• Published 2nd Dec 2012
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Xenophilia: Further tales. - TheQuietMan

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23: Today's The Day - by PhucknuckL

Today’s The Day by PhucknuckL (Meddling and interference by TheQuietMan)
Chapter published 23rd Sept 2014

*************

She awoke free from a hangover for the first time in years. The fear she had felt the previous evening that her plans would be discovered in her dreams by Princess Luna seemed to have been for naught.

Drawing back the the curtains she soaked in the sight of the freshly fallen snow that blanketed the sleepy town of Ponyville. The light grey skies and dreary vista - its usual vibrant colours cloaked in a sea of uniform white - could do little to hamper the high spirits of this pony. Turning from the window, she took in the dismal condition of the small bedroom.

Would you look at the state of this place?

Quietly padding over to the door, she exited the room and sought out some cleaning supplies; the search taking longer than expected when she realised she had no idea where even the broom was kept.

How long has it been since I actually cleaned this place?

She was a moment away from waking her daughter to help her find her erstwhile domestic tools when she discovered them hiding in the kitchen pantry. As she gathered them up in crowded hooves, she couldn’t help but notice that their food stocks were shockingly low.

I’m sure I bought more than that for the winter.

She tried to recall what goods she had purchased to see her family through the winter, the recollections failing to surface through the mostly drunken haze that was her memories.

Oh well, one thing at a time, she mused to herself as she set about cleaning the small cottage she shared with her only daughter. Careful not to wake the sleeping filly she cleared out the seemingly endless amount of empty bottles, formerly filled with cheap but potent wine from Berry Punch’s store. She’d never really liked the stuff, but the mental fugue it brought on helped her get past the bitter taste- less bitter than the tears that it had helped to keep at bay at least.

She cleared the house of clutter with barely a chink of glass; then swept, scrubbed and polished every surface. Pretty soon she could stand back and survey the spotless cottage; the house hadn’t ever been this clean since they’d moved in over five years ago.

“A bit early for spring cleaning isn’t it, Mom?” a sleepy voice mumbled from behind the exhausted mare. Startled out of the moment of quiet contentment she spun to face the young filly.

“Ahh… I’m sorry, did I wake you? Can I, ahh… cook you some breakfast?”

The small hoof that was until a second ago rubbing sleep from half closed eyes froze and slowly lowered to the floor. “What?” squeaked the little pony.

“Can I cook you some breakfast?”

A look of confusion flashed across of her daughter’s face as her young, sleep-addled brain tried to comprehend the question she had never, ever heard coming from her mother before.

“I… ahh guess so,” the filly answered hesitantly as she trotted into the kitchen ahead of her mother. Rounding the kitchen bench she grabbed one of the two mismatched stools that were resting upside down on the countertop - a result of the cleaning frenzy that had gripped her mother this morning - and gingerly placed it on the gleaming floor. As she sat herself on the low stool, her mother paced back and forward behind her.

“Mom, what’s going on?” the young filly asked without turning around.

The older mare grimaced to herself. “I don’t know what you like,” she admitted as she checked the mostly empty fridge for the third time.

“Just some toast will be fine” the filly said, knowing full well that that was pretty much the only food her mother would be able to offer.

The mare closed the fridge, opened the freezer and grabbed a frozen loaf of bread. Pulling out two slices she placed them on the counter in a little tent shape before returning the rest of the loaf back to the freezer. Leaving the bread slices to defrost she lit the the stove before clopping around the bench. Placing the other stool onto the kitchen floor, she took a seat. Large violet eyes stared at her from across the table.

“Mom, seriously, what’s going on? Are you drunk already?”

“NO,” the mare snapped back. “I haven’t touched a drink for two days.”

As the teenage filly visibly cringed at her mother’s sharp - and somewhat dubious - reply, the older hung her head, unable to meet the disbelieving yet questioning gaze of her daughter. After a long awkward silence the mare whispered.

“I’m going to see somepony today.”

“Who?”

“Somepony I haven’t seen in a long time.”

“Who?”

The mare smiled as she lifted her face to the younger pony.

“Somepony that made me happy.”

“Do I know them?”

“Yes.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Not yet, my little pony. I’m sure you see them eventually, but not today.”

“Well, who is it?” the filly pleaded in exasperation. Her mother just sat in silence, lowering her head.

“BAH… You’re impossible,” the filly threw her front hooves in the air, noisily shoved her stool out from the bench, and stormed towards the front door. After donning her scarf and beanie from the coat-rack beside the doorway, she spun on the spot, bucked the door open and stomped out into the snow. Placing one rear hoof against the door she called out, “I’M GONNA GO SEE RA-” the rest of her statement was cut off by the slamming door.

For long minutes silence reigned all across the cottage, save for the rhythmic ticking of the small cottage’s only working clock.

“You forgot your breakfast” the mare eventually said to the otherwise deserted kitchen counter, one lonely tear rolling along her muzzle and falling down onto the bench top.

After staring at the single tear until it had evaporated away, she calmly stood up, turned off the stove and pushed her daughter’s stool back against the bench. Rummaging around for some stationary, she pulled some parchment and an unused inkwell from one of the cupboards. Popping the cap she sat down to write a letter.

*************

Screwing up her fifth piece of parchment in frustration and tossing it into the bin, the mare just sat there, staring at her last piece, hoping something inspirational would come to mind.

The silence was marred by the insistent ticking of the old clock on the wall. She glanced up at the intruder to her thoughts and noticed the time. She was going to be late.

After scribbling a single line onto the paper, she folded it once and shoved it into an envelope.

Grabbing the letter in her mouth, she swept the two now limp slices of bread off of the countertop and into the bin with her tail and made for the door. She opened the door and stepped out into the brisk air, pausing briefly before closing the door

“She’ll be fine, she’s a big girl now... a teenager... and she has friends,” she whispered to the empty house.

************

Lero swung the axe with gusto, again and again and again. His muscles burned and his back ached but he felt good.

Twilight could have easily reduced the entire wood pile to tinder in seconds but Lero had argued that he liked the exertion, the feel of the axe striking home, the pieces cartwheeling off in opposite directions. In a land of pastel ponies it made him feel manly.

Judging by the mint green and lavender faces fogging up the window in the library, it must have looked pretty manly too.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable with the amount of heat his muscles were generating, he slipped off his jacket. Steam rose from the broad back and shoulders of his thick shirt as he hung his heavy, olive-green coat on the branch of a small tree just off to his side.

He grabbed another log, placed it on the block and grunted as he took another swing. The small log was split in two.

The window got hazier.

It was probably due to the poor visibility granted by the steamed up window that both of the not-at-all-subtly-ogling mares failed to notice an older mare surreptitiously slip an envelope into one of the pockets of Lero’s coat. As the pegasus turned and swiftly trotted away, the sound of her hoof-falls were silenced by the snow.

*************

The mare broke into to a gallop as she approached the train station. She was not going to be late, she promised herself yesterday she was not going to be late. Her breath puffed out into clouds around her face, the fog rolling away from her eyes as she ran.

*************

Draping his lengthy great-coat across his shoulders, Lero gathered up the wood from around his feet and carried it into the home he shared with his wives. The two mares that were at home watched him drop his offerings next to the fireplace where they formed a decently sized pile. A single loose log bounced across the fireside rug and the human leant down, plucking it from where it had come to rest, before casually tossing it onto the fire in one long, fluid motion.

Under twin lustful gazes Lero walked over to the front door and hung his coat on the hook beside the door, only then did he notice the envelope sticking out of the pocket. Frowning to himself he pulled it out, turning it over in his hands. All it had was ‘Lero / Rainbow Dash’ scrawled across the front.

Dash had left early this morning for an impromptu flight training session with a Scootaloo, taking two of the mares from her weather team with her, and wasn’t due home any time soon. Rather than waiting Lero tore open the envelope and read the letter within.

*************

She was going to be late, the train was almost here and she was going to be late.

She couldn’t be late, she'd promised that she wouldn’t be late.

She did something she hadn’t done for years- she spread her wings and took to the sky.

She was not going to be late, not today.

I’m coming my love. I said I wouldn’t be late.

**************

The squeal of brakes from the midday train could be heard for miles around in the still, crisp air of the cold winter’s day. By the time the engineers had realised what was happening, it had been too late to avoid the inevitable. They had tried - by Celestia how they had tried - but today the fates had not been on their side.

**************

Four words - four little words and nothing more - stared back at Lero from the otherwise blank parchment.

Take care of her.

As the human read and re-read the words over and over and over again, somepony knocked at his door.

Author's Note:

PhucknuckL’s notes:
• Now, I'm not a highly educated man. I didn't even finish high school until two years ago, I'm 37
• I live in a small community in outback Northern Australia that has a high rate of alcoholism and a higher than average suicide rate.
• If someone you know that is usually in a state of depression suddenly changes their lifestyle for the better, e.g; gives up drinking, cleans their dwelling and gives away a few possessions. This could be a warning sign they have made the decision to finally end is all.
• They can actually seem quite happy. The knowledge that all their problems will soon be over can really lift their spirits.
• I Lost a very good friend last year (2013), because I didn't recognize these signs, I honestly believed he had finally turned his life around.
• If anyone you know displays these symptoms talk to them, let them know they have mates, let them know it’s not the only way.
• Sorry for the community service announcement but I had to get this off my chest

You have mates, PhucknuckL



TQM’s notes:
PhucknuckL sent me this the other day, asking if it could be a Oneshot. So, I read it, I read it again, I read it a third time.... then I emailed him back and asked if it could be a guest chapter instead. A bit of tweaking later and here it is.
Plus: www.samaritans.org

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