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Newborn1,733 words
Her Name1,746 words
I Despise You1,145 words
I Never Deserved Him3,449 words
Sweet Release2,969 words

Sweet Release

After Mama passed away, I got moved to a temporary family, one that would take care of me until I was old enough to live on my own. They lived close to the water in Manehattan, so we would hear the loud, deep boat whistles from the house. Mama had never taken me to see the boats before. I couldn’t remember her taking me anywhere.

I don’t remember much of the family I stayed with, only that the new mom kept telling me to do things and kept telling me she’d answer my questions when I was older. I think she wanted a younger foal, but she got stuck with me instead. I don’t remember the dad at all, he was always at work or sleeping or something. I think their foals had grown up and all moved away and they were lonely again.

New mom didn’t feel right to me. She cared way too much and made sure I would eat and kept telling me she loved me. Mama knew I wouldn’t try to hurt myself. Mama knew I would eat when I was hungry. Mama knew that I knew she loved me and didn’t need to remind me about it every 5 minutes. Everything about new mom was all the things I already knew being repeated to me over and over.

Sometimes, I’d just get tired of new mom’s words and need to go. I would leave and go down to the waterfront and watch the big ships come and go. I would wait for their horns and feel their deep bellow vibrate the ground under my hooves and feel them call me away. I would look down into the water, where the ships tread, and wonder if I’d get a voice like theirs if I swam like they did. I wanted a deep, powerful voice. One that could tell new mom that I didn’t need her, that Mama was dead and I didn’t need anypony because she taught me everything.

I never did anything about it. On some level, I knew nothing could ever match that voice. I was weak and pathetic, like Mama knew, and that was why she tried so hard to make me strong. New mom didn’t want me to have a big boat voice, she wanted me to be quiet and do the things she told me to do.

As an older pony, I was able to reflect on these feelings of inadequacy that I was having. I was doubting my reason to exist without Mama, thinking that maybe if I’d grow up and stop being so needy all the time that it would bring her back. I wanted to be more powerful than I was, to maybe stop death from ever happening, to turn back time and save her. She was my world, and losing her meant my world was gone.

I was looking out over the docks one evening and wishing I’d hear one more big boat whistle, but it was getting late and the big boats were probably going to moor out in the bay for the night and come in to dock early in the morning. I glanced back through the marketplace briefly and saw some ponies still milling about, getting their last-minute shopping done, and realized that it was about time to eat and new mom would be even worse than usual if I wasn’t there to eat.

My hooves began carrying me back to home, my steps slow and methodical on the cobbled street. As I listened to the melody of my body’s rhythm, I began to feel acutely aware of something. Eyes on me. I realized a pony was following me.

I stopped and snapped my head back and saw a pony standing there, walking behind me a short distance. As I looked at him, his head jerked downward, as if he’d been looking at me and didn’t want me to know. Something about him felt right, but I didn’t trust him nonetheless. My hoofsteps quickened.

My ears were perked to listen for him, and I heard him begin to walk faster.

I began to move more quickly, gaining distance between him and me. He let this happen for several moments, then he called out, “Wait!”

I stopped and looked back at him again. Our eyes met and I... stared. He stared back.

Something... changed.

Jack Apple lets out another whimper, indicating that I still haven’t fed her in far too long. She cried some, but I ignored it. I just... gave up, I guess.

My fellow passenger looks up from his newspaper at me. I can feel his gaze shift over to Jack Apple, then onto me, then back to his paper. I can hear a weak sigh from him.

Normally, I would try to defend my actions, but there is nothing to defend. I have realized that I was never worthy of Apple Cart, that I would be better off bothering nopony, and that if Jack Apple stays with me, either she will die or she will become me again, just as I became Mama.

Let this passenger see me as the unfit mother that I am. I deserve to be known for my actions.

The train slowly rolls through the countryside, the garish colors of nature a stark contrast to my demeanor. They are nothing but a reminder of the life that I was robbed of, first by Mama, then by Apple Cart. I don’t blame either of them; Mama did her best to raise me with my unique problems and nopony’s perfect anyway, and Apple Cart didn’t ask to die. Regardless, circumstances led to this happening to me now, after everything I cared about was already gone.

Still, I can’t help but wish I could be out there, in those green fields, playing in the arrayed splotches of bright flowers with Jack Apple and laughing and singing and being a mother. I wish I didn’t have to admit just how flawed I am.

I am flawed, though—so flawed that I cannot do the one thing Apple Cart thought I was ready for. Without him, I can never be ready for this. Without him, I can never be ready for anything.

“Are you going to take care of your foal?” I am interrupted from my daydreaming by a mare sitting in the booth across the aisle, on the opposite side of the stallion holding the paper.

If I respond to her, she will ask me a series of uncomfortable questions that I don’t want to answer. If I ignore her, she will probably not pursue the issue further. She waited this long on the train to say anything, she can handle a short time longer.

“Um, excuse me, miss?” She persists in trying to get my attention. Maybe she thought I didn’t hear her.

I look up and lock eyes with her. “No. Now leave me alone.”

A shocked silence falls over the car. My gaze shifts quickly back to the floor in front of me. After several moments, she speaks up again. “I can help if you want. You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

I respond with silence once again. Inviting conversation or pleasantry or action only forces me to repeat everything I say when I arrive at my destination. She seems to get the picture and doesn’t talk to me, despite a few more whimpers of protest from the hungry, dirty, neglected Jack Apple. Even my foal is sick of this arrangement.

The train pulls into Ponyville Station and I depart, carrying Jack Apple with one of my hooves and walking with the other three. I immediately realize that I’m somewhat lost and approach a station worker. “Where is Sweet Apple Acres?”

The station worker gives Jack Apple an odd look. She probably looks somewhat emaciated at this point; her eyes do look slightly hollow. The worker looks back at me, then over the tops of some buildings. “That way, you see Carrot Top’s house there? Sweet Apple Acres is right next door to her.”

I nod and depart. He calls behind me, “Welcome to Ponyville, ma’am!”

I am reflecting on this misadventure of my life. I have problems, I don’t doubt that—innate problems with my head. Maybe, if things had happened differently, I’d have turned out different. Mama’s upbringing, Apple Cart’s glimmer of hope, the subsequent dashing of that hope, and the culmination of Jack Apple’s arrival is simply too much for my naturally fragile psyche. I see too much and feel too little. I don’t know how to act, what to say, or how to cope. I am troubled, too troubled to be normal.

From my random outbursts to my inconsolable anger, I am broken inside. Things could have been different, but the truth is that they’re not and never will be. However I might try to glue the pieces of me back together, I’ll never be the pony that I could have been.

Am I crazy? On some level, yes. Not all rational thought has departed from me, but I have gotten progressively worse over time. The longer I lie to myself for, the longer I and everyone around me will suffer.

It is time to stop pretending that I am something I’m not. I had my happiness, however brief it was, and I need to accept that my life as the pony I could have been is officially over.

The fields of Sweet Apple Acres loom up to me. If Apple Cart had... never met me, if he’d stayed in these fields, maybe he’d still be alive. Maybe I’d have come to Ponyville for some reason, and I’d come to Sweet Apple Acres, and I’d meet him then.

He’d still inevitably die. Whether he died when he did or he died after we spend our entire lives together, he was going to end up in the same place.

Three knocks on the door. An uncomfortable wait. A click and a swing. “Yes?”

“Mama Smith?”

“Granny now.” A slightly elderly green pony looks me in the eye, the ghost of a smile present. “New to town, but ya know about me. I figure you’re wantin’ some jam or cider?”

I shake my head. “Apple Cart’s wife.”

“Oh.” The pleasant demeanor erases itself. She looks at me awkwardly, then at Jack Apple. “Who’s this ‘un?”

“Our daughter.”

“Right. We’ll probably wanna sit down and talk about this.” She moves back slightly, opening the lower half of the door. “Best come in.”

I take a step back. “No.”

She looks back at me in puzzlement. “Hmm?”

“I can’t take care of Jack Apple. I need you to take care of her instead.”

“Huh?” She’s completely blindsided. “Now wait a minute here. I know my son’s gone, and I’ve come to terms with that. Now a pony I’ve never even met is here to give me his foal that I never knew existed?” A tinge of anger has crept into her voice. “I never even met you before, Fuji Apple. Now you come in here and talk to me like I’m family.”

“No.” I set Jack Apple down on the ground. “I can’t do this. I’m drowning. I’m dead. I lost him. I lost him.” Tears spring to my eyes, then I shake them away. “I’m not okay, I need to go. I can’t take care of her. I’ve lost him.” I know I don’t make any sense to her, but I have to try to get her to understand. “Apple Cart loved me. Jack Apple is our love. Apple Cart died. I don’t love her. I can’t take care of her. She’s... wrong. I see her and I feel wrong. I know she’s wrong.”

Granny Smith stares at me blankly, then looks down at Jack Apple. She picks up the pile of blankets and looks at Jack Apple's face. She turns her head back into the house and calls, “Mac!” A small red colt appears around the corner. “See what you can do for this little filly for some food. And give her a bath, too.” Mac nods and disappears with my foal.

“Her name is Jack Apple.” I know I’ve said it a few times, but I want to be certain she knows.

“That’s a colt’s name.”

“No, that’s her name.”

“She’ll get teased all her life. It ain’t pretty like a mare’s name ought to be.”

“Apple Cart named her. That’s the name he wanted.”

“He wouldn’t call a filly Jack Apple. He’d call a colt Jack Apple.”

“Please.” This time, the tears do manage to make tracks down my cheeks. “The name he gave me is all I have of him. I don’t want her to be what he doesn’t want. She needs to be his foal.”

“I’ll... see what I can do.”

I stare at her blankly for a moment. I have run out of words to say. There is nothing more for me.

I abruptly turn and leave.

”Who... who are you!?” I ask him alarmingly.

“I’m sorry! I... I’m Apple Cart. I... just couldn’t help but notice. You’re so pretty.”

“... What?”

“I’m sorry!” He hastens away in the opposite direction.

I stare after him, watching him disappearing into the darkness. “Wait!”

He stops and turns around, looking at me inquisitively. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. It’s late, I don’t know who he is. I don’t know what to do.

“Come back here tomorrow.”

If he hadn’t come back that day, maybe I’d be standing in the same place, just as I am now, considering back then what I am now certain is the only outcome for me.

I’m wrong. I don’t want to be wrong for the rest of my life. No matter how much I try to fix myself, I will always be broken. Too much wrong has happened to me for me to ever be right.

I'll do what Mama was too weak to do.

A step. A fall. A scream.

Water fills my lungs.

And then, nothing.

I watch Fuji leave, standing at the door until she disappears around the corner. I’m still trying to process all of the information she just unloaded on me, but I’m pretty sure she’s half-crazy and can’t take care of a foal. Even if she wasn’t an Apple, I couldn’t ignore her pleas for help. Doing anything less than this would be an affront to the Apple way.

I come look over Mac’s shoulder as he mashes up an apple into sauce. I look at the poor tiny filly, a small whimper escaping from her. “Make sure you don’t feed her much, she hasn’t eaten in a while and her stomach’s probably shrunk.” He nods. “And make sure the bath ain’t too hot when you put her in. It’s gotta be closer to room temperature than you prefer.” He nods again. I snicker a little and mutter to myself, “Jack Apple.”

Mac looks at me. “Jack apple? What’s that?”

“The name her mama gave her.”

“Oh.” Mac shakes his head sympathetically, then continues mashing the apple into a fine paste.

“Granny?” I hear Applejack’s voice drift around the corner, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Yes, what is it?”

“If you’re my granny, then who was my mom?”

I smile at Applejack, preferring my lack of knowledge in this instance. “That was yer Mama Fuji, young’un. Why’re ya curious about her all of a sudden?”

“One of the fillies at school was talking about her mom. Will you tell me about her?”

I nod happily and gesture at my leg. “Come take a seat over here.” Applejack sits down on my lap.

“Now, yer Mama Fuji, she was one of the more adventurous ones—kinda like her daughter is.” I look at her in joking disapproval and she giggles a little. “Why, I remember one summer, dead middle of Apple Buckin’, she decided she’d get half of Ponyville tryin’ to help her grow zap apples outta season. She decided to get some of her pegasus and unicorn friends from school and re-enact the conditions of growing zap apples. Of course, she never managed, but you should’ve seen it. They had an army of pegasi moving clouds around, unicorns testing magic on all kinds of objects tryin’ to make timberwolf howls, tryin’ to convince crows to fly in formation, throwin’ bright objects over the trees... and she gave you your wonderful name, though she needed to get some help from your Papa Apple Cart to get it just right. She started out as a farmhand, ya know. Her family moved here from Manehattan when she was a little filly, and she helped out on the farm in the busy season. As a matter of fact, the two of ‘em met here in this very room!”

Even if I knew the truth, I don’t think I’d want Applejack to know. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why she was the way she was, but she was a good Apple, and her daughter should know her the way she was meant to be.

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