//------------------------------//
// Chapter 82 
// Story: The Mask Makes the Pony 
// by kudzuhaiku 
//------------------------------//

	It was a perfect, sunny day, and somehow, that felt wrong. Funerals were supposed to be rainy, dreary days, sad days, grey days with melancholy skies. This day was nothing of the sort. The newspaper headlines were ablaze with promises and pledges of unity, of togetherness, all to present a united front to the enemy. From tragedy had come inspiration, a sense of purpose, a will and desire to do better. 

Even though so much of it focused upon him, Flicker could draw no comfort from it. Inside, there was only a hollow ache that begged to be filled with something, like a decayed tooth, it throbbed with cold emptiness. At least he had his orders, his duties, and his sense of purpose. That soothed the ache a little, but not much, and it stayed his hoof from rash action or petty, meaningless vengeance. 

Also, he had Knick-Knack, whom he doted on rather than eat breakfast. 

During his absence, her cutie mark had appeared at a young, tender age, and Flicker felt regret for not being there with her when it had happened. His mother had told him the story several times now, and would likely tell him several times more. He didn’t mind, it was a pleasant distraction and his mother’s words gave him a much needed mote of happiness. 

For being a good filly, Twisty had taken Knick-Knack into town to purchase a new doll, but the little filly wanted a toy locomotive. She had begged and pleaded for it, even cried for it, and Twisty, being the soft-hearted mother she was, broke down and spent a considerable sum on the toy locomotive, which was made from real metal and was so very detailed. 

Not long after the purchase, Knick-Knack had her cutie mark; a chugging locomotive. It was a good mark, and Flicker was happy. He hoped that his sister would do more than just operate a train though, he hoped that she would one day design and build better trains. Even in his current troubled state, his hopes and dreams for his little sister persisted. 

Hope sprang eternal, a lesson that Flicker was still learning. 

For his sister to design and build better locomotives, she had to have a bright and promising future. She, like so many others, had to have a future, and Flicker was determined to ensure that the future continued to exist. His own future, it seemed, had been determined, and he would serve. 

“Give me that little fuzzball,” Twisty said to Flicker. “She’s sticky from breakfast. I’m going to clean her up before we go.” 

Hesitant, not wishing to let go, Flicker kissed Knick-Knack one last time, which caused her to begin giggling. Feeling a keen sense of regret, he placed her on his mother’s back, and then watched as Twisty walked away from the table. Leaning forward, Flicker rested his forelegs on the edge of the table, and was only somewhat aware of the fact that Hennessy was staring at him. 

Madam Pakora began clearing away the breakfast dishes, sniffling, her eyes red and puffy. She paused, lingering near Hennessy for a moment, and the corners of her eyes wrinkled as she smiled. “A cookie for your thoughts, Hennessy.” 

Startled, Hennessy let out a squeak, and perhaps because he was caught off guard, he responded with total and complete honesty. “I was just thinking that Flicker here would be a good daddy. Mine was a total shit…” His words trailed off and he sat there, blinking, his lips still moving, but nothing was being said. 

“And even though your own family was ruinous, you still have hope of goodness?” Madam Pakora’s smile widened a bit, causing her plump cheeks to press up into the corners of her eyes. 

“Yeah… I guess… maybe?” Hennessy’s eyes darted from the left to the right, and he glanced at Piper. Flustered, the earth pony colt then looked to Conk, who was busy reading a newspaper. “I think a part of me wants to prove that I can do better than my own parents.” 

Without warning, Piper let out a sudden, terrifying belch, egg-scented, and then she clutched her stomach while moaning, “I don’t think my liver likes breakfast, but I sure did.” She began panting, trying to cope with the sudden burst of pain, and her yellow eyes blinked several times in rapid succession. 

Snorting, Conk used his paper to fan away the befouled air while shaking his head. 



 

The carriage was stuck in traffic, but Flicker wasn’t worried. They had left early, knowing that most of the city would be trying to reach the cemetery. It was warm, too warm, and the hot press of so many bodies crammed into such a tiny space left him a sweaty mess. Most of the time, his mother’s wings were comforting things, but right now, they left Flicker hot, prickled, and itchy. 

Even though the traffic didn’t bother him, Flicker was peeved for other reasons. He had a house now—though it had come to him through terrible circumstances—and a housekeeper too. He had the means to provide a comfortable, wonderful life for his parents—both of whom wanted to continue to live in their farmhouse in Ponyville. The rejection—for Flicker took it as such—stung. On top of all of the other hurt he felt, this just felt like rubbing salt in his many wounds. 

But, being the good, dutiful son that he was, he said nothing. 

The carriage lurched and began to move forward, but Flicker knew that they would stop again soon enough. Sweat ran down his face and made his mane stick to his neck. Sitting across from him, Piper looked miserable as well, and she clutched her stomach. Hennessy didn’t seem bothered by the heat or the humidity at all, he was humming to himself even, and Flicker hated him just a tiny bit. 

If he had to suffer, then everypony should have to suffer, or so the petulant colt thought as the carriage slowed to a halt. 



 

The cemetery was packed, overflowing with far too many mourners. Standing beneath a canopy was Princess Luna, though Princess Celestia was nowhere to be seen. Beside Princess Luna was Prince Gosling, and she was weeping against his neck. Seeing it made Flicker feel strange, a sensation that he lacked the means to describe. 

There was no casket, but there was a statue. Flicker could see a hint of its outline beneath the black shroud covering it. A large lump appeared in his throat, almost choking him, and his vision blurred over. This was almost too much to bear, and right now, more than anything, Flicker wished that he was alone, that he had some privacy while paying his respects. 

“Mister Nicker?” 

Turning about, Flicker saw a filly on the verge of marehood, or a mare that still appeared to be a filly. She seemed to be about the same age as the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and she had a beautiful silver pelt that stood out in sharp contrast to the black gown she wore. Thick glasses were askew on her face, and the bottom of the lenses were smudged with tears. 

“It’s you,” she said in a relieved voice. “My name is Silver Spoon. It’s funny, I feel as though I know you, my uncle talked about you a great deal.” 

Ears drooping, Flicker bowed his head a bit and he watched as her barrel began hitching with each breath she took. Silver Spoon’s voice wavered a bit, making her sound more like a filly, and he realised that she was fighting to keep from crying, which made it quite difficult for him to keep his own composure. 

“I understand that you and my uncle were very close,” she continued, and she gave Flicker a brave smile. “He saw you as a son. Sterling was my favourite uncle… he was a good pony and he was one of the ponies that steered me away from being a bully. He taught me to respect myself and when I did that, I began to respect others.” She paused, sniffled for a bit, and the corners of her mouth convulsed while she battled to keep the smile on her face. 

“If my uncle saw you as a son, then I would like for you to be a part of our family.” Silver Spoon’s lower lip quivered and her nostrils flared while she sucked in great gulps of air. “I would like to get to know you better and I am hoping that we can be friends. I would be a terrible pony if I didn’t look after my uncle’s son.”

“I would like that, Miss Spoon.” 

“Sit with me?” she asked. “I don’t know if I can get through this alone.” 

Glancing over at Piper and Hennessy, Flicker saw them both nodding. All of this was strange, weird, it was new to him and he felt out of place, out of sorts. With Piper and Hennessy’s encouragement, he returned his gaze to Silver Spoon. “I will remain with you, if you will have me. We can make it through this together.” Then, as an afterthought he added, “My door will always be open to you and you will always be welcome as my guest.” 

“I would like that…” Silver Spoon’s eyes glazed over and she tried to blink away the tears, but failed. They rolled down her cheeks in great, fat droplets, then fell to the earth where they clung to the blades of grass like glittering diamonds. 

Then, without warning, Flicker had a stout earth pony hanging off of his neck. Bracing his front legs, he stood there, rigid, not knowing what to do. She was weeping, this was awkward, and Flicker realised that he had some trouble connecting to other ponies. With one front leg braced in place, he lifted the other, and wrapped it around her while she wept. 

The weight was surprising, not the physical weight, no, this went beyond that and threatened to pull him down. This was a weight only born by maturity, something that Flicker knew that he lacked. This realisation of weakness left him vulnerable, it ripped open every emotional scab in the worst way possible, and Flicker could feel the evidence of his weakness welling up in his eyes. 

The sting of tears was unbearable and Flicker would have prefered being stabbed again. 



 

“Lord Sterling Shoe was my best friend, my associate, and my drinking buddy.” Wicked Chandler stood beside the statue with his head bowed and his ears sagging. “Sterling was also my primary antagonist at times and the pony I trusted to give me ‘arsh criticism. This loss ‘as left a 'ole in me ‘eart and I—” The unicorn broke down and shook his head. 

White Pepper stepped out of the crowd and went to Wicked’s side, trying to comfort him. 

“I can’t do this,” Wicked said in a choked voice. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I’m a terrible friend and I can’t deliver 'is eulogy.” Saying nothing else, Wicked hurried away, retreating from the crowd, his wooden peg-leg sinking into the soft earth with each stumbling step. 

Looking pained, White Pepper limped off after Wicked, who moved with surprising speed. 

Flicker could sense the growing tension, but he didn’t feel like there was anything he could do. Silver Spoon was weeping while she leaned up against him. Knick-Knack was bawling, no doubt because she didn’t understand what was going on, and his mother, Twisty, was trying to shush her. Overhead, the sun shone down without mercy, offering heat that Flicker had no desire for. 

Looking around, trying to figure out what might happen next, Flicker saw a curious sight that made his innards clench up tight. The heat had to be getting to him, scrambling his brain, because he saw a zebra with a long ropey mane… and Doctor Sterling stood beside her with an unmistakable bittersweet smile upon his face. Unable to even breathe, Flicker jerked his gaze away from what had to be a hallucination and focused instead upon the black shroud. 

Weepy eyed, Princess Luna strode out from beneath her canopy, scattering ponies before her like chickens. The crowd parted to make way for her as she moved with great purpose and determination towards Doctor Sterling’s shroud-covered statue. Following just behind her was Prince Gosling, looking every bit as grim and determined. 

“He was Our friend,” Princess Luna said in a booming utterance that was right on the verge of being the ‘Ye Olden Canterlot Voice.’ Drawing herself up to her full height, she scanned the crowd, looking at them with sad, half-closed eyes. “My friend. He was my friend. We do not have a eulogy prepared, but what eulogy would do this pony justice? He died as he lived, a devoted servant to his ideals, his beliefs, and his convictions. If only all of us were so noble as he, this world would be a pleasant, perfect place. There was no servant more devoted than Lord Sterling Shoe and We… I trusted him a great deal. His loss pains Us greatly.” 

Princess Luna stood there, statuesque, unmoving for a short time, until she blinked. With a turn of her head, she faced the shrouded statue and took a step back. Horn glowing, she grabbed the shroud, gave it a yank, and revealed the monument statue hidden beneath while the immense sheet of fabric billowed in the high-altitude breeze. 

What Flicker saw wasn’t expected, not at all. He expected Doctor Sterling as he was, as a pony. The statue was something else entirely; Doctor Sterling, the Plague Doctor. The first thing that Flicker noticed was that the mask was in perfect detail, nothing was missing or out of place. His head was raised in noble, majestic pose, and Flicker felt that the statue was perfect. 

Now, Doctor Sterling would forever watch over the cemetery, vigilant, all decked out and ready to do battle with disease. The mask made him more than a pony, he was a symbol, and poetic notions fluttered around inside of Flicker’s mind like butterflies. On the doctor’s sides were saddlebags, saddlebags that had carried medicine in life, his chosen weapons against plague, pestilence, and disease. Even the doctor’s hat was perfect, the brim broad and flat. 

Where others might have seen a terrifying figure with dire connotations, Flicker saw only a comforting sight. His teacher, his role-model, his friend, his Master. Yes, that was the truth of it—Flicker idolised Doctor Sterling and everything he did was an attempt to be just like the doctor. Only now, the doctor was gone and Flicker’s idol was nothing more than a stone memorial, a reminder of the pony that Flicker strove to emulate. 

He had only known Doctor Sterling for a year, but what a year it had been. 

What a wonderful year it had been. 

Trying to swallow the hot, throbbing lump in his throat, Flicker did everything he could to make himself feel some sense of gratitude for the year he had been given. Some ponies had an entire lifetime with their mentors, their friends, their loved ones… and some ponies got a year. Bowing his head, Flicker intended to treasure this year. 

“Princess Platinum, we return to you one of your most treasured sons,” Princess Luna said in a voice that almost echoed against the Canterhorn. “Long have your silver-coated offspring been our heroes during dire times. He served in both life and death, giving his life in service to others, and with his death, he inspired a city… no, a nation, reminding us of our noble ideas, the betterment that we all strive for.” 

Much to his own terror, Flicker realised that he was filled with a pressing need to say something. His voice straining, he said to the crowd around him, “With the doctor’s final moments, he set everything ablaze to destroy Contagion. His death was my candle.” For the colt, it was the closest he had ever come to poetry, and it scared him in ways he could not explain. “I can only imagine that the flames could be seen all over the city… he lit the largest candle of them all.” Blinking, Flicker now felt very foolish and stupid, and he wished that he hadn’t said anything at all. His cheeks burned with awkward embarrassment and he was all too aware of Silver Spoon leaning up against him. 

“How very true,” Princess Luna replied, her eyes narrowing while she peered at Flicker with a peculiar expression upon her grief-stricken face. “Rather than embrace the darkness, rather than despair, rather than just merely dying, Doctor Sterling chose to light up the darkness. Let him be remembered for this! If only we were all so courageous!” 

“Light a candle!” somepony cried. 

“Yes, let us light a candle!” 

“When the midnight hour comes, let us light a candle!” 

Extending a wing, Prince Gosling caused the crowd to go silent by just clearing his throat. “Yes, light a candle. Become the light that you wish to see in the world, and live as an example to others, just like Doctor Sterling. From one lit candle can come many others. Without Doctor Sterling and the illuminating example he provided, we would not have Flicker Nicker, our chosen champion to fight the teeming masses beneath us.” 

Lifting his head, Flicker realised that everypony was looking at him. He could feel their eyes boring holes through his flesh and into his soul. Even Silver Spoon, sitting beside him, was looking right at him. The colt’s mouth went dry and he felt his nethers clench from anxiety. 

“I will light a candle,” he said, his voice cracking, “and I will be a light to others even as I go into darkness.”