Many years ago, in the depths of time and space and all of the up-to-infinite-dimensions in the universe, I lived in the small town of Manetree with my Mum, Dad, and three sisters. Ever since I got my cutie mark, it had become a bit of a running joke that one day I would join the Wonderbolts. To be totally honest, I hardly ever even considered it.

I had seen my first ever Wonderbolts show before I got my cutie mark, and although I was stunned, awed, and many other highly descriptive words, I didn’t think I was good enough to join. And I didn’t really care, either. I liked flying, and I liked flying very, very, fast, but because of how tiny Manetree is, I never had the chance to race against anypony who was actually really good.

Eventually though, my sisters convinced me to apply. I filled out and submitted my form, and nothing happened. Nothing continued to happen for quite some while, and we all forgot about it. Up until the point where one of the ‘Bolts arrived outside our house and told me that they were considering accepting me. All I had to do was perform a routine for them.

The day came and I was very nervous. As in incredibly nervous. Trembling-legs-may-cause-you-to-fall-over nervous. My sisters helped me to get into the air, but once I was up there everything became very easy. I just flew, performed some basic tricks that I had come up with over the years, and when it was over they accepted me.

I’ve never looked back since.