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// When You Fall 
// Story: Someone Out There Loves You 
// by The Red Parade 
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And she fell from the sky like a drop of rain, sending ripples across the ocean surface and plunging deeper and deeper: without a sound and without resistance. Waves upon waves of freezing waters crashed around her. And she fell again and again, until she opened her eyes with a gasp.

Her breath hitched, before she remembered where she was. With a frustrated sigh, she slammed a hoof into the table and slouched forwards, resting her head on her folded forelegs. For a second, Fiddlesticks wondered if she should just give up right then and there.

Even as she sat there, she was still falling. A feeling of despair had a death grip over her heart, and it dragged it down, down, down, into a never-ending pit, deeper than the ocean and darker than the night.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. The bar around her came to life again. Colors flashed from the lights above in sporadic shades of violet, blue, and pink. The music swelled and grew, like a beast crawling its way out of Tartarus, letting out a deafening roar to announce its presence.

Glasses clinked, and strangers laughed around her. Ponies stumbled about in the fading light, crashing into each other and dancing their problems away. The smell of alcohol lurked in the air, like a smoker on a street corner.

And in a second she fell again, and the purples and pinks faded away as quickly as they came. The sounds of laughter and music dimmed, being replaced with the drone of dial tones and the slamming of doors. And the world was gray again, and she fell.

“Hey Fiddle, you doing alright?”

A bit of color cut through the water from her right. She followed the rays to the speaker and tried her best to smile. “Hm? Yeah, fine.”

Strawberry Sunrise cocked her eyebrow. “You sure? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

She hadn’t. Because every time she closed her eyes, she fell a little bit further. “Just tired, that’s all,” she reassured her friend.

Was she her friend? Cousin Applejack would probably be mortified if they were. Fiddle wasn’t sure what exactly happened between them, Applejack made sure to bring it up at every reunion. But it wasn’t like Fiddle had a choice in picking her friends.

Strawberry sighed, fiddling with the glass in between her hooves. Her mouth creased into a tight-lipped frown, and Fiddle could see her try and find the right words.

Strawberry wouldn’t be the first one. She probably wouldn’t be the last. But Fiddle didn’t think that words were going to help her anymore. They just fell around her like rain, drenching her and making her feel worse. 

Strawberry seemed to understand this as well. She sighed and tapped a hoof on the counter, her eyes darting about the room. “So… I’m going to the School of Friendship tomorrow,” she ventured. “Gonna help with their garden. Want to come?”

Her words shone with a tinge of gold, and Fiddle welcomed the change from the dark of the world around her. She latched on to them and felt her hooves digging against the side of the wall in a feeble attempt to slow her fall. “Yeah, sure.”

“Cool.” Her friend nodded, her red mane bobbing up and down. “Cool,” she said again. When a lengthy silence had passed, Strawberry took a deep breath and spoke again, “Look, I know… I know things have been hard for you. And I wish I knew how to help you. But, uh… do you want to talk about it?”

Those words cut her sharper than any dagger could. Fiddle inhaled slowly as she considered them. Strawberry had thrown a rope into the hole: she wasn’t sure if she could pull Fiddle out, but she was determined to try.

“I…” the words faded as quickly as the colors did. “I… I dunno. I don’t think there’s much to talk about. I’m fine.”

They both knew she was lying. Strawberry chewed her lip in thought, trying to decide if she should push the matter or not. She had tried in the past, and it never worked well. “... well, if you don’t want to, I won’t force you to,” she said, though the doubt tainted her voice.

And the color started to fade from Strawberry’s coat. A sense of panic surfaced inside of Fiddle, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. She looked about the bar again, desperately searching for any hint of color.

All she saw were shades of gray. And she fell again. Strawberry had given her a rope, and it slowed her fall, but it wasn’t long before she reached the end of it. The music crescendoed, but it didn’t quite reach her ears. The notes and rhythms blended and melded together, and the instruments and vocals fought each other for control.

It wasn’t music to her anymore. It was just a cacophony. The kind that would come from her fiddle when it was out of tune. The horrible, unbearable kind that made ponies cover their ears and walk away in disgust.

A strange fog had settled into the world around her, clouding her vision and filling her with lethargy. And though she was seated across from her, Strawberry Sunrise seemed miles away. Fiddle felt herself drift farther and farther from the ponies around her, and very vaguely she could hear Strawberry calling her name.

And she fell again, through shades of gray and early morning haze. Empty words tumbled around her, sharp as knives and burning like fire.

“I’m fine,” she heard herself say, though she didn’t believe it.