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MOVE = By The Scratch

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Jul 22nd, 2013
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  1. MOVE
  4. Life just shits on you in the most ironic ways sometimes. Sure crapped out a whopper for me.
  6. My name is Rachael Dixon. Seventeen years old. Used to be a track and field star in high school, back before the accident. I was one of the best, getting top scores and beating school records on a daily basis. Heck, they said I had the potential to run in the Olympics.
  8. Of course, when said accident occurred four weeks ago, my legs stopped being the fastest in town and became more akin to jelly. I couldn't move them, or anything from the hips down anymore. I couldn't run.
  10. I didn't know what to do with myself at that point. All of that training? All of those victories? Cut short because some some faggot of a drunk that decided to go and hit me on the highway. It wasn't pretty. I still have the scars for it.
  12. "Rachael? Rachael!" I heard someone call me from my room. Mom. I didn't respond. I didn't feel like it anymore. I just stared up at my ceiling, counting the number of time the fan rotated.
  14. She opened my door. She didn't seem angry at me this time. She used to be angry to me a lot, but I guess the accident changed that. She looked to me with a bit more hope than usual.
  16. "Rachael, your friend from school want to see you." She told me. "She has some of the homework you missed."
  18. I look to her. For a moment I could not recognize her face. But a second glance reminded me. I didn't smile.
  20. "Sure." I tell her. I didn't have the strength to refuse or oppose her anymore.
  22. She nods. She takes a deep breath and closes the door. I could hear her talking. Warning how I have been in a rut lately. Rut my ass, I just lost my purpose in life.
  24. My friend, Florence Shandren, opens the door. She was wearing that green sweater of hers. Blonde hair. Green eyes. She always was prettier than I was. But she never really could get a guy. She was so nervous. But we've been friends since elementary school. Even now, I can't stop myself from trying to make her feel comfortable.
  26. "Ey' Flo." I tell her, struggling to get off my numb ass and sit up on my bed. "He... Hey..." She replies, still not used to me being like this. I notice she's carrying some paper work, which she hands over. I put it aside. "So how's the school been since I've been gone?" I asked. Physical therapy has had me down for weeks now. I had no time for school, nor any desire to go back to the place that once saw me as their poster child.
  28. "It's been okay." She says sheepishly. "But it hasn't been the same without you. Everyone misses you."
  30. "Right." I reply, not believing her but trying to be nice anyway.
  32. "You... You're mom said you can come back to school tomorrow." She tells me.
  34. "Tch." I click my tongue. School was the last place I wanted to be.
  36. "Rachael, please? We all miss you..."
  38. I rub my hand through my short hair, looking back to her pleading eyes. Fuck, I could never say no to a face like that, even when I knew I was going to regret this.
  40. I give her a weak smile.
  42. "Alright. Sure. Tomorrow then."
  45. ===
  47. Wheelchairs suck. They suck hard and I hate them forever.
  49. Florence pushed my chair through the school hall as I recollected all of my books. I got plenty of looks from the alumni. Some of pity, some of interest in seeing a cripple at an otherwise cripple-free school. I got so many comments about how some of them were 'so sorry' for what happened to me. Like as if their apologizes will somehow make me walk again. Assholes.
  51. I started pulling myself around eventually. Florence walked beside me instead. It felt better. I felt like I had more freedom when I could choose where to go.
  53. Classmates seemed to go out of their way to both make me feel comfortable and avoid me at the same time. They offered to wheel me into the classroom, but everyone avoided me during lunch. It's like they are all doing this just for appearances. They ACT like they care, but all they feel is that they are obliged to help me. Like society demands it.
  55. Well screw them all.
  57. During lunch I managed to sneak away from Florence for a few short minutes. I went to the track field. I smelt the freshly cut grass, gazing into the empty stadium.
  59. I used to go here early in the morning before classes started and run a mile or two as warmup for practice later that day. It felt good, being able to run on your own. No distractions, no cheers. Just me and the track.
  61. It took some time, but I managed to wheel myself to the track's starting line. I could feel it again. My heart racing. The race. The speed.
  63. I push.
  65. My wheelchair starts moving foward. I can feel it again. The wind in my hair, that freedom I was so fond of. I push harder. Harder. I could see colors streaking past me. The world becoming a blur, replaced with the colors of the rainbow. I never saw anything like it. The prismatic display of pure speed. I wanted to see it. I wanted to be it!
  67. Faster... Faster!
  69. Fas-OOF!
  71. I forgot that wheelchairs were terrible with turns. And at the first one, the chair tips and falls, and I faceplant onto the grass, with nothing harmed except for my pride.
  73. "Dammit. DAMMIT!" I yell, slamming my fists into the grass. I could feel it. I could feel myself speeding up, faster than ever.
  75. But what was it? What the hell was I doing that I never did as a track and field runner?
  77. Well whatever it was, I had to do it again. I had to see that rainbow again.
  79. ==
  81. Florence came back to pick me up when she noticed I had not gone back to class for twenty minutes. She seemed so concerned for me. At least it seemed genuine.
  83. "How did you get yourself in this mess Rachael?" She asked in a doting manner, beginning to lift my grass-stained self back into my chair, like she was my mom. Still, I guess at this point I needed someone doting over me to make sure shit like this didn't happen again.
  85. "I got my wheel stuck on the curb." I lied. "I was just here for... Yanno, old times sake."
  87. "W-well be sure to bring someone with you next time, okay?" She told me, trying to be assertive. She means well, but she's starting to be a bit of a pain. I just nod. "Yeah, sure."
  89. School was uneventful and breezed by for the last few hours. I found myself not really paying attention to anyone or anything except that moment when I was moving. I could feel streaks of colors pass me. That isn't normal, but it felt so liberating. Like I had nothing holding me back.
  91. If it wasn't for that damn turn, maybe I could have done something amazing.
  93. I'd have to go somewhere with no turns. Like a side walk. Yeah, I could get plenty of speed there.
  95. When classes end, I move on without Florence, and start wheeling like mad the moment I reach the sidewalk.
  97. I put my arm muscles to the test as I could feel myself beginning to feel that speed again. The colors returning to me.
  99. But I stop to a screeching halt. For a second there I thought I had reached the edge of the sidewalk, until I looked down.
  101. At the edge of this hill was a huge, steep slope. Goes all the way to the other street with no breaks or turns. It was perfect. I could catch so much speed here!
  103. And I am about to give that one push, before I feel something hold me back.
  105. Florence had grabbed my chair.
  107. "Leggo, Flo! C'mon, leggo!" I struggle, trying to push myself from her grasp."A-Are you crazy!?" She protested to me, pulling me back from my salvation. My calling. "Stop it!" I yell, I squirm, but I can't get away from this prison of a chair. "I won't let you get yourself killed!" She yelled back. That stopped me cold.
  109. "Y-You're my best friend! And just because you got a little setback here, does not mean you should throw your life away like that!" She said, now on the verge of tears. Wait, she thought I was trying to... Off myself? Why the hell would I be-Oh. OH. Yeah rolling into a dangerous street on your own could look like that couldn't it? Fuck.
  111. "I'm sorry..." I look away from her, rubbing my arms. That was a terrible out of context experience, and I could not talk my way out of it. Flo cares for me, and I don't want her to worry about me like that.
  113. "Let's just go home." She says with a sniff, wheeling me back to my place. But already I had a new way to get that speed I craved. I'd just have to be a bit more... Dangerous.
  115. ===
  117. Well thanks to Florence, my mom decided to lock me into my room tonight. Great.
  119. I guess I can understand: You don't want your suicidal daughter going out to try getting hit by cars again, but it doesn't stop it from being incredibly frustrating anyway. I had to find some way to get outside. I had my wheelchair, which was fold-able near my bed. And I had a window beside my bed. Which was unlocked. And I was on the first floor. Knowing what to do, I unlock the window and, quietly, slide it open. It was 3 AM, but I didn't want to risk waking up my mom. I slide out my wheelchair and push it outside, where it lands in the backyard with a thud. Then, I pull the rest of myself outside. Also with a painful thud. I was going to feel that bruise on my shoulder tomorrow, that's for sure.
  121. With some effort, I unfolded the wheelchair and managed to pull myself up onto it's seat. From there it was just wheeling to the backyard door, unlocking it, and wheeling out into the street.
  123. There was a road nearby. It was much like the sidewalk, but it was steeper, and smoother. It ended at a cul-de-sac, but had at least half a block for me to pick up speed. I was hurting with that fall earlier, but this was my last chance to really feel that speed. Because after this, I doubt my mom will let me be on my own ever again.
  125. I move.
  127. I push harder than I ever have before. I zoom down like a bullet, my wheels spinning into circular blurs as I could feel it again. The freedom, the rainbow returning once more. I could feel the streaks brushing over me, coating my skin with their blue residue like body paint. I didn't care, I kept moving.
  129. It was getting faster now, my hair being pulled so far back it felt like it was getting longer, flowing as it too, was stained in all six colors. I didn't give two fucks. I kept pushing.
  131. I felt myself getting encapsulated by the rainbow that surrounded me. I was like a bullet, zooming down that road. My wheelchair could barely take it anymore, the wheels melting from the friction of how fast we were going on this seemingly endless road.
  133. "A... Little... More...!" I mutter through my teeth, my eyes squinting, my mouth being blown back by the wind. I could feel my body changing. I could feel it ALL, even in my bottom half. I was getting smoothed down. Becoming aerodynamic. But I paused as I kept moving. A little more what? What was I aiming for here?
  135. But then confidence grew in me. I knew what I was aiming for. The end of the rainbow.
  137. I began lifting myself from the chair. I didn't need it anymore. But the push of wind was making it difficult. I couldn't let it hold me back. I could feel something growing on my back. I could feel them move. They felt powerful. I gritted my teeth, my muzzle growing in ever so slowly, my eyes growing as they squinted, and a bright, glowing light shining on my flank.
  139. I could feel my mind being awashed by the rainbows. New memories, new thoughts. New dawnings and realizations. My legs, my healthy, blue legs, start pushing themselves off the foot holds, and onto the seat. I was near the end. My new wings were fluttering, ready at any time.
  141. And with one, blinding light, I took off. An explosion of light and color covering the entire neighborhood as I flew into the night sky.
  143. I hovered hundreds of miles above town. My Sonic Rainboom had stirred up the entire city. It made me feel... Confident. I looked at myself. I gasped a bit, finally realizing that all the changes had turned me into some kind of pony! A blue one at that! I mean, I don't mind being able to walk now, but this was still pretty freaking... Wait. Something is coming back to me now... Yeah. Yeah of course!
  145. I realized the truth now: I was never Rachael Dixon to begin with. I was Rainbow Dash, the Element of Loyalty and the greatest flyer in this world and the next. I didn't know how I got here or why I was a human beforehand, but I needed to find the rest of my friends!
  147. I zoom off. I didn't know where Twilight and the gang were, but I sure as heck knew where Flo... Flore... Fluttershy was.
  149. And I had to save her!
  153. =======
  155. Florence sat alone in her room, adorned with cartoons, figurines, and my little pony dolls. She held her favorite doll, Firefly, close to her. She reminded her so much of Rachael. She sighed. She was getting too old for dolls and childish things like this, but it helped make her feel so comfterble. So safe. But...
  157. She hears a knock on the window. It causes her to flinch a bit, but she looks outside. The knock is gentle. Not one of someone trying to break in. She goes to her window, and pulls open the curtains.
  159. There, in front of her, was a smiling, flying pony. Like from the TV show she loved as a kid.
  161. It took everything in her power to not scream.
  163. "Pssssst, Fluttershy!" The pony whispered, pressing her muzzle onto the window. "We need to talk...!"
  165. The pony seemed so adorable and innocent. Flashing those large magenta eyes at her. But that still didn't make this any more terrifying.
  167. "I'm... I'm not Fluttershy." She whispered. Stepping back.
  169. "Well sure you are, Flo."
  171. That caught Florence's attention. No one called her Flo, except.
  173. "R-Rachael!?"
  175. "Well duh! But call me Rainbow Dash alright?"
  177. A blink. "Well Rach-"
  179. "Rainbow."
  181. "How... How did this happen to you? W-What's going on?"
  183. "Just lemme in, okay? I'll explain it all to you, okay?"
  185. She pauses. Her hands shaking. This was her friend, right? Her best friend? Yeah. Of course she was. Just like Firefly.
  187. She opens the window.
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