For the Masses · 7:37am Dec 24th, 2012
Y'know how I said the first finale was just around the corner? Well, I was being optimistic. I didn't lie! Soon: it will be here soon.
To hold you off I give you a small excerpt in all its unedited glory: suggestive, but not considered nsfw.
Sand. Jer hated sand.
It was gritty, coarse, and got everywhere. The softest bed was ruined by even the smallest pile of the stuff. It got in your eyes; your mouth; your ears; your food. The crunching and the shifting... it's unbearable.
Despite his animosity toward sediment, however, Gerald loved his planet.
The great, green sun of Jiboomi was dipping below the towering dunes on the endless horizon. A gust of wind picked up the loose ground outside the New Kilkenny Orphanarium, stinging his naked ankles. He watched, waiting for the Flash.
Dinner was over and Sister Agnes was rounding up the younglings and the sun was setting and he was waiting for the Flash.
The shallow sand crunched beside him.
“You’re never gonna see it Jay-Jay,” an exasperated voice sounded to his left. “You can’t see the Flash by looking for it.”
“Shuddup, Dulce. This is the night, I can feel it.”
“C’mon inside Jer, please?” she pleaded. “The nuns’ll be asleep soon, and then we can race summore,” the voice took on a seductive edge, “or we could play doctor again…”
Jer glanced away from the horizon for a moment. She had her hands on her hips, threadbare clothing covering the minimum of her tanned skin. She spent far too much time in the sun, but he wasn’t one to complain. If she got skin cancer he would take her to the clinic: he had a few shares stashed away from his time at the Complaints Office.
Russet curls hung in front of her eyes, partly covering the pair of corrective lenses nestled on the bridge of her petite, freckled nose. She stood straight, chest thrust outward. Jer couldn’t see anything under her rumpled sweater, but he knew there was a firmness underneath, fitting, warm, real. Following his gaze, she smirked at him and shook her shoulders. A thin film of sand patched her cheeks, and a few granules stuck to the corner of her mouth, defiling the edge of her soft lips.
His mind was wandering.
“Not tonight, hun,” Jer stated with conviction. He turned away, but not before catching her frown. She shouldn’t do that. He didn’t like it when she did that…
“Goodnight, Jay-Jay. Please come in soon alright?” More sand crunched, but he ignored it in favor of the horizon. The sun was dipping low, only a corona of pale green over the dunes. The light was leaving, and the stars were creeping in…
Another gust of wind. More stinging.
Not tonight. It wasn’t tonight. Jer blinked, and made ready to head inside. Dulce probably hadn’t made it in yet. He’d jog to catch up.
Suddenly, the horizon lit up like the flashbulb on an ancient camera. Red light spilled over the edge of the world, coloring the sky in one brief, glorious moment. It seared Gerald’s eyes, leaving a glaring afterimage seconds after it disappeared, and the night ruled Jiboomi under an icy fist.
“Dulce! I saw it! I saw—”
She was right behind him. Her eyes filled with hot tears; mouth twisted in a silent, endless scream as her flesh roiled under pressure from within. Blood poured from her nostrils, and she clawed at herself, tearing away her sweater just in time for a ragged, meaty crunch of breaking bone and tearing skin.
The bug slithered into the night and she fell and the sky stared down emptily on them while the iron wheels rattled and clanked and the wind rushed and she was dead and the blood and the blood and the blood! He didn’t even have time to scream because…
Because he was on a train to Canterlot.
Mares and fillies alike looked at him fearfully. Had he screamed? Jer looked out the window: it was dark, but he could make out the capitol in the distance, encased in an enormous, purple bubble. They would be there by morning, probably.
They had boarded the train at five o’clock, much to Sparky’s relief. Apparently the trains in Equestria were notorious for their tardiness, and Sparky couldn’t stand tardiness. Jer remembered discussing the merits of rock farming, potatoes, and the concept of “Tartarus” with Pinks before falling asleep while ignoring Sparky’s endless questions.
Jer was proud of his defense mechanisms, and he smiled quietly to himself. He noticed tears rolling down his cheeks and quickly wiped them away with a sigh.
Dreams: he’d been having more of them lately. They’d been this bad during the Earth campaign five years ago, but dropped off almost completely after that grenade went off near his head. Now they were back, and he didn’t much like the idea of nearly killing himself again. He could wait to see Hell again until Lucy did some remodeling.
Suddenly, the ex-marine became aware of a soft presence on his arm. He looked down, only to find a little orange pegasus clinging desperately to his arm. She looked up at him, eyes wide and quivering. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. Jer simply lifted his arm, depositing the filly in his lap, and began to stroke her mane.
“Sucks to be scared, huh?”
Scoots nodded. He could feel her head move as he pet her.
“Yeah, well, there’s nothing to be afraid of…” he paused, staring at the child in his lap, “There’s no such thing as monsters.”
Happy Holidays!
-CI
