Born On A Rock Farm

by Aragon

Chapter 2: Birth

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“She’s healthy, but... her hooves…”

Inkie always had the feeling that there were certain patterns, certain words, colors, or even images, that followed her. Some only appeared for a short amount of time, while some others would always be there, as a reminder. Of what, exactly, she could never be sure.

But of all the things that followed her, those five words were the most important ones. The first thing the doctor ever said to her parents when she was born, and the first words that anypony would say when they introduced her.

She was born too early. A small, grey filly, too weak to walk on her own when she came to this world. Her parents were afraid that she would not make it. Her birth wasn’t pretty—there was blood, she was crying, and there was pain. So much pain.

During the years that followed by, Inkie would always think that she could remember it. How the darkness turned into light, how the warmth of her mother’s body would be gone to be substituted by the chilly air, and how her four hooves would burn. The burning sensation never went away.

So when the doctor saw her, he immediately took her away from her parents, and tried to save her life.

He would find out pretty soon that Inkie Pie’s weakness was too great to kill her so soon.

“She’s healthy,” the doctor said when he finally went back to her parents, trying to calm them, to stop their tears, “but… her hooves...”

“Her hooves?” her father asked. “What… What is wrong with her hooves?”

Everything was wrong with her hooves. Absolutely everything. The medical details, Inkie never knew, or if she knew, she never minded.

Inkie Pie couldn’t walk without special boots, or that’s what the doctor told her. But she never listened. Instead of hard and resilient, Inkie’s hooves were sensitive, soft and delicate. They never developed the whole way through.

She was born too soon, so she was incomplete. She was not a real pony, or that’s what she always thought. She was less than a pony. She was a project, an outline, a ghost.

But she refused to wear those boots. Her parents argued with her, the doctors told her that it would only worsen her condition. She didn’t care. She’d been a friend of pain since the moment she was born. Why would she fear it?

So Inkie Pie never wore those boots and always walked barehoofed, feeling the ground with more sensitivity than any other pony. They were trying to make her complete, to turn her into a fake full pony, to artificially hide who she really was. So she refused.

Every step would be painful, and now and then the blood would appear again and it would mark the path she had walked. A trail of red hoofsteps, of bloody drawings in the land. She liked it. It hurt, but she liked it.

Inkie Pie was not a complete pony, and she never forgot. She lived her life as a fake pony. She marked her way as a fake pony. And she always felt pain as a fake pony.

Nopony ever understood that, because she never bothered to explain it.

Next Chapter: Childhood Estimated time remaining: 39 Minutes
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