This Morning
Fluttershy’s Terribly Busy Day
Sanctae
-
She awoke bright and early, just as she always did, warm and snug under her pink floral covers. A little too snug, actually. It was getting very warm these days; summer must be starting to really come in. Soon she’d have to change to her thinner blankets or she wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore!
The sunlight was washing in through the crescent moon cut-outs in her pink wooden shutters burning sharp, glowing shapes onto the wall by her dresser. She yawned and stretched, sleepily ruffling her long pink mane as she got out of bed, blinked the sleep out of her eyes, and re-made the bed behind her. She considered herself a morning pony on a good day, not a patch on Applejack and her incredible five a.m. starts, but certainly a respectable seven.
And she’d have to be a morning pony today, she thought, blearily brushing the tangles out of her mane, today was important. She trotted lightly down the stairs to her cosy living room, smiling at the birdhouses and hutches tucked away in every conceivable corner.
The smell of damp linen drifted from the laundry she had hung from the ceiling beams, wrinkling her nose as she fluttered up to check it; still damp, despite her best efforts to get it all dry overnight. She pouted slightly, pulling things off the makeshift airer and awkwardly making her way outside with her hooves full of soggy fabric.
A thin string ran between two young trees that stood just by her house, and soon the sound of flapping fabric drifted through her colourful garden. She passed slowly down the line, mechanically clipping tight wooden pegs over the corners of her blankets and tablecloths until she was all done.
She huffed a little as she tidied the empty peg-bag back under the sink and cracked a window to let the heavy, damp smell out a bit. Her cosy living room breathed easier as the air started to clear, but the weather outside was hot and dry and the room stubbornly refused to cool as she began her morning chores.
She hummed, perking up a little as she pattered around the room, stopping off at every food bowl in a well-worn order. Piles of old, wilted leaves and dried seeds were tipped out and replaced by fresher fruits and vegetables she had cut from her kitchen garden yesterday.
She ate her own breakfast along the way, sitting alone up at her wooden kitchen table, casting glances out of the window every so often. She quietly crunched through her greens and sipped at her dandelion cordial before clattering the dishes into the sink, running them under the tap.
Trotting outside again, she ducked inside her creaky old henhouse, carefully sweeping the old, dusty straw out and spreading a carpet of fresh clean straw in its place. Straw was actually the theme of the day; she was finally going to get around to fixing up the thatching on her roof. It was one of those ‘I’ll do it tomorrow’ jobs for which ‘tomorrow’ had finally crept up.
As she rinsed her hooves again she ran down the day’s to-do list. The usual morning things were done and she felt fresh and awake, happy, even. The big job of the day was the thatching, but before she started she’d need to gather … wait, there was something she’d forgotten to check.
She poked her nose out of the door, testing the wind. A westerly again. Hmm, she didn’t like westerlies much at all. She frowned to herself. Oh, she should have checked with Rainbow what the weather was going to be for the next few days. Now her laundry was going to be all smokey and she’d have to wash it again. Oh, bother! She didn’t really have time for this … but there wasn’t anything to be done. She’d just have to go rinse them out again.
On the other hoof she did always love the walk down the river. The waving grasses tickled her hooves and brushed softly against her coat. The steady wind was hot at her back but the basket balanced between her wings shielded her from the heat.
The weather generally could have been better, she supposed, the specifically annoying wind notwithstanding. The sky was dark and murky, the obscured sun staining it a deep, angry red. She furrowed her brows as she looked up at the dark clouds and fiery sky. Rainbow hadn’t told her that the weather would be like this. It was very heavy and brooding and Fluttershy didn’t like it very much. She’d much rather a sunny day with a bright blue sky and a picnic with her friends.
The river was wide and still, meandering sleepily between the few billowing trees. The deep red light gave everything a hot, autumnal glow, Fluttershy’s daisy-yellow coat turning a deep, warm auburn as she reached her spot by the bank. It was very quiet, the loudest sound was the continual roar of the wind in her ears. She looked over to the other bank, over the open sweeping fields leading to the edge of the Everfree. Nopony else was around; she was the only pony on the bankside footpath, washing her laundry in the murky morning light.
She loved the water, loved the bubbly, ripply noises and the soft, cool touch of it as she pushed her meagre collection of clothes and blankets through the water. The blankets would take a long time to dry indoors, but right now she was content to gaze into the river, watching the flecks of burning sunlight dance along the surface. She had a stone here, a big, smooth rock that sat just on the waterline, perfect for scouring out the dust and smoke.
“Hmm hmm, hm hm hmhm hmm hmhmm...”
It was a quiet, breathy sound that mingled with the bubbling stream. She was distant and unfocused, looking beneath the water’s surface as she scoured the blanket against the rock.
“Hm hmhm … you feel sad … but Pinkie … hmm hmm hm … isn’t that bad...”
She kept scrubbing, the first threads starting to fray under the strain, hooves scrunching tightly into the fabric. Everything seemed so very far away from her. It was just her breathing, the fibres straining against her hooves, the musical sounds of the river...
“Hmm hmm oh!”
A sudden spot of colour drifted into the corner of her eye. She looked up, startled, at a bright blue feather, spinning slowly as it floated in the easy current. It was simply beautiful. Hooking her blanket around the rock for safekeeping, she took to her wings with a puff of displaced air, floating silently over the water. She fluttered over to the feather, plucking it from the stream without ever touching the water’s glassy surface.
When she got back to the shore she was very glad she had bothered. It was a beautiful primary, a flight feather, glimmering cyan in the sunlight. She would have to show it to Rarity later. Maybe it could go in one of her designs or something. Something this gorgeous couldn't go to waste
She dipped it in the stream, washing it thoroughly to remove the splashes and stains, before slipping it into her mane behind one ear.
The time passed easily as she worked, the cool water pleasant and soothing as she hummed to herself. Soon she was staggering back, baskets full of wet, heavy laundry, picking her way down the grassy path in the muted light.
Soon her washing was again hanging limply from her ceiling, the odd, lone drip splashing on her carpet from the articles she had not wrung out terribly well. She had rushed a little, being as behind as she was now. She picked up her old, hoofwoven baskets from their spot by the door, fluttering her wings to get them settled comfortably on their back. Then she was out of the door and into the midday heat.
She was heading towards town to a field where sedge grasses grew. It was a strong, reedy grass that was perfect for thatching and weaving. The walk was short and flat, only a minute or two and hardly a novelty to her, but she found peaceful enjoyment in it nonetheless.
The wind was hot on her face as she bounced through the fields, skipping, hopping, and then gliding back down on her wingtips. The wind was powerful and steady as it flowed out and away from Ponyville, making gliding completely effortless. She tore her eyes down from the town’s slumping skyline, scanning around for mature grasses as the reeds began to tickle at her coat.
She moved steadily through her sedge field, plucking the long, firm stems with her mouth and placing them carefully in her baskets. Normally, her little animal friends came to help her with this kind of thing but they were out playing today. Angel Bunny had been very insistent this morning, wanting to take them all out on an adventure or a game. She’d been nervous, wanting them to stay home, but he’d been very insistent. Oh, she hoped they’d all be okay when they came back this evening.
It was tiring work, her neck ached, but she it was satisfying work. She giggled to herself. Maybe she’d been spending a little too much time around Applejack!
Oh! Maybe she could ask Applejack to come over and help her! Applejack was such a helpful pony and a good friend. You could always count on AJ to lend a comforting hoof or a kind word when you needed her to-
Oh, silly, silly, Fluttershy. She knew Applejack was far too busy running errands in town. She’d seen her this morning, galloping breathlessly into Ponyville, her horseshoes striking sparks off the cobbled road. It had been very important. She remembered the look on her face when AJ had flown past her on the way to town. She’d seen the lines in her face in the hard orange light as she barked instructions at Fluttershy. AJ had asked her to go draw water from the well, probably something for the farm she wanted help with that morning, but Flutterhshy had just stood there squeaking stupidly like a silly pony and AJ had gotten a little annoyed at her.
AJ had given up after that, snorting angrily and charging off into town, a stark black silhouette drowned out against the painful morning light. Fluttershy had gone home and hid under the bed after that she’d been so embarrassed.
No, she couldn’t ask AJ to help her after she hadn’t helped AJ this morning. That was so selfish. Silly, selfish, Fluttershy. Far too busy.
Far too busy.
She shivered, continuing her slow walk through the waving fields, eyes fixed on the ground as she gradually filled her baskets. Well, she thought, it was good to do things for yourself from time to time. Help from friends was all well and good but somethings you just had to do for yourself. Like thatching, for example.
It was funny, now that she thought about it. She knew exactly what she was doing when it came to thatching. She knew the rules for setting up the layers, knew how to weave the layers together to make it strong, but she didn’t know where the rules came from. She didn’t really understand why weaving one way would make the thatch waterproof, but another way would leave it leaking like a sieve. She’d have to ask Twilight when she next saw her. Twilight had a book for everything! She was such a clever pony.
There was her halfway tree, a beautiful old oak, still gorgeous despite the toll exacted by the dry air. It marked the halfway point between her house and the town, as well as the halfway point in her loop through the field.
She rested herself against the side of the tree, the hot wind streaming through her mane and stinging her eyes. Not so long ago a family of squirrels had moved in; a couple and their young kits. She’d enjoyed seeing them scamper and bounce between the branches when she’d been passing through. The tree was quiet now; now just a waymarker on the road to Ponyville.
They could have at least told her they were leaving.
Oh my, what was the time? She shook herself out of her reverie, looking up at the murky sky, the sun a deep red behind the roiling clouds. It was almost mid-morning; she’d completely lost track of herself! Tucking her baskets in the safe embrace of the tree roots, she turned towards Ponyville. She didn’t want to be late.
###
She’d had a lovely time with Twilight. Twilight was a very smart pony and sometimes she would talk for hours about things that silly old Fluttershy couldn’t really follow. Twi was so animated when she talked, her face lighting up as she lectured away; Fluttershy was happy to just sit, sipping her tea, and watch her talk.
It was nice, especially since Twilight had been shouting at her a lot this morning. It was a silly thing. Fluttershy hadn’t done something properly this morning, bumbling around like a little filly, and her friend had been angry and upset about it, storming off to Canterlot. But now Twilight had dried her tears and forgiven her and given her a big hug and everything was back as it should be as the both of them giggled over tea and sandwiches at the corner cafe.
She stood up, mopping her eyes and stretching her legs before picking her baskets up onto her back again. She had about three quarters of the reeds she needed, enough to start heading back if she picked the rest on the way. She put Ponyville at her back, the wind racing out from the town and sweeping over the grasslands before the Everfree. The air was alive with brilliant points of light, dancing amber fireflies that whirled and spun through the air before dying into nothing.
A few of the tiny stars, caught on some eddy in the roaring wind, dropped into the grasses a few hooves from her, landing safely before their little lights were spent. A thin wisp of smoke began to issue from their new home.
She didn’t like that. She didn’t want them to do that. She asked them nicely to please not do that. She didn’t want that. Please don’t do that. But they didn’t listen to her.
She shrugged off her baskets, flitting over to the patch of smoke. Thin, orange tongues of flame were licking out of the tall, yellow grasses, snapping at the air and at her face. She looked around frantically, drawing short, squeaky breaths as she fluttered indecisively around the slowly growing blaze.
She didn’t know what to do, she couldn’t stop it. Oh ... oh ... what should she do … who … how could she... somepony ... help. Water. Water!
With a peep of fright she shot off towards her house like a butterfly in a gale. Hurriedly, she spun the kitchen taps over a big wooden bucket that she slammed into the sink, glancing out of her windows as she counted the seconds. Wings straining, she dragged the slopping bucket back out to the field, dumping it on the crackling grasses then stamping out the hissing embers with a quivering hoof.
She sat for a moment, cowering below the tops of the grasses, shivering and sobbing. It was her fault, she knew it. If she was smart or brave then this wouldn’t have happened, but she wasn’t. She was just Fluttershy. Stupid, scared Fluttershy. Dragging out a bucket of water after the fire had already started. Too little too late. She lay there, shaking in her nest of grass as wind scurried over her.
Nothing stirred as she waited. Nothing moved. The minutes flowed by as she watched the embers sizzle and smoke, a funny feeling churning in her tummy as the blackened earth dried and the water slowly slipped away like the fear in her chest.
She picked herself to her hooves, mopping her eyes with a hoof and picking up her baskets again. Thoughts of the fire filled her mind as she turned back towards her house. She hated fire. It was loud, nasty, and scary. She tried to think about something else, locking the fire away.
The sky was so dark today, she thought as she cantered home. She wondered if it was going to rain. She hoped not, at least not until she’d finished the last bit of re-thatching. After everything was set up the thatch would completely waterproof, but until she locked the last layers in place it would leak like a sieve. She didn’t really understand why that was, which was odd for how important it was. She’d have to ask Twilight about it next time she saw her. Twilight could explain it to her; she was such a clever pony.
The thatching was mindless work, plaiting reeds for the under-layer and then lying stacks on top.
“Hmm hmmm hmhm hm hm hmm hmm hmmm...”
The old, splintered thatching lay in a pile by the wall.
“Hmm hmm ... hmmm hmhm … hmmm.”
The humming faltered as the final reeds refused to lie neatly, taking a little more coercion than normal.
“Hmhmhmhm hmm, hmm hmm ... there.”
She mopped her brow and stood back to admire her new section of roof, the fresh reeds forming an obvious patch amongst the older thatch. She hadn’t finished as much as she’d planned but there were only a few minutes left before she had to leave for her thursday spa appointment with Rarity. She’d just have to finish up tomorrow.
She dusted her hooves, tidying the old thatching into a smaller pile. Hopping lightly down from the roof, she nudged open her door and went to her bedroom to brush off the worst of the dust. It was one thing to go to a spa to get a little pampered, it was another to turn up covered in dust and seeds; Rarity would never let her hear the end of it!
###
The spa had been fantastic, all the aches and pains evaporating in a cloud of perfumed steam as she chatted with Rarity. The warm herbs and gentle gossip had cleared her head to no end as she and Rarity set the world to rights over the course of a long hour. The drinks had been pleasant and cool, Fluttershy content to settle in her downy dressing gown and let Rarity carry the conversation about the latest on the newcomers to Ponyville, the latest fashions in Canterlot, and so on.
Now the tingling contentment was fading. Rarity had left to go check on Sweetie Belle. She’d left the little filly to her own devices this morning and she was not unreasonably worried that the Boutique may have burned down in her absence. Besides, she needed to get back to designing her fashions for the unseasonably hot, dry summer that the Pegasi had scheduled.
Fluttershy lay on the sofa in her living room, trying to hold on to the last fading wisp of that peaceful state of mind. However, time waited for nopony; she had to get on with the day. The laundry should be dry by now and then she could get on with the evening meal.
The laundry wasn’t dry so she decided to leave it up overnight. The meal was bland and tasteless as she had just thrown a hoofful of salads on a plate and called it a day. She was out of dressings but the walk into Ponyville was just as un-appetising. She felt exhausted, drained, but she wanted to get a little drawing done while she had enough energy to get out her paper and crayons for an hour or so.
She enjoyed drawing Rainbow Dash and Twilight the best. Rainbow Dash had so many colours in her mane that she had to use most of her art set to get her looking just right, which was good fun. Twilight was simpler, but she just liked the deep purple colours. Thinking about it, Rarity’s mane was also that kind of colour but it was very hard to get the curls right.
She gently put the crayon down and eyed her hoofiwork. She wasn’t the best mouthdrawer, certainly no Applejack, but she was rather pleased with the results. Her crayony friends all stood around a sad little Fluttershy, all wobbly smiles and hugs. A boxy basket of apples and a clumsy cake were laid out in front of her on the grass.
She’d turned the tear-stains into some fluffy white clouds and the trees around them finished off the scene nicely with their bulbous green tops and overthick trunks. It wasn’t very good, flat and dull, more lifeless than how she wanted it. Still, she thought, she was just doing it for fun so it was still fit for her mantlepiece next to the two she’d already done.
She placed it above her fireplace, sitting back on the sofa to admire the new addition; it was her best group picture yet, certainly. She would have to invite her friends over to have a look when they weren’t all so busy. She shivered as she ran her eyes over her little gallery of three, considering lighting the fireplace to chase out the cold draught.
How silly that was. She hadn’t lit the fireplace in days. It was summer after all, and it would be just horrid to light the fireplace in the height of summer.
The sun had already set and she was very tired. Her eyes eased closed as she lay on her sofa, the world slowly falling away as she slipped ... She shook herself, blinking, and slid off the sofa, yawning as she took the stairs up the bedroom.
She closed the shutters, the flickering, angry light from the setting sun casting a violent glow through the crescent moon cut-outs. She flipped back the covers and climbed into bed, then sat up again as something pushed awkwardly into the side of her head. The feather from the river. She’d completely forgotten.
Delicately, she threaded it out of her mane, and brought it in front of her face, running a hoof along the feather’s edge. She watched the singed fibres of the feather snapping back into place after the stroking pressure from her hoof had passed, caught in the flickering red light.
There was something in the sight, in the colours. Something that drew her to repeat the motion, feeling the fibres tickle the tip of her hoof as pictures dripped like tar into the back of her mind. A pressure built behind her eyes as she rubbed her face, the stained feather dropping lightly to the floor by her bedside.
She needed to get some sleep, she had a busy day to get up for tomorrow ... so much to do. She had to go have tea with Twilight, meet Rarity for their thursday spa session ... watch Rainbow practise her new tricks. There was so much to do with all her friends. And that was before all of her normal chores! It was nice though, being busy. Kept her mind off things.
She stared up at the ceiling, something cool and wet rolling quietly down her cheek and memories dancing through her eyes, as she waited for morning to come.
Being busy could be fun when you spent the time with friends.
She liked spending time with her friends.
Fluttershy loved her friends.
She really did.
Mi-... loved them.
So very much.
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Just to get this in early, this is a bit of an experimental fic in more ways than one but mainly because I'm writing outside my comfort zone to get better at different styles. I'm not 100% happy with how the short has come out, honestly, but I've reached the point where I just can't tinker with it any more. Feel free to hate it, but please, please, please, if you can articulate why it isn't efffective, take a second or two to do so. Thanks for reading it, anyway. Hope you got some enjoyment from it.
I liked it.
I hope to see more like these.
CAUSE THIS WAS QUITE SCARY AND AMAZING!
SCARMAZING!
I think you are quite the amazing writer.
Not sure if Fluttershy is dead... or if everyone else is dead.
But this story was purty dang good!
So much feels, I could barely hold them in by the end. I don't think it needs any more fixing. Looks great as it is.
Good job!
I actually liked this. Usually I don't like sadfics because they're almost always trying to hard to make you have feels. This had enough subtleties to avoid that.
My only complaint is something that can't really be fixed - the tags kinda spoil the ending. The fic itself seems perfectly normal until the ending 'punchline', but the Sad/Dark tags are like 'HOLD UP YO THIS ISN'T WHAT IT SEEMS'.
Just my two cents.
974506
If something else like this springs to mind then I'll certainly write it. I just kind of go where my brain takes me, so no promises. But I'm glad you enjoyed it!
Thank you very much
975300
That's so nice of you to say. I was very worried that it would just read as being weird and incomprehensible, or just kind of dead and boring. Thanks for the encouragement!
974575
Thanks. I know it's a little bit ambiguous. I don't want to spoil it in the comments, but there is a 'canon' interpretation of events that I followed when writing it and it is a logical one that doesnt require -too- much suspesion of disbelief. I'll be writing it in a big blog update in a little while, so, I dunno, you can swing by that if you want 'Word of God' on it. Feel free to come up with your own interpretation though. The fact that you enjoyed reading it is more than enough to make me happy
977640
I actually asked Wanderer D about it as, at the time, his 'PSA' on tagging was still fairly new. He was sypathetic, but basically said that it was just how things rolled round here. It would risk failing submission in the first instance and even if it didn't it was liable to be taken down if anyone took issue with it. 
It's a shame, but I can see his point and so far people seem to be enjoying it regardless so...
Awesome! Glad you thought I did a decent job with it. As for the tag things, tell me about it
Im sorry,I dont get it.The comments help a little,but Im completely lost. Il reread.
978845 That's fine; this is the thing I was kind of worried about with the fic. If you want a hint, I'd say to look for contradictions in the narrative, things that just literally don't make sense, and see if it takes you anywhere.
Let me know if it makes any more sense.
That ending, it was, just, what? So very sad, and extremely well written.
989589 Thank you very much
A shame the genre tags had to spoil it, but a necessary evil. Loved the end line especially much, and your willingness to dabble in what, at first, seems like a very Seinfeldian 'story about nothing' that turns out to have a very poignant point.
1159138 Yeah, it's just one of those unfortunate things. I'm glad it didn't wreck the reading of it too much for you and that you enjoyed it despite.
wow. got in touched quite pretty well with the story. well i guess its because our routines are almost the same.
i did nazi this kind of story coming.
dual thumbs up for your work
1247211 Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm so glad you enjoyed it!
Well done. Very subtle...initially annoying because I read the whole story thinking there would be an explanation at the end, and only found a confirmation of what I had already surmised. Still though, creepily poignant, the way you portrayed Fluttershy's mental state as she puts herself in illusions to escape loneliness. The allusions to fire and smoke on the wind, too, were very effective images at giving that most elusive of explanations.
You've certainly caught a certain concept in spades: that preoccupation allows for great subtlety and undercuts.
The writing is solid, and I have to say I've never read a story that captures Fluttershy's POV so fittingly (for instance, something written with Rainbow would have a lot of "awesome" and more radical adjectives). All in all, a good job.
இڿڰۣ---
You have a remarkable ability to imagine each scene in multi-sensory detail.
Read this story after seeing the Review Team give it thumbs up. It's really well done; I like the look at Fluttershy's mind.
(I'm guessing what actually happened is that she's in Hell for some reason? Hence all the fire references, all her missing friends, the oppressive, depressing, almost painful atmosphere, no one actually being around (even Angel) and the repetitious aspect of her repeating the same day over and over again0.
God dangit. I am arguing with myself whether or not I would love to see what is going on here, or if the fact that not knowing makes it better means I shouldn't. This makes my brain hurt
Hmm... I have to admit that I might just be going all curmudgeon-y again, but I seem to have completely missed whatever this is alluding to. A few odd grammar choices made getting immersed difficult, and while I was quite aware of the mounting pile of clues, they don't lead anywhere for me. Without any grounding in why, it just came up empty.
Hints, anyone?
I had to reread this in order to even sort of get it, but here's my take on events:
1. There's some sort of fire in town. That much is obvious from the weather and sky.
2. Fluttershy picks up a feather. It belongs to Rainbow Dash (it's cyan)
3. She recalls running into Applejack in the morning. Applejack is telling her to make fire preparations, but being Fluttershy, she is too terrified to do anything.
4. She has tea with Twilight. Presumably, Twilight is angry at her for the same reason Applejack was, before heading to Canterlot, presumably looking for the princess's help with the fire.
5. Fluttershy encounters a few embers which start smouldering and starting a fire. She puts them out, but is very upset. Presumably, this is because it is a repeat of the events of the day with her friends getting angry at her. Examine this paragraph:
She sat for a moment, cowering below the tops of the grasses, shivering and sobbing. It was her fault, she knew it. If she was smart or brave then this wouldn’t have happened, but she wasn’t. She was just Fluttershy. Stupid, scared Fluttershy. Dragging out a bucket of water after the fire had already started. Too little too late. She lay there, shaking in her nest of grass as wind scurried over her.
This reaction over a few embers causing some smoke. Obviously she is being upset that it reminds her of something else, hence the "it wouldn't have happened" part. We know from Applejack that Fluttershy didn't make any fire preparations, thus the "too little too late" part. Therefore, on the day of the disastrous fire sweeping town, Flutters didn't do anything until the fire came to her, and had already started, making the bucket of water too little too late, comprende?
6. She goes home thatches the roof, and then has tea with Rarity. This is the start of logical impossibilities. She starts off, goes to the river, washes stuff, goes into town to have tea with Twilight, walks all the way home to thatch the roof, then walks all the way BACK into town to have a spa with Rarity. Why not just go see Rarity after Twilight, or take Twilight to the spa?
7. Consider the following: "considering lighting the fireplace to chase out the cold draught.
How silly that was. She hadn’t lit the fireplace in days. It was summer after all." Fluttershy isn't sure if she's cold or hot. I presume she hasn't lit the fireplace because fire is bad, as we've established by now.
8. We finally find out that the feather is burnt, suggesting something bad happened to Rainbow Dash in the morning. Hold on, how could it be burnt? She found it in the morning and didn't remark that it was burnt, suggesting some clash between the feather and her interpretation of reality.
9. She had to go have tea with Twilight, meet Rarity for their thursday spa session. Again. She just did this today, met with Rarity for their Thursday spa session. Then tomorrow she's having a Thursday spa session with Rarity. Enough said.
10. Lastly, and most tellingly: Mi-... loved them.
The full word is "missed" before Flutters interrupts herself. Thus, her friends are all gone, and she is fabricating them in her head.
I have no idea if that made things any more or less confusing. Thoughts?
2404961 Yeah, I got most of that, I think (always hard to be honest about what you did or didn't catch after the fact). It's the current setting that left me adrift. Is this Fluttershy living alone because everyone else is gone? That would seem most reasonable, but not having that one, concrete anchor gives me the feeling of the whole thing being so much smoke in the breeze.
Not that it isn't extraordinarily well conceived, but emotion for the sake of emotion has never really worked for me. I need something to tether it, to get the effect from it.
-Scott
Reminds me of Walter Mitty, only sadder.
"Well, this seems awfully normal so far... Wait a moment, didn't she just-- And-- oh. Oh..."
I think that's a fairly decent summary of my thought process as I read this. Nicely written though.
very nice work! One thing to say is that it is understandable that fluttershy would think a little simply while she was in mourning, this fic portrays her as seeming to have the mental capacity of a five year old. Other than that slight OOC bit, great and touching fic. Really makes you think and put it together in your head, something not seen very often. Well done, good sir, well done.
It's funny how—according to the comments—some didn't understand the story, even after the reveal, while some “got it” long before. I belong to the latter group, but still found it enjoyable: it is really well written, and the way clues are sprinkled everywhere is deliciously teasing.
While I was taking a shower, after having read this story, I suddenly went “Ooh! That's why the bowls were full of wilted leaves, rather than empty!”. Yep, this is the kind of story that sticks with me for a while
Also, a hint to those who didn't “get” the story. Some events here are real; they are told—mostly—in simple past, e.g. “She fluttered over to the feather”, “she gradually filled her baskets”. Others are barely imagined by Fluttershy; they are told—mostly—in past perfect, e.g. “she had to leave for her thursday spa appointment with Rarity”, “Twilight had been shouting at her a lot this morning”. There are exceptions, though: “the weather outside was hot and dry” is a blatant fallacy (as proven by the “damp linen”, the “cold draught” and the fact that the laundry didn't dry).
So yeah, Fluttershy’s friends are dead, and she's in denial. That much is pretty obvious. My interpretation is that Ponyville / Equestria burned down a few days ago, and she's reviving this day over and over. It can't be that long ago, considering the feather. By the number of drawings, I'd guess three days ago, give or take a cow.
It all seemed odd at first. 'This isn't Fluttershy' I thought, she's too closed off, in her own little world. But then it all makes sense. we got a serious case of the unreliable narrator. I wonder what she replays actually happened, the arguments or the tea/spa meetings. Anyway, interesting read, definitely a type of story you think about long after you read it.
wait what? I don't understand.
Edit: OH SHIT FUCKING TITS, MY HEART, IT AM KILL.
Oh my god. Oh dear sweet Celestia. I read the story and don't get it. I've read the comments and I STILL don't get it. I'm going to be thinking about Fluttershy losing all of her friends to a fire for DAYS. Argh. I'm trying to write an MLP novel here, and now this. Argh. Got to pay attention to those tags. Thanks for writing such a great fic, loved every bit of it. Damn it. Argh.
2427188 Those category tags are your first clue that something's off aren't they. In fact, this story would've been a simple if mundane Slice of Life if it weren't for the real story hidden in the narrative.
So the conflict is... Fluttershy remembering/making up her friends?
2453865 No, it's that Fluttershy is not properly coping with a presumably very recent tragedy. Something terrible has happened to Ponyville and to her friends, and it would seem to her animal friends as well. She's reliving the same day over and over again because she's mentally unable or unwilling to come to grips with what's happened.
Haunting, in a subtle way. I liked it.
You're missing a period at the end of this sentence.
"But she it was satisfying" doesn't parse. Did you mean just "but it was satisfying" or "but she thought it was satisfying"?
Finally got around to reading this. It was pretty good and interesting. My hypothesis for what happened, one of those falling stars actually landed on Fluttershy's house, causing the hole and a fire. That's why she's worried about the wind making her clothes smell smokey and the water thing with AJ and her. Also, she's dead, that's why there were no direct scenes of her interacting with others, only memories.
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I'm guessing this was a kind of self portrait kind of fic? I wasn't sure what you were going for the whole time I was reading through it. Was I sorta right in my guess?
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Those of you I'm replying to, and those of you who find this comment, Sanctae actually put up a blog post summarizing what happened in Ponyville a few days before this story is set. It's hardly necessary to understand or appreciate the story, but if you're interested, the summary is at the very end of the blog post.
2101815 Tell Pav that his plushie is the one to blame.
Last night I was drunk and angry, and I sat down to read this story. I skimmed through it and didn't pay attention, and I ended up hating it.
Today, after I had sobered up, I sat down again and took my time to actually read it. I really enjoyed it, and I'm surprised more people have not taken notice of it yet. What's more, it doesn't require sequel/prequel/add-ons to explain what happened. The whole story is self contained, as long as the reader possess the ability make inferences on what is presented.
Perhaps the people who don't like or don't understand this story are just drunk and only skimming it.
At first I didn't get it, and I thought, well, this is lousy. And then I did get it, and I thought, well, that's worse! So thumbs down; this is just … exactly the opposite of any sort of enjoyable. It is disquieting to no purpose, arrives at no sort of result, and leaves one feeling worse in every way than before reading it.
This is an amazing story that hits you in the feels, but it's so sad..so very sad.
2403362 she cannot accept that she's dead she repeats the day over and over again because she can't accept that she's dead she's torturing herself she feels guilty because something happened to her friends and she feels like it's her fault because of this it's her unfinished business her spirit is tied to wherever she is at least that's what I think