The light shines in through your windows, rousing you from your slumber. It was the night after your “Welcome to Ponyville” party, and you still only had the grey mare, Ditzy, on your mind. It brought a smile to your face as you lied in your bed. You sighed, willing yourself to activate your muscles and move from the bed. Come on, upsie-daisy. You aren’t going to do anything productive if you stay in bed, as you try to convince yourself to wake up.
After a lifetime of aching and groaning you manage to leave your bed and sleepily walk downstairs to eat breakfast when you are surprised see that Wingsley is already awake. He turns towards you and motions to the cake that he is devouring.
“Do you want a piece?” he says in-between bites. It is clearly some of the leftover cake from the party. Needless to say you thought that you had an almost lifetime supply of cake in the fridge, but at the rate that Wingsley is ‘inhaling’ the cake, you doubt it will last the weekend.
As much as you wished you could lie down and relax for the day, there is too much to do and too little time to do it in. You think to yourself about all of the things you need to do since your arrival in Ponyville.
Reading over the list, you realize that some of the items will not be something you can complete in a day. Better start off easy, you think to yourself. Not wanting to procrastinate, you decide to write to your father first. He told you to write when you got settled into town, and writing him was a great way to start off your checklist.
Grabbing paper from the desk that Wingsley is currently using as his personal table, you sit down to draft out a letter:
We have just arrived in Ponyville three days ago, and I wanted to write you to tell you that we are fine. Wingsley is happier than I have ever seen him in Cloudsdale.
You sigh, the letter was short, too short. He may not have been around after Mom died, but he is still my dad. He deserves more than just an empty response from his estranged son.
You continue this time on a more serious note, as you give a final desperate plea:
Dad, you cannot keep blaming yourself for Mom’s death, you are only hurting your family by doing that. I know how important she was to you, but we are still here. I’m scared Dad, Wingsley is now ten years old and he still has not learned how to fly. Mom’s death left him scared too, as it did with all of us. We need you, Wingsley needs you, I need you. I might be Wingsley’s brother, but a brother can only do so much... He needs a parent in his life. The town here is great and we have a spare room, please come and stay with us.
It wasn’t a fantastic piece of literature, but it sent a point. You glance back towards your brother, who finished his cake and found it time to take an after breakfast snooze. It was only your third day in Ponyville, so you leave him be. You finish addressing your letter when a pleasant thought makes you smile, you get to see Ditzy Doo again.
Grabbing your saddle bags, you make your way out of your house, leaving a note telling your brother where you were going. The door closes gently behind you as to not wake your brother. Taking a deep breath, you lift off from the ground and begin your aerial approach to the post office. As you soar through the air, you try to take in all of the refreshing high altitude air, this is the first time you have had a moment to yourself. Your wings have not been used for a while, so this short flight put a strain on your wings that comes with intense stretching. Nevertheless you relished in the exertion, pushing yourself to the limits that you found safe.
Feeling awake and refreshed after your morning flight, you make your way to the post office. Still getting used to the layout of Ponyville it takes you a while to pinpoint the location. You land next to the entrance, taking a while to collect your thoughts before entering. Remember step one: Do NOT make an ass out of yourself. You continue to remind yourself, which is almost a necessity so that you do not repeat the ‘incident’ with Snow Angel that happened a few years back in Cloudsdale.
You open the door of the post office, peeking your head inside to see if anyone was there. To your great delight, Ditzy was sitting there at her office table. You give a small smile and fully enter into the post office.
“Morning, Ditzy” you say cheerfully.
“Oh hey, didn’t expect to see you here, couldn't stand not seeing me for a day?” she says to you playfully.
Truthfully, no I could not, you think grimly to yourself knowing that that was part of the reason, but you cover up your discomfort and give a small chuckle, “Actually, I have a letter that needs to be mailed.”
“To who?” she asks with general interest, “If it is out of town, you are in luck, I am going to make a round tomorrow.”
“It is actually,” you state, “My father lives in Cloudsdale, and he probably wants to know that we are okay,” you shrug.
“Why doesn’t he live with you guys? And you never really said why you left Cloudsdale,” Ditzy asked curiously.
“It’s a... long story...” you exhale with a very clearly pained expression.
Ditzy caught the touchy topic and decided to not push the conversation in that direction. “Well okay, a story for another time perhaps,” she said gently.
“Another time...” you repeat. “Anyway, I need to buy some stamps, I’m sure you can help me out in that regard,” trying to bring the conversation away from your troubled family history.
“You sure asked the right mare,” she chuckled to herself as she went to retrieve some stamps.
Something is nagging at the base of your mind, something that you never gave much thought before. Is she always this flirty with everypony, or just me? Convincing yourself for the sake of your sanity that she generally liked you, you wait for her to return with your stamps. You give the necessary bits for the stamps and walk off to the side to put the finishing touches on your letter before mailing it.
Carefully taking the stamp off of the roll of paper and placing it on the envelope you turn to hear a pony entering, and he did not seem happy...
“What’s the deal? I ordered a package and sent for it to be shipped here three weeks ago! And it is still NOT here!” the voice shouted.
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t received any packages. I run most of this post office by myself, there isn’t much more that I can do,” Ditzy, who was clearly troubled, pleaded with the aggravated stallion.
“That’s not good enough, you good-for-nothing, cross-eyed mare,” the stallion raised his voice, “You can’t even see straight, why do we leave you in charge of handling our mail? Any bum off the street can do a better job than you can.”
Feelings of anger flow into you as you witness this horrid display. Glancing at Ditzy, you see her cowering slightly behind the desk, shaking and struggling to hold back tears. Taking the verbal abuse, you wonder why she is not defending herself. Your mind is made up, no-pony should have to take this form of abuse; one way or another, this stallion is going to leave, willingly or not.
Getting closer to the desk, the stallion raised his voice again saying, “You have anything to say you derped eyed filly? Or are you just going to sit there?”
“I-I-I’m sorry,” she squeaked out, choking back a barrage of tears.
“I’m sorry? That is the best you can do?” the stranger had moved past the fault with the mail and moved to pure insults, “We all know your story, yours and your bastard child.”
“That filly shouldn’t have a mother like you. How are you allowed to have custody over her? If anything, it would be better if filly-protective services took her. At least you wouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore than you already have, feather-brain.”
He did not just say that...
Something about the phrase struck a chord in your brain that caused your vision to go red with fury. You are unsure of what happened to you in the few seconds after thinking this, but the next thing you realize is that your back-hoof is extended behind you toward a now unmoving stallion. The post office was deafeningly silent except for soft sobs from Ditzy. A moment passes while you assess what you did. Adrenaline is still flowing through you after the physical altercation you just committed. The stallion is still breathing, slowly, but he is clearly unconscious. Fights were not something you participated in normally, but when he told Ditzy that her child was better off without her, you snapped; you never hit anyone as hard as you did seconds prior. Collecting your breathing, your attention is turned back towards Ditzy Doo.
Walking over slowly, you ask her softly, “Are you alright?”
All of the sadness, fear, and anger she was storing was now unleashed upon you in a torrent of emotion, “NO I’M NOT ALRIGHT YOU DUMB COLT! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KICK HIM? ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE MY LIFE HARDER? HE IS GOING TO WAKE UP AND CONTINUE TO MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL! DO YOU THINK BEFORE YOU ACT?” she screamed at you through the tears, “WHAT WAS GOING THROUGH YOUR HEAD? WERE YOU TRYING TO PROTECT MY HONOR OR SOME OTHER MORONIC BUCKING EXCUSE? YOU THINK YOU CAN SHOW UP AND THINK YOU CAN BE MY STALLION IN SHINING ARMOR? NEWS FLASH BUDDY, I HAVE GOTTEN THIS FAR IN MY LIFE WITHOUT ANYPONY! GET OUT!” At this point Ditzy rose from where she was sitting and moved towards you, pushing you towards the exit. In a final fit of rage, she yelled with added emphasis, “I SAID, GET OUT!! IF I CAN GO MY LIFE WITHOUT SEEING YOU AGAIN, IT WILL BE TOO SOON!”
Struck deep into your heart, you move toward the door. Feeling obligated to clean up your mess, you take the unconscious stallion outside draped over your back. Hanging your head, and moving silently you walk out into the fresh air, which tastes bitter and stale. You find a place far enough distance away from the post office to leave the stallion to wake up. Feeling sick, you turn your attention back at your home. You take off, flying high into the sky back in the direction of your house.
Ditzy stayed in the post office for a while longer, crying and envisioning the possibility of having her daughters taken away from her. Sparkler was old enough to help her adopted sister if the worst came, which came as a minor condolence to Ditzy. She also felt bad about lashing out at that one stallion that came in earlier today. He was one of the few ponies that came to Ponyville and didn’t immediately judge me, Ditzy thought to herself. Maybe he didn’t do things the best way, but I shouldn’t have attacked him like that. Letting herself calm down, Ditzy found that the only thing she wanted to do was be with her daughters; so she packed up her saddlebags, locked the door, and flew back to her home.