This One Thing

"You ain’t goin’," Applejack snaps over her shoulder, "and that's final!"

“But—”

"No buts Apple Bloom! You're stayin’ home."

I grit my teeth and follow Applejack down the dirt road. The setting sun shines in our eyes, trees sway in the breeze, and summer apples bloom angry red from their branches. I look over my shoulder at the winding path leading down to Ponyville. The train will be leaving tomorrow morning, and my friends with it.

"This ain’t no time to go on your little adventures,” Applejack drones on. “Granny’s—"

"Granny gets sick all the time! Why do I have to stay just ‘cause she caught another cold?"

"Because it's what a family does. If you want your cutie mark so badly, why don’t you think about why your brother and I got our apples?"

"I ain’t you, Applejack. I don’t want or care about all the same things you do."

"Apples don't fall far from the tree."

"Sometimes an apple falls down a hill and splashes into a river and is taken far, far away to a place where there ain’t no apple trees."

Applejack gives me a look. “You obviously don’t know anythin’ about apples and trees.”

“I know I have to explore and taste new things so I can find what’s important to me, what truly matters to me. That’s what a cutie mark is all about.”

Applejack frowns. "Is that really what you want, to leave all of us behind and go live in some place none of us ain’t even heard of?"

“And what if it is?”

"Then it's a darn good thing you're just a filly and don't get to wander off into somethin' you'll regret."

I groan. "Why do you have to be so stupid?"

"Hey! Don't you talk to me about stupid, young filly! If you think runnin' off at a time like this is a good idea, your head is as empty as a fallen log."

"You're a log!"

“Log?” Big Mac’s voice. Applejack and I glare up at him. He winces and shrinks back.

“Sister-talk,” Applejack says. “Nothin’ you need concern yourself with.”

The big stallion chews on his straw, shrugs, and hurries past us, the wheels of his cart creaking behind.

"See?” Applejack says when he’s out of earshot. “Big Mac never complains.”

"Big Mac don't even know how to complain!"

“Nope,” Big Mac shouts in the distance.

"Maybe you can learn a thing or two from him, then."

I step in front of her and glare into her eyes. "Will you just sign the permission paper? All I need is your signature and I can go."

"I ain't signin’ nothin’ for you right now, and Granny ain’t in no condition to neither.” Applejack walks past me. “You can go beg Big Mac if you want."

"Big Mac can't even read!"

"Guess you’re stayin’ home, then."

I shudder and look back over my shoulder. Warm wind blows the scent of sunbaked earth at my side. When I face forwards again, the barn emerges from behind an apple tree where the road curves, standing tall and red in the open field.

“But she’ll be fine in a day or two anyway,” I say, struggling to keep my voice from breaking.

“You don’t know that,” Applejack says as we start down the hill towards the barn. “So you’ll stay near just like the your brother and me.”

I follow Applejack until we’re close enough to the barn to hear the window-shades clanking against the wall. My eyes drift to the second story windows, where Granny Smith’s room is. She’s probably lying up there now, coughing and moaning and muttering like she has been the past weeks, getting worse every day.

My guts go cold, followed by a rising urge to throw up. I stop and take a step back.

“And just where do you think you’re goin’? Don’t you—Hey! Stop!”

I run back the way we came, past Big Mac and his cart, over long shadows of apple trees along the winding path. Big Mac says something behind, but the wind in my ears makes it hard to hear. Applejack snaps something at him, then there is only the sound of her rushing hooves chasing me.

My short legs carry me fast, but not nearly fast enough. I make it past two bends in the road before Applejack catches up behind me. I grit my teeth and turn off the path and into the apple trees. But I might as well be trying to outrun a timberwolf.

"Apple Bloom, stop!” She’s almost at my tail again. I pass two more trees before she sprints past me and stops in front to block my path. My hooves dig into the ground to stop, but I end up crashing into her chest all the same. She stumbles back a few steps, stops, and holds me with her hoof. "When I say stop, you stop!"

I wrench free from her hoof and step back. I’d curse at her if I could, but I’m too busy heaving for air. I sit down on my haunches and swipe my hoof through the air in what I hope looks like a dismissive gesture.

I glance around. I don’t recognize this part of the orchard. The grass is thinner here, and the trees carry fewer apples. A wooden ladder rests sideways against a stump, and an old stone well sits lonely on an open patch of dirt in the shade.

Applejack jabs a hoof at me. “You want to get away for a little while, I get that, but running off like that is not okay.”

I push myself up to all four and glare at her. “You’re so unfair!”

"Fair don’t matter here. You're the younger, and that means you do as I say.”

I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off before I get another word out.

"Granny’s been gettin’ worse, and you know that. We need to be close by when she has downswings like this."

"Why, so we can watch her die?"

Applejack narrows her eyes, but hesitates. The anger in her expression fades and her eyes soften. She bites her lip and looks down at the barn, taking a breath before answering.

"Yes."

My eyes widen and my chest tightens. I look away to hide the stinging in my eyes. The last sliver of sun sets behind the western hill, and shadow swallows the orchard. "Then I'd rather go to Manehattan with my friends.” I turn to walk away. "Nopony ever got a cutie mark from watching their Granny die."

"Apple Bloom, you—"

"Don't touch me!"

She steps in front of me. "Just hold on a minute." I turn the other way, eyes to the ground. “I get that you—” I turn away. She hurries in front of me again. “Will you just—” I walk past her, and once again she blocks my path. “Darn it, Apple Bloom, just—”

I scream and ram her chest, hear the wind go out of her. She stumbles back. A twig cracks behind her. She puts a hoof around me and yelps as her legs touch upon the edge of the old well. She trips, falls over, and drags me in with her.

For a horrifying moment the ground disappears from under us and we plummet through open air into darkness. Rough stone scratches at my back on the way down, and we splash into shallow water in a tangle of limbs and manes and hat.

I blink my eyes open and groan at a dull pain in my side. It's dark. Dim, but not pitch black. I must have landed on a mossy stone. A warm stone. Feels more like grass than moss. I hear a voice, muffled and distant. Applejack’s voice. My mind swims with dizziness. I shake my head and look down.

Two green eyes stare up at me from behind a wet mane right under my face. I startle and squint down. “Apple...jack?”

“Apple Bloom!”

I wince and cover my ears. Her voice echoes around us. "Yeah, yeah, you don't have to yell."

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"I'm... fine, I think. What happened?” I blink. “And why am I on your head?" I let go of my ears, feel a jolt of pain when I crane my stiff neck to look up. "Oh..."

A round brick tunnel, slick with wet and covered in patches of moss, stretches up towards the gray sky high above. A rope dangles down about two thirds of the way down, well out of reach.

"One of the old wells," Applejack says. "Back from the old days. They should have all been sealed up by now."

I shift my weight on Applejack’s head.

“Ow!” she says. “Watch it!”

My hoof presses against her left ear, my belly rests on the top of her head. "Sorry," I mumble, putting my hoof against a loose brick in the wall instead. It’s slippery, and my hoof can’t get a firm hold, so I let it dangle down the side of her head. I look down. She’s standing in shallow water up her ankles. “What do we do? Climb up?”

"Not likely," Applejack says. "I can’t feel my hind leg. I think… somethin’s wrong with it. And this mud under the water is suckin’ at my hooves. I only have one I can move properly.” She squints up. “There was a ladder up there. We'll just have to call for Big Mac to throw it down for us.”

"Think he'll hear us from all the way down here?”

"Big Mac!" Applejack yells. I cover my ears again. "Big Mac! Help! We're down here!"

Applejack keeps on yelling until her voice grows hoarse. She coughs between cries of 'Help' and 'Big Mac' and even a 'Granny' or two. After what feels like a long while, she sighs and quiets down.

"This is all your fault,” I mutter.

"What?"

"This never would have happened if you hadn't followed me all the way out here..."

"If you hadn't ran all the way out here and pushed me, you mean!"

"If you had just let me go to Manehattan like I was supposed to!"

"Are you still thinking about that now? Have you no sense, filly?"

"When I get out of here, I'm runnin’ away and I’m gettin’ on that train to Manehattan."

"You are not!"

“Why do you have to be such a bad sister?”

“Me, a bad sister?” Applejack snorts. “I’m the one trying to teach you somethin’ valuable here.”

“Whatever. I’m climbin’ up. Count yourself lucky if I throw down the ladder.” I put one hoof on the edge of a mossy brick and hoist myself up. My other hooves find unsteady holds on the top of Applejack's head. I sway back and forth a few times, certain I'll fall over at any moment.

"It's a long way up," Applejack says.

“It’s nothin’.” I fix my eyes on the rope hanging little over halfway down. “Once I’ve bitten hold of that rope it’ll be easy.” I press my back against the opposite side of the well and my hooves against the other. I find cracks between the bricks and hoist myself up a little. “Hah!” I say, staying in place without Applejack’s support. I put one hoof in front of the other and start to climb. The stones are slippery, but the cracks between them give half-decent hoofhold.

“Don’t fall and break your neck,” Applejack says.

“Yeah, yeah.” I keep my eyes on the dangling rope, getting nearer and nearer. “I got—” My hoof misses a crack and slips on the wet stone. I yelp as I fall through empty air.

Applejack grunts when I land on top of her again. I nearly tumble into the water, but she pushes me back onto her head with her one free hoof. “I told you, it ain’t gonna work. It’s too darn slippery.”

“And I told you I got it!” I get ready to climb again.

“Stop it, Apple Bloom! You’re gonna get yourself hurt.”

“I’m not stayin’ in this hole with you.”

Applejack groans. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“You’re the one being difficult!” I put my hooves in between bricks and begin hoisting myself up. Applejack wraps a hoof over my back and holds me to her. “Let me go!”

“I said you ain’t climbin’ no more.” My hoof hits her face as I squirm. “Settle down, darnit!” She moves beneath me, holding me pressed against her back. “Apple Bloom, wait, I think—” We both gasp as we sink down a little. We freeze as the ground settles beneath her. “The mud,” she says. “It’s shiftin’ under my hooves.”

“What the heck does that mean?”

“It means that if you keep squirming like that, we might sink right through.”

“Sink… through?” I look down, feeling a chill. The shallow water on top of the mud reaches up to Applejack’s knees.

"Just... stay still, will you? No more kickin’."

"Fine." I frown and shift my weight . "But don’t think this changes any—" I yelp as Applejack sinks another inch and my head knocks into the mossy stone.

"Stay still, darnit!"

"Okay, okay!” I take a deep breath and rub at my forehead.

"We'll get out," she says, not quite managing to mask the frustration in her voice. "Big Mac'll come looking for us soon, I reckon. He'll throw down the ladder."

"It'll get dark soon," I say, looking up at the gray sky through the tube. “What if he hits the hay before he notices we’re gone? Winona’s on her leash, and I doubt Granny will be up and about this late."

Applejack waits a moment before replying. "He’ll come and get us, even if it ain’t until tomorrow mornin'. Big Mac's an early riser. If he don’t notice we’re missin’ now, he will at sunrise."

"Sunrise? I have to spend the whole night in here? With you?”

"A little sisterly time never hurt nopony."

“Sisterly time,” I mutter. “Nopony ever got their cutie mark in a well. A real sister would let her sister go to Manehattan.”

"Will you please shut it about Manehattan for just a one darn minute?"

“How about I stop talking to you altogether?”

Applejack takes a moment like she’s about to lash out at me, then lowers her head and sighs. “I’m tired, Apple Bloom. I’m tired of fightin’. Can we just… not argue right now?”

“Fine. But when I get out of here, I’m going to Manehattan whether you want me to or not.” I wait for her to object, but for once she stays silent. “Good,” I say, settling in the warmth of her mane. “Problem solved. No more arguin’.”

—————

Something wet hits my nose. I look up at the darkening sky. Another drop hits my eye. I blink and rub at it, feel the drizzle fall in my mane, hear it in the shallow water of the well. "Great," I mutter. “Of course it has to rain.”

"Apple Bloom?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you wanna go to Manehattan so badly?"

"What do you care?"

"Will you just answer the question? I'm tryin’ to be a good sister here."

“Fine job you’re doin’ at that."

"Is it because of Granny?"

I purse my lips.

“I can’t help but think it’s selfish of you not to want to be there for her,” Applejack says. “Sick as she is, I mean. How’d you feel if Big Mac or I didn’t wanna see you when you were sick? It’s just somethin’ family does for each other.”

“Do we have to talk about this?”

“Frankly, we do. It frustrates me to no end that you can think getting a cutie mark is more important than bein’ with Granny when she’s sick.”

“It ain’t that simple.”

“Then what the heck is the problem?”

I stare into the mossy bricks in silence.

“Well?”

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

“What’s that?”

“I’m scared, okay? Are you happy now? Laugh all you want, I don’t care.” I look around for a place to run and hide, but the wall presses tight around me. “I can’t be there, with her. I don’t want to be. Not when she… if she....”

“Apple Bloom—”

“I know. You’re gonna say that I’m bein’ stupid, that she always gets better, that she’s not gonna...” I press my lips shut.

“No,” Applejack says, “it’s okay. I get it. I understand. I’ve… I’ve been scared like that before.”

“You, scared? When?”

Applejack hesitates. “When mom died.”

I lower my eyes, watch the raindrops sprinkle in the water. “You don’t talk about mom much.”

“No,” Applejack says, “I suppose not.” We both stay quiet for a little while before she continues. “We didn't’ talk much of it back when you was littler neither. Big Mac didn’t take it too well, Granny worst of all. Can’t say I dealt with it any better.” Applejack takes a breath. “But the worst part was leadin’ up to it, when she kept gettin’ worse every day.”

“Like Granny?”

“Yeah, just like Granny.” She looks up at me, our eyes meet, and she looks down again. “Dad leavin’ shocked all of us, and it was hard, but knowin’ that mom might not live out the day was… worse. You wouldn’t remember, though. You were just a little foal back then.”

“How come you never talk about them, mom and dad?”

“I don’t think about them much now. I try not to.”

The rain pats down in our manes, run down our coats, wash dirt from cracks in the wall.

“But I want you to know that it’s alright to be scared,” Applejack says, “especially at a time like this.”

“I don’t want to be scared.”

“What you are or what you get ain’t important. It’s how you deal with it that matters. Fear is fine so long as you don’t let it drive you to things you’ll regret.” Applejack lowers her head. “Like it did to me.”

I rest my cheek on her head. Her mane is turning damp. “What was she like?”

“Who?”

“Mom.”

Applejack hesitates.

“You were the one who brought her up.”

Applejack sighs. “She was… complicated. Even back then, it was Granny who took care of us. But that didn’t make it any easier when mom started gettin’ sick. It just felt wrong seein’ her like that. She was always so energetic and alive and fun, but kept turnin’ weaker and more miserable every day.”

I frown, reminded of Granny lying sick in her bed.

“It was hard,” Applejack says, “and I couldn’t take it. I stayed away, I hid, I made excuses, anythin’ I could to distance myself from the death creepin’ up on her. Eventually it got so bad that I ran off to Manehattan, stayed there with some relatives. I thought I didn’t care, I told myself I didn’t, promised myself that it didn’t matter. But when I got the letter from Granny sayin’ mom had passed, I huddled under my blanket and cried all night.”

“You… cried?” I lean forward, looking down at her face. “You?”

Applejack touches the stone wall with her free hoof. “Everypony cries, and the ones who cry the least cry the hardest.” She draws her lips into a thin line. “I’d never see her again, never talk to her, never get to say I was sorry. It was when I was cryin’ under that blanket, all alone in a world I didn’t know, that I got my cutie mark.”

She meets my eyes. “Apples, for my family, because that’s all that ever truly mattered to me.” She stares back at the empty wall. “And I was a fool to not see it until it was too late.”

“You never mentioned mom in that story before.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever need to.” She frowns. “But now that I’m seein’ you blunderin’ into the same mistakes I did…”

I hide my face back over her head. “What about dad?”

“Dad? He ain’t important.”

“I’d like to know what he was like.”

Applejack looks up at me, squints when the rain hits her face. “I said he don’t matter, not to what I’m tryin’ to teach you here.”

“Still, what was he like?”

Applejack stares back at the wall and sighs. “Soon as he learned mom was carryin’ you, he up and left without a word.”

“I know that, but why?”

Applejack shrugs. “I’ve asked myself that question more times than I can count. Mom didn’t make things easy for him, and I guess one day he’d had enough.” She shakes her head. “I don’t remember much about him. I was just a little filly back then, even littler than you are now.”

I lean forward. “There’s gotta be somethin’ you remember.”

“Well, there’s just…” Applejack looks down at the water. “This one thing.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a stupid thing to remember when I can’t even recall what he looked like.”

“Well, are you gonna tell me or not?”

“Cream and sugar.” Applejack’s voice is low, like she’s telling a secret.

I raise an eyebrow. “Cream… and sugar?”

She looks up at me, then away. “He hated coffee, but he’d still drink it every day so long as he had lotsa cream and sugar for it.”

“That’s weird. Why’d he drink it if he hated it?”

“Not sure. Said it was just somethin’ he needed to do, and that the cream and sugar made it only half bad.” Applejack looks down. “Cream and sugar. What a stupid thing to remember.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“I doubt it. If he wanted to come back, I reckon he would have already.” She pauses. “Back when I was a little filly, I’d dream of what I’d do if I ever saw him walkin’ down the road to the barn. I told myself I’d hurry and make a cup of coffee, put lotsa cream and sugar in it just the way he liked, and give it to him the moment he opened the door.” Applejack looks up at the weeping sky. “I still think about it, truth be told.”

“You never know. Might be you’ll get to give him that cup some day.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Applejack says, flashing a smile. “I remember how he’d wrinkle up his face when he drank it. Always made me laugh, little as I was.” Her smile fades. “But back to what I was sayin’ about mom, there’s an important lesson to my story.”

I roll my eyes. “Do you really have to turn everythin’ into a lesson?”

“No, but this one’s important. I don’t want you to—”

Bright light flashes in the murky well, and a heartbeat later thunder cracks like the world’s splitting open. I duck down and cover my ears, feeling my chest vibrate as dust falls from the wall.

“I hate thunder!” I say, clenching my eyes shut as the crackling fades.

“A little thunder never hurt nopony,” Applejack says. “But it sure is rainin’ hard.”

"I'm cold," I say, shivering. My whole body is soaked, my wet mane plastered to my head. I open an eye and squint up. Dim moonlight shines through dark clouds high above, barely bright enough to see the water running down the round wall.

"Morning will come soon,” Applejack says. “Big Mac’ll get us back up, you’ll see.”

"He'd better,” I say, rainwater running down my face. “I’ve never been more miserable in my life.”

“A little rain is nothin’. It can be much worse.” Applejack speaks on with a lowered voice, too quiet to hear over rain splashing in water.

“What?”

“When we do get out of here,” Applejack says, louder, “you’ll go see Granny, right? You’ll stay home?” She lifts her chin and looks up at me. “Apple Bloom?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Me stayin’ home for another week ain’t gonna change nothin’, and the Manehattan train leaves in the morning. ”

Applejack sighs so hard it sounds almost angry. “After everythin’ I’ve told you, you still don’t get it?”

“What’s there to get?”

“Your family, Apple Bloom, that’s what you need to get.”

“You guys will still be here when I come back next week. Even if I spend a whole year away, you’ll still be here at the orchard.” I look down, cringe back when I see the frustration in her face. “I mean, it’s not like you ever leave.”

Applejack keeps quiet and stares into the wall like it’s something she wants to hit.

“More importantly,” I say, looking down behind my shoulder, “is it just me or has the water risen?”

She frowns at the water lapping against her thighs. “Tends to happen when it rains.”

“Yeah, but… where will the water go?”

“Up.”

“While we’re down here?”

“Hm.”

“That’s bad, ain’t it?”

“It can be.” She squints up at the rain. “We might not have time to wait for Big Mac.”

“What do we do, then?” I look around the cracked bricks in the bottom of the well. "Can you climb?"

Applejack winces as she moves her legs a little under the water. "I still can’t feel my hind leg, and two of my others won’t budge from the mud.”

I look up at the rope hanging limp not far out of reach. "I can try climbin’ again."

"I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Do you have a better idea, then? Sit here under water until morning? I’ll throw down the ladder when I’m up, use a rope if you have trouble movin’.”

Applejack hesitates, then sighs. “Just be careful, alright?”

“I’m always careful. Just stay still.” I balance my hooves on Applejack's head and put the tip of my forehoof into the slit between two bricks. "It’ll be easy."

“Here,” Applejack says, lifting her head a couple of inches and me with it.

“Thanks.” I get a hold on a brick, press myself against the wall, and squint up at the rope. “It’s not so far.” I stretch out my legs against the opposite wall and grit my teeth as I press myself hard against the wall, moving one hoof over the other, like I’m walking up the side of the well.

Icy water streams down the wall and over my neck. I shudder. One painful hoist at a time, I make my way upwards. The running water colors the well dark brown with dirt from above. I look down. Applejack looks up at me with an expression equal part horror and amazement.

"I think," I gasp, hoisting myself up on another brick. "I think—aargh!"

My hoof slips on a wet moss patch. I reach out with another hoof and dig into the wall as hard as I can, but it's too slippery. My guts tingle as my back begins sliding down against the wall, slow at first, then into a sickening plummet.

I splash down in deep water. My mouth and nose and eyes fill with cold darkness. I flail against the murk. I can’t tell which way is up.

A hoof wraps under my belly and tugs at me. My face breaks the surface and I draw in a gasping breath, more from the shock of the cold than a need for air.

"I got you," Applejack says, grunting as she lifts me back on top of her head.

I wrap my hooves around her foreheads and press my trembling chin into her mane. "I'm sorry. It was going so well, but it got so slippery and—”

"It's alright," Applejack says, louder now to get through the rising sound of heavy rainfall. "Can you move your legs?"

I wiggle my legs one at a time. "I think so."

"Good. You can swim, then."

"Swim?” I look down at the rising pool up to Applejack’s shoulders. “You’re not gonna drop me back in the water, are you?”

“I’m not gonna drop you, but I reckon the water’s gonna come to you, so you’ll have to swim anyway.”

“Where the heck am I supposed to swim?"

"Up. You swim up."

"Are you out of your mind?" I look down at Applejack's face, see her biting her lip.

"The water will carry you up as the well fills. All you have to do is stay above the surface and you'll be up in no time."

I look up through the dim tube. Thick drops plummet into the well and streams of water run down the sides of the well. I look down at the edge of the water. It's up to Applejack's neck now and shows no sign of stopping.

“But... what about you?”

“I'll push you up some.”

"But you'll swim too, right?"

"The water’s cold,” Applejack says, “so you need to keep movin’ your legs."

"But—"

“If you don’t use your muscles enough, it’ll get harder to use them at all.”

"But—"

“So make sure t—”

"But—"

“Apple Bloom! Listen to me! Just keep your darn head above the water and keep movin’ until you float to the surface.”

I stare down at her, mouth open, heart pounding in my throat. She can’t meet my eyes. The water rises to her chin.

“I’ll not have you drown in a well before you’re even grown,” she says. “You can throw down the ladder when you’re up, or go to the barn and get Big Mac."

"But what'll you do until then?"

She makes a pitiful attempt at a smile. "Hold my breath like we do in the lake."

"You can hardly hold your breath for two minutes!"

"Guess I'll just have to set a new record, then, don't I?"

“You can’t be serious.”

Her forced smile fades. The water surges up underneath her. “I’ll... try climbin’ the ladder when you throw it down.”

“How will you climb with your legs all tangled up?”

“I’ll figure it out.” The water reaches up to her lower lip. I feel the cold water against my hooves dangling over her head. “Just… Just do as I say.”

“There ain’t no way I’m leavin’ you down here!”

“You ain’t got no… darn choice!” She struggles to keep her mouth above water. “This ain’t no time for arguin’.”

I grimace, looking up at salvation and down the watery hell. “You promise you’ll climb up?” Her mouth dips beneath water. Air hisses through her nostrils. “Do you promise?”

She stretches her neck just enough to get her mouth above the water. “Yes, yes, I promise.” Tiny waves lap against her cheeks. “Darn but it's cold.” She looks up into my eyes. “You… you go be a good little filly now, you hear? Don’t—” The water covers her mouth again.

The well becomes a waterfall, filling faster and faster. Applejack draws a deep breath through her nostrils, plunges her head under water, and pushes me upwards, stretching her neck up as far as it’ll go.

"Don't you dare stop swimmin’! Keep—”

Water clashes into water, more and more flowing down the wall. It grasps up above Applejack’s mouth, then her eyes, then over her nose. It reaches up my legs, over my back, up to my neck. I gasp at the cold and kick at the water by instinct, feel myself begin to float. Applejack disappears from under me.

I see her hat floating in the water beside me. “Applejack!” I scream, searching the water with my hooves, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

I touch upon her mane under the water and plunge my head under. Dirt and leaves and straws cloud the water. I can just barely see her vague outline through the murk. She points up and yells a word, bubbles rushing from her mouth.

Go!

I grimace and kick at the water, fighting my way up through the dark until I break the surface. Water falls all around me, from the wall, from the sky, surging up from underneath. I move my numb limbs, trying to stay afloat. The water gets in my nose, in my eyes, in my mouth. I cough and gasp and struggle as the well fills.

I look down, but there’s only darkness there. The water carries me, lifts me up and up, faster and faster. The dark, moonlit clouds draw nearer and the tunnel to the sky widens as I float up on a tide of rising water.

The well vomits me out, and I splash down on muddy ground, gasping like a stranded fish. Lightning flashes and thunder cracks. I lie dazed for a moment, feel the wind claw at my sore body. I force my eyes open and blink away the salty wet. Heavy rain falls down in puddles and leaves and mud, an endless chorus of crushing, deafening cold.

“Applejack,” I breathe. The ladder rests against sideways the tree where we left it. I scramble through the mud, drag it to the well. Dirty water overflows the brim of the stone well. I fumble with the ladder and throw it in. The well swallows the the wooden rungs with dreamlike slowness. It stops sinking halfway down and begins bobbing up and down.

I lean my weight on it and force it down along the edge of the well to leave enough room for Applejack. When two handles remain above the surface, the opposite edge hits ground deep below.

I peer into the well, but can’t see anything with the way the raindrops distort the water.

“Applejack!” I mean to scream, but it comes out as a cracked whimper. “I got the ladder.”

Bright light flashes across the world for an instant, followed by a roar of thunder. I let go of the ladder to cover my ears, and the ladder begins to float up again. I put my hooves back on it and hold it down.

“Climb the ladder!”

The rain pours on as I wait, the thundering clouds flash and spit. But no answer comes. Nothing but the sound of rain, the cold touch of mud, the fresh scent of wet grass and dirt and blooming apples.

“Why aren’t you climbin’?” I whisper. “The ladder’s right here.” I stare into the rippling water, watching for any signs of movement. “You stupid idiot! You said you’d climb up! You promised!” I kick the stones. “You liar!”

I step away from the well and turn to see the warm light spilling out the barn windows far down the hill. Big Mac’s window is dark, Granny’s too.

I turn back to the well, heart thundering in my ears. “You can’t drown,” I breathe through gritted teeth. “Not you.” I step back again, afraid to even look. I swallow my fear, take a deep breath, and leap back inside the well.

The cold of the water hits me like a train, and for a moment my muscles tense so hard I can’t move. I force my eyes open and peer down into the murk. Lightning flashes above, but the light hardly reaches halfway down the well. It’s like there has been a fire down there, and shadowy soot reaches up the wall, growing blacker the farther down I look.

I shake life into my limbs and and begin swimming down, the water weighing heavier and heavier on me. I hardly feel the cold anymore. My eyes dart around, but it’s barely enough light to see the tip of my nose. I search with my hooves, but there’s only more water and bricks and empty darkness.

I catch the faintest green shimmer of her eyes.

My heart leaps in my chest. I swim faster, hoof outstretched, reaching, reaching...

Clouds of dust move in the water, and the green fades to black. Dizziness swirls in my head. I can’t see. My lungs scream for air, my body is numb from the cold, water squeezes hard against my temples.

Fear takes hold. I freeze. My legs refuse to move. I scream her name through the water, bubbles rushing out.

Silence.

I peer down for another heartbeat. Then I turn and swim up for the surface, eyes bulging, lungs burning. There’s more lightning above, but no sound. Only a dim glow growing brighter with each flash. I break through the surface and heave for air, reach over the edge of the well and rest my shivering chin on the wet stones. I cough and gasp and scramble out of the well like it’s a monster trying to eat me. I fall back to the ground and crawl through the mud before collapsing.

I huddle into a trembling ball and squeeze my eyes shut. Every inch of my body aches. The sky flashes and cracks. The rain pours on. I lie still in the mud, barely breathing, tears mingling with the rain.

Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes to eternities. The wind calms, the downpour fades to a drizzle, and my sister’s words wash over me over and over like waves of scalding cold.

You never truly appreciate family until...

There is a tingling on my flanks, a growing warmth. I startle and blink my eyes open. A dim, colored glow shines on the ground beside me, first red, then green, then yellow. The light fades and shadows close in around me. But in the morning twilight I see.

A mark above my thighs: three apples, each a different color.

For a moment I can only stare, wide-eyed. My lips tighten. Air wheezes through my sore throat. Laughter. Sobbing. Crying. My head drops back to the mud and my whole body shakes with something beyond joy or misery.

The first hints of dawn claw through clouds in the east, the last trace of rain fades, the thundering clouds hold their breath, and someplace far away, a train screeches its brakes.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading this short little treat. Please do tell me your thoughts on it. Constructive criticism, whether positive or negative, is always appreciated. Even a quick little comment telling me your general reaction is wonderful.

Special thanks to my friends for proofreading and support:
ArikarinLair, Idylia, PearpleProse, Chukwa, Imaginary Valued.

Beautiful custom cover art by ArikarinLair.

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