The Apple Never Falls Far

by ChaoticHarmony

From the Tree, To the Tree

— The Apple Never Falls Far —
A day of remembrance, a day of regret. A day of recollection, a day to forget. This is the day my parents died.

---

“I hate you, Pa.” The last words I ever said to him ring out inside my mind again, playing themselves over and over again in the silence that seems to like to hang around me. It’s funny how loud a place can be when you’re thinking about normal things like the amount of bits in the family stores and how much time it’ll take to harvest the West Orchard; and it’s scary at how silent a place becomes when you’re brooding about things you’d like to forget about. “I hate you, Pa.” It shocked me, the words, especially the fact that even after all this time, I could still feel and hear the sheer truth in them. I hated my father.

I remember when I had turned eighteen, the party had been full of balloons and cake that tasted just like last year’s cake: delicious. I had gotten a ton of different presents, typical “coming of age on a farm” sort of stuff: A brand-new plow-hitch, a set of horseshoes for when I’m “needing some help plowing the fields”, a few bits here and there to buy things on my own, and multiple allusions to the fact that I’m still without a marefriend whilst everypony else around me has one. If only they knew what kind of ponies I really wanted to be with.

Of course, none of this could account for all of the excitement that I felt on that particular day. The real reason I had a bounce in my step and sparkling eyes was because I became eligible for the Ponyville Scholarship. Despite my Pa’s repeated insistence that I wouldn’t ever get into college, and that it would be better if I stayed on the farm anyway, I went straight for the tall building that was the town hall the next day when I was out running errands.

Needless to say, all of my time spent studying in secret in the barn at night paid off. I got my acceptance letter in the mail just a few days later, though not in the way I wanted to find out. When I got home from my daily errands about town, I was welcomed home by my furious-looking Pa. Now, when a pony like him gets angry at you, you’re in deep trouble. He was always a slow-to-anger stallion, but never before had I ever seen him this upset.

Boy, he sure was upset, and for a whole bunch of reasons. He said that he needed help on the farm, said that he needed another stallion around to help take care of Granny Smith and Applebloom, two ponies that definitely needed watching nowadays. He also said that he didn’t want me hanging around any of those “prissy unicorn colts” that the Canterlot Academy mostly consisted of. That alone was enough to send a thrill of fear down my spine, but then he said another thing. “Figurin’ was anythin’ but a mare’s job to do.” I always had a hunch that my Pa knew how I felt about colts, but now I was almost certain. I never really did find out if he really did know or not.

What made him the maddest wasn’t even the fact that I did it on my own, it was the fact that I had gotten accepted. He had thrown the letters down onto the table, already open, and ordered me to read them. Of course, I didn’t have much choice in the matter other than to comply. I had only gotten halfway down the page when he ripped the papers from my hooves and tossed them towards the bin in a fury, missing due to the fact that he had neglected to wad them up first and sending them flying everywhere. That was the start of the biggest row I had ever been in.

And it all ended with just four words and the slamming of a door. “I hate you, Pa.” And I had meant it to, meant it just as I mean it now, even if it had made little Applejack cry and Granny Smith gasp in surprise. At that point I stopped caring about them, worrying only about myself. As I prepared to leave for what I thought to be the last time, I had scanned the room behind me. Granny Smith sat over by the kitchen door with Applejack in her hooves while my dad simply stared, whether in surprise or grim resolve I couldn’t tell. The sound that the door made when it slammed closed, and the day that I had been the one slamming it, still haunts me every time I close a door.

And so, I left. I even walked all the way to Manehatten just so I could take the train to Canterlot, as there wasn’t a train in Ponyville back then. Funnily enough, they did dorm me up with a unicorn just like Pa said that they would, and just like he would have hated. I’d never forget the first time I met Wave, back in the dorm, we just sort of clicked together. Of course, the first thing we did was talk about our hobbies. He was enlisted as the Captain of the freshman hornball team, a real stunning athlete with mares leaping at him from every direction back home.

Can’t say that I could blame them, even I was taken for a loop by his tall, snow-white legs and his electric-blue mane. After a while, I even got him to play hoofball with me and a few of my other friends that had gotten scholarships from the farms around Ponyville. I’ll admit, I tackled him every chance I got. It was worth running into that wall of muscle just to have him in my hooves, as desperate as it sounds. Guess that’s why it hurt so much when I saw that pretty pink princess of a mare leap into his arms.

Of course, can’t say that I dislike her for it. She was plenty good enough for him. At least he wasn’t taken by some whorse who had a winning smile or a nice flank, though the mare who did steal him away had both of those, but along with a personality to match his almost perfectly. That sort of thinking didn’t stop it from hurting though.

What hurt a whole world worse, however, was getting that letter in the mail.

I’ll never forget the first look I had at the letter, addressed to me in jagged hoofwriting and practically soaked from the still-wet tears that had fallen onto it. There had been an accident on the farm. Pa was in the hospital and Ma was there with him. I didn’t even say goodbye to Wave, didn’t even pack up my bags, didn’t do anything but gallop out to the Canterlot train station that was across town from the school. I didn’t even apologize as I ran through them, didn’t stop until I reached the station and hopped straight onto a train without even buying a ticket. I think the only reasons I didn’t get stopped was both the fact that the doors closed just as I leapt in and the wild look that was in my eyes.

By the time I got back, they were already in the ground with an apple tree planted over their graves, just like every other Apple before them. Half the trees in the orchards were planted to honor a dead family member. Those were always the ones that yielded the best fruit. It was something of a family tradition, growing a tree with your body after you died. It was always a happy thing, to celebrate a new life born from one that had left the earth.

For me, that damn tree holds nothing but spite. It’s like symbol, a mocking last stand of my father, who I never got to apologize to, never got to say goodbye to. A sick reminder of the fact that I would never, ever have a chance to make things right.

“I hate you, Pa.” The tree in front of me doesn’t do much but rustle as I half-heartedly kick it. Eeyup, I still meant every syllable. I hate him, have hated him ever since he told me that I couldn’t leave, and I hate him more than anypony I’ve ever hated.

But the same holds true with how much I loved him. Each time I hear those four words strung together in a sentence, it’s like a whole new knife-wound to my heart, another tackle from a hoofball player, another time seeing Wave holding that pretty little pink princess.

It was like losing him and Ma again.

After Pa died in the accident with Ma following him with grief, I had to take up most of the chores on the farm. It was a lot of hard work from then on with barely any rest in-between tasks. Almost all of my old school friends had stopped by to see how I was doing after they heard where I had gone, but I never stopped working long enough other than to say a few passing sentences before they left out of awkwardness of watching me buck or balance ledgers. It wasn’t easy, squeezing the budget to death just to pass through the winters. It was difficult having to watch little Applejack and baby ‘Bloom go without just so we could have another thing that we needed more than something else. Those years of “fancy mathematics”, as Granny Smith always likes to call them, really paid off as I worked and worked to keep our little farm afloat.

Of course, I never did get to finish my degree, even though I was smart enough to. Never had the chance. I remember the day I got my Cutie Mark, the very first time my mom had shown me the farm budget and I had organized it better than she had in years of doing it. I thought the half-apple with sparkles surrounding it meant that I could go far. But in all my years of running this farm I’ve learned a little something.

The apple never falls far from the tree.

Author's Note:

Just decided to take a jab at writing in first person. I hope it was at least somewhat readable for you!

Comments

[Kim Kimera Kimes]

That was fast o.o

[BR]

Short, but one of your best works so far! Good job, man.

[Aldon]

It was great...i mean short but for the best...really really good

Good Job

[Jack-Pony]

ChaoticHarmony, I think this is one of those rare stories that proves that you don't have to write an epic, to have it be epic. This tale of Big Mac's coming of age is spotless. It has everything I would expect it to in a story. It has his hardships, his detractors, his obstacles...his losses. It has all of the feels in just the right proportions that make the story flavorful, but not an unnecessary tear-jerker. I can't help but sympathize with the stallion, though our situations are different, they are so similar...

Five years ago, my father broke his neck, in an accident working on our house - the one he built with his very own hands. He and I were at odds - though by no means to the extreme that Big Mac and his Pa were - over my desire to be a professional author. He thought it was unrealistic, that I needed a college education to put food on the table. Its not that I disliked the idea of college, but I could never get into the idea. Truth be told, the only thing I could think of was myself, my writing. However, just like Big Mac, my destiny was preordained. After my father's injury, I finished my semester of college and left to take care of my family. It did give me the time to write like I wanted, but the cost... Now, five years later, my father is in a nursing home, because he can't get the services for him to live at home anymore...my mum's health is deteriorating, due in no small part to an injury she sustained from taking care of him...and I am left as the man of the house and stand in as a father-figure for my teenage younger-brother.

I can't say I shed a tear for Big Mac from this story. No...I sighed.
I'm right there in the trenches with ya buddy, I'm right there with ya...

[Cryptid]

I've seen something like this before... There was a comic on Deviant art (I think) That had Big Mac going to a school in Canterlot, but he was kicked out because he couldn't do magic.

[ChaoticHarmony]

2715755 What can I say? I work fast.

2716477 Thanks

2716987 Short, who're you callin' short?

2717324 Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it and were able to relate! (Not happy about your dad tho, but there's nothing to be done for that. Sorry that that had to happen to ya...)

2717443 Um, okay.

[ANearPerfectStudent]

Whoho!

A story with one of the classic openers

I don't know why I am writing this...

[Deil Grist]

Personal preferences aside, the quality and flow of this story made it quite a fast read. It was smooth and transitioned well without spending too much time on any one thing, but allowed sufficient exposition to get the point across. Big Mac's personality here was interesting, and I like how the simple wording of the story reflects the fact that he's well educated beyond what his minimalist dialogue reveals, yet not to the point of being a walking dictionary. The key point is that the story is believable, and I especially like the family tradition of using trees as grave markers.

The one thing that is a bit of a stumbling block is reading about being attracted to another male from a male's point of view. As a straight guy, it's hard to relate to him in that regard and somewhat awkward. That's the nature of the character you've built for Big Mac though, and I wouldn't say you made a mistake going that route, but it does have its downsides as a trade-off for putting him in the unique position of having his pick of the herd for Mares when he's even not interested in them. Gutsy move on your part to move in that direction.

There's an inconsistency in the story I'd like to point out:

By the time I got back, they were already in the ground
But then four paragraphs down, past the one-liner:
After Pa died, I had to pick up all of his chores and then Ma’s too after she passed from grief.
The former indicates they both died on his way home, whereas the latter says his mother died some undisclosed time after his father.

All around, I'd give this an 8/10. I'm left wishing there was some sort of lesson he learned that will better him in the long run, but the potential for feels for anyone who has had a big blowout with their father is certainly there, and the story is put together well.

[ChaoticHarmony]

2719051 Thank you so much for such an in-depth comment! I always enjoy reading these, as it helps me become a better writer

Also, I went backed and changed that little consistency error.... how did I let something like that slip?

[DarkAura89]

You've got some wordy commenters, though that is never a bad thing. As per normal, I shall keep it brief.

Again, well done. Another tale crafted in your signature style. As of late, it seems your style has evolved from 'sad to be sad' to 'sadness from circumstances'. I think I've nailed down what it is that makes your works yours, finally. Even your early works seem to show it, but that is a topic for another day...

Again, great work.

[Aldon]

2717691

well usually fics are more than 3000 words but im not complaining it was great XD

[starship55]

i loved this story. it was heartwrenching, to say the least. I sympathize with big mac, for the loss of a chance to better himself. I would have felt the same way myself. I hope he can reconcile with his memory of his father in the future. I would hate for him to hate his father for the rest of his life. that would be a tragedy in itself. I had a falling out with my own father, for different reasons, and was estranged from my family for almost 40 years. I have recently reconnected with my two sisters, but my father is another story. he died a few months ago. I did get to talk with him, but the only thing he asked me was if I had a job that gave me a livable income. when I go to heaven, im going to punch him in the face. I don't grieve for him. he missed out on me going to college myself, and my marriage of 18 years to a wonderful woman, who died 10 years ago, after we survived Katrina. he missed out on so much, and I hope to never see him again.

[Rye Bread]

5668836 You said it all so beautifully. I sympathize with Big Mac a lot in this but the big difference is that I accepted and embraced the fact that my father is a piece of garbage years ago. He was a sperm donor, my REAL Dads are my uncles who stepped in, raised and fed me, loved me through my (very angsty) teen years, celebrated my marriage and children, supported me even more when the marriage crumbled, after drugs took over my ex-spouse. One of them passed in 2010 and I grieve for him every day. The other is just a short 10 hours away. Any man can be a 'father', but it takes someone special to be a Dad. I hope you have peace in your heart despite the callous treatment you received from your father. You made a beautiful life for yourself BY yourself.