//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Starlight Glimmer (Accidentally) Raises the Dead // by SockPuppet //------------------------------// Mom was a stupendously intelligent pony—obviously, a Manehattan School Of Medicine vascular surgeon, with a Fellowship year at University Hospital Canterlot—and mom knew that living with Starlight was like living on top of a minefield or an active volcano. The morning-after medicine made Starlight crabby, headache and nausea, so mom let her stay home from school Tuesday. Starlight hadn’t yet blasted one of the school bullies—Sunburst’s sanctimonious older cousin Mystic Heart, for example—with her full magic, and the bullies were scared of Starlight thanks to her past hints, but the day she did lose her cool and wallop one of them, questions would be asked, first aid would be given, and quite possibly, hundred-mile emergency trips to Vanhoover Hospital would be required. It was unlikely, but not impossible, that graves would be dug. Mom knew when to let this particular landmine sleep in late and plunk badly on her guitar. Starlight’s grades were straight A-plus-pluses, anyway. For Starlight, school was basically just a taxpayer-funded foalsitting service. Mom told Starlight that she was essentially an adult, and could take a mental health day if she promised to make up her homework. Starlight levitated her dark curtains shut, rolled over, and went back to sleep. Mom grabbed her obstetrics bag, shillelagh, sunscreen, sunhat, and water bottle, and headed off overland to check on Mrs. Caramel Twinkle’s last-trimester pregnancy at the Twinkle homestead, five miles south of town. Wednesday, Starlight woke up well before dawn and went for a fifteen-mile run along the forest roads outside town. The mayor insisted ponies traveling outside the town walls carry some sort of weapon—pepper spray, slingshot, shillelagh, quarterstaff, whatever—to cope with the region’s rather serious coyote problem. Between her teleportation and her offensive and defensive magic, Starlight knew she was the most dangerous pony (foal or adult) for a hundred miles or more in any direction, but she didn’t want anypony else to know that, so she obediently carried a slingshot and fifteen lead slugs in a slim saddlebag. Two miles into her run, as the sun just poked above the horizon, she saw a scrawny coyote bitch eyeing her from some scrub. She glared at it and kept running. The coyote licked it chops and started to position its paws to sprint at her. Without breaking stride, Starlight teleported a fifteen-foot-long, three-foot-diameter fallen log to a point six feet above the coyote's head. Splat! Thirteen miles later, she ended her run, sweaty, hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, at the town graveyard, just outside the town walls. Trotting in place to avoid cramping up, she looked at two adjacent gravestones. The newer gravestone read, Firestar Glimmer Beloved wife, mother, and grandmother Aged 82 We are better for having loved you The older gravestone read, Sunrise Glimmer Beloved daughter and sister Aged four minutes We love you and wish we could have known you “One more week, little sis,” Starlight muttered, and walked home for a shower before school. Starlight didn’t drink alcohol that week, or have sex with any of the colts from school. Both sorts of abstinence were unusual for her. She made the same fifteen-mile run Thursday and Friday mornings, improving by five minutes each day, and the coyote’s carcass stank of putrefaction by Friday. She hit the corpse with a flame projection spell but it didn’t work very well. She would need to practice that one. By Celestia, would Starlight be getting some unpleasant practice with flame spells soon enough. But she didn’t know that at the time. Mom made a point of being home from work around dinnertime each day, to keep an eye on her. “Mom,” Starlight said on Thursday, poking at a bowl of spicy red hominy, “Don’t you trust me?” “No.” “Isn’t trust part of love?” “Trust is earned, love is given.” Starlight retired to her room early each night, to memorize the dead-raising spells in the black grimoire. There were an even dozen to choose from, and she wanted options. Your mom’s coming to check on you, baby, the book warned on Friday. Starlight shoved the book under her pillow and levitated up a Shadow Spade novel before mom—without knocking, uncool—stuck her head into Starlight’s room. “Bedtime.” “Can I stay up until dad gets home from the train station, mom?” “No. You need your sleep.” “Can I finish the chapter?” “Just the chapter.” After mom left and Starlight picked the black grimoire back up, Starlight whispered at it, “Most foals worry about hiding porn or booze, not necronomica.” Don’t make me plural, baby, I’m one of a kind. Just like you and that powerful horn. You know I love you, baby. We were made for each other. You may be the school slut, but you're all mine where it counts. Saturday morning, dad sipped his coffee, pushed his empty breakfast plate away, and said, “Starlight, thanks for telling me. Honesty is something I’m glad you’re working on, pumpky-wumpkin. I’m betting your mumsie-wumsie already chewed you out?” “Yeah, dad.” “What was the gist of the talkie-walkie?” “No booze. No colts. Dad, can you use your adult voice, please?” “Can you stay away from booze and colts, sugarplum?” “Honestly.... I don’t think so, dad. I’ve explained why I drink. As for the colts? Well, the other foals don’t like me.” Starlight’s voice turned brittle. She squinched her eyes shut. “I’m weird, dad. They know I’m... off. I’m different.” “Don’t call yourself ‘weird,’ honey,” mom said. “I was the same way at your age.” Starlight continued, eyes still shut, “But I’m lonely, guys. I don’t have a single real friend. You two are never home. The other fillies hate me. Somepony figured out I’m autistic, and now the fillies all make fun of me. And I can’t show my magic without hurting somepony again. The school’s given me all the warnings they will, next time I’m in trouble. The colts only tolerate me because... I... Dad, if it wasn’t for sex, I wouldn’t have any friends at all. And don’t say ‘they aren’t really your friends,’ I know that already. I wish this town... I wish that I was more like them, and they were more like me... more equal? Hmmmm...” I’m your only real friend, baby! crooned the book. I love your magic—especially with the full power. She tapped her horn, very lightly, since mom was watching. Starlight opened her eyes and looked at them. “I’m lonely, guys. ...I wish I did have a sibling!” Dad looked at mom and raised an eyebrow. “She asked,” mom said. “I don’t lie to Starlight.” Dad rubbed his temples. “You’re special, Starlight, the other foals don’t appreciate that. Is there anything we can do to help you, pumpky?” Starlight shrugged and with a huff, blew her bangs out of her left eye. She rubbed the bare back of her neck. “I don’t like this short manestyle anymore. I’ll let it grow out.” Dad leaned forward and waggled a hoof. “When the town figures out there’s been a blind teleporter living amongst them for years, a lot of liquor thefts and ugly pranks are going to suddenly make sense. You realize we might not be able to keep you out of jail, pumpky? Best case, you’ll be doing chores ten hours a day for everypony in town to pay back the restitution. Your mom and I don’t have any money.” Starlight bit her tongue, squinted her left eye, and with a crack! of turquoise magic, teleported from her chair to the empty chair next to Dad. She hugged him around the chest. Mom snarled, “That’s exactly, perfectly, and entirely the opposite of funny.” Dad nodded. “You're excused. Your mother and I need to talk, pumpky. Please leave the house. Entirely. I know about your auditory enhancement spell.” Starlight looked at her hooves. “I said I was sorry about that.” Mom blushed at the memory. Dad said, “Thank you, pumpkin. Your papa and mama need to talk, sweetie. That’ll be all for now. Be home for lunch, hun-bun. This afternoon, you can help me clean some antiques for market.” Crack! Starlight teleported to her bedroom. “Not funny!” mom and dad both shouted. After a few seconds, she trotted past the dining room, levitating a large purple kite. They heard the front door open and close. “Last night," mom said after Starlight was out of the house, "I looked up chart I remembered from my old sophomore anatomy book. In the unicorn-specific chapter.” “Hmmm?” dad said, sipping coffee. “It listed the fraction of unicorns who can do certain magical things. Levitate one hundred pounds, one out of three. Levitate five hundred pounds, one in eleven. And so on.” “I’ve seen her levitate an entire loaded wagon,” dad said. “Care to guess the number on ‘Teleport safely, over one mile, landing site not in line of vision’?” Dad rubbed his chin. “One in ten thousand?” Mom shook her head. “The book said, ‘One in ten-plus million, question mark.’ It actually had a question mark, it’s so rare that nopony knows. Our Starlight’s magic is that strong. One in ten-plus million.” Dad nodded his head and hmmmed. “What was her excuse for this week’s close call, dearie-dearest?” “Drunk,” Mom said. “It’s not like we were bad examples!” dad said. “Once every two or three weeks, I had a nightcap. You're on permanent call, so you hardly ever drink. She never once saw us drunk.” “We haven’t even had a bottle in the house since she blasted the lock off the liquor cabinet.” “How can an eleven-year-old blow a Canterlot-enchanted padlock into slag?” dad asked. “How can an eleven-year-old want booze that badly?” mom asked. “Did she blame the voices again?” Mom nodded. “If I’d realized what we were in for when she asked to look at my old books...” Dad’s voice was quiet. “Do you think pumpkin’s really schizophrenic?” “I can’t accept her being ill again. That’s too hard.” Dad shrugged. “But what if she’s right? Reality doesn’t care what we accept. Hun, I know you grew up in a pegasus clan, but there's a unicorn saying....” "What saying?" mom asked. "'Late strong magic, ever so tragic.' Lots of unicorns have strong magic. Lots of foals' magic comes in late. But when a foal's magic comes in late and comes in strong and comes in all at once... well. They can get a little hinky in the head. It's common enough somepony invented a rhyme for it. And Starlight’s magic came in very late, and all at once, and strong." “She’s so smart, Firelight! She memorized my DSM. She recited seven pages at me, trying to get lithium. I went back later, looked at the book, and she had recited it word for word. It would be nothing for her to fake every symptom on the diagnostic criteria, and she’s smart enough to leave a few off of her act for verisimilitude.” Dad said, “But what if she’s not faking? I’ve always wondered about her... I've... I believe she really needs help. I don’t think she’s faking. Lithium’s not a drug the kids are taking for fun. The side effects are nasty, and I’m sure pumpky looked them up. Lithium's got sexual side effects, and we both know how... much... she... enjoys...” and dad's voice trailed off. He looked down at his coffee. "I think she is sick." Mom shrugged. “You’re never home, hun. That’s our life, I’m not blaming, I'm not accusing, but I see her six times more often than you. She got her autism from me, I’ll admit that, and that’s why that craphead clique of fillies at school think she’s ‘weird,’ but we've worked on it since she was three. I don’t buy her ‘hearing voices’ for a second.” Dad tapped a hoof on the table, thinking. “What additional punishments does she need?” “Punishment? None, I think. I don’t want her afraid to come to us if she needs emergency contraception again. Or an abortion. Or treatment for another STD. I want her to come to me, to us, early when they’re easier to deal with. She was stupid to have unprotected sex, but smart to come to me that very same night.” “Stupid-smart, that's our pumpky-wumpkin. So what do we do, honey-onesie?” “I can’t not go on housecalls—ponies will die. You can’t stop traveling if we want to keep this house, and support my clinic. My clinic hemorrhages money, with so many subsistence farmers paying us barter. Your antique business floats us.” Dad flicked his tail. “I feel so horrible about that whole graveyard thing... her drinking’s been worse since then. Her suicide attempt was a direct response to it. The graveyard incident left scars inside her, and it’s my fault!” Dad pounded the mug down, spilling lukewarm coffee. “It’s not your fault," mom said. "You thought it was an ordinary, healthy magic book. Goodness knows neither of us can teach her magic to her potential, and I’m not sending her out of my sight to Canterlot, so getting her books on your trips... that just made sense. How were we to know it was a grimoire? A necronomicon? It looked like a regular unicorn textbook until it scented her power and dropped its glamour!” Dad shivered. “That book smelled Starlight's magic like a randy colt smelling puberty.” “She’s so strong,” Mom said. “She scares me. You know she could kill us both with a single flick of the horn, right?” “Yep. I saw that happen once, in the service. We needed mops and buckets. Stronger unicorns tend toward mental illness, and that's a fact. The court-martial sentenced him to Tartarus. Starlight’s even stronger." "That damn Duke," mom said. "That stupid estate sale. What kind of pony owns a book like that? I wonder if some other poor foal on the far side of Equestria got some other book from his collection." "And if I told the authorities that dead Duke who owned that book had been a Tirek worshipper, then they’d ask me how I knew, and Starlight would be looking at jail... or worse. What does she do after graduation?” “I’m feeling out legacy admissions at Manehattan City,” mom said. Dad tilted his head. “She’s shown no interest in medicine in front of me. Her bedside manner would be... stern. 'Get off your rump and stop bleeding on my neat hospital, mister!'” Mom shrugged. “It’s the only guess I’ve got. She’s awful with her guitar. You can’t major in kite flying, booze, or cock, which are the only other things she seems to like. Gaaah!" Dad shivered. "Teenage pregnancy—not good. Sometimes I wish she was gay." Mom's face turned dark. She bowed her head and sobbed once. "Worse than that." "Huh?" said dad. "While I did her blood draw... I had her lay flat on my exam table. I palpated her abdomen." "Oh." Dad floated his coffee mug down and clasped his forehooves together, bracing himself. Mom nodded her head. "Her uterus felt even worse than mine. We need an ultrasound to be sure, but... but, she’ll never foal. Never. Just being pregnant will kill her.” "Did you tell her?" Dad said. His face turned white, visions of grandfoals evaporating in his head. Mom shook her head. "She didn't want to know." Dad rubbed his face with his hooves. “You have to do the ultrasound.” “No. I don’t. She refused. I think your ‘pumpky-wumpkins’ and generally treating her like a foal contribute to her... promiscuity and boozing. Trying to prove she’s grown-up. I keep saying to her, ‘you’re essentially an adult,’ hoping she’ll act like it. I won’t force a trans-vaginal ultrasound on her without consent. It's medically unethical.” “We have to tell her.” “Eventually,” mom said, “but not now. When she asks. And I could be wrong. We’ll do the ultrasound, someday.” "We need to encourage her to consider college," dad said. "We can scrape the money together, somehow." "She’s crazy-gifted at math, but I don’t think she wants to be a mathematician. I’m scared to encourage her to study magic. That could go... awry.” Dad shrugged. He'd never been to college, and trusted mom on that topic. “I've tried to get her to consider a stint in the guard. With her magic and brains she would be at the Academy inside of six months. Goodness, I wanted to be an officer! ...Anyway, four years’ service, college is free, but she's not interested in my hoofsteps. I... I worry about our pumpky-wumpkin.” “Our little miracle. When I saw my uterus on the ultrasound that first time, I never thought we’d have even one foal. I love her so much.” Mom rubbed a cramp in her belly. “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to her. I would die for her. How do we help her, Firelight?” “We have to keep loving her, honey-onesie. Other than that, I wish I knew.” “Well,” mom said, “thank Celestia we burned that book.” The book heard their words, and sent a smirk at Starlight, who was in town square, flying her kite and flipping her mane and tail at one of the colts from school. She lost her grip on the kite and had to grab it with her magic. She looked around, hoping nopony had noticed. Dad went to the train station before dawn on Monday, with two heavy crateloads of antiques to sell in Canterlot. Starlight levitated both crates for him, and she could easily have carried a dozen more, except for her fear of showing off her power in public. She leapt from the ground to the train platform, eschewing the stairs. A lime-green earth pony looked at Starlight’s scrawny, immature frame, then at the heavy crates, and quirked his eyebrows. Starlight hugged dad goodbye from the train platform and said, "I'll be good this week, dad. When you get home Friday–you'll be impressed. Promise." "I'll miss you, hun-bun. I'll be in Canterlot, do you want me to hit the University bookstore and find you some new magic books? I promise they won't be... whoopsies, this time." Starlight's ears wilted and wouldn't perk back up, no matter how hard she tried. Her tail tucked so deeply it tickled her chest. “Thanks, dad, but I'm a little book-shy right now." "Pumpky... that wasn't your fault. It was mine. I bought you that necronomicon. I’m sorry, again. When you told me, after breakfast Saturday, you had to tell me something... I was afraid you'd attempted suicide again. We love you, pumpky. Nothing could ever change that, sweetie. Nothing." "I'm sorry I scared you, dad." She hugged him once more. “Until Friday night!” The train whistle sounded in the distance. She levitated a dark purple sweatband from her saddlebag, put it around her head, and started a short ten-mile morning run through the hills. He shouted after her, “Be good, sugarbun, and don’t talk to strangers!” Starlight thought, There are no strangers in a town this small! There hasn’t been a murder or rape in decades. And I’m the nastiest piece of work in the valley of death, anyway. Strangers should check the back seats of their wagon for me. The coyotes saw her coming and ran for their dens. She glared at their backs and kept running. She ended her morning run at the graveyard, panting. "Two more days, little sis." "I'm not doing this," Starlight told the book after school on Wednesday. "I've got cold hooves." She swigged from a just-stolen vodka fifth and coughed. It was the first drink she had taken in a week and a half, and by Celestia, it soothed her nerves. Oh, she was never going nine days without a drink again. She swore it. Sweet, sweet nectar, was vodka. Yes you are! the book shouted. You are doing this! It levitated itself up and turned toward her. Or did it? The magical aura was the same light turquoise color as Starlight's. Was she levitating it, and attributing volition to an inanimate object? Mom didn’t keep lithium in stock, because nopony in town needed it, or else Starlight would have “self-prescribed” it years before. The book’s runes glowed cherenkov blue in anger. The room smelled like the electric gust of wind right before a thunderstorm hit. The room was cold. Her own breath fogged, very slightly. Starlight screamed, "You're not alive! You're not talking to me! You're not levitating yourself! I'm just schizophrenic and bipolar and you're all in my head!" I'm in your head but that doesn't mean I'm not real, baby. We've discussed this for months. "I want Sunrise back but... but... but she's dead! All I'll do is get killed, and maybe get other ponies killed. Necromancy's the death penalty, and it's a capital crime because it's uncontrollable! After I get killed, what about mom and dad? How will they feel? They’ll be the infertile couple whose only foal got executed by Celestia herself! I bet Celestia puts my head on a pike in town square for mom and dad to see every day!” She took another swig of vodka. This ain't necromancy, baby, the book crooned. It's amoremancy. Love magic. Don't mom and dad want Sunrise back? Didn't Celestia make Mi Amore Cadenza a princess for her amoremancy? Maybe you can get some wings and mom won't think you're so ashamed of your pegasus heritage. Two love checkboxes for the price of one, baby. Princess Starlight Glimmer! Princess of Responsible Siblinghood! Sooooound goooooooood? Starlight stomped and paced her room, tail thrashing, ears flicking. "You piece of trash! How long did you wear that glamour before you found me?" Two hundred and five years, baby. A unicorn like you is less than one in a century. I almost got moved to Celestia's school's library, there's a future alicorn there I really want to rape, but you'll have to do. “Rape? Is that what you do to naive young unicorns? Is that what this is?” You know you want me, baby. You know you like it. If she enjoys it, it can’t be rape, right? "I'm not doing this. Mom bucked me the first time. Broke five ribs. Mom might kill me this time, so Celestia doesn't have to." Your mom is going to miscarry within the next few hours, it said. Don't you want to give her something to cheer her up, baby? .....she's at the front door, shut your purple face and hide me. Starlight's stomach lurched and she swallowed down vodka-flavored vomit. She tossed the book into her closet and shut the closet door gently. After the front door opened and closed, she trotted to the foyer to see Mom. "Hey, you're home early, mom. It's not even five." Starlight thought, Good thing I didn't have a colt or two here today! ...not that they aren’t accustomed to going out the window. "I don't feel good...." Mom said. She levitated her labcoat into the laundry room, dropped her stethoscope onto her medical bag, and then collapsed onto the couch, face-down. Oh, not good. Starlight sat on the floor in front of the couch, and ran a hoof down mom's spine. "Are you... are you okay, mom?" Mom smelled like sour sweat. She smelled bad. Mom never smelled, she was too careful with all aspects of her professional appearance. "Getting crampy," mom said. "I can guess why. This'll be number eighteen." Starlight felt her own eyes sting. She wiped them, and rubbed mom's withers. "Oh, gosh, mom, I'm... I'm sorry." Starlight breathed shallowly, through her nose, so mom didn't smell vodka breath. "Not your fault. I mean, we all knew this was likely. You're right, I'll be fifty next year. I was stupid to try again." "Can I make you supper? Mr. Fruit Stand dropped off some plantains as payment for his last treatment. A few of them are ripe.” "Did you log it in my ledger?" "Yup. I could fry the plantains up, and warm up the black beans and rice leftover from yesterday? Nice island-style dinner?” "Not hungry. Maybe a glass of apple juice? I'll start my electrolyte replacement early, and beat the rush." Mom's voice was thick, near tears. Starlight brought mom an apple juice, sat back down on the floor, and gently rested one hoof on mom's back. "I'm sorry," she said. Don't be sorry, baby, said the book. Be the daughter she needs. Send her to bed and then we've got all night to work! Starlight looked at mom. Mom's eyes were red, tears streaked her face, and a puddle of snot soaked the couch's upholstery were her face rested. Mom's shoulders shook with silent tears. Okay, Starlight thought at the book. All right. Okay. Let's get mom the baby she wants. That's my crazy little genius! said the book. A few hours later, after mom was in bed and snoring, Starlight packed her saddlebags with candles, a lighter, the grimoire, and the fifth of vodka (now more than half depleted). She teleported to mom’s clinic and stole a thick towel for swaddling, a bottle of formula, and a blood draw kit with empty pint blood bag. Starlight then teleported to the shed out back where dad kept the tools and restored his antiques, and she grabbed a shovel and a folding pocket knife. She teleported to the graveyard, and looked up at the mare in the moon. In the light of the full moon, she could easily read the gravestone: Sunrise Glimmer, Beloved daughter and sister. Aged four minutes. She dropped her saddlebags and the shovel on the grass, levitated up the book, and said, "Let's do this. Then I'll be a beloved daughter, too."