We all do," Apple Bloom softly added. "You're tearing yourself up."
"Shouldn't you…you know."
The ex-Crusaders glanced at each other.
"…Settle?"
Ten minutes later, when the last of the stone-hail had fallen, Scootaloo finally dared to leave her shelter, squinting against the too-bright sky. It was no wonder the Rim was bare rock; the night's glacial chill had, in an instant, grown so hot that the ground was almost painful underhoof.
Scootaloo took a trembling breath and walked away from the cave. Some unicorn had sculpted it out of the Rim, a tiny teardrop-shaped pocket at the furthest edge of a flat wasteland. Days and days from any living soul. Leagues from the next nearest shelter. A stone's throw from the yawning infinite.
She stepped to the edge with trembling legs.
Scootaloo hoofed the edge of the world—glancing down the sheer cliffs into the starry void—and backed away. Not for the first time, she wondered how crazy she was for clinging to her dream. Her journey to the Rim's edge already put her in an elite group; shouldn't that count for something? She could see herself being happy to spend her life exploring. All she would have to do would be turn around and leave.
And then, she thought, forever be defined by my failure.
No…there was only one way this could go. She had no idea how it would end, but she knew the next step.
She backed up, feeling a strange calm settle over her.
Then Scootaloo spread her wings, galloped forward, and leapt.