Ponyville, Summer of 7 BAT: It was a gloomy, drizzly sort of day. The rain wasn’t light enough to go outside, but neither was it heavy enough to turn into a nice thunderstorm. One might think that this was the sort of weather that must be the pinnacle of ennui. Then, worn out from all the exertion of thinking, one would likely lie down in a heap and wait for death to arrive.
This weather did not sit well with Apple Bloom. The seventeen-year-old sat at her parlor window, muzzle pressed against the glass. “‘Tain’t fair,” she sighed for what must have been the twelfth time that day.
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Ah know, Ah know. Ya wanted t’ go out Crusadin’ with yer friends. But y’all can do that tomorrow, can’t ya?”
“No,” Bloom said gloomily. “We were gonna try for weather control cutie marks, make a storm or summat. Now all the rain’s bein’ used up.” She stared out the window. “Slowly.”
Applejack made a mental note to tell Rainbow Dash to look out for the Cutie Mark Crusaders. She wasn’t sure how earth ponies or unicorns could try for weather control marks, but she really didn’t want to find out. “Well, anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “Ya can’t spend all day mopin’ at that window.”
“Ain’t much else t’ do, an’ Ah’m filled with teenage angst. Or summat,” Bloom replied muzzle still firmly pressed to the glass.
“Teenage angst?” Applejack asked, frowning. “Since when? Seemed pretty happy yesterday.”
Bloom stewed. “Ah dunno. But Ah can be all angsty if Ah wanna! Anyway, Ah’m feelin’ a bit under the weather today.”
Granny Smith looked up from her knitting. “What’s th’ matter then? Sore throat? Cold? Flu? Ah’ll getcha some tea.”
Bloom shook her head. “Nah, it ain’t nothin’ like that.”
“Sure y’all ain’t jes’ upset ‘bout the rain?” Applejack asked.
Bloom shook her head. “No… It’s like… Ya know how Granny’s hip gets bad when there’s snow a-comin’? Or when Pinkie Pie gets a twitchy tail? It’s kinda like that.”
Applejack raised an eyebrow. “Ah see. An’ what do y’all see in mah future, Madame Bloom?”
The younger mare frowned, turning to face her big sister. “Ya don’t believe me?”
Applejack chuckled. “Well, ya can’t jes’ see into th’ future like that! Ah mean, Pinkie can, but that’s Pinkie.”
Bloom stewed. “What about you, Granny? Ya always know when it’s gonna start snowin’.”
The old mare grinned. “Well now, youngun, that’s less t’ do with any fancy fortune tellin’ than it is t’ do with mah bad joints.”
Bloom crossed her hooves. “Well, Ah can feel somethin’! Ah ain’t sure what yet, but there’s somethin’!”
“O’ course, sugarcube,” Applejack agreed, a patient grin on her face. “Ah’m sure ya feel somethin’.” She grinned. “Maybe that extra hunka apple pie ya thought Ah didn’t notice last night.”
Bloom stomped a hoof. “Quit makin’ fun o’ me! It ain’t even mah stomach, it’s like a headache.” She paused. “An’ Ah did not take any extra pie! Maybe it was Mac, I dunno.”
The stallion glanced up from his armchair where he had been peacefully reading. “Hm?”
Apple Bloom glared at him. “Did you take any extra pie last night?”
He shrunk back under the glare of his littlest sister. “Uh, eenope!” he replied.
“Oh, ya noticed th’ pie,” Granny said, disappointed. “Shoot. Ah thought ya wouldn’t be able t’ tell Ah took any.”
Applejack winced as her younger sister flung out a hoof. “See? SEE? It ain’t always me, Applejack! But whenever somethin’ goes wrong, ya always ask me first! Whenever Ah say somethin’, ya act like Ah ain’t even there!”
“Now, simmer down there,” Applejack said, but Apple Bloom would have none of it.
“Simmer down?” she seethed. “Simmer down? Ah’ve been simmerin’ a long time on this, an’ right now Ah’m ‘bout ready t’ boil over!”
Mac very quietly rose from his chair and slipped away. It was a survival instinct that he had honed to a science over the years. He could tell when one of his sisters was about to blow their stack as easily as he could tell a Red Delicious from, well, a Macintosh. He glanced back into the parlor. Perhaps now would be a good time to return this book to the library, he thought. The fact that he would be able to see Miss Twilight was just an added benefit.
Applejack had risen to her hooves now. “Now listen here, young filly—”
“No!” Bloom shouted. “You listen t’ me! Ah’m seventeen now, Applejack! Ah’m practically an adult! Ah’m sick of bein’ seen as the young one all th’ time! Ah’m tired of bein’ the baby!”
“You are th’ baby!”
“No, Ah ain’t! Ah ain’t been for a long time now! Ah jes’ want a little respect now and again! Is that too much t’ ask?”
Applejack took a deep breath. “Go to your room.”
Bloom stared at her in blank shock. Granny Smith cringed. Mac gave up looking for his galoshes and just galloped out the front door.
Apple Bloom exhaled softly. When she spoke again, all the fire was gone, replaced by ice. “Fine,” she said. “Ah’m goin’. Ah’m leavin’ mah problems behind, jes’ like when y’all went t’ live in Manehattan.”
It was dead silent. Applejack looked like she’d been sucker punched. Granny’s eyes darted from one grandfilly to the other. Bloom stormed out of the room. “Sometimes Ah wish ya hadn’t come back!” she shouted.
***
Big Macintosh galloped through the drizzle as fast as his hooves would carry him, eager to get as far away from the conflict inside as possible. Mud splashed over his legs and sides and rain blurred his vision. Suddenly, he paused. What was that bright light up ahead? He squinted through the rain. It looked like it was coming closer. Cautiously, the big stallion backed up a couple of steps, but the light still grew closer. He could see something inside of it, could almost make out forms. It grew brighter and clearer, and Mac could see… himself.
Oh, his mane might have been a little spikier, like it had been when he was a teenager, and his stance might've been a little more sure, but the other’s identity was undeniable. And behind him... Mac’s eyes went wide. “Ma? Pa?” he whispered. The light grew brighter and brighter still. Mac did not look away. The light enveloped him.
The same blinding light grew and spread from Manehattan to Appaloosa, from Griffonstan to the Crystal Empire. It closed in on the final piece. The central piece. Sweet Apple Acres. The world wobbled on its axis as everything suddenly stopped. When it resumed its normal rotation, it was as though nothing had changed. In reality, everything had. The world hangs by a delicate thread of coincidences. One that had just been snapped.
***
Apple Bloom stopped at the top of the stairs. The floor seemed to sway and heave under her. She shook her head to clear it and frowned. What had she been doing? There was a ringing in her ears, and her teeth were ground. She loosened her jaw slightly and relaxed her oddly tense muscles. Why did she feel so angry all of a sudden? What had she been doing?
“Bloom?” a familiar male voice called. “Apple Bloom, where are you?”
The filly shook herself once more. “Coming, Pa!” she called, trotting back down the stairs.