Knock, knock, knock. What a disdainful action. Anonymous grumbled inwardly, standing at the barn door of Sweet Apple Acres. It was about 6 in the evening, the sun hovering over the horizon, giving the sky a beautiful hue of orange and violets. Anon has softened to the unnatural beauty of this place.
In the distance, Anon could see Ponyville from the hill Sweet Apple Acres rested on. He could see the Pie horse throwing a party at the bakery, Fashion horse is talking with a client at her door, Speed horse and Shy horse are flying overhead, and Leader horse is talking with a bunch of construction workers who are working on a building that’s installed next to a mountain with waterfalls. Beyond those he knew, he saw ponies just living their best lives, addressing others with kindness as they crossed paths. In some ways, this was a paradise, all things considered. What is about this place that was so pleasant? At least, when it wants to be, invasions not included.
“Howdy, partner.” Applejack greeted, pushing the top door of the stable open. “Ah take it that you accepted my invitation to our family’s dinner?”
“There’s little else I would walk all the way out here for.” Anon shrugged, turning into a stretch midway. He stopped midway of stretching when he remembered he was carrying a grocery bag. “Oh yeah, bought my own ingredients by the way. You know, just in case.”
“Mighty kind of you, Anon.” She tipped her hat in respect. She swung the lower half of the door out. Anon took a step to enter, only for Applejack to pass by him. She was trotting in the direction of the trees.
“Uh, where are you going?” Anon scratched his head curiously.
“Ah’m picking up some ingredients of my own.” Applejack shouted over her shoulder. “Feel free to join me.” Anon briefly looked at the bag in his hand and the inside of the barn house. It felt wrong to enter her home when she wasn’t there, so he set the bag by the door and followed after her.
They didn’t walk far, reaching the first apple tree they saw. Two wooden buckets sat at opposite ends of the tree trunk. Anon watched as Applejack walked over to the tree, curious as to how she was going to pick the apples off the tree. What he didn’t expect was for Applejack to turn around and rear her hind legs back, before striking the tree with tremendous force. The kick shook the tree to its core, causing it to drop the apples neatly into the two buckets. Anon gave a long whistle, tugging at his collar nervously. Applejack smirked.
“Did ah scare ya?” Applejack teased.
“How the hell can something so small kick so hard?” Anon walked over to the tree, looking at the tree trunk more closely. Surprisingly, there was no visible damage to the trunk at all, not even a dent.
“It’s called ‘Applebucking’.” Applejack said over his shoulder. “We buck the trees and we collect far more apples than if we just picked them. The trees aren’t harmed in the process either.”
“Ah, so you’re a treebucker?” Anon joked, only to be met with a curious eyebrow. Anon coughed into his hand, quickly thinking of something else. “Anyway, do we really need all these apples for dinner?”
“‘Course we do!” Applejack slapped Anon on the back just a tad too hard. “This is a special occasion and I want to give you my best!” Anon rubbed his back with a fake smile, attempting not to show his pain to the tough-as-nails mare. Once the pain was alleviated, he stood up and picked up the two buckets. They were hefty, filled with had to be over a dozen apples, but nothing insurmountable.
“Aw shucks, Anon. You don’t have to carry them for me?”
“I ain’t walked all the way out here to get flexed on by a horse.” Anon lifts the two buckets like dumbbells to emphasize his point. This got a laugh out of Applejack.
“You stallions are all the same.” She remarked heading back in the direction of the barn house. Anon followed after her, wanting to set the buckets down as soon as possible.
Anon continued thinking about the “Applebucking” practice she mentioned. Surely, that wasn’t something everypony could do. Curiosity overtaking judgement, Anon focused on Applejack’s legs. Upon closer inspection, they were a lot more muscular than the average ponies. In honesty, he began to notice the subtle differences in each of the ponies’ body types. Rainbow Dash was athletic, but slender. Rarity was petite, but curved. Why Anon was now seeing these differences eluded, or at least he wished for it to elude him. Regardless, it was clear by her thighs that she had been doing this for the better part of her entire life. It made him wonder what else attributed to the thickness of her-
“Um, Anon?” The question snapped Anon back into reality. “Could maybe, uh, not stare so intensely? We’re back at the barn.” Applejack had her hat tilted down, hiding her undoubtedly embarrassed expression. Anon grunted in awareness, quickly averting his eyes. His cheeks burned passionately, threatening to set him on fire.
“Y-yeah, my b.” Anon stuttered out. With an awkward nod, Applejack walked in an almost robotic fashion to suppress any hip-sway.
I need to get home soon before I fuck around and sleep with a horse… Carrying the eternal shame of his ancestors, he pushed through the stable doors into the Apple Family household.
“So, you’re that weird alien creature that’s been prancin’ about, ain’t cha?” Granny Smith asked, rocking in her rocking chair. Anon sat on the opposing couch. Applebloom and Applejack were baking in the kitchen. Big Macintosh, who Anon discovered was a rather quiet stallion, set the dining room table. “I admit, you’re not as weird lookin’ as I thought you’d be, youngin’.”
“That’s good...I guess.” Anon played with an Apple as he talked, tossing it back and forth.
“How have you been enjoying our little town, by the by? I know it doesn't seem much like on the surface, but you will never find a town more caring and kind.”
“You ain’t wrong there.” Anon agreed, tossing the apple higher into the hand and catching as it falls back to him. “It’s been an enjoyable stay. Not gonna lie, I’ve never been treated with the sheer kindness you ponies share.”
“I will accept no less!” Granny Smith smiled proudly. “I hope my knuckle-headed children didn’t bother you too much, especially the little one.” Granny Smith was clearly teasing, but the little one poked her head from the doorway.
“I wasn’t being a bother!” She protested angrily, pouting as hard as her little muzzle could. “Anonymouse enjoys being around me, right, Anon?”
“Did you just call me ‘Anonymouse’?” Applebloom let out a long “Uhhhh” before dipping back into the kitchen to continue preparing. This won a companionable chuckle between Granny Smith and Anon.
“If I can be candid, y’all really do remind me of my family. Well, at least how they are at the best of times.”
“Why, that’s the best compliment you could have given us! Family is very important to the Apple Family.” This time, Big Mac poked his head through the doorway.
“Eeyup!” He responded with a nod and a smile. “Oh, and dinner’s ready.” With that Anonymous and Granny Smith followed into the dining room table. Anon stopped in his tracks once he saw the table spread.
“Today, we have a diverse selection!” Applejack announced. “We got Apple fritters, Apple pie, Apple cider, Apple cobbler, Apple chips, Apple fritters, Apple juice, Candy apples, and Brown Betty! Made with apples.” Anon stared in silence.
“These ponies sure lover their apples…” Anon mumbled. The family looked at him, frowning.
“Is something wrong, Anon?” Applebloom asked.
“Well, it’s just, do you guys eat anything that isn’t apple related?” Anon asked, shrugging his shoulders. The family took a second to think on this very question. Finally, Big Mac broke the silence.
“Nope!” He said with a blissful smile. Anon sighed and shook his head.
“I don’t mean any disrespect, but maybe it’s about time I start my cooking.” Anon walked over to the stove, taking his bag of goodies with him. The Apple family collectively pout.
“Well what’s the matter?” AJ asked indignantly. “Ya’ll don’t like apples?”
“Apples are okay.” Anon admits worriedly, feeling a set of daggers upon his back as he set the stove. “But, in smaller quantities, know what I mean? You ponies need a more balanced diet and that’s just what I’m about to do.”
“And how exactly are you gonna “balance our diet”, hm?” Granny Smith asked, leering at her inhospitable guest.
“With a little soul food.” Anon grinned as he looked back, trying to ignore the scowls and glares.
“Soul food?” Applebloom asked.
“Yeah, it’s what my family and I called it anyway.” Anon talked as he cooked, hoping that the more he talked, the more he could defuse the tension. “You see, my ancestors weren’t in the...best of positions way back then. So, when it came to making meals, we had a certain set of dishes that we prepared out of what we had. As a result, it became a part of our identity and the rest is history.”
“But why is it called “soul food”?” Applebloom clarified.
“‘Cause it’s food for the soul.” Anon shook his head. “Honestly, you’d think you would understand solely by the name.”
By then, the room had settled down from the audacity of Anonymous’ attempt to bypass eating several bushels worth of apples. The Apple family began eating their meal as Anon prepared his own. Still, the family ate light, curious as to what it was that Anon was making. Applejack watched especially closely, as Anon disregarded all measurements and seemed to add whatever spices he found in the cupboards. It all made her grow nervous as to what Anon was preparing. After some time had passed, Anon brought over several plates to each of the family members.
“Aight, so since you guys are herbivores, y’all gonna be missing out on chicken and ribs.” Anon prefaced the meal. “It’s an inferior experience, but what can you do? Anyways, what we do have is Black-eye peas, collard greens, hushpuppies, candied yams, and cornbread.” Anon gave a little bow as he finished before taking his seat. The Apple family all looked at each other, silently daring the others to take the first bite. Big Mac was the first to take a bite, starting with cornbread cause how can one screw up bread.
“So, I don’t actually know if the ingredients you all have are quite the same as from home, but I mean if you guys have apples and they taste like apples, then we should be good.” Anon continued as Big Mac chewed slowly. However, he stopped, noticing that the bread wasn’t half bad. Big Mac began to happily chow down and, as if on queue, the rest of the Apples followed suit. Soon, the table was full of surprised smiles.
“Why, this ain’t half bad, youngin’!” Granny Smith complimented, grateful that all the food was soft enough to chew with little difficulty.
“I was worried,” Applejack admitted. “When I saw you putting darn near the whole cabinet in this meal, I was sure it was gonna make it worse, not better.”
“Oh, Applejack! I would think that you of all ponies would know that spices are spices for a reason. Especially if you’re preparing meat, cause that shit be dry without it.” Anon joined the family in the delights of eating.
The dinner passed in companionable silence as everyone’s mouth was filled with soul and apple dishes alike. It wasn’t long though that the bellies of everyone at the table was filled before the table could be cleared. There was still enough food for a whole other family to enjoy for dinner. And so, the Apple family agreed to finish the food the following evening, as long as Anon was coming back to join them. Anon couldn’t find it in himself to say no and, surprisingly, didn’t find himself wanting to say no.
But the evening was not yet over. Granny Smith had been put into such a good mood by the meal, she had gone and retrieved an acoustic guitar from the living room and insisted that some music be played before Anon left for the night. Briefly, Anon scoffed at the idea of horses playing musical instruments in his usual way, but nonetheless he listened as the family sing numerous songs. One song that was sung was about the raising of a barn house, another about the bonds of the apple family, and the joy of getting work done. All the while, Anon listened passively, vicariously enjoying the energy and joy shared by the family. Applebloom caught on to Anon’s passivity however.
“Hey, Anon!” She shouted at the end of their last song. “Does your family have any songs they sing?” Anon was snapped back into reality by the question. He waved his hand dismissively.
“Nah, we don’t just break into song where we’re from.”
“Oh, applesauce!” Granny objected. “That don’t mean you don’t know any songs to sing!”
“I mean, I know songs, plenty of them.” He rubbed his shoulder awkwardly. “Just not any that I’ve sung with my family. Or, other people for that matter.”
“Shoot, then name one and we’ll sing it with you!” Anon looked up to see the whole of the Apple family beaming at him. Something about the scene made him choke up. These ponies knew so little about him, so little about his world, and yet they seemed to accept him wholeheartedly and unwavering. It was like, in some weird way, he was just as part of their family as they were. Anon caught himself wiping a tear from his eye and coughed into his hands unconvincingly.
“Aight, aight. I’ll sing one song and then I’m out, got it?” Anon attempted to speak as his usual asshole-ish self. But the Apples caught on quickly to what Anon was feeling and nodded regardless.
“Just go on and sing a verse, I’ll figure out the rest from there.” Applejack readied her guitar, giving it a few practice strums. Anon cleared his throat, knowing of a perfectly PG and not mainstream song to sing that would fit with the..er, aesthetic of the Apple family.
“Alright, this song is around the same time that the soul food we ate came from. It’s a little heavy, but it’s the only one I really know that you all would appreciate. So...” Anon took a deep breath, already doubting his ability. “Here we go.”
(Author's Note: Here's an acoustic version to listen along with. The more authentic version is down in the comments. It good song.)
“Oh freedom, oh freedom, oh freedom over me
And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free”
Anon had learned the song in his brief stint at church when he was a smaller Anon. The song only had more relevance when he started attending classes about black history at a historically black college. Needless to say, it was about the only song he knew that involved singing. His musical tastes were always more...rhythmic, in a sense. Okay, enough beating around the bush, he liked hip hop music. It was always something that he felt an odd shame of. He had always felt as if he was uncultured for having such limited musical knowledge. Thus, he decided to keep this song in his back pocket, as a way of saying “Look at me, I know songs beyond contemporary rap!”
“No more weepin',no more weepin',no more weepin' over me
And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free”
Anon was not able to completely lose himself in the song. He had almost never sang because why would he? For him, music was to be enjoyed in silence. Instead, through tightly held eyelids, he attempted to gauge the reactions of the Apples by sixth sense alone. As one might imagine, it didn’t work and he was left paranoid that maybe they were dissatisfied with, or worse, appalled with both his singing and song choice. But then...
“There'll be singin', there'll be singin', there'll be singin' over me
And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free”
Slowly, the rest of the Apples joined in with singing. Big Mac was first, contributing his baritone voice that actually complimented the song nicely. Then, Applebloom, Granny Smith, and Applejack respectively lent their surprisingly beautiful singing voices to the song. The room held a certain melancholy, something that Anon was afraid of maintaining. Again, the thought of stopping the song popped into his head. Yet, he didn’t want to lose this moment. Although somber, it felt familiar. It felt like...
"There'll be glory, there'll be glory, there'll be glory over me
And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free"
Anonymous often thought about songs and their meanings. No matter what song he listened to, whether it be the usual flavors of hip hop or the dabbles in other genres such as rock, pop, classical and the like, he always applied the song to something. Every song is like it is part of a soundtrack, meant to carry a particular meaning in the story it represents. For example, if one were to play Happy Birthday at their funeral, then the song must mean something in that context, whether purposefully or abstractly. At least, that’s how Anon thought of it. So, what did this song, originally a song about Civil Rights and slaves desiring freedom from bondage, mean to Anon right now?
"Oh freedom, oh freedom, oh freedom over me
And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free"
Maybe it was the simple fact that Anon himself wanted to be free. Not free from Equestria because he was beginning to understand the world a lot better and is finding himself growing comfortable amongst the ponies. Not free from Earth because he still missed his family, the modern conveniences, and oddly enough, the very chaotic and uncertainty that pervaded everyday life. So, what was this freedom Anon desired?
As Anon sang, the monologue that he was having with himself was expressed in his singing. All his worries, all his doubts, helped him sing with confidence. The Apples, by singing with him, began to share in his worries and doubts. However, as if now forming a dialogue, the Apples sung more hopefully, contrasting Anon’s somber tone. By the song’s end, Anon’s own tune changed, as he began to match the energy and spirit of the Apples. With a strum of finality, Anon opened his eyes to see that the Apples were sitting at his side all along.
“Wow.” Was all Applebloom could think to say.
“That was a beautiful song there, partner.” Applejack added, gently bumping a hoof to Anon’s shoulder. “You should teach us more songs like that sometime. And sing more.” Anon blushed, scratching at his neck.
“Yeaaaaah, don’t hold me to that, chief.” Anon said awkwardly, causing the family to share in a laugh. Anon rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile all the same.
Cook with Applejack? ☑ (Got a little weird at the end, ngl)