Hey guys! I’m back with the fourth installment of Try to Be a Good Mummah. It’s a little shorter this time, but I hope you all enjoy it regardless. Please let me know any thoughts you have in the comments, you all know that I’m always looking for constructive criticism I’m particular by now, I’m sure.
This series is gonna go on a bit longer than originally planned, I hope you’ll keep along for the full story.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
You are Opal, an aspiring mummah fluffy. Today you made a big mistake. A really, really big one. Actually, scratch that. It’s not a mistake, you MEANT to throw your baby on the ground. You intended for things to turn out differently, but you did do it on purpose.
The can didn’t break, or open, but the foal inside bounced violently off the walls of the enclosure. There was boo-boo juice, which is always bad. The baby isn’t moving. Which is even worse.
You hope desperately that your new baby is just sleeping, even though deep, deep down, you know she is never going to wake up again.
“Opaw bad mummah.” You can’t help but say. In fact, you’re having trouble stringing coherent thoughts together, even more than usual. “Opaw gib aww babbehs foweba sweepies.”
You can’t stop staring at the can, which settled just outside your nest. You’re too afraid to go and check on her. You don’t want to know exactly how bad you hurt her. If she wakes up, you hope she will still love you.
Yesterday, the excitement of finally having a baby kept your mind off your broken tail, but the tip of it hangs limply, and throbs painfully. It’s warmer near the break, but not in a pleasant way. You try to give your tail lickie-cleanies, but it just causes you more pain.
You keep at it, trying to make your tail feel pretty again. You give it huggies. You coo to it. You do all the things for your tail that you KNOW you should be doing for your baby.
But you know those things won’t work on babies. Huggies and love and mummah songs don’t wake up forever-sleepies babies. They never have for you.
You briefly wish for these actions to do something about your pain, but quickly replace that hope. Truly you hope the pretty little filly foal in the can is alive and well, your concern for her far more important to you than even your own welfare.
You’ve always wanted babies. Even Mummah Jane wanted you to be a good mummah. You know you’re disappointing her, wherever she is. She only ever asked you to be a good mummah. Why is that the one thing you can’t do right?!
Other fluffies, even ones more dummy than you have babies. They have foals that peep and chirp, that talk and drink milkies, that run and play and give hugs and love. It’s not fair!
You have, in even darker moments, considered just taking a baby from a particularly bad mummah. Or begging, even for a poopie colored baby. You always dismiss these thoughts. You’ve seen foals cry when taken from their parents. It’s too sad a sound and sight to put yourself or a baby fluffy through that.
All the heart hurties get to you, and tears spill over your cheeks and onto the ground as your body is wracked with sobs. You can’t hold all these bad feelings in you anymore. The world is a big meanie. You feel like if you can’t have babies, there’s not much point in being awake.
You wish for forever sleepies. You want to be with all your foals, having good forever dreams. You cry even harder thinking about them. About the strong and special fluffies they would have been. About how they could have even been your friends. You wished desperately for a friend right now, or even a hug. You wanted a hug worse than anything. It had been a very long time since your last one.
You drift off to sleep after crying yourself hoarse. You have nightmares about the filly foal taking forever sleepies, and hating you for it. You can still hear the echoes from her screaming “Hate chu, Mummah!”
Hearing that woke you up immediately. You find that you were already crying. You feel good and bad. You know the baby hates you, but she still called you “Mummah” which gave you heart happies, but having heart happies makes your heart hurties even worse. Because the can hasn’t moved at all since you threw it.
But on second look, the baby inside is curled around the nipple to it’s food source, the rapidly depleting nutri-slurry in the can.
Your baby is alive!
YOUR BABY IS ALIVE.
You stop feeling almost anything for a moment. Your tail stops hurting, your throat stops burning. Your eyes stop watering. The synapses in your brain are pumped full of only a single feeling.
You haven’t felt this feeling in a while. And lately it’s only been in bits and pieces, here and there. When a human throws you the nummies they don’t finish, or the really sweet colorful waters they sometimes throw at you. When you thought you were going to be a mummah. When you lived with Mummah Jane.
This feeling is hope. You recognize it instantly.
This is your chance to be a good mummah. This baby is your chance to do it right.
This little filly girl, you’ve decided, is your Chance. You’d give her that name as soon as you got her out of her prison.
You’re sure she will love it.
