a sneak preview into some stuff i have coming down the pipe · 8:51pm Jan 21st, 2021
my new favorite character
It's kinda weird how I had so much free time back in 2020, yet my productivity only came rushing in by this year. Anywhos, I thought I'd share a couple of excerpts of all the pony stuff I'm currently working on, all ordered according to my (tentative) release schedule.
The first three would be released before May comes along. They might get pushed back depending on what life has up its sleeve, but that's how it is for the foreseeable future. The last two, I'm planning to release them only when everything's written out. It'll take time, but hopefully, I can get around to fleshing at least one of them to completion before year's end.
Here they are:
Decadence, As Performed By Four Calling Birds
Tale V of XXXIII
Beyond the darkness of the night and the blearing curtains of rain swayed a cluster of orange shimmers in the wind. They freely danced to the cacophonous thrums of the midnight storm, crackling in bewitching merriment even as the world around them remained deep in quiet slumber, save for the occasional applause of thunder overhead. To the untrained eye, one would deduce that there was some inexplicable purpose to this spectacle, that there must be something mystical responsible for the conjuration of this midnight revelry.
Applejack knew it was anything but.
A sigh rose from the confines of her throat as she watched the display intently from the window. The lights were coming from an apple tree that had been struck by lightning—one of the older ones, judging from the size of the fire and the direction it was coming from. Were it not for the rain already doing her bidding, she would've marched out there right now, yank out the hose and quickly put an end to that nuisance of a party before it gets out of control. Nevertheless, as grateful as she was for the weather, she still refused to remain content as an observer, throwing out a few grumbles here and there even as her stomach began to twist and turn from thinking about the debris she'll have to clear up in the morning.
"Is it really alright, just leaving it like this?"
Glancing over her shoulder, Applejack mustered a smile for a nervous Sugar Belle, who moments ago barged into her bedroom and woke her up to warn her about the fire, bless her heart. "The storm's making quick work of it," she assured. "Probably'll be out in an hour or two, I reckon."
Her sister-in-law sighed in relief. At least, that's what it sounded like. Even though it had been months since the day Sugar Belle moved in, Applejack wasn't exactly used to her company yet. Not that she was unwelcome or anything to that extent, of course, far from it. After all, it's beyond an Apple to spurn one of their own. If anything, Applejack appreciates how she would always offer to help out around the farm in any way she can, which really helped in lessening the family's workload overall.
Still, there was something strange about it. Seeing Sugar Belle canter between the ageing walls of the Apple homestead, listening to her dainty hooves as they made every gentle creak up the wooden stairs, hearing her merry humming swivelling out the kitchen alongside the aroma of freshly-baked muffins, all of it just felt strange. It wasn't wrong by any means, far from it, yet it just wasn't right either. For some reason, it feels as though the family had broken some cardinal rule within these four walls by inviting Sugar Belle into the homestead and it had now become Applejack's obligation towards the family hearth to cast the offending presence out.
Of course, Applejack knew better than to think that—nay, she was better. Sugar Belle was family, through and through. There's no good reason for her to be stuck in that mindset, there really wasn't. Still, the thought does come back to her, time and time again. A spectre standing in the corner of the room, waiting.
"It has been raining a lot lately, hasn't it?"
She coughed. "Yep, noticed it too. I'd ask Rainbow about it but she's out of town." Something about going on another awesome adventure or something, Applejack recalled with a distant smile, somewhat comforted by the fact that the pegasus was doing enough adventuring for the rest of them. "A bit of rain's good though. Makes up for that dry spell a few months ago."
"I just hope Mac's doing okay." Sugar Belle bit her lip at the violent pummelling of raindrops against the windowpane, before shaking her head profusely. "I'm sorry, Jackie, I know you told me not to worry about it—"
"It's fine, sugarcube."
"I can't help it! I mean, what if he gets caught in a mudslide or something? What if—what if the carriage gets trapped in a ditch and pulls him down with it? What if he sprains his hoof? What if he twists it? What if—"
"Macintosh knows to lay low when a storm's coming his way." Applejack chuckled for her sister-in-law. "I know, I know, his head can be in the clouds sometimes, but if there's one stallion I know who's almost always too careful for his own good, it's my brother. You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't cha?"
Sugar Belle responded with nothing more than a giggle, one that Applejack had always found soothing in spite of her misgivings. She never knew why that was the case. Big Mac once told her about how it sounded familiar to him, about how it felt like it came from somepony near and dear to his heart. Of course, Applejack immediately chided him for stating something so absurdly dense and painfully obvious, though as she had more chances to listen to it over time, she was beginning to understand what he meant. Not entirely, not enough for her to deduce where exactly they might've heard it from, but she was getting there, getting close. She just needed to hear it a little more.
Like Starlings, Apposed
Chapter 2 (title pending)
Cheerilee couldn’t remember the last time she had left her house in the middle of the afternoon.
She felt like a stranger in her hometown, lost in a forest of familiar faces as the teeth of the summer sun raked her skin. Every sound was a wildfire in a blazing flood, every color a shriek of the light—altogether, the day was a cruel test of her patience and her perseverance. Then again, it was a test she could’ve very effortlessly passed, had she not decided on a whim to guzzle down two whole bottles of whisky late last night.
The painkillers she took before coming out were not working. The sunglasses she had been wearing weren't doing much to help either. If anything, they seem to be drawing a lot more gazes towards her, not that it mattered. After all, it’s not as though this was the first time she was seen like this in public. She had learned to live with it, in fact, and if anyone cared so much as to ask, she would swiftly thank them for their nonessential concern and happily retort that yes, this was very much how she was like all this time and they would’ve noticed it earlier had they paid her any attention. Honeybees to a flower.
“You stink.”
Cheerilee clicked her tongue. “Took your time,” she snorted, turning her head to acknowledge her ex-coltfriend cantering up to her. “You could’ve at least told me you were going to be a little late.”
“Like you’d listen.” Savoir pushed into her hooves a breath mint. “I told you not to drink on the night before the job, didn’t I?”
“At least I wasn’t inconveniencing anyone else besides myself.”
“You’re inconveniencing me right now, Chér.” A deep sigh left his lips when he caught her rolling her eyes as she popped the mint into her mouth. “Look, the last thing we both want is for Fuschia to start asking questions about it, alright? Her imagination is wild enough as it is already. Come on, she’s probably waiting for us.”
Cheerilee would rather have her wait longer. A lesson in patience is always worthwhile, though it would seem careless of her to prepare it so soon. That’s without mentioning it would go against the lesson plan that she had slapped together over the past week, which, slipshod as it may be, was at least made with something resembling thought and care. She should be commended for it, in fact—who else in Ponyville would be able to conjure up a custom-tailored curriculum in a single week without advance warning? Who else but her?
Experience, however, can only take her so far. In fact, look where it’s taken her. If experience was all that mattered, she wouldn’t be stuck coddling the child of an old flame. She wouldn’t have lost her job to the blissful nescience of society and the idle work of bureaucracy, these outside forces beyond her control. She wouldn’t be wasting her time away on the couch, giggling like a filly as she listened to the honeyed persuasions that only a good glass of liquor could whisper in her ear.
If experience mattered, she wouldn’t be looking at herself the same way everyone else had been looking at her today.
A lost cause. A fool in yearning.
We Rest In The Penumbra
“Starswirl says you can look into the dreams of other ponies.”
Lady Canary grinned. She shifted her front hooves to be in congruence with my own. “And? Do you believe him?”
“Of course I do,” I replied haughtily, childishly insulted by such a preposterous question. “Starswirl is an honest and just pony. Condescending as he can sometimes be, he has never once lied to me, and never will. If he says you can look into the dreams of others, it means you can.”
To that, she said not a word. Her grin, however, grew wider.
“Starswirl also said you chose me to inherit your power,” I continued regardless. “I wish to know why, milady.”
“Well, what good is a Princess of the Night without the power to protect her subjects in their sleep?”
“You chose me not because of my position,” I denounced such an asinine notion. “Were it truly so, my sister is the superior candidate of us two, that much is clear.”
“Celestia.” The Lady Canary spat my sister’s name as though it was a pagan curse. “Your sister, I find her methods obsequious, her disposition overexcitable. Her garish foolhardiness is a pollutant, the last thing our dreams need to have. Let it be known from this night henceforth that I very much intend to keep it that way.”
Clearly, right from our first meeting, Lady Canary did not bother to hide the sheer contempt and disgust she had for my sister. Not once in my life did she reveal to me the cause; not once had I dared to pry. All the while, sister dearest had been completely oblivious to that fact, perhaps for the better. I have not had the heart to disclose to Celestia what Lady Canary had really thought of her, even to this day.
“Let it also be known that it matters not why you were chosen, only that you are. What your sister lacks, you possess, and before you assail me with her accomplishments, I shall have you know it would do little good to waste your breath in such a painfully slavish manner, little one. It does not fit you.”
My expression of wordless indignation was an eventuality, one met with only a lofty nicker.
“I should expect you to be grateful,” she continued gruffly. “No other pony in this material world will ever possess what I am about to give you. I had hoped you have long realised that by now.”
“I just wish to know why you chose me, milady.”
“And I will admire you for it. Your curiosity, however, can only take you this far, I can assure you.”
“I should have at least the right to know,” I chose to argue. “This is about me and my role, Lady Canary. This is about you relinquishing your powers to me. In the end, it should be my decision whether or not I am to inherit this power.”
“No, it is not. Do not be sorely mistaken, child, this is beyond just me and you.”
I furrowed my brows in pursuit. “So am I to believe that this decision was not wholly yours?”
“You may believe what you wish, for it does not matter. It never does.”
“Yet I was chosen.”
“Indeed you are.”
“And I will remain so, even if I press milady on the matter.”
“Much to my misfortune.”
“Then I see no reason why you must refrain from—”
Lady Canary suddenly dropped her head right next to mine. The side of her snout dipped into my mane, the tip of her horn grazing against the back of my left ear. Her glare was a searing star from the corner of my eyes, her gleeful rictus a fractured constellation. Her faint staccato breaths shimmered just above my eardrums, seeping across the thin layer of flesh like a blanket of caustic mildew.
“Your first lesson: there is a time and place for everything.”
I opened my mouth to object to that notion, only for her right hoof to seize me by the chin and slam my jaws back shut. Her left hoof performed in tandem, grabbing my mane and, without any manner of hesitation, yanked it downwards like a leash. A yelp slipped through my gritted teeth, followed by my muffled squeals as I struggled like a lizard in her grip. Unable to look anywhere else, my eyes scurried fearfully about the ceiling, though even that was taken away when the Lady Canary wilted her head to look at me, the cold shadow of her visage swallowing all that I could see.
Like A Whisper In The Wind
In evening's high, the endless valley breathes red.
What little light remaining dances in the horizon and withers before his eyes. He watches as though they were birds aflutter, envy green running from his cheeks and sinking into the grass beneath his hooves. He remembers a time where he flies with them, where he would join their chorus and hum their lullabies. He remembers all too well.
Years had passed since then. Folded away like mildewed curtains. The light, the birds, they do not welcome his craven presence anymore. The soil makes for better company nowadays, selfish as it can be. All it ever does was to hoist him onto its shoulders to meet the sky, to release him from his exile, though as gracious as he was for its efforts, he had never once asked it to. It will come to realise it one day, however, and when that day comes, he would finally be given the chance to crumble in his own time.
And the crumbling, it's close.
It has to be.
Stifling the yawn left behind from his midday nap, he grabs his basket and gets to work.
Black muscats tumble into the rattan cradle. Gentle pearls, one after another, fresh from their necklaces. He tosses one into his mouth for a taste, another for good measure. The delightful hum he elicits weaves in between the field of trellises flowering purple, his personal monuments. With trumpeting angels in his head, he walks down the aisle, cerulean magic reaping the fruit of his efforts left and right. Every jittery step, every gleaming bead he had plucked from each bundle, he would rise a little higher, from hoof to head. Perhaps by day's end, he would find himself up in the clouds to join the birds once again. He always did wonder how this new world would look like from up above.
A howl, heading west. A whisper runs down his neck that reminds him of his place.
The autumn winds seem fiercer this year, or perhaps he's more prone to its advances than he's used to. With every passing minute, he dredges another layer out of his scarf until there was no more. He shivers, albeit with the hope that in the final minutes of fading sunlight, he will make his merry way home with at least a full basket in tow.
Night falls. He heads back home with a basket half-empty.
The manor is a simple home. It is rather spacious for one, has been so for quite some time now. It has served him well, though with the sawdust it exhales and the cobwebs in its hair, and the nauseating emptiness that had long since flooded its wallpapered veins, he fears it's time may be up. Still, it remains diligent and graceful, this quiet companion. A constant that has guarded him all this time. And so, he shall be watchful over it as it had been for him to the very end.
He wanders into the bedroom and wipes himself down with a wet cloth. Settling onto the bed, he grimaces at the stars, taking the time to listen to the distant screams coming from the black spaces between them, before throwing the windows shut. Without further ado, he closes his eyes and begins to dream of better times long since forgotten. Of years long lost, of moments condemned to what-ifs and could-have-beens.
Such is his routine, as it had been so for the past thirty-odd years of his life, and it shall be so for the days to come.
He could feel it quietly whispering to my bones.
Years turn to months, months turn to weeks, weeks turn to days.
The crumbling, it's coming closer.
He just has to be patient.
Aftercare
He found a monster on his doorstep one dark and stormy night.
It had the stature of a shriveled sunflower, burnt black with a cracked horn and trampled wings. When he came upon it, the monster had curled itself up into a writhing ball, clutching desperately at the tattered rags wrapped around its frail body. It mewled and whimpered like a sick puppy, yet hissed like a cobra whenever his hoof drew near. Try as he might, the young colt didn’t know what to make of this, coming back after an uneventful night of waiting tables at the Grand Galloping Gala only to stumble upon this black, bruised mess of a creature whose emerald eyes glistened brightly even in the pouring rain.
Nevertheless, curiosity, bristling and belligerent, had him tightly wrapped around its horn.
“What are you?” he asked as he knelt down. His brows furrowed once he noticed the lacerations whipped across her sides, leaking trickles of black into the rainwater. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
It only shivered on like a suffocating butterfly.
With a frown, he took a quick glance around the empty night, before gingerly cradling her with his magic and carrying her into the house, even as it tried lunging and snapping at his neck. “Manners,” he tutted, kicking the door shut behind him. “Best behave when you’re in my house, understood?”
It stopped, only to snarl instead.
“That’s a start.”
Carefully, the colt placed the monster onto the dining table, which began twisting and turning about its seat in a hissing fit when he peeled away the stained robes sticking onto its skin, fangs dangerously swiping at his hooves. More cuts hid beneath the robes. Larger ones, deeper too perhaps. Several strands of stubborn fabric torn from the robe still clung on, to which Fancypants gently plucked them out with his magic in spite of the creature’s staggered growls, a quiet gasp slipping out from underneath his breath.
“For the love of me, stop struggling, it’s only going to hurt more if you do,” he groused, his nose scrunching up from the putrid stench seething from the tears in its skin. “By Celestia’s mane, what have I gotten myself into…”
The monster simply snarled at his tail as he left to rummage through the kitchen cabinets, before lashing its tongue out to lick at its wounds.
“No no no, stop it, don’t do that, you’re only going to make it worse,” he snapped when he came back a minute later and saw what she was doing. “The last thing you’d want is for your wounds to get infected, and if I’m being perfectly honest, I have no idea if that’s even remotely possible for a creature like you. Still, one can never be too careful.”
Hooves crossed indignantly, the monster yawned and started scratching at its bedraggled mane.
“Well then, I’m glad to know you’re finding my home comfortable at least,” he remarked, managing a chuckle as he dabbed the cotton bandage with some antiseptic. “Now, hold still, this is going to hurt a little.”
The monster was surprisingly obedient on that note, though it did hiss out of pain from time to time, saliva spraying across the room with most of it raining upon the bridge of his snout. Nevertheless, the colt remained patient and careful throughout, his hooves wrapping layer after layer of the bandage cleanly and delicately around her torso.
A chirr caused him to glance up to meet a pair of green eyes staring back at him, glowing with a vivacious curiosity.
“How did I know how to do this, I assume you asked?” he chuckled as he wrapped the last of the scars up from view. “My mother was a nurse. A remarkable one, in fact, one of the finest. I believe she taught me how to bandage my own hoof when I was seven.”
The monster cocked its head. A warble left its lips as it glanced around the room.
“Oh, she left this world a long time ago. I live alone now,” he said, his smile briefly fading. “You know, she was quite the selfless mare, my mother. I’d say she’s sometimes too selfless for her own good.”
A warble.
“She’d know what to do with you. I’m sure if she’s here, she’ll understand why I brought you in. I’d like to think she would do the same thing were she in my place.”
A frown, before the monster flung out a brash growl.
“I don’t know what’s that supposed to mean, but I’ll say this.” The colt rose up to level with her gaze. “We all deserve help when we need it, be it a pony or a creature such as yourself. I’m not doing this because I have something to gain from it. I’m doing this because I want to, and also because you need it.”
The monster turned away and said nothing.
“You’ll come to understand what I mean in time. That is, if you’re still keen on living here.” The colt nonchalantly poured himself a cup of tea. “You need a place to hide away, don’t you? The ponies that did that to you, they’re still out there looking for you, aren’t they?”
Nothing, still.
“It’s your decision, of course. It’s not my place to tell you what to do, nor would it be anyone else’s. Nevertheless, should you want to...” With his magic, he whisked out another matching teacup from the shelves, kettle at the ready. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like.”
Reluctantly, the monster turned back to meet his gaze. The docile stare it displayed was as good of an answer as any.
“Alright.” A benign smile brightened his lips as he poured the monster a cup of tea. “I’ve only Earl Grey left, I’m afraid. Work’s been taking away my precious time from me, so I haven’t had the time to stock up on my foodstuff as of late. You’ll have to make do with it for now.”
The monster grimaced at the drink before her, though a tentative sip was all it needed to quash any residual uncertainties away. For a while, Fancypants played the part of a silent observer, stifling his grin at the sight of it wreaking havoc upon a precious cup of tea, all the while gently plucking at the growing string of questions in his head, with one of them thrumming the loudest.
“Do you have a name?”
The monster momentarily halted its trivial assault on the teacup to look at him, only to return to it soon after.
“Now that just won’t do. Even a creature such as yourself deserves a name, especially if you intend to stay here. I can’t keep calling you random insect-like creature I found on the street’ forever, can’t I?”
A chirp between generous sips of tea, as if to say ‘you can’.
“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue,” he sighed, his gaze lingering on the ravenous monster in hopes for the eureka moment that never came. “Ah well, I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually. That aside, you can sleep in the guest room for now. I might have to air it out a little before you do though. Haven’t been into that room for quite a while.”
He sighed again.
“Which means more work for me.”
The monster chittered, as if it understood what he said.
“At least one of us is getting some amusement out of this,” he chortled, smiling. “Come with me. I’ll show you to your room.”
With a delightful chirr, the monster leapt off the table and eagerly scampered up to the colt’s side. Grinning, the colt smiled down at it, hoof gingerly reaching out to stroke the monster’s head, to which it glanced up with a quizzical purr.
“Don’t worry. I promise I will take good care of you.”
And with those tender words, it was a monster no more.
So yeah, Tale V of my little anthology series is coming out next. I'm about halfway through the first chapter currently and have outlined most of what's about to happen from start to finish. Let me just say that it's going to be a bit of a wild ride.
Starlings is something that I think needs time for me to fully unravel. I have a concrete ending in mind, though getting there is something I'm still working out on if the drafts I keep throwing into my recycle bin are of any indication.
Penumbra has been a story I know a bunch of people on this site have been waiting for. I won't go into any more detail than that.
Whisper was a story in the back catalogue that I've finally managed to dredge out with a concept that I think works. It'll be a bit of a journey for me, especially since this is the first time I'm writing in the present tense. Will see how that pans out.
Last but not least, Aftercare. As with everything else, there's an ending in mind, though I have only a scant few scenes to go along with it. There's a lot of space left on the drawing board so this would take some time to get out.
I've also resumed a little bit of work on Panthalassa, though it's nothing too substantial to post here. It's basically a rework of my most recently-published chapter as I'm not exactly happy with it at the moment. I'll get around to it soon enough.
All in all, that's everything I've been working on. Starting with Decadence, these stories will come out pretty soon. Hopefully, you guys will like what I have coming.
Thanks for stopping by! Spirit out!
This title is so poggers in itself. I look forward to all these dropping eventually.