Chapter 2: Locks
Before the few hours of the day waned to allow for a wintery night, there was a group of fillies having a playful snow fight. The young ponies were a mix of all types. Unicorns lifted clumps of snow with their magic, forming them into balls and tossing them to whoever was trying to avoid the flying projectiles. Earthponies had to put more effort into molding the snow with their hooves, but they were managing just as well. Some of the pegasi had a large advantage, being able to fly and let down a surprise ball of snow onto unsuspecting fillies. This all happened with cooperation. Two teams were in this snowy battle, each team offering their members tactical advice and strategies. It was a fairly well-thought competition, one that made the game look like an athletic sport. Despite that, an air of good feeling and friendship was in the present, making an exciting and joyous snow ball fight.
On the third storey window of an apartment building that was in front of the courtyard the fillies were playing in, a pair of large blue eyes with natural dark circles below observed the game. An olive earthpony colt pushed his face against the glass, heat leaving his cheeks as the cold surface met him. He gave a faint smile at the sight. It looked like a lot fun to play in the snow like that. He could imagine himself rushing to get some snow into his hooves, then taking his snow ball and trying to throw it at another pony. This thought put some slight movement in his hooves, making some subtle motions as if he was actually down there, playing with the others.
The smile weakened back to a neutral position. He turned his head to look at his bedroom door. His eyes swept across the room, lit with a lantern that sat at his little nightstand. The bed was set at the corner of the wall, a toy chest sitting on the floor against it. He followed the tan walls to the bathroom door, then finally over to his bedroom door.
The colt got off his haunches and trotted to the wooden barrier that kept him from the rest of the apartment. He came up to the door and reached up for the handle, having to stand on his hind legs and placing a hoof on the door for support. The free hoof found the handle and made an attempt to push it down.
It was locked, as usual.
The colt sat back down on the beige carpet, his head drooping a bit in disappointment. It seemed liked a pointless idea from the beginning. The repetitive process seemed to be constant in his life, but he still needed to try to open the door. He still wanted to see if the cycle could be broken, even for just one day. Either out of a strongly grasped glimmer of hope or out of desperation, he just wanted to see if the door wasn’t locked for once. Maybe if it was open this time, things would be different. Maybe it will never be locked again and he can just roam around whenever he wanted. Maybe there would be some way to safely get down from the window to the ground below. Maybe he could finally go outside without needing to be watched constantly. Maybe he could play with those fillies outside. Maybe he would actually start feeling happy instead of just having the faintest glimpse of that feeling. Maybe, if only the door was not locked like that for once, things would be better.
But it was locked.
He sighed, getting back up and trotting back over to the window to watch the fillies play their game while the day still permitted it.
He then perked up, only the slightest bit, at the sight of an auburn earthpony turning the corner of the street and heading towards the apartment building, his maroon mane blowing slightly in the wind. The stallion carried saddle bags and looked somewhat tired. He looked up with his rust-colored eyes to meet the pair of blue ones staring back at him from the third story window. He smiled, continuing his trot towards the building.
The colt went back to the door and sat patiently. This was the best part of any day, when he could take a moment to leave the tanned room and enjoy the rest of the apartment, for what little joy it still brought. He waited, his brown unkempt tail swishing back and forth at the sound of the front door opening. The sound of hooves clopping against the carpet made him stand up in anticipation. Finally, there was the sound of a key turning in a lock and a click as the door opened.
Standing at the door was the colt’s father, who looked back at his son with a bright smile.
“Dad,” the olive colt excitedly said as he trotted over to his father.
The auburn stallion sat on his haunches, spreading his hooves open as the colt came. “Marsh Olive,” he exclaimed as his son jumped into his embrace.
They hugged, a great air of happiness radiating from both of them. They ended the warm welcoming, the stallion continuing to talk.
“Ready for dinner, buddy,” he asked, rubbing a hoof on his son’s unkempt mane.
Marsh Olive nodded vigorously at the prospect, the fork of his mane that stopped just above his eyes bobbing as he did. He followed his father down the short hallway, the continuous motif of tan still lining the walls. The living room seemed to change that fact with what could be considered décor in the drab apartment. A single couch sat in front of a coffee table. One of the walls had some framed family photos with a repeating pattern of a sage colored mare with a light yellow, prim and proper mane showing up in some of them. Towards the corner of the living room was a dining table with three chairs.
The only other difference to the brown color palette was the kitchen area, separated from the rest of the apartment by the adjacent hallway wall. The stallion trotted over to one of the kitchen counters and began to unload the supplies from his saddlebags. He took out two pre-packaged frozen meals and read the cooking instructions on them. As he did this, Marsh took a seat at the dining table. The colt looked at the empty chair to his side. He regarded it for a moment, a small frown beginning to form on his lips. He looked to his father who placed the frozen meals in an oven, cooking them. The stallion looked back at his son, giving him a smile. Marsh smiled as well, although weakly.
The stallion came up to the dining table, balancing one meal in his hoof and holding onto two forks in his mouth. He set Marsh’s dinner in front of him and then went back to get his. He came back and sat down across from the colt. They both began to eat their dinner, as per the routine.
It was always quiet, the only sound being that of silverware and the occasional question from Marsh’s father. He asked his son about how he was doing, what he did today, the same questions at every meal of the day, which Marsh would always give positive, normal answers to. The only difference in the monotonous cycle would be when the discussion of the holidays came up, and even then, those conversations came with their own pre-written scripts with blank spaces for variation that may come up in the discussion.
Rinse, lather, repeat.
For the past two years it was always the same. However, this time Marsh felt like putting a little more variety into the discussion. He looked to the empty chair again, taking a moment to think out the question before finally asking.
“Dad,” he began with a hesitant and small voice.
The stallion looked to him, showing concern to his sudden shyness. “Yeah, buddy?”
Marsh paused before finally asking the question. “Can we talk about mom?”
His father raised an eyebrow, surprised at the question. He looked down to his hooves on the table, shuffling them nervously. “I, uh, thought we talked about this before, Marsh.”
The colt almost took the answer as a defeat, but continued to persist, albeit with a small voice. “But, I wanna talk about her.”
His father sighed, a look of weariness and discomfort in his eyes. He looked back up to Marsh, who gave him an innocent, begging look. At this, he gave a slight smile. “You definitely have her persistence.”
Marsh did not know what that word meant, but still he smiled, happy to see his father’s mood lighting up.
“Well then,” the stallion began. “What is it about your mother you want to talk about?”
Marsh took the question in for a bit, looking lost. “I don’t know.”
His father gave chuckle at his son’s bluntness. “Well, I think a good place to start is from the beginning.”
Marsh sat a little straighter, happy to hear about this story again.
“Let’s see,” his father began. “It was six years ago, a really long time. There was a stallion, named Bull True, who was running through the rain. He forgot to bring his rain coat to work and had to get home to dry off. While he was running, he was yelling for a taxi to stop so he can be picked up and get home quicker.”
“One taxi saw him waving and stopped next to him. He put his hoof on the steps and was about to get on when he saw another hoof next to his. Both his hoof and the other got off the step, and he looked to see a mare next to him. They both looked surprised and confused, but then they got a little angry at each other and started yelling about which one of them would use the taxi. They kept yelling, trying to yell louder than the other, when they looked and saw the taxi start to leave. While they were yelling the taxi puller got nervous and ran away from them. The stallion looked at the mare, getting ready to yell again.”
“But then the mare started to laugh a lot.”
“She kept laughing and laughing in the most beautiful voice the stallion ever heard of. The stallion was just really confused because he thought she would be mad like him. She tried to talk while laughing at the same time. She said that she and he were both pretty stupid for getting so angry at each other that they scared away the taxi. The stallion didn’t get why she was laughing at that. But then he started laughing too because he knew she was right.”
“So now they were both laughing for little awhile until they started to get a little tired of it. She then said that she and he should go into one of buildings next to them to wait for the rain to stop, and the stallion thought that was a good idea. So they both went into a building and started to wait. They looked at each other and saw how wet they were from the rain. Her mane was drenched over her face like his and they thought they looked so silly that they laughed a little more.”
“That’s when the stallion asked her what her name was. She looked at him, with her beautiful blue eyes and said in that beautiful voice that her name was Clover Pride.”
Bull True looked to his son, a happy expression on his face and his tail swishing back and forth.
He smiled at this, continuing. “And do you know who that stallion and mare were?”
Marsh practically leapt as he exclaimed the answer. “You and Mom!”
Bull gave a happy chuckle at that. “Exactly, very good.”
“What happened next,” Marsh asked with glee.
Bull continued. “Well, after a long while, I and your mom moved in together. And then a little while longer we got married. And after that, she and I had ourselves a little colt named Marsh Olive: the cutest and greatest colt anyone could ever ask for. And we were the happiest family any pony has ever seen.”
Marsh was giddy at the last statement. He and his father smiled with the utmost joy at the story told. It served to bring the mood up from the boring routine they went through almost every day.
Then the smile wavered a bit. Those words resounded in Marsh’s head.
“The happiest family…”
He looked to the empty chair next to him, ears beginning to droop. Bull saw this, but did not question why. He already knew the answer.
Marsh will always remember that story about how his father and mother met. He just wished that it would not remind of him of that other memory. But it was etched into his mind and he remembered every single detail of it all.
That one day when they planned to have a family vacation to Canterlot. When their lives continued normally as they saved up the funds for the trip. When they approached the city by train and he gazed up at the strange purple dome that surrounded it. He remembered them walking down the street to a restaurant they made a planned a family meal at. He remembered the smile on her face when she saw her two-year-old son still gazing in awe at the city roof tops. He remembered her and dad laughing as he made a quip at his son’s astonishment. He remembered hearing the sound of something pelting against glass. He remembered him and his parents looking up to see small black dots in the purple, translucent sky. He remembered the sound of banging against the dome until it shattered and the mass of black creatures came crashing down to the city.
Why did he have to remember the fear he felt when he and his parents ran through the streets? Why did he have to remember realizing that mom was lagging behind him and dad? Why did he have to remember one of those monsters landing between her and them? Why did more of those things begin to show up? Why did her mother yell at them to run, that they’ll meet each other after the mess? Why did she not meet them like she said she would?
Then he had to remember dad saying that mommy was hurt really bad and that they were going to the hospital to see if she was alright. He had to remember the dagger-sharp words of dad as he said that the doctors did all they could. He had to remember the funeral and painful minutes that felt like hours as the casket was lowered down. But worst of all, he had to remember all the agonizing mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights when she wasn’t there with them, and that her smiling face could now only be seen in the photos that line the wall.
Marsh was so wrapped up in the memory that he had not noticed his father wrap his hooves around him in comfort. Nor had he noticed the tears that trickled down his own face or the tears of Bull. Once that reality met him, he buried his head into his father’s chest, sobbing in his embrace.
“The happiest family…”
Bull rubbed a hoof against his son’s back in comfort, trying to ease the pain they both felt. There were no immediate words of solace from him, just the gentle rubbing his hoof to give some relief.
They stayed like this for a period, letting their sobs be the only noise to fill the air. Eventually, Marsh began to calm down, his breathing coming back to normal. He sniffed a few more times before it finally felt like enough crying was done. They loosened their embrace, letting their forelegs loose from each other’s shoulders.
Bull then looked Marsh in the eye, determination beginning to form in his voice.
“Listen, Marsh,” he began. “You remember those black things, right?”
Marsh nodded, though wishing he did not remember.
“That’s why I always lock the doors when I’m gone, because I don’t want them getting in here to hurt you.” The determination in Bull’s voice began grow greater. “Ever since that day, the world has gotten dangerous, especially now those monsters are walking on the streets now. That’s why I always have to be there with you whenever you go outside.”
“No matter what happens, no matter how I do it, I will keep you safe.” He paused, keeping a stern but protective look in his eyes as Marsh stared back. “Do you understand?”
All Marsh could do at that point was nod and let his farther hug him one more time in a protective embrace. He just allowed it to happen, not moving his forelegs in return, too tired to dwell on the thought.
“Hey,” Bull began as he looked down at Marsh who looked back at him. “The welfare approval scroll comes in the mail this week. Do want go to the bank with me when I cash it in?”
Marsh, despite the lingering sadness he felt, gave a weak smile and nod at the prospect of going outside. He received another pat on the head from Bull as they ended the hug for good this time.
Bull then looked at the clock that hung from the wall, becoming startled at the time. “It’s almost your bedtime.” He looked back to Marsh. “Come on, buddy, let’s get you cleaned up.”
The bath, another part of the routine, went as usual. Bull ran the bath then allowed Marsh to step in as he began to scrub at his fur. He then dried him and led him back to his room, key in his mouth.
Marsh looked up to Bull before he went in. “Dad, do you still have to lock the door?”
Bull looked down to him, a sad expression in his eyes. “It’s for your own safety, Marsh.”
The colt sighed, stepping into his bedroom, getting into bed as his father came in and turned off the lantern on his nightstand. He then gave Marsh a nuzzle and wished him good night before heading back to the door.
Marsh turned his body onto his side, waiting for the door to close and the sound of the tumblers in the lock turning until they stopped. The sound of his father’s hoof steps could be heard as he entered his own room and closed the door. He waited a few moments before getting off his bed again and headed for the bedroom door. He stood up, got a hold of the handle, and pulled.
Still locked.
Marsh made no audible protest, nor did he even mentally think of one. He just wanted to sleep away the night now. His movements were automatic, no thoughts about it what-so-ever as he crawled back into bed and curled up, allowing sleep to overcome him. In the morning he will wake up to the sound of the bedroom door opening, with his father standing in the doorway and announcing it was time for breakfast.
Rinse, lather, repeat.