My failure will hurt my friends.
My greed will hurt my friends.
If I wasn’t so stiff, I might almost feel like celebrating. Moments awake, and only two fears were rattling about in my head? Today was going to be a good day.
Slowly shifting my legs over the edge of the nightmare hammock I’d stuck into the corner of the guestroom, the bed having become too short thanks to the party, I grunted, sending the sand to scurry under itself and sprout seven thin, hairless spider legs to rock me across the floor and hook up my boots up to me.
Snapping my fingers, a cloud of sand balled out from under the guest-bed over to me, dragging a trail of flame-shaped sand in its wake.
“I want a shower,” I grunted and the sand immediately jumped to action, flashing a pale blue as it passed through the wall and out into the hallway. Picking slowly away at the slime and crust that’d snuck into my eyes during the night, I motioned my head in the general direction of the door. It took a few moments, but the construct seemed to get the idea and clicked its way across the crystalline floor to the shining embedded-glass portal, stopping only to twist a limb into a broken spiral and turn the knob and then shuffle out into the hallway.
Flicking away my eye-gunk, hunching against the chill of the high-ceilinged hallway, I looked to my wrist in vain for the watch that wasn’t there. ‘That stupid thing should have been back by n-’
“AAAHHH,” came the shrill, feminine scream, echoing up the hall, stealing away my sluggish thoughts.
“God, “ I sighed, “Damnit,” sliding off of my make-shift perch, feet moving to darkness as they hit the floor, sparing me its chill, and sped to the sound of fear, frustration burning away the last vestiges of sleep pulling at my eyes.
One full day and already I was getting the Ponyville Special. Well, at least I got one day, I thought, rounding the corner to see Twilight, hairbrush in a cloud of violet magic above her, swatting at the ball of two thin disks of sand flapping open and closed, and sporting some weird spiky teeth that kept elongating and mashing into others like some sort of gum.
Pulling up to and out of the wall, thousands of black shards stung across my fist, the animating fear leaving it as the clouding bits dusted to the floor.
Straightening up, I looked down into Princess Sparkle’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said, making a conscious effort to keep my breathing steady, too ashamed, too angry, too embarrassed to elaborate, not that there was really a need to. A monster attack indeed.
“What’s wrong Twilight?” Spike shouted, holding a batter-covered mixing-spoon at the ready as he skidded around the corner.
“I am,” I replied as he came to a halt, his gaze shifting to the disappearing pile of sand and the hairbrush Twilight still floated in her grasp.
“What was that?” Twilight asked, still breathing a little heavy from her small fright.
“An attempt to find a shower, which failed” I frowned, pointing a chin to the open door behind her and the tiled bathroom within. Turning on my heel, fists clenched, I began to walk, down the halls and stairs, and out into the much needed open air.
Leaving the castle behind me, grateful that Ms. Sparkle decided I wasn’t worth the effort, I crested the small hill, giving me an unobstructed view of Ponyville’s town-proper. I could even see a few of the ponies getting on with... whatever it was that they did. Grocery shopping, going to work, or just out for a stroll, and nearly all of them paired with some smiling companion.
Moving, now downhill, a small, rainbow streak ejected itself from a cloud just beside the distant clock tower, the enclosing bundles of fear informing me of her identity just as much as the multichromatic contrail glittering behind her as she came to a breakneck stop just an arms breath away from me.
“Hey you,” Ms. Dash said, just beginning to squint her eyes, “it’s, aaaaahhhh,” she yawned, “it’s about time you woke up. Applejack needs my help busting up one of her barns today, so I can’t spend it waiting for you to show up and lose a race to me.”
“Ah hee hee,” I giggled, much to Ms. Dash’s annoyance, but the moment had turned so absurd so fast. And it felt good.
“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. We’ll see who snail bait is after I’ve made my,” she paused, her smug grin receding, looking up as she silently tapped around the circumference of her right forehoof,“four-hundred and… sixth consecutive win.”
“So what’duh I get when I win?” I grinned. “I like being smug as much as the next guy, but bragging rights aren’t exactly my thing?”
“Whguh,” Ms. Dash sputtered before a devious smirk quickly overcame her. “Oh, so it’s a wager huh? Well, when I win, you’ll get to be my personal cheering squad for the week. And if, I dunno,” she rolled her eyes, “some meteor falls from the sky and I can’t get out of the hospital for a week, then, whatever floats your boat buddy,” she chuckled.
“Fine,” I shrugged blandly, earning me quiet snort from the speedster. “And how does from here to Applejacks sound?”
“Sounds perfect,” she squinted, floating down to the dirt, stretching herself out to spring back into the air. “On your mark, get set-”
“Wait.”
“What?”
A small circle of shadow spread out beneath me, and a column of sand rose me skyward until I could just make out the sight of a bunch of emerald bushes surrounding a few ruby-red barns.
“I just needed to see which way it was,” I said as I got back down and moved into my best approximation of the sprinting position, the intervening three seconds having been five seconds too long for the mare who was busy tapping a hoof into the dirt.
Eyes forward, I nodded.
“Alright,” Ms. Dash said, the assurance of victory already lacing her voice, “on your mark, get set, G-”
I was already diving into the ground much as Ms. Dash was whistling into the sky before the final word could reach its end.
No time to look for a convenient shadow, to dive down further and parse through the lights until I found the single speck of Applejack or a family member, no time to understand the blurring landscape, just time for closing the distance and feeling the pulse of oncoming fears. The fear of losing more family, of losing a sister, or losing a brother, of losing her grandchildren before she was even put into the ground.
Wind was whipping into my eyes the moment I jettisoned from the ground. Throwing out a hand, the sound of rain rushed up, cutting me off from the sunlight as the nightmares cocooned around me, braking me to a cushioned halt.
“Away,” I commanded, throwing a hand behind me, blinking away the sudden rush of light and vertigo as my heels dropped to the ground.
Cupping my hands to shade my eyes against the white of the large apple-shaped wood-cutting over the gate, proudly proclaiming to being the entrance to the Apple Family Orchard, I then heard the mingled cries of, “What in tarnation?” “Oh comeON!”
“Well,” I grinned, taking an unsteady step forward, “looks like I w-”
“Like hay you did! Teleportation doesn’t count,” Ms. Dash protested, flaring her wings, pushing her face into mine.
“First,” I said, taking a step back, “a little space, please.”
She snorted, crossing her forehooves.
“Second, I didn’t teleport. I’m not even sure if… I…” I trailed off before shaking the distraction away, “Anyway. Look, if I were some mermare, would you complain if I swam here instead of ran?”
“Well, I,” she paused, biting her lower lip.
“And third, as my prize, I’ve decided you’re going to hand over all the Apple Family Apple Cider you’ve got in your possession.”
“WHAT?!?”
“Ahaha, whut?” Ms. Applejack chuckled.
“Ms. Dash thought I couldn’t beat her in a race and essentially promised me anything if I did,” I said, turning to Ms. Applejack, a thin sheen of sweat already coating her despite the morning cool.
“An’ if you lost?”
“Then I was going to be her cheerleader for the week.”
“Well,” Applejack grinned, giving an over-exaggerated turn of the head to her blue friend, “you heard the stallion. You did give your word and all.”
“Whoa, wait,” Ms. Dash pleaded, waving her forehooves out in front of her, “l-let’s talk about this. How about double or nothing?”
“Oh come on Dash, don’t be a sore-”
“I’m listening,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Hoo, okay,” she sighed, licking her lips, “The barn. We’ll take shots at it, and whoever destroys it the most wins. And Applejack,” she added, zipping over to wrap an arm around her friend’s pale-orange neck, “will be the judge. Right buddy?”
“Eh, why not? Just don’t expect any special treatment.”
“Never even crossed my mind,” Ms. Dash replied, patting the back of her friend’s neck before flying back up, stopping just a few inches higher than myself.
“Well I just finished up here,” Applejack said, stepping to the white-wash wooden fence, biting up the hammer she’d left leaning against it and placing it in her toolbox, “so let me just put this back and we’ll get goin’.”
“Uggghhh,” Ms. Dash groaned into her hooves as Ms. Applejack took off at an easy walking pace. Zipping forward to grab the toolbox from her friend’s mouth, she winged off past the flanking hills where rows of fresh… leafy something was budding up, and into the red barn/home I’d forgotten that the earth-pony farmer actually lived in, and rushed back some few seconds later wearing a yellow hard-hat, and carrying two others under each of her forelegs.
“Come on,” she said, tossing the hats which Applejack easily caught on her head, sliding off her Stetson, whereas my personal flailings just managed to catch the well-worn protective gear before it hit the ground, only to find the oblong thing didn’t fit.
“Quit wasting time,” I heard Ms. Dash call from behind and to the right of me, back along the rows of apple trees growing along the fence line.
Jogging through the myriad of blossoming trees to the two ponies, I entered a small clearing noticeably bereft of all but the withered remains of weeds that had failed to grow in the pale, cracked earth, and at the center of it all stood the barn. The faded red was nearly pink where the paint wasn’t peeling, a thick layer of dust clung to its bottom edge, almost seeming to claw up like stalagmites, and what looked like an empty moat ran around the whole thing a few yards from its edge. It never even occurred to me to consider how crisp, clean, and well maintained the rest of the farm looked beforehand, but this sore thumb of a decaying, I hesitated to call it a structure, forced me to cut my gaping short, throw out a hand, and say, “What happened to this place?”
“Zap Apples,” Ms. Dash scoffed, “duh. I thought you guys knew basically everything about us?”
“Don’t be rude Dash, if anything, we’re more like fables to him and his folk. It’s not like you know who stitches Daring Do’s kit back together after it falls to pieces on one of her adventures.
“Uh,” Ms. Dash blushed, knocking her helmet forward a bit as she rubbed the back of her mane.
“Ooo-kayyyy,” Ms. Applejack replied, turning briefly away from Ms. Dash to clear her throat, “but you know what I mean.”
Ms. Dash nodded.
“Anyway,” Ms. Applejack said, turning to me, “Zap Apples are a might touchy until we can get them into jam, and we can’t just leave ‘um out in the open to summon lightning and risk losing an orchard or two. It’s just safer to keep them grounded in a barn. Though, downside is the magical-static buildup is pretty rough on it,” pointing a hoof to the barn, “but, just a single harvest pays for the supplies and rebuilding for the rest of the year.”
“Alright, history lesson’s over,” Ms. Dash said quickly, “Now get into the ditch so we can finally start.”
“Nice to see you’re in a hurry to do some chores for once,” Ms. Applejack chuckled, sidestepping the nudge meant to speed her down. Sliding on her hooves into the ‘moat’, she stuck her neck back up and called out, “Alright, who’s first?”
“Ladies first,” I shrugged, sinking into shadow to the sound of Ms. Dash’s deepening chuckle as she rubbed her hooves together.
I blinked, and by then it was too late to see where Ms. Dash had gone, though I was still decidedly aware of her distancing fear. Blinking towards the sky, a flash of circling color wreathed in cloud was all I saw before shutting my eyes where the disturbingly colored afterimage lingered as singular, strangely wide and booming crack assaulted my ears, and, as the burning afterimage began to fade, all I could see was a hazy maroon dust that had sent Ms. Applejack into a fit of coughing in-between sneezing.
I was just about to move a hand, to try and make the nightmares do something of use, I knew I could, I’d done it before, when a gust of wind blew away the colored smog, revealing a particularly smug smile resting under helmet-covered eyes of Rainbow Dash. Still beating her wings, what was left of her sonic rainboom spiraled into the coning streams of air beneath them, drawing in the surrounding dust to twist and spin out into the empty orchard where they would eventually settle to the ground.
I whistled, feeling a little silly, but I didn’t know what to say. It was just so much more to see a sonic rainboom in person, but with the lifting of her hard-hat, the moment passed as Ms. Dash said, “Well, looks like I win.”
Pulling up out of the ground, the lingering scent of saw-dust and… some sort of spice tickling at my nose, the last of what was left of the four barn walls collapsed upon the jagged remains of the roof’s main support beam, before it too cracked, leaving the pile to settle into a more ambiguous shape.
“Wow,” I gaped, a little shaken to be reminded that, despite her size, Ms. Dash was fully capable of breaking the sound barrier under her own power, crash into a solid object, and still have all of her body parts in the same county, let alone in one piece all together.
“Yeah,” Ms. Dash sniffed, blowing onto her hoof before rubbing it on her chest, “I’m awesome.”
“but…”
“But?”
“But we bet who could destroy the barn the most, and, well,” I shrugged, “I can still technically tell there used to be a barn there,” gesturing to the splintered rubble, which, at that time, gave a cartoonish shudder, falling further in on itself and shrinking closer to the ground.
The girls just shared a knowing looking, smirking at each other before Ms. Dash landed next to Ms. Applejack, and, putting her hooves behind her head as she leaned against the high embankment, closed her eyes and said, “Pff, whaht-ever, just remember a good cheerleader has breakfast ready for the early-riser by ten-thirty sharp,” adding, “and I like freshly chopped strawberries in my oatmeal.”
Ms. Applejack snorted back her laughter as I closed my eyes. I remembered being able to control the damned things, I just had to have the right mindset. Theatrics.
‘Hoh-kay,’ I thought, clenching my fists, pulling in the early morning shadows out from their fixed positions. A few trees, a good thirty or so, ringed the open space, but it wasn’t nearly as difficult to turn them the wrong way as it was ripping them away from their caster and twisting them out of shape.
‘And, now,’ I grinned, ‘the finale,’ scooping my hands up from behind me as sand, black, and glittering a sickly white as it caught the sun, burst from the commandeered shadows, spiraling to the man-made island, engulfing the platform. Still wanting more, the nightmares obliged, and the swirling sands begin to rise, drawing in the air, stealing away the loose pink petals from the trees, consuming them as the tower continued to grow. And then, I took a bow, letting the shadows of the trees whip back into position just before I lost my grip as the tower collapsed, sinking in on itself.
Another headache mounting, I wanted to lower myself to the grass, to cool off in the last bits of dew before they evaporated, but, but Ms. Applejack and Dash were… scared?
Ms. Applejack whistled, “Well,” she gulped, “I guess that settles that.”
“Tch, no fair,” Ms. Dash whined gruffly.
“How was that not fair?” Applejack said, throwing a hoof out to the circle of land, where not so much as a blade of grass or pinch of sawdust remained.
I was a little surprised it worked as well as it had myself, mincing the whole lot of it and throwing the dust up into the sky.
“Eh, uh, uh, because he, grrrrah,” she shouted, blasting up into the sky, then bolting back to town.
In the brief silence that followed, not wanting to intrude further than I already was into her mind by prying further, I asked, “Is there anything else I can help you with Ms. Applejack?”
“That’s nice of ya’ to ask, but me and Big Mac got it all covered for today, but thanks.”
I nodded, figuring I might try and go back to researching their fables and myths back at Ms. Sparkle’s castle, when a flash of violet light gleamed from the road in between the trees.
“Applejack!”
It was Ms. Sparkle.
Running, at once, we made for the sound of Ms. Sparkle’s distressed voice.
“What is it Twilight,” Applejack shouted, clearing the fence while I tossed myself over with a bump of sand.
“WHERE IS WAYde doing … here?” She blinked, wide-eyed, as she looked from me to her quizzical friend.
‘Why is she here?’ I worried, ‘What’s wron-’, cut short as her newest bubble of fear burst into my mind. ‘Oh,’ I sighed, shoulders falling.
“A reasonable fear Ms. Sparkle, but I was just clearing Ms. Applejack’s land of the zap apple barn.”
“Oh,” she deflated, if only a little, bringing a hoof to her chest to try and steady herself. “But wait, how did you?”
“I sense fears whether I want to or not Ms. Sparkle,” I frowned, glaring down at her, “if I could turn it off, I would.”
“Oh,” Ms. Sparkle replied quietly, lowering her head.
“Don’t feel too bad,” I said, squatting down, trying to relax my face as I looked her in the eyes, “it’s a pretty normal response to care about a friend’s wellbeing,” nodding over to Ms. Applejack, “and besides, we’ve got some research to do.”
“What did you say?” Twilight asked, a smile springing onto her face.
Standing back up, “Ms. Applejack said she is fine for the rest of the day, so I figured I’d go back to my plan of searching through pony folklore and see if there was any mention of anything that could possibly help me get back home and get back to normal. After all, Nightmare Moon, Daring Doo, and even The Mirror Pool turned out to be real,” I shrugged, cutting off Twilight’s attempt to protest, “and really, it’s the best chance I have right now. So,” I gestured down the path, “shall we?”
“Hmm,” Ms. Sparkle frowned, “maybe. Fiction isn’t exactly my expertise.”
“Ha,” Ms. Applejack snorted, tapping against my leg, “more like, not at all outside of Daring Do, and we all know how that turned out.”
The remarks were lost on Ms. Sparkle who was already consumed in her own little world of research, a quill and paper having appeared, and both were soundly in use as she slowly began to plod her way back home, mumbling off either a bunch of pony names or possible cloud and wind types. My money was on the previous.
Looking back to Ms. Applejack, I said, “Sorry for all the trouble.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it, Twi’s been known to get a little antsy from time to time, so don’t take it too personally. Just try to maybe keep things a little smaller next time.”
“Thank you,” I nodded, beginning to catch up to Twilight.
“And oh,” Ms. Applejack shouted back, “maybe try asking Pinkie about those myths. Knowin’ her, she’s probably got one or two stories from her grandma that’ll, if nothing else, get you looking in the right direction.”
“Thanks,” I waved back, jogging after the receding unicorn.
***
“Alright, so we’ve got Cumulus’s Literary Techniques of the Hoofington Era, Windswept’s Great Quest Structure’s, Grey Quilt’s Familial Geas and Hasty Promises, …” and she just kept on going, adding more and more books to the table. Not that I was ungrateful, far from it, with all of these books, even if tended more to the grammatical, they would at least indicate stories referenced in the works in the index or end notes.
No, what concerned me was that the massive crystal table, inches thick, with supporting legs that were fused to the floor, a thing no doubt magically crafted with Twilight’s proclivity for books in mind, had begun to creak. Lightly, but with each added book, the nearly inaudible sound had become a loud whisper by this point, and with the her nose deep within another meticulously maintained tome and tinkling magics buzzing around her holding a number of papers and quills, all writing their own set of notes, it was only because of Spike’s request that I wasn’t trying to rouse her.
Having found out that I was going to help her, he’d made sure to let me know that if she hadn’t asked me anything for fifteen minutes, then nothing outside of an emergency was going to move her, and to just let her have her fun.
The clock had just passed the fifteen minute mark, and without a peep from Ms. Sparkle outside of her continued mumblings and the sound of pages being turned. And, rather than question whether or not she new the weight limit of her tables, I decided it would probably be better to check with Ms. Pie for any leads now rather than look up any particular number of tales first. Actually, I’d thought of that at the two minute mark, but Spike had said she’d freaked out pretty badly the first time she’d found out I'd left rather than return to the guest room, and that I should probably stay, or else. Really, it was kind of heart-warming to see how much he cared about her, even if he did think I looked like some sort of shadow phantom from across the mirror.
Well, time was up. And I was ready to get things started my way. I’m sure Ms. Sparkle felt good about her methods, but I preferred to follow lines of thought to their conclusions rather than get mired in a tangle of them until the whole thing was a complete mess.
“Ms. Sparkle, I’m going to see if I can corroborate any of our findings with Ms. Pie,” I said, rising from my stool, the only chair in this library that was at least passingly comfortable for my body structure.
When no affirmation came, I decided to leave a note on the seat before walking out. Next, once I closed the door behind me, I followed the trail of fear until I found Spike, taking out a tray of sparkling, steaming cookies from out of the oven, without gloves, though that was less shocking when I remembered who exactly he was.
“Excuse me Spike, but, in case Ms. Sparkle misses the note I left, I’ll be seeing Ms. Pie about any particular stories her grandmother told her that may help us.”
“Ok,” he said through a mouthful of cookies, already pulling out the milk from the refrigerator.
Slipping into shadow, I made for the fridge as he closed it, diving deeper into the darkness, and then to the nearest cluster of lights. Aiming for somewhere in the center, when I pulled up, despite the shadows of the alleyway, I blinked at the searing colors of a shop across the sunny street whose sign proclaimed it as Hugger’s Tea and Tie-dye Shop.
“Charming,” I muttered, more from the influx of mostly familiar fears murmuring into my head than the obnoxiously loud color scheme. Ignoring the tacky design, I slip up to the thatched roof beside me, and spied out the gingerbread-styled roof and made for it, much to the sudden gasps and double-takes of those I passed.
Stepping up onto the grass from the wall of Sugarcube Corner, bending down, I stepped through the open doors and into the smell of warm, gooey treats, with a mingling scent of lemon, cinnamon, strawberry, and peach that melded just perfectly together, only to stop at the coat rack, where a single yellow rain-jacket with matching wide-brimmed hat were hanging on, and a familiar static was coming from.
“Um, are you okay Ms. P-” I started to say, but the static vanished, reappearing by the display case ahead by the register. Stepping forward, I found it wasn’t the display case, but the bowl of complementary mints on the counter. “Ms. Pie, why are you in the mint bowl?”
“Be right with you,” came the friendly shout from the kitchen. A few seconds later the yellow stallion, Mr. Cake, step in from the kitchen door behind the counter. Gulping, he put on a smile and said, “What can I get for you today, Wayde, was it?”
“Yes sir, but I was looking to talk to Ms. Pie about something, but she seems to be busy in the mint-bowl for some reason,” I said, looking down.
“Oh sweet sassafras, there’s two of them,” he whispered. “Well,” he said at normal volume, his smile beginning to visibly waver, “I’ll just let you two get on it then, and just remind Pinkie to wash her hooves once she’s done. We don’t want the next pastry she touches to taste like peppermint.”
“Yes sir,” I nodded as he disappeared back into the kitchen, when the static of fear moved again, to the register.
Ringing itself open, two pink hooves reached out, pushing down on the sides of drawer, when, after a moment of what sounded like rubber stretching, Ms. Pie popped out into the air, landing lightly onto her feet. Turning around quickly, her hair, whipping in a full circle as it caught the momentum, came to rest over her eyes, almost seeming to lid them above the smile she wore. “Ooo, you’re pretty good at this game. So wha’chu want?”