THIS IS A STORY

by _NAME_

The Forty-Fifth Story

The stallion coughed.

It was a pleasantly warm and a beautiful cloud-free night, but to the stallion, the night might as well have been bone-chilling and terrifyingly stormy.

To say the least, he was absolutely miserable.

He groaned, picking his head up off the countertop where he had placed it in defeat, and gestured at the bartender to get him another drink.

The bartender did so, sliding another glass of alcohol down to join the other numerous empty glasses that had collected in front of the stallion.

The stallion scooped the glass up in his hoof and pressed it to his lips, gulping it down in one fell swoop.

He slammed it back down on the counter, coughing loudly as the drink slid down his throat, burning his insides, and slumped in his seat, too defeated, too exhausted, to do much of anything else.

The door to the bar swung open, and four stallions sauntered in and sat at the empty seats next to the stallion, glancing at his sullen, depressed-looking form for a few seconds, before placing orders of their own.

The stallion also looked at them briefly and then let loose a soft whinny and cradled his head in his hooves.

His day had quite possibly been the worst he, or anypony he knew, had ever experienced.

He raised a hoof, motioning for the bartender to send another drink down his way.

The stallion took a long swig from the glass placed in front of him and hiccupped, spewing alcohol across the bar and into the barkeep’s face.

The bartender wiped the offending liquid from his face, his face contorting in anger, and snatched the glass from the stallion’s grasp, and ordering him out of the bar, much to the stallion’s cries of protest.

The stallion pleaded with the barkeep for just one more drink, but his appeals fell on deaf ears, and the latter practically dragged the stallion from his seat and out of the door, throwing him out into the frigid night air, muttering under his breath.

The stallion managed to stay upright, and, after a moment, began to move down the street, swaying as he walked, his head abuzz with the influence of alcohol.

The city streets were quiet and lonely, save for the stallion’s unintelligible mumblings and occasional hiccups as he wandered off in some random direction.

A streetlight flickered off in the distance, and then turned off permanently, leaving a street corner covered in darkness.

The stallion knew, somewhere in his intoxicated mind, that he should probably try and make his way home, but, as his eyelids fluttered and grew heavy, he thought about just how very tired he was and how much he just wanted to sleep.

He neighed quietly and slowed to a halt at the corner of a building, leaning against its rough brick exterior.

He was so tired.

The stallion stared up into the night sky, his eyes sluggishly moving over each distant point of light, searching for something or somepony that he so desperately wanted to see again.

But there was nopony there, no pegasus mare swooping across the sky and back into his embrace, no sound, no movement, just him.

Choking back a sob, the stallion clenched his eyes shut, stemming the tears that were threatening to form there and continued on down the street.

Several minutes, and a lot of swaying and stumbling, later, the stallion finally arrived at his now incredibly lonely and cold house and went inside to spend the night alone in a bed that he once shared.

Author's Note:

[This story suggested by Dark Avenger.]

Comments

[FloydienSlip]

One small thing:

He gave a neighed quietly

[_NAME_]

3741703

Thanks. It was 'He gave a quiet whinny,' but then I realized I used that a few sentences up, and I hastily changed it.

[Dark Avenger]

Aww... I was actually hoping that suggestion would lead to something fun (e.g "having a few drinks with his buddies", just to avoid the "drink his sorrows away in a bar" trope)

Oh well... "depressing chapter" works just as well...

How about a chapter where he's traveling somewhere? Perhaps somewhere where he really doesn't want to go, but has to?