.until the last pony is ferried.

by shortskirtsandexplosions

._.

. i heard her whimpers from across the stygian waters .

. i nearly dropped my pole that very instant .

. composing myself, i pivoted the raft towards the sound of those delicate little sobs .

. she was not easy to spot along the pale shore; droves of anguished souls clambered up and down the rocky banks of the raven river .

. all of them wailed and howled with their collective torment, but none of them had the voice of this one pony, a voice that fluttered through the great ebony sphere on gossamer wings .

. at last, i found her: a splotch of yellow effulgence that clung to the shore just as frightfully as she clung to her own color .

. i knew it was only a matter of time before she became as pale and aimless as the older spirits all around her .

. drawing my pole through the water, i pushed my ferry towards her particular strand of the calcified coast .

. as i approached, the souls of the dead heard the break in the waters, and they all crowded along the shore, wailing in a hundred tongues as they all waved their own strips of metal .

. the coins were as varied as the melancholic faces flashing before me, some of them freshly shined, some of them jaded by the eons that had worn them to rust .

. i ignored them all, instead pounding my rod into the bone shoals as i forced the necrotic masses to part ways, exposing the yellow figure like a forgotten treasure beyond death's curtain .

. perhaps she was startled by the sudden silence, for she looked up at the shivering crowd, and then she turned her tear-stained face to me .

. i slowly reached a hoof out from underneath my cloak and held it towards her .

. she sniffled and spoke in a voice that brought song to the abyss .

. but... but I do not have a coin .

. i gestured to her all the same, waving my hoof patiently while i remained moored in front of her .

. with a quivering lip, she stood up and approached the coldly lapping waters .

. as it became apparent that she was the one receiving passage, the rest of the souls stumbled in, murmuring with indistinguishable sorrow and anger as they tried to crowd her out .

. swinging my pole out in a wide swath, i drew the cowardly spirits back, giving the mare room to leap towards the raft .

. she didn't have the strength to clear the waters, but i knew this .

. with a strong hoof, i pulled her onto the boat, and ushered her towards the center .

. she sat there, trembling, her blue eyes squinting from the pale glow that my lantern gave as it dangled ever so faithfully from the bow .

. dipping my pole into the shallow waters, i cast us off, putting distance between us and the purgatorial shore .

. as we drew away, the wails of the dead grew more and more pronounced, for they all knew it would be days, months, years, or even centuries before i came back for any one of them .

. those same cries went cold, of course, as my raft drifted off into the onyx depths of the river .

. now it was just two of us: the ferrypony and the passenger.

. the silence did not solace the pony; she clung to the edge of the raft as her tears doubled in intensity .

. i was so foolish. i should never have gone into everfree on my lonesome. i knew how dangerous it was. i've seen what could happen to my friends if they weren't careful. and yet, still, when i heard about the sick manticore, i went by myself to tend to him. twilight said it was infected with acute chaotic influenza and not even discord could save it. but i didn't want to believe that. i wanted to believe that anything could be nursed back to health with just a little bit of kindness and affection. and i died for my foolishness. i trotted into the jaws of that poor, suffering thing, and... i died for it .

. i ferried us along, silently, like we were one with the rippling black waves .

. she shook, buckled, and collapsed into her seat .

. the raft quivered from every trembling sob her body had left to give before oblivion's final embrace .

. i died young. i abandoned my friends. i made a mistake and now they are alone without me. how could i be so selfish? they need me. they need all of the elements that they can get. especially after what we've lost. they're still in mourning... they're still so sad and confused and all i did was add to their sorrow. oh, i'm a terrible, terrible friend. if only i had a chance to speak to them one more time, to tell them how much i loved them and cared about them... and that i'm so sorry for leaving them as early as i did.

. i glanced down, and saw that her color was draining .

. every yellow contour of her coat and every pink hue of her mane was ribboning out into the formless ether .

. that is what made me speak for the first time in years .

. you have not abandoned them. even now, you speak to your friends, every hour of every day, without fail .

. she glanced up at me with a gasp; i saw a dark hood and the faint hint of a pale muzzle reflected in her quivering aquamarine eyes .

. what do you mean? are they here? are they here right now? .

. no, but they will be .

. when? .

. in time, as all souls will arrive here, until the end of all things that carry color and life .

. but... but i don't understand. how can i still be speaking to them? .

. in all the years that i have been ferrying ponies across the river of the dead, i have learned to read them for all of their gifts and for all of their flaws. you have very few of the latter .

. really? .

. you have much kindness in you. for it to persist beyond the veil of death is no tiny accomplishment. i imagine that you were positively radiant with benefaction when you dwelt among the hills and valleys of the living. ponies who were exposed to that couldn't possibly feel robbed now that it is gone, for that awesome warmth and tenderness would undoubtedly linger with them, like a flame that refuses to go out .

. she stared at me with a quivering lip, and the color in her coat stayed, draining no longer .

. you really believe so? .

. i know so; i wouldn't be tasked with such an important function if it was not within my ability to read souls the way i do .

. she exhaled calmly .

. this far out, her warm breath glowed with as much brilliance as the lantern of my raft, and it lit up her face with a renewed warmth that dried the tears from her eyes .

. it brings me great comfort to think that i have left such an impact on my friends that they would remember me so fondly .

. kindness is more than a memory. it is its very own lifeblood, a gift that keeps on giving. you will have touched the lives of ponies for generations, including those that you'll never have the grace to meet .

. she gazed solemnly ahead .

. we were approaching a lone island, in the center of which there lingered a lone pond, bleak and featureless like a black hole .

. will i ever meet those ponies, or my friends again, for that matter? .

. we will all become one with the darkness, for it is our path to tread since before the dawn of time. the only lines we can hope to forge are those etched by the compassion we have shown for one another in the bleak time that we've been given. your mark shall be the deepest of all, and if your friends are to find you in even the darkest pit beyond eternity, they will have no trouble at all .

. she smiled at that .

. there was a final tear, and then the raft moored upon the obsidian edges of the island .

. i no longer feel sad for this. thank you .

. hold onto your gratitude, and wait for the spark beyond all things .

. with tender hooves, she stepped out of the boat and approached the pond in the center of the island .

. i watched as her colors trailed after her, sinking like a delicate quilt as she bravely approached the murky pool and tilted into it .

. after a blink, she was gone, dissolving into the nothingness with a sigh .

. the surface of the pond glittered briefly with the snuffing of the candle that was her life .

. and all was peaceful and serene .

. i grabbed my pole, turned away, and pushed the raft towards the distant shore once again .

Comments

[Skeeter The Lurker]

Oh my...

This is certainly different.

Damn somber too...

Least the ferryman seems like a decent person.

~Skeeter The Lurker

[Spectrum]

This style, or format should I say, is a first for me. Nonetheless the description is beautiful and I LOVE the concept itself. Alright, one pony down (Poor Shy)...I'm ready to read the rest!

[Zytharros]

Hmm. This is intriguing so far.

[Roudee]

This is... really hard for me to read.

[JP Jackson]

I really... don't know what to say. I don't know if i like it, I don't know if it's format is creative or just strange, all i feel is an unbreakable sadness. any story that can give me this much to think about deserves further investigation.

[JustAnotherTimeLord]

This is new.

[matangadijolachanga]

What is this clear substance pouring from my eyes,must be rain, yeah! Fucking rain.
Beautiful, poetic... wait who was the author again? it's shortsskirtsand... why i am even surprised...

[Pony Sparkles]

Inspired.

[The Great Turnip]

Interesting intro. Format's peculiar - not sure if that's a gimmick, has meaning I've failed to notice or will become clear later on. And oh well, an early death is the inevitable fate of the wholly altruistic.

Onwards!

[Kraken Hatchling]

So is her spirit gone?

[Ponky]

Wow, Skirts. Rare form. You've gotten me excited to read the rest.

"wait for the spark beyond all things" might be my favorite line you've ever written.

[Zaten the Changeling]

it's been 6 years since i first read this and yet it still feels just as moving as it did before, maybe even more so, considering my personal maturation with time. i don't know if you'll ever see this comment, considering the last time you were online, but i want to say thank you for writing this.