Post by darktobias13 on Apr 17, 2013 16:14:56 GMT
(note, i almost cried, and made the girl watching me type it almost cry)
Let me start this story from the beginning.
My true name is Snowstorm. I was born in Stalliongrad, with my pelt and mane both pure white. The doctors said I was one of the most energetic foals they had ever seen. The only complication was my eyes. My eyes would not stay one color for long, always changing. They did tests on me to try and find out the cause, but to no avail. The only theory that stuck was that my magic was fluctuating, causing random effects. They assumed that my eyes would stop changing by age 3.
Ten years later, I was being ostracized at school. There were two main jokes about me. The first was about my coloring, and how I would blend into the snow. They would say that if I was sneaking up on someone, the only warning would be my eyes. The second was no joke. At some point, another foal had been taught what changelings are. How they can change everything that they look like. He drew the connection, and suddenly everyone at school thought I was a changeling. I would get threatened, bullied, and beat up daily. Adults didn’t seem to notice or care. I was just the strange son of the past mayor of Stalliongrad.
My dad tried to teach me how to fight back, but I’m just not the fighting type. I loved to take things apart and put them back together again. He had to start hiding machines to keep me from disassembling them. But I always found them. At one point he surprised me, coming home early, while I was in the middle of taking the stereo apart. He walked in, and tried to turn it on, but couldn’t get it to start. When he examined it, the frame fell off, and all of the parts lay scattered inside, where I had left them. I hid in the snow until he had calmed down.
But the one person who was always there for me was my big sister. Her name was Thread Dancer. I loved her more than anyone. When she had first heard about the taunts about me being invisible, she knitted me a massive, bright red scarf that enabled me to be seen, plus keeping me warm. When she discovered my interest in machines, she not only let me take apart her sewing machine, but bought me my very own pair of welder’s goggles. I was so excited that I wore them everywhere. I still do to this day.
But everything changed one day, the day that was supposed to my best ever. The day I received my cutie mark. I had been at school, working with a clock, when the teacher complained about not having a reliable pencil sharpener. I thought for a moment and ran over to ask her If I could try making something. When she said yes, I took apart the pencil sharpener, and took the blade. Mixing it with the clock parts, I made a windable sharpener. She tried it and it worked like a charm, I was so elated, that when I felt something on my flank, I turned and saw the light fading. In its spot, was a trio of gears. My already good mood hit the roof. I ran home and showed everybody, my sister said she was already planning the biggest party for me to celebrate.
I decided to do something nice for her, test out my inventing skills. With permission from my parents, I disassembled several items. I decided to make her a new sewing machine, to make up for the one I had taken apart. I took parts from the machines I had made, and put them together. I should have just put the original back together, but the sewing machine had to be the best, for the best sister. When it was done, I bounced down the stairs to tell her. She decided to try it out and make me a new outfit for my party. I followed her up to the sewing room, excited to see her use it. I saw her hit the power button, and the next thing I knew, I was laying in the snow outside my house. The place where the room had been was gone. Fire raged and crackled. My parents said that as I was carried away, I never stopped screaming trying to run back to save her.
The accident changed me. The massive emotional trauma threw my magic control into overdrive. My emotions would gather colossal amounts of magic, then burn itself out. My pelt was permanently darkened by the fire, to its dark gray color you see today. My hair was burnt, and I keep it that way to remind myself of what happens when I mess up. I don’t know how I messed up so bad, but I did. I messed up, and killed someone I love. The first night I was out of the hospital, I ran away. I took my goggles, scarf, and toolbag, and left. I couldn’t stay in this city, see the burnt out hole in my house. I couldn’t take the looks I would get from the other ponies. I had to go.
I renamed myself Gearshift, to signify my shift in outlook. This is why I test all of my inventions on myself. At least then, I know I am the only one being hurt for my mistakes. I will never let anyone be hurt by what I make ever again. I will not forget, or be able to forget, the day I killed my sister.
Let me start this story from the beginning.
My true name is Snowstorm. I was born in Stalliongrad, with my pelt and mane both pure white. The doctors said I was one of the most energetic foals they had ever seen. The only complication was my eyes. My eyes would not stay one color for long, always changing. They did tests on me to try and find out the cause, but to no avail. The only theory that stuck was that my magic was fluctuating, causing random effects. They assumed that my eyes would stop changing by age 3.
Ten years later, I was being ostracized at school. There were two main jokes about me. The first was about my coloring, and how I would blend into the snow. They would say that if I was sneaking up on someone, the only warning would be my eyes. The second was no joke. At some point, another foal had been taught what changelings are. How they can change everything that they look like. He drew the connection, and suddenly everyone at school thought I was a changeling. I would get threatened, bullied, and beat up daily. Adults didn’t seem to notice or care. I was just the strange son of the past mayor of Stalliongrad.
My dad tried to teach me how to fight back, but I’m just not the fighting type. I loved to take things apart and put them back together again. He had to start hiding machines to keep me from disassembling them. But I always found them. At one point he surprised me, coming home early, while I was in the middle of taking the stereo apart. He walked in, and tried to turn it on, but couldn’t get it to start. When he examined it, the frame fell off, and all of the parts lay scattered inside, where I had left them. I hid in the snow until he had calmed down.
But the one person who was always there for me was my big sister. Her name was Thread Dancer. I loved her more than anyone. When she had first heard about the taunts about me being invisible, she knitted me a massive, bright red scarf that enabled me to be seen, plus keeping me warm. When she discovered my interest in machines, she not only let me take apart her sewing machine, but bought me my very own pair of welder’s goggles. I was so excited that I wore them everywhere. I still do to this day.
But everything changed one day, the day that was supposed to my best ever. The day I received my cutie mark. I had been at school, working with a clock, when the teacher complained about not having a reliable pencil sharpener. I thought for a moment and ran over to ask her If I could try making something. When she said yes, I took apart the pencil sharpener, and took the blade. Mixing it with the clock parts, I made a windable sharpener. She tried it and it worked like a charm, I was so elated, that when I felt something on my flank, I turned and saw the light fading. In its spot, was a trio of gears. My already good mood hit the roof. I ran home and showed everybody, my sister said she was already planning the biggest party for me to celebrate.
I decided to do something nice for her, test out my inventing skills. With permission from my parents, I disassembled several items. I decided to make her a new sewing machine, to make up for the one I had taken apart. I took parts from the machines I had made, and put them together. I should have just put the original back together, but the sewing machine had to be the best, for the best sister. When it was done, I bounced down the stairs to tell her. She decided to try it out and make me a new outfit for my party. I followed her up to the sewing room, excited to see her use it. I saw her hit the power button, and the next thing I knew, I was laying in the snow outside my house. The place where the room had been was gone. Fire raged and crackled. My parents said that as I was carried away, I never stopped screaming trying to run back to save her.
The accident changed me. The massive emotional trauma threw my magic control into overdrive. My emotions would gather colossal amounts of magic, then burn itself out. My pelt was permanently darkened by the fire, to its dark gray color you see today. My hair was burnt, and I keep it that way to remind myself of what happens when I mess up. I don’t know how I messed up so bad, but I did. I messed up, and killed someone I love. The first night I was out of the hospital, I ran away. I took my goggles, scarf, and toolbag, and left. I couldn’t stay in this city, see the burnt out hole in my house. I couldn’t take the looks I would get from the other ponies. I had to go.
I renamed myself Gearshift, to signify my shift in outlook. This is why I test all of my inventions on myself. At least then, I know I am the only one being hurt for my mistakes. I will never let anyone be hurt by what I make ever again. I will not forget, or be able to forget, the day I killed my sister.