//------------------------------// // Under the Stars // Story: Tomorrow Never Comes // by Post Script //------------------------------//                  This isn’t possible… this is a bad dream, that’s all. This is a bad dream and soon I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal and oh god.  I drop the diary to the floor as if it were a hot potato, and stare at it for a few minutes as though it was the most terrifying thing in the universe. When I finally summon up the nerve to flip through it again, I read every page, from the beginning.                   Every entry is identical.                   Tuesday 7th April                   Dear Diary, today I visited Cold Shoulder, argued with dad, did the usual. I have to admit, for as much as I enjoy living here sometimes it feels as though every day I’m doing the same old thing. I want something new, something exciting in my life right now it feels like tomorrow will never come.                   I can feel the tears burning down my cheeks as I read, every words a little harder than the last. By the end, I’m trudging through a swamp, every step heavier than the last. When I close the damn thing, I feel so sick, so sad.                   Why is this happening to me?                   It’s late. Almost midnight, even. My head is pounding and I’m so scared, I can’t even cry anymore. I just get into bed, pull the sheets over my head and whimper softly, cocooned in a warm, dark embrace. I don’t know when I fall asleep… but I’m sure the alarm clock will greet me in the morning.   ***                 This dream… it’s wrong. It’s the same as before, but it’s wrong.                   There’s a thing following me. I don’t dare turn my head to feel it, but I know it’s there. I can feel it. I can hear its footsteps, however distant. When I walk, it walks. When I stop, it stops.                   When I run, it runs.                   I head through the same comforting places as before. The green, rolling hills, the desert, even the surface of the ocean, the cold salt air in my lungs as I run.                   But even though the sun is shining, and I feel alive, everything is wrong. Because there’s a monster on my tail, and I don’t know what it wants.   ***                   I hear the alarm clock, and decide to ignore it. I’m still sleepy. I don’t care what day it is. The house could be on fire and I wouldn’t give a shit right now.                 I rest, until the gentle embrace of my bed starts to feel uncomfortable. Dad calls me a few times, but I can’t be bothered. If time itself isn’t going to get off it’s lazy butt, why should I?                   Gradually, my breathing slows, the frantic chorus of thoughts in my head becoming a mere handful. I close my eyes. Focus my breathing, and calm myself. Thank god I used to practice yoga frequently a few years back, or I’d have been a wreck for goodness-knows how long. I breathe, and every intake of air brings me a little closer to normality- as close as I can get, at least.                   After an hour I hear Dad come thundering up the stairs, and he knocks on my door.                   “Sketch? You’re going to be late for work,” he says calmly, but there’s a hint of frustration in his voice.                   “Fuck off.”                   He pauses for a moment. I can almost hear him changing gears in his head, as he always does when I’m not cooperating.                   “Young lady, you will not speak to me that way. I am your father, and you will open this door at once,” he says. Aww, isn’t that cute, he thinks he can intimidate me.                   “Whatever, Dad. Why don’t you go fuck yourself? I’m sure there’s another guy like you in town, donkey’s aren’t that rare.”                   “Why, you-“ he says. He bucks the door a few times, and for a moment I’m scared he’ll actually break it in. Thankfully, he curses at me instead, heads downstairs and slams the front door, going to wherever the heck it is he works. Well, that’s him out of my hair for the day.                   Hmm… I guess ‘day’ isn’t the right words anymore, is it? No. I’ll need to think of a new word for the passing of time… ‘cycle’? Yeah, that should do it.                   I sit down at my desk and write up a plan of action. First, I should try discovering the limits of this time looping business. I need to figure out what’s causing it, if it can be broken, stuff like that. But before I do, I want to play around a little first.                   Right. I’ve got a bucket list all written up and ready to go:   ·        Get to know Cold Shoulder better ·        Use my knowledge of the timeline to mess with Dad ·        Find out what Dad’s job is, and why he’s out so late (Drinking? Gambling?) ·        Get Pinkie Pie to tell me what she knows ·        Fix this   I sigh, leaning back in my chair. Granted, I’ll need to rewrite this list every cycle, but that’s just how it is. Heheh, I can’t believe it took this much to get me to start organizing my life.                 After all, if this thing never ends, I can try stuff I’d never think of trying otherwise. I could ask Cold Shoulder about his past, something I’ve wanted to do for ages. I could prank Dad, I could…                   I could live forever.                   The idea is an interesting one, that’s for sure. Eternal life, at the cost of never really moving forward… I can’t say I’d have chosen this, but-                   “Hey Sketch, you there?” A voice calls from outside.  Oh thank god, it’s Cold Shoulder. I head to the window and smile down at him, and for once he returns the gesture.                                  “You there, colt, tell me what day is it?” I say in my best attempt at an old stallion’s voice. He gives me a confused glance for a moment before he recognizes what I’m going for and grins.                   “To-day?” he responds in a horrible attempt at a chimney sweep’s accent, “Why, tis’ Hearth’s Warming Eve.” he says, bowing.                   Yeah, we’re weird, I know.                   “Seriously though, it’s Tuesday. What’s the matter, you sick or something?”            “Kinda,” I say casually, searching through my mind for a lie that’ll stick, “Hey Cold. you mind if we have a ‘Break Day’ again?”         He smiles at me, understanding instantly. Every so often when he or I aren’t feeling up to it, he’ll close up shop for the day and we’ll go somewhere to relax, just chill out and talk. I normally feel bad for costing him a whole day’s worth of business from it, but it hardly seems to matter now. I just want to get to know him a little better… after all why not? It’s not like I’ll have to worry about it tomorrow.                  “You sure your old man won’t mind?” I dare to ask him, as if the question won’t bring out the worst in him like it always does. “My old man can go jump off Canterlot Castle,” he says bitterly, turning away in disgust, “It’s practically my store anyway. He only cares about the profits, that’s all he ever cares about.” I decide not to press the matter, and instead think of where to go… the beach, maybe? “You wanna go to The Everfree Forest?” I ask fearlessly. “You… erm, sure,” he responds, snapping out of his anger at the mere mention of the place. Even Cold Shoulder is a little afraid of that forest, it seems all ponies are. “Great! Pack up some food and a tent, we’ll be staying the whole night.” “...Sketch, that place isn’t safe at night,” he warns me.         I laugh, pleased that I can mess with him for once. I’ll admit that being like this will have it’s advantages, even if ultimately I’m looking for a way to fix it.         “Oh c’mon, it’s gotta be better than dealing with your Dad when he gets home,” I respond.         He gives me that little eye twitch that let’s me know when I’ve pushed him just a little too far, “Sketch, drop it. We’ll head to the forest, whatever, sure.”         He turns and heads back to his place, and I grab everything I can from the closet that we’ll need to go camping. I know I should really be looking for a way to fix this, but right now I have an opportunity to ask him questions I might never have again. Questions that have been eating away at me forever.         As I stuff whatever supplies I can fit into my rucksack, I notice a little black book full of names drop from the shelf nearby. I sift through it for a moment and notice it’s full of names and addresses I don’t recognize… I’ll have to ask Dad about it sometime.         Right now, it’s getting dark, and I need a chance to talk to Cold Shoulder. ***         As we sit by the crackling campfire, our tents poorly assembled and our belly’s groaning, I stare at Cold Shoulder and smile.         “We really should have brought real food, yknow,” he mutter as we finish the last of the marshmallows, “why the heck didn’t you bring anything?”         “Well, I er…” I begin, struggling to find the words. What do I tell him? What excuse would work? If I’m just gonna relive today, do I even need an excuse?         “I forgot,” I state quietly. Sometimes the simple lies really are the best.         “Well at least you remembered the tent,” he concedes, stoking the campfire with a branch, “so you mind telling me why you needed a Break Day today?”         “I just… I was feeling really stressed, y’know? Trapped. Like the whole world was against me.”         Maybe it is, I think sadly.         “So you took us to camp out in the scariest place in Equestria?” he chuckles, “I gotta admit Sketch, you are one of a kind,” he says. I swear I can taste that wonderful something on my tongue again for a moment, but it leaves just as quickly as it did the first time.         After about an hour the sky starts to turn that beautiful cocktail blend of pink and orange, and I watch as the dying light streams through the trees for a moment.         "Cold, do you ever feel like you don’t have a future?” I ask all of a sudden.         “Who knows? Life is uncertain,” he muses, as he always tends to when we’re alone, “we might not get tomorrow, so enjoy today, I say.”         “Yeah… hey, if you were stuck in a time loop that lasted one day, what would you do?”         At this, he turns towards me, curious, “Well that was a weird question…”         “C’mon Cold, humour me. Please?” I say, giving him that puppy dog expression he openly hates but secretly loves.           He sighs for a moment, shrugging before answering “Well, I guess the answer I’d give is that I’d do whatever the hell I want. After all, no tomorrow means no consequences. Why do you ask?”         “N-no reason,” I respond, “Hey… what do you think about changelings?”         “Those shapeshifters that invaded the Crystal Empire awhile back?” he asks, getting up. There’s a hint of suspicion on his face now, I think he’s sensing a pattern.         “Well… most folks don’t like them, but I guess you and I aren’t like most folks,” he says, lying on the ground and staring up at the cloudless sky as it begins to fade to a dark blue colour.         “Oh?” I say, feeling myself a little shocked by his response, “and why’s that?”         “Just because they have a bitch leader doesn’t mean they must be all bad,” he reasons, “I mean, it depends, doesn’t it? If they have a hive mind then maybe they could all be evil, but if they’re like you and me they might not always be such jerks.”         “Maybe it’s a bit of both,” I counter, “maybe, with a few exceptions, the closer they are to the Hive, the less individualism they have.”         “Do you think they can feel Love?” he asks casually, so casually that be doesn’t even notice I’m giving him a look like he’s stabbed me in the heart. I feel a lump in my throat as I continue.         “...No. No I don’t,” I say, lying down next to him and turning my head so he won’t see my face.         “I envy them.”         “At this I turn my head towards him, shocked.         “What? Why?” I say, not bothering to maintain my cool, distanced attitude any longer.         “Well, think about it. Love and sadness are a package deal. If you can’t feel one, you can’t feel the other, either. So they’ll never have to worry about losing a loved one, or anything like that. Because it just won’t matter to them.”         I don’t even know what I feel at that moment. It’s a churning feeling, like I’ve eaten someone’s love, and it was toxic, but… it’s not in my stomach, it’s higher up, in my chest. I feel that comforting warmth roll down my cheeks as I stare up at the night sky next to him.         “Yeah… you’re right,” I say, before closing my tear-stained eyes, and letting myself fall asleep next to him, under the stars.         At least, I wish you were.