"Cold Front" Written by Pascoite
It always happens on nights like this.
Outside, the rain pounds so hard that I can’t tell it from the thunder.
We… we live on one of the lower clouds, below the rain.
We can’t afford any better.
Mom and Dad work so hard.
I know they do, but Dad still finds time to take me to hoofball games or Junior Speedsters
or Wonderbolts shows.
He even comes over to school on his lunch breaks so he can eat with me.
Mom can’t.
She works days and evenings, long shifts, and she does it for me.
I know she does.
She says so.
But…
It always happens on nights like this.
I can’t see.
It’s too dark in here, and my eyes haven’t adjusted yet.
Dad told me to stay in the closet, no matter what.
He said not to make a sound, not to open the door for anypony, not to cry.
That wouldn’t happen, anyway.
I never cry.
I rub the bruise on my cheek from last time, only three days ago.
It doesn’t hurt anymore.
I can take it.
The weather service usually goes months between storms this hard, but only three days…
I know she’s sorry.
She says so.
She cries, but I don’t.
I never cry.
Every time, the next morning, before she goes to work, she’ll apologize, and she says
it to Dad, too, but not bruises—he g-gets… a swollen eye.
Once, a broken collarbone.
He tells her it’s not my fault.
I can hear him.
It only makes her madder.
It always happens on nights like this.
The front door slams, and I jump, but I hold a hoof over my mouth.
I’m supposed to stay quiet.
“Hi, honey,” Dad says.
“I have some soup almost ready.
Why don’t you go lie down on the couch, and I’ll give you a neck rub while it simmers.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Mom says.
Why won’t she ever let him do something nice for her?
She always twists it.
I do hear the sound of her flopping onto the couch.
Maybe this time.
This time will be different.
“Where’s Scootaloo?”
My wings twitch, and I huddle into the pile of winter coats.
“At the neighbor’s.”
“It’s dinnertime,” Mom growls.
“She knows she’s supposed to be home when I have to work late.
These storms don’t make themselves.”
I used to stay overnight with my friends or have dinner with them.
That was a long time ago.
I have to watch the clock now.
“It’s okay.
It can just be us tonight.”
It always happens on nights like this.
A loud bang, and I grit my teeth.
Water sloshes on the floor, glass breaks, somepony cries out.
“You think I slave at work so my daughter can ignore the rules?” she roars.
“No, no!
It’s okay, please.
Just calm down.”
I clench my jaw and cover my ears.
It doesn’t help.
It never helps.
I have to hold still or she’ll hear me.
Maybe if she hears me, she won’t be so angry with Dad.
It’s… it’s not fair.
It’s not fair for him.
I’m here, not at the neighbors and I’ll just tell her, say that I wanted to surprise
her, that… that I love her.
It was a little prank, and I made Dad do it, and I’m sorry.
“This is my home!
I pay the bills around here, and I won’t have you undermining my authority with Scootaloo!”
More glass, then a cabinet slams shut, and there’s a loud thump.
“Alright, alright!
Just…
I’ll go get her.
I’ll go get her, and we’ll have dinner.
I’ll cook some more soup.
Just please, don’t…
don’t be mad with her.
It’s not her fault.”
My h-hooves, they’re sh-shaking, and…
I can see a little in here now.
From the slit of light under the door, I can just make out my hooves, trembling.
But I can’t feel it.
I can’t feel it.
No more words, just harsh screams, like a wolverine, over and over.
It doesn’t stop.
It’s never been this bad before.
Dull thuds, slowing now, then… silence.
Except…
Hoofsteps, sometimes limping, sometimes sliding, coming toward the closet.
Dad didn’t know.
I didn’t want him to know, but I got a knife from the kitchen, in case he needed my help.
He’d never think I would have done that, that I could, but it’s not fair for him.
Somepony needs to look out for him.
I don’t cry.
I never cry.
The dying light glints off its blade.
Don’t come out, he said.
For anything.
I tighten my grip on the handle, brace it with the other hoof.
The doorknob turns.
My breath catches in my throat.
Slowly, the door opens.
And I lunge.
It always happens on nights like this.
I can’t tell the rain from the thunder, and I huddle in my closet.
It’s my own room, anyway.
None of the other kids in the group home ever come in here.
The social workers made sure I had a room to myself.
None of them know.
A knock sounds at the bedroom door, and a shiver buckles my knees.
“You in there, Scoots?
It’s me, Rainbow Dash.
I had to work late, but I figured we might get some popcorn and watch a movie.
Sound good?”
My hooves won’t hold still.
“Scootaloo?”
No, no, he doesn’t deserve this.
Leave Dad alone!
Hoofsteps.
I have to keep quiet, but I can’t!
“You here?
The receptionist hadn’t signed you out.”
I grip my pocketknife.
The hoofsteps get closer, and I whimper.
I…
I miss Dad.
Dammit, I miss Mom.
“Oh, yeah, I…
I guess you weird out a little on stormy nights.
You okay?
Just some rain.
Nothin’ to worry about.”
I have to help Dad.
My whole body tenses.
The doorknob turns.
She doesn’t ask, and I don’t know what made her figure I needed it, but she just
hugs me, and I love her for it.
She doesn’t ask, but I tell her anyway.
And I cry.
Finally.
The End
Hello everypony Snogwritts here, congratulations for making it to the end of this video.
As always I definitely enjoyed reading this fic to all of you.
Alright then let’s start reviewing this fic.
Ok so heres this,
Now I believed this fits main component is all tone which is very good and definitely
makes you feel for scootaloo here, but there a few things to be concerned about.
For one, how did scootaloo murder somepony on the household without her mother noticing?
That doesn’t seem to make sense.
Her mother suddenly disappeared which makes me believe she was killed as well, but you
to keep in mind it wouldn’t make sense if the two corpses are unaccounted for.
I definitely see what the author was going with this especially in this fics genre, but
at least there has to be some kind of relevancy to where the bodies went.
Also, the point where Rainbow dash didn’t notice her absence of her parents on a late
night like this, it doesn’t add up either.
This is a common mistake, make sure no matter how imaginative a story is, it still needs
to stick to reality.
Heres another mistake, every sentence seems to start with “I” and from the format
if this story as a first person narrative, its also a common mistake.
The reason I say this is because using ‘I” too much doesn’t open for other feelings,
which is crucial to a format like this.
Especially, when incorporating figurative language.
The vocabulary and structure of the story definitely helped it become what it intends
to make the reader feel, but the author can do a lot better with this story.
Overall, this story was pretty decent, but I suggest the author do a lot more to meet
the fullest potential of this story.
Alright lets wrap this video up,
Today marks the 5th month of the channel and as of this video I have 79 subscribers, thank
you all so much for your support its been a great five months the channel is almost
to 100 subscribers and that is just amazing.
I like to thank each and every one of you and I wouldn’t have gone this far without
all of you.
But wait theres more, its officially the summer for me which means more time to make videos,
i’ll release channel update later so you can get idea of whats coming up in the channel.
And I like to announce the first rewritten analysis series video will release next week,
so now the reviews will be separate.
Hope you all look forward to it.
Aside from that, thank you for listening fellow viewer and if you like the video please leave
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Alright thats it for me this is Snogwritts signing out.