Warning!
The first scene in this chapter may be a bit graphic to some viewers. If you're not comfortable with what is written, please skip to the first page break. (horizontal line)
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“That’s it!” I suddenly shouted, mid-thrust, as my mind connected the dots.
“Oh,” she moaned. “Yes, yes, it is!”
“No, Private Eye! The police are interrogating somepony, but he bashes in and starts his own barrage of questions!” My voice was growing hysterical as my motion had become little to none.
My partner realized with a groan her night of fun was over, and rolled onto her back. “And the ponies in charge just let that happen?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Of course they don’t! The captain yells at him in front of the suspect, ruining all sense of authority and reinforces her confidence in her alibi. Then they’re forced to let her go—and that’s when she goes after his family!!” I didn’t notice how loud I was yelling.
“Sounds riveting.” She smirked at me while levitating a nearby glass of wine to herself and taking a sip. “You’d better get to writing it before you forget.”
“Right!” I shouted, again, as I stumbled out of bed.
The bed was not so forthcoming, relinquishing one of its only two heat sources, so it sent a blanket tendril to trip me up and keep me ensnared.
This only brought my face to the carpet a lot faster than I’d originally hoped—though I can’t say I ever hoped for that in the first place.
“I’m good!” I told her as I popped up and rushed into the kitchen.
I heard a light chuckle from the bedroom as I began scribbling down details for later revisions. I was too enthralled in my work to pay it any mind, though. Only later did I realize how high and dry—or the complete opposite, if you know what I mean—I’d left my beloved.
Without a doubt, later that night was one of the best nights of my life thus far.
Who cares about that, though? Sex sells, but drama keeps them coming back! So, now for some turmoil!
I could tell you stories I’ve heard from my parents about my foalhood. Stories about sitting in the kitchen, in my diaper, banging pots and pans around (wearing one on my head, obviously); one time I walked around the house saying “buck” while mom and dad frantically tried to get me to stop and explain why I shouldn’t say that word (you can imagine how confused I was a couple years later when I went to the apple farm and heard them talk about “bucking” the trees); I could even tell you about the stuffed animal, Cutie Pie, I carried around all the time (the name I gave the plushie caused my parents to question getting me such a toy, but they were very accepting… especially after the tantrum I threw when they tried to take her away from me). Of course, I won’t tell you all these stories—mostly because I just did, and I don’t think I could do it any more justice even if I could remember them. Instead, we’ll skip to my first little sister.
Mom had been getting fat.
Really fat.
In fact, she was becoming so large, I had—on more than one occasion—attempted to hide some of her favorite foods.
Sadly, that lead to a wasted bucked to rocky road ice cream…
And then, the unimaginable happened.
One day, when mom and I were on a walk, she collapsed suddenly. I handled the situation as calmly as I could… and promptly went running through the park screaming bloody murder for my dad. Good thing he was in earshot, too, or I might have alerted the whole town to a fake monster attack.
Wouldn’t be the first one…
…
Monster attack, not colt cried timberwolf.
Either way, Written Script came running, sprinting right past me when he noticed where I was coming from. Mom and I always went on walks when dad wasn’t home—she said it cleared her head and helped her think. (I think she just liked looking at the pretty flowers) Dad knew our route pretty thoroughly, and easily traced my steps back to her.
The path of calamity I left in my wake helped as well.
When I realized he wasn’t going to stop for me I pulled a wicked U-turn and started back towards mom—who I’d left… in the park… all alone....
I think I made it back before my dad, that day. Not the first time I’d beaten him in a race, but I’m pretty sure the other times were because he let me win. Nevertheless, I was too desperate to make it back to mom to make sure she was alright to think about it.
“Mommy? Are you okay?” I asked, pulling as much air into my little pegasus lungs as I could.
“M-mommy’s fine, she just needs to get to the hospital as soon as possible.” She grimaced and a hoof shot down to the large bulge in her stomach.
“B-b-but that’s where sick and injured ponies go!” I squeaked in distress, my ears splayed back and eyes went wide. “Mom?” I asked quietly as tears welled in my eyes.
“I’m going to be just fine, Goldie. Don’t worry.” I could see the strain she was putting herself through just to keep a soft smile.
It was then that dad arrived.
“Honey, are you alright?” he asked, examining her for any outward injury.
“I’m fine, Writ.” She quickly became serious. “It’s happening.”
Dad got a similar—if more nervous—look as he glanced around. Several ponies had followed him as he sprinted down the street, more curious about what was happening than anything. His eyes locked on an apple salespony who was hitched to a cart.
“Can I borrow your cart, please!” Written begged as he approached the pony.
“Eeyup!” The large red stallion backed the cart up to mom and waited for dad to gently lift her onto the cushions provided by a nearby couch salespony—funnily enough, I buy most of my quills at a discount from him, these days (I get them shipped for half the price, too).
I tried to get in the cart, myself, but the bed of the cart was too high even with the help of my wings. After a second or two of struggling my dad pushed me up and onto one of the throw pillows and went to get hitched to the cart.
“Er… ya sure ya don’t want me ta get ‘er to the hospital?” asked the red stallion who’d lent the cart. “This here cart’s made fer earth ponies, not unicorns.”
“Thanks, but I’ve troubled you enough.” The last hitching was put in place and he started off towards Ponyville Medical. “Thanks again! I’ll have the cart back by sundown! And the cushions!” he shouted as he accelerated down the street.
“Mom,” I said as I looked over to the mare lying on her side and breathing hard. “Mom, are you okay? What can I do?” I asked, the tears from before beginning to streak down my face.
“You’re doing great, sweetie. But this next parts the hard one. You’re going to have to be strong for me, okay? Think you can do that?” She flinched as she stifled a quiet yelp.
“M-mom!” She looked me in the eye pleadingly and I steeled myself. “Yes. Y-yes, I can do it. No matter the difficulty!” I tried to make my voice deeper and more confident, but I think it only came out strange.
“Perfect.” She smiled warmly, but the smile was broken by another body-wracking shudder of pain.
This time, the yelp wasn’t stifled.
“MOM!” I shouted.
A sudden increase in speed put my face in a cushion. I struggled to sit up again and pulled myself into my mother’s hooves. She gripped me in a tight hug—a really tight hug—and began breathing funny. Twice in, once out. My thoughts shot back to what she’d just requested of me, saying that this was the hardest part.
I took the pain with pride, that my mom would allow me to take on the enormous responsibility I was entrusted with.
The rest of that cart trip was a blur of motion, pain, and screams. I don’t remember when we got to the hospital, but I do remember being separated from her when she was taken behind some doors with dad and I was left in the foals’ playpen. I didn’t play with any of the toys, I only sat in the corner fearing I’d somehow failed my mother. What if she didn’t come out and it was my fault? What if she did come out, but she wasn’t okay? What if-
A nurse’s hoof interrupted my thoughts.
“You’re Golden Harvest’s foal, aren’t you?” she asked, taking a seat next to me in the corner. “Are you worried about your mom?”
I sniffled and wiped my eyes with my hooves. I’d been crying, and crying hard. I wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“Y-yeah.... She said this is the hardest part.” I rethought my statement. “Or, that the cart ride was the hardest part… I’m not sure.”
The mare chuckled at this. “Your mother is in the care of the best ponies suited for the job. She’s going to be just fine.” Her hoof rubbed my back soothingly.
I looked up to her, hope glimmering in my eyes. “You promise?”
She gave me a kind smile and pulled me into an equally kind hug. “I promise.”
Like a lot of things from way back then, I don’t remember when I fell asleep… or when I got back home… or when the creature that my parents called my little sister escaped Tartarus—I swear, that thing hissed at me, once!
But, in all seriousness, compared to that day, the following weeks and months were somewhat ordinary. Sure, there was the occasional cry-fest; sure, I didn’t get as much attention anymore; sure, she was more trouble than she was worth… but I think it was all for the better. She grew up great and that’s all that matters.
Until… eugh… Todd.
Buck Todd.