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Miss DashOn a normal day like any otheror so everypony else thoughtI saw her for the first time. She'd crashed into the cherry stand in the Ponyville market area, and I fell for her. It might sound odd to anypony else who wasn't there, but, the thing is she was just so graceful when she fell. She landed atop the cherries, yet none of them were damaged. It was almost as if she were light as a feather.
"Sorry," she had stated oh so dashingly. Yet as quickly as she'd arrived, she was off, her rainbow-colored mane and tail flowing in the cool air. I might have followed her if it weren't for my lack of Pegasus form. If I was even graced with the slightest pin of magic, I could've perhaps glided alongside her, and danced upon the cotton candy clouds. Alas, I am, and always have been, but an earth pony, limited to grazing on the succulent but somehow dissatisfying earth.
However, I strove to meet her. I couldn't sleep without her invading my dreams, her tomboy-esque voice entering my
Oh, Rebecca Ch 2Rebecca sat in AP Chemistry, unusually unfocused. For some reason, her mind was drifting around that awkward area of boyswell, to be specific, one certain boyshe couldn't think his name out loud (even in her own head), it would be too embarrassing! She shook her head, looking back at her worksheet. Oddly enough, everything written on the paper seemed, well, foreign to her. It was weird; chem was her thing.
Ugh, she thought. This was another reason why she didn't bother socializing with others. It distracted her too much from her work. Sure, she was at the top of her class, but her guidance counselor had informed her that a student (who wished to remain anonymous) was a close second. She couldn't let her guard down, not for one minute.
I mean, it's not like he meant anything by it. It was total pity, one side of her head thought.
Of course he did, you stupid! He almost kissed you. There's something there, the other protested.
A third thought poppe
Oh, Rebecca: Ch 1Mitch Knight closed Rebecca's diary silently. Those things she thought people hated about her were the things he'd admired. Well, at least for the short time he'd known her, if you could call that knowing her. They were partnered up in English class for a book project. She seemed reluctant at first, telling the teacher that she'd prefer to work alone, but Mitch insisted that they would be a great pair. But now he saw why she'd acted that way.
She'd left it on his desk, earlier. It was just a normal notebook, so Mitch thought it contained information about the project. After he realized it was her journal, he wanted to close it, but the entry was just too enticing to keep reading. He'd never felt more sympathy (or empathy, he couldn't ever tell the difference) for anyone he'd ever met. The only thing he wanted to do was take her in his arms and squeeze her tightly, stroking her natural black hair and whisper that he cared.
He clutched the notebook to his chest. He didn't get it. He didn
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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