Chapter 84: Bridge over Troubled Water – Simon and Garfunkel
Bryce stepped into the barn, wanting to get a better look at what Applejack and her grandmother had left for him to find. The moon did not let in much light, but it was enough for Bryce’s light-sensitive eyes to see. He found the objects in the space had been put in order, minus the items which had all but been twisted past any usefulness.
The floor had been swept, with every piece of straw piled into a corner. The curtain which had been torn down to find the unknown intruder was again hung to divide the barn from Bryce’s studio. The pictures, race certificate and other objects of personal value Bryce had thrown about decorated the back wall near his bed once more.
Speaking of his bed—which was no more than blankets folded over a few comfy bales of hay—it was the only object in the barn not neat and tidy with all the corners folded and tucked in their proper, made up position.
What caused this chaos amidst the order was the same thing which made him hold onto the door to stay on his feet.
The added weight on the barn’s door further made the hinges whine, which served to arouse the pony in his bed back from their sleep. Said pony rubbed the sleep from their eyes, wanting to be sure of what they saw was in the realm of reality. They believed it to be so but needed to be sure.
“Bryce…?” She called, for it was a mare.
At the sound of her voice the lump in the pit of said human’s stomach grew spikes. His body could not take anymore. His grip on the door slipped and his legs gave way to the threshold between the grass outside and the beaten earth within.
The mare in his bed saw this and cried in shock. “Bryce!” She flew over to him, for like some ponies in this world she had the wings to do so.
As she cleared the distance between them, illuminated more and more by the moon with each passing inch, Bryce could see the apple mare had done the unthinkable; had invited the one pony in this world he had almost pleaded with her not to bring to him; the one pony which made him want to stand now but left him too weak to do so: his mare Fluttershy.
She reached him in no time, worried for her human but relieved it was really him. When she first laid eyes on him she felt beyond words to see him after so long an absence. As her vision settled on him, however, her heart threatened to stop.
“Bryce! What…? Are you…?” The more she tried to question him the more the tears she tried to hold back broke through. She began to break down, rambling nonsense she was not able to form into words.
With everything happening so fast Bryce felt his mind begin to slip away from his body, almost to the point he knew he would again lock up and refuse to acknowledge anything; a state where his mind fled but his body stayed within the space it occupied. But the more he saw his mare break down into a trampled, wadded-up mess he fought the impulse.
What happened to him was of no consequence to him, if it meant making his mare worry his own problems be damned.
“Shy… I’m okay…” He said this despite knowing he was anything but, if only to still her frazzled nerves.
It worked, but only enough to make her stop short, not knowing what she had meant to say. When she could think straight again, she said, “You can’t be okay! Just look at your arm!” She pointed to his bandaged left arm. “And your skin is so pale! And you can hardly keep yourself up! And I can’t…! You can’t…!” Tears began to well up at the corners of her eyes again.
Bryce knew he needed to do something, if only to stop her from bawling over him. He reached forward and laid a gentle hand on her withers. At first the mare shivered at his touch, frightened by the chill, but when she followed the hand and looked at her human her anxieties fell away.
She drew in a few breaths, doing this until she regained her composure. She looked him over once more. “Bryce…” She looked him in the eye, happy to see they still held life.
She thrust herself forward and wrapped her hooves around his neck. She rested her head on his shoulder and nuzzled in close, trying to ignore how cold he felt to the touch as she sucked in a nose full of mucus. “I’m just happy you’re okay…” She whispered, saying it more to try and calm herself than to convince herself.
Bryce allowed her to rest a few beats before he replied, “But I’m not, Shy—you said so yourself.”
“I know, but…” She repositioned herself to better hear his heartbeat—the better she could hear its rhythmic thumping the more comfort it gave. She sighed through her nose as her lips curled into a small grin. “I know, but… It’s just good to know you’re still with us.”
Bryce’s gaze turned down. What little you know, Shy.
After a few minutes Fluttershy loosened her hold and lifted herself up, with her hooves now resting on his shoulders. She looked to him with a smile, one which sank when she saw his downward look.
“Bryce, look at me.”
He did as asked, unable to refuse his mare’s request.
“I’m sure you’ve had a rough day, but whatever happened I don’t need to know; not yet.” She let go of him and stood. She walked a short distance away towards the back, looking back only to motion for him to follow.
He was skeptical, not yet sure what she had planned. He did as asked, shutting the door before he followed.
As he stepped towards his bed, she lit a candle, filling the room with light. She motioned for him to sit on his bed, which he did without question. He stared ahead as she trotted over to the place beside him and took her place, not turning her head to see him.
Once she had settled in, she began. “I’m sorry I messed up your bed, but I waited so long for you, and it got so late.” She said this as if she had put in no effort to clean up his mess. And this was without mentioning how the pillows and covers held his scent.
“It’s okay,” he said, though he had not ever taken the time to make his bed more than once a week, and even then, it was only to straighten out the blankets which covered the hay bales.
She waited a few beats before she asked, “What have you been doing in your spare time?”
“Well, I’ve tried doing some whittling.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Have you sold anymore?”
He waited a beat before he said, “No; no one’s wanted any of my latest works.”
She had not needed to ask this—she had seen the refuse pile in his studio. Even in her kind manner of saying things she had to agree they were not up to his usual standard. Regardless, she said, “That’s a shame; it looks like you put in a lot of work.”
He had done as she said—he had put in a lot of effort—but it was a vain effort to make his upturned life upright again. “I did.” She kept silent, hoping he would ask something of her, and she was rewarded. “What have you been up to?”
“Well, I’ve been doing my part to help the animals with hibernation.”
He tried to hold in a throat laugh, but it found its way out; it sounded absurd to a human, despite it making perfect sense in this this world. “Help them?”
“Oh, yes, if it weren’t for me, they would starve or be too cold to make it through the winter.” Her mood dampened a little when she said, “Though I would like it if somepony were to help me; I can only dig out their burrows and food pits so big, and not very fast.”
He knew what this meant, even if he did not understand why she said it. “Would you like if I helped?”
“Oh, why yes, very much!” She said, at first ecstatic. But then her mood returned to its former state. “That is…if you really, really want to…”
Of course, he ‘wanted’ to help—she did not need to ask him, he hoped she knew. But his precautions from before remained in his mind: if he was with her would it be good for them or awful for her, regardless of who benefited the most from their time together.
His inability to deny her request still won in the end; their desire to be together had been sealed, with no way to separate them so long as they resided in this world.
That being, if what transpired over the next few minutes went well.
“I want to,” he said, and it was the truth.
“That's great! I mean, if it doesn't put you out…”
“It doesn't.”
They had yet to look each other in the eye, knowing if they did, they may find the hurt in the other's face.
For a long time, they sat in silence, not wanting to leave each other's side.
He started to speak, to say the words which would bring this to pass. “I'm sure you'll want-”
“Can I ask you something?” She asked, sorry to interrupt her human but needing to get something off her chest. She took his silence as an okay. “Bryce, are you afraid to be near me?”
Bryce started to look her way but cut himself short. “I… It's not…”
“Applejack told me some of what you said, how you were afraid you might hurt me.
“She said you felt I didn’t want to see you. That I might be so frightened of you…” She looked to the beaten-earth floor.
“Bryce, I know what happened on Nightmare Night. Whatever you did I'll never blame you—you’re nothing like that. I know because I've seen the kind of…human you are,” she said, the word ‘person’ unknown to her. “You're nothing like what everypony has made you out to be, and anypony who had told me otherwise I let them know then and there,” she said in as stern a tone her soft voice could muster.
“Even if you can be a bit mean or ugly to somepony you eventually regret it, just like I know you regret what happened to Ponyville. And when you do something wrong you always make up for it or apologise somehow, because you know it's right.”
What she had to say next forced tears to spring forth once more.
“I know myself because of what you did for me… Not really for me, but for Angel, but you still did it for me. I know he's a rotten rabbit most of the time, and if I could bring myself to discipline him I would, but he… I still don't want him gone—not yet.”
She had to hold herself together to keep from bawling. “I can't blame your dog for what he did, but if it weren't for you…I'd be without my little Angel Bunny… And you risked a lot saving him—I know you did—and I still can't believe what you can do.”
She found herself able to turn and look at Bryce, despite his continued refusal to look at her. “And I just know if you can do something like that for Angel then you can still do great things for anypony, even if they don't deserve it, because you wouldn't let anypony get hurt if you can help it, despite how you might look or what you might make known to anypony, not even if they’ve been the worst possible pony to you.
“If you can do this for just a rotten little bunny what wouldn't you do for anypony in Ponyville?”
She looked down to the floor. “I just wish everypony else could see that.”
He had heard what she said, but he still he felt her being here was a mistake. He needed some way to deter her from being with him, short of hurting her outright. “Shy, I don’t understand why you want to be with me—it’s lost on me. But I do believe you shouldn’t be near me right now. Just tonight I-“
She cut him short. “Bryce, I don’t need to know. Whatever happened I’m sure you didn’t do any of it out of meanness or spite. That’s just not who you are.”
“But what about everyone else? If you’re with me-“
“I don’t care how they feel, and you shouldn’t either. If they think the worst of you then that’s their choice. What should matter is what you do despite all that.”
He sucked in his lip and wiggled his toes. “I…don’t know what to do.”
“You need to let yourself continue to live. You’ve kept yourself locked up since that night, and…I’ve missed you…”
She said nothing for a beat, then she let her feelings be made known. “I have worried about you, and without you it hasn't been the same. I know we never did much together—mostly we went to the Farmer's Market to buy food for my animals—but it's something I've looked forward to every week. When you never showed the Wednesday after Nightmare Night, I didn't know why at first, but after I saw what happened to the town I just… I knew it was you, somehow, but not in a bad way.
“Then when you didn't show the next Wednesday, or the two weeks after I was afraid you didn't want to see me, because you might be worried of what I might think of you. But tonight, when AJ came to bring me here, and told me why, I knew I couldn't let you keep thinking this way, because it's wrong.
“You're the last one I would ever be scared to be around, because when I'm with you I know I have nothing to worry about. I don't feel worried about anything when we're together because when I'm with you…everything is just so…
“Right…”
She did not say anything further—she had said everything she had wanted to say. If it meant nothing to her human, then it had been a waste—a waste of her time and of her emotions.
But it had meant something to him. To him, their being together seemed just that: right, as if their being together was like tying one's shoes to where it was the right fit; not so tight as to cut off the circulation and not too loose where one's foot slid inside the shoe and formed blisters. It was like tuning to the right volume of one's favorite song, where their whole body shook with the combination of self-identified lyrics and the golden beat, despite the damage it did to one’s hearing. It was like finding the right gift for someone, one they will not only enjoy and have use for everyday.
It was like finding the one right thing in life one was meant to do, going as the spirit moved them with no regard for how it made them appear to be a nobody or a lunatic or a disagreeable person—somebody who deserved no position in society and never will; in short, the lowest of the low.
Bryce did understand what his mare meant, and what she had said had been the right thing to say; their time spent together seemed like the only right thing in their shared world right now, and to be apart for too long made ‘wrong’ only a simple word.
It hurt him to know his forced absence from her had caused her such misery, and he felt uncertain how his current presence made her feel the opposite, but he felt this unknown emotion was good, so long as his mare felt joy.
She felt she had said enough and thinking her words had done nothing to sway her human, she prepared to leave. As fresh tears streamed down her face, and she opened her mouth to say what she thought to be their final ‘goodbye’, he spoke.
“Is that…how you really feel…?”
She looked up at him, with tears still in her eyes, not sure if she had heard him.
“Does being with me really feel ‘right’?”
She had heard him right; she had to say something. “Well, I don't know if ‘right’ is the best word.”
He nodded. “It is. To me—it is.”
She felt a weight drop off her back, but more remained. “So, do you feel the same way?”
He had to think for a moment to consider his response; what he thought may not translate well to what she could understand.
“It’s like this: there’s been a lot of things going on in my life lately—and some of them I’ve done myself. Some things have been said and done that hurt more than one can imagine. Some of it can’t be undone and it will be felt until the day we die.
“And this is the only thing I’ve heard in a while that sounds not wrong.”
He went quiet for another moment to gather his complex affections into words.
“I…feel something in here,” he said, pointing his fingers to his chest, “that I don’t know if I can explain to you. What I feel… How I feel I know is far from normal to most people, but it’s… I feel a crawling under my skin when I’m with you—a…good feeling crawling. Right now, I feel I can be as I want to be without feeling like I need to be what everyone expects me to be. If I were with friend it feels similar, but not as complete as this.”
He stopped to think again, ready to place his thoughts into one sentence he hoped would not be lost on his mare.
“I don’t know if this feeling has an equitable word, but I want to call this feeling ‘right’.”
They said nothing for a while, if only to savor the moment. What he said had been far from lost to her. She kicked her back legs at the hocks one at a time to let out the giddy feeling inside chest. She felt a blush come on her face she could not hide.
He did not understand why she responded this way. “Did I say something wrong?”
She stopped kicking her legs, but her blush remained. “No, you didn't say anything wrong; I just…don't know what to say.”
“Neither do I. I tried my best to say what I felt in here,” he said as he stuck his fingers into his chest. “But…that's the best I can do.”
Inside he was now berating himself, feeling he could not explain it any other way.
She caught this change quick and acted fast to calm his nerves. “No, I understand; really! What you said made sense, I've just never heard it explained that way.” She placed a hoof on his shoulder to reassure him, if only to let him know she felt no ill will.
At her touch he turned to look over at her, confused to find her smiling. He began to groan, unsure what this meant.
“Bryce, it's okay,” she said, seeing his worry. “What you said made me happy.”
He groaned a few more times, still unsure why she was happy. “So…I did good?”
“Uh huh; and you know what?” She drew in close and wrapped her forelegs around him, with her forelegs around his diaphragm and upper back and her head nestled in his chest. “You make me feel the same way.”
He went tense, enjoying the firm, tender contact as his heart raced in his chest. But now he felt a different emotion. He still felt ‘right’—as he saw ‘right’—but it felt different, better to know she did not reject this feeling he held for her. It was something he had never had the pleasure of knowing until now.
And he could not help but feel—for the first time since coming to this world that was so similar yet at the same time so unlike his own—at ease.
As his mare pressed her head further into his chest, he allowed himself to relax. At first, he did nothing, and allowed her to do as she pleased. When she stayed this way for a while, he did his best to reciprocate her affections. He placed one arm over her, then the other, drawing her in close to make them a single unit. As she let out a moan of pleasure, he knew he had done the right thing to please her.
Though he still could not understand how.
How long they stayed like this—no one knows—but all things in life must end in time, for this story is not yet done.
“Bryce, as much as I enjoy being with you, I really do need to get home.” She said, looking up at him.
He looked at her, thinking he had done something to make her uncomfortable. “It's not because of me, is it?”
She shook her head. “No, it's just, with the cold air at night a few of my animals have gotten sick, and I need to be there to help.”
He felt relief—relief he had not been at fault in scaring her away but still concerned for the animals in his mare's care. “Oh… So…is this…?”
She nodded again this time with much less enthusiasm. “Yes, but don't worry, we'll be together all day tomorrow.” Her smile faltered. “I mean… If you still want to…” She looked away, hoping her human could not see her blush.
He did not need time to consider before he replied. “I already said I would, but that's not why I'm helping; it's because I want to help you.”
At this her smile returned. “Well, if you really want to, I appreciate it. But like I said, it will take most of the day—maybe a few more.”
“Well, I don't have anything else to do.”
“Alright. Well, whenever you're ready come on over; I'll be up pretty early, but I'll wait.”
He nodded. “Then I'll be sure to get up early.”
They stayed entwined for a few more moments, only letting go out of her necessity to be with the animals which needed her attention.
They stood, with him guiding the way for them both. Already he felt the feeling of ‘right’ leave him, but it continued to cling to his deepest parts.
They had almost reached the door when Fluttershy asked, “Bryce, can I just say one more thing?”
Though he found it difficult to read the situation sometimes, Bryce could tell she meant for him to take her at her word. He nodded, not ready to hear what Fluttershy might say but choosing to listen for her sake.
She looked to the floor. “Bryce, I still don't know what happened but whatever it is I do believe you didn't mean any real harm. But whatever happened, Bryce… You need to make up for what you've done.
“I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad, it's only because it's the right thing to do.”
Bryce sucked in his lower lip and wiggled his toes. There was no way she could know everything that had happened, not since his departure from the farm that afternoon. It was not like he could say ‘sorry’ and offer an apologetic basket of fruit and treats and everything could be as if nothing happened. He knew a few lives may have been ruined, others may have scars which would never heal.
And all because he had an ability none could hope to comprehend or contain in the small town of Ponyville.
Fluttershy noticed his distress, expecting it. She placed a hoof on his flank. “I'm not expecting you to do any miracles—not unless you have someway of putting Ponyville put back the way it was—I only want you to admit your mistake; and if possible, offer your help in fixing whatever wrong you may have been a part of.
“I only want you to do what's right.”
She waited a beat before she added, “And whatever it is, I'll be there to help you do it.”
Bryce continued his original repetitive behavior, but made himself ask something he needed to know, “Shy, do you know you have no idea what you're agreeing to do?”
She did not hesitate to respond, “Yes—I know I don't—but it's to help you be the human I know you always were, and always will be.”
He thought this over, grateful for his mare's support even if he had no one else's. What he had said to Rarity a few hours before still clung to his mind, but if she had dared to be with him—despite how obviously beaten and torn he looked—he felt there could be no way to keep her away, not now.
And this feeling made his feeling of ‘right’ return, though his feeling of caution remained.
“Shy, I don't know what I can say to that.”
“You don't have to say anything; I just want you back.”
Bryce ceased wiggling his toes, not needing it now to calm himself. In fact, though hard to tell, he also held a genuine smile, something he had not shown in a long time.
He needed her, wanted her too—if only for little while longer—but he knew for now they must part, if only for the night.
“Well, it's not going to be easy. What I've done…”
She tapped him once to stop him. “Whatever it is we can worry about later; right now, I want you to get some rest.”
He nodded in agreement. “I do need it,” he said in a low tone.
Bryce pushed the door open, allowing her to go outside. She said a quick ‘thank you’ before she ready her wings for home.
Before she could fly away, Bryce had one more question to ask of her. “Shy, can I ask you one more thing?”
She folded her wings back and looked at him.
He scratched the back of his head, more giddy than nervous. “Well, I just wanted to know…why you're doing this for me…?”
She said nothing for a beat, needing herself to consider her response. “Oh… Well… Let's just say,” she said with a blush, “you're worth the effort to me.”
Bryce thought about her words, thinking he had heard the same from somewhere else, but could not yet remember where. In response, however, he became giddier than before—another emotion he did not know well.
Fluttershy smiled, taking by his fidgeting her answer had been ‘right’ by him. With a soft giggle, she folded out her wings once more and left for her cottage.
Bryce waited a little while, waiting a few seconds until after she had flown out of sight. Then he turned backed and went inside the barn, wanting to settle in for his long-awaited sleep.
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In the ruins of the Castle of the Two Sisters the catoblepas bided its time, waiting, preparing, planning his next move against the cause of its withered state, and the source of its misery.
It found it beneath it that it should have to wait to end this whoreson’s life, to send another to do its work, but it had no other choice. The human had shown himself to be a master of the mind, an ability outside the world of dreams, able to bend the world to his will and turn the mind of the most persistent of any bring with the mental capacity to consider a world outside itself.
And it infuriated it to no end how it needed to take care to avoid Golden Eyes being found out.
The catoblepas could wait—its life had no end—but the one he held sway over did not, and the more it had to take direct control of him the less time it had left to use its puppet.
Golden Eyes did side himself with it—they both had a mutual goal—but it needed assurance he would not turn later. It had implanted itself in Golden Eye’s mind against his will.
And the best part was this cog in it’s plan did not know.
This was for the best for the catoblepas’s goal, for it made the chance of Bryce finding him out a minor possibility. In this way Golden Eyes continued to do the catoblepas’s direct will, and at any other time he could claim in honesty to be none the wiser and continue to be the human’s friend.
Which is why Golden Eyes had been so ready to help Bryce that night, and the catoblepas had wanted it this way. If Bryce had been sent into a jail cell it would have had to wait longer, since it limited what it could do to further ruin the human’s life. Which meant Golden Eyes had a little more use.
But as said before this was only temporary, and with each time it took control the venom inside Golden Eye’s body burned and morphed. It had done so a few times, while not for long periods of time, but the damage was done. The effects would not yet be paramount but with a few more uses its puppet would fall ill, then with further use become a burden; its venom would then be coursing through every part of his body. And as it’s venom became more potent Golden Eyes would writhe in unimaginable pain, a pain so fierce and unwanted it could be neither managed nor ignored.
Then, as the catoblepas’s venom increased in power by countless magnitudes, the victim would cease to exist.
The catoblepas had no care for Golden Eye’s life, but what did matter was that if his usefulness ended before the human lie dead, it would need to find a new creature, one which could get close to him, one which was already close to Bryce and try to make his life a living Hell.
It was possible to do—of course—but to place anything in the right position to fall under it’s control was more of a burden than a boon.
For now, however, Golden Eyes was still of use, and had been of use; Bryce’s life had become Hell, one it hoped he would soon end of his own accord.
At least, it had hoped this to be the case, but as he watched through Golden Eyes at the scene down below on the ground it enraged him to see the human smiling—a small one but still a smile.
This should not, could not be so. The human’s reputation was lower than low. He had made a complete mess of the lives of some of those close to him and had destroyed whatever friendship he had with a few of the rest. And he now stood outside the place where he slept smiling.
The catoblepas did not know which made him more upset: the fact the human had found something to be happy about or the yellow mare which caused him to find it.
Either way it knew it needed to amend its plan, which meant Golden Eye’s life needed to be cut that much shorter.
It was only one human; one of twenty billion which had ever existed in its world up to this point; one which should not be more important than any other. Then why did the catoblepas need to exert itself to this limit to make him die?!
The catoblepas looked over, spotting a rodent crawling among a pile of rubble. Said rodent had found a small morsel to gnaw on, ready to eat when it felt it was being watched. As it looked around it spotted the catoblepas, and with a single look in its massive, red eyes it dropped it morsel of food.
It would not need it, for within the span of a single heartbeat the rodent’s heart ceased to beat and it fell over dead, its life force soon to be a meal to the catoblepas.
It was but an appetizer to the feast it soon hoped to enjoy—a little sustenance to tide it over.
Until it had forced the yellow mare out of the equation, and afterwards claimed it’s prize, it would never be a full beast.
But for now, it planned, and when the opportunity presented itself it would strike.
Though in the end, should Golden Eyes prove unable to help him reach it's goal he had another plan already set in motion. Whichever way he ended taking the result would be the same: a Bryce would no longer be in this world.
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Bryce lay in bed, settled in for his long-awaited sleep, one which would not come. He had known before he made it inside, even before he had returned to the farm it may not come, and this only confirmed it.
He continued to lay in bed, on the off chance his stillness may drag him off into his dreams. Instead he became dragged into the events of the day now behind him, unable to do nothing but replay it all over and over, and with his abilities he could see them as if they happened right inside the barn.
In much the same way he could make others see things which were not there, he could make himself do the same, with limits. To relive his memories was like watching a video: he could only project what he had seen and heard.
In one instance he was at the Nut house, and he saw Cocoa as she levitated a bubbling pan of sweet potato souffle in his direction. He waved his hand to the side, catching it in his telekinetic grip. And before he knew it the soufflé smashed into the wall, shattering the glass dish as its contents splattered in every direction. Including on Almond, who squealed in white-hot pain.
In the next instance he saw Rarity and Pinkie, who chased him down after the dried-blood mare—the one Ponzi had claimed to look like somepony named ‘Legate Rheda’—had chastised her thriving son. The white mare looked to him, hurt to know he had invaded her thoughts, despite what he had heard, and she had felt. He saw her swallow before she asked, “What moved you to do this?”
In another instance he could see his former vision before Ditzy's home, looking up at a large creature Ponzi and Rumble had claimed not to have seen.
Well, not the creature itself, but looking at the outline of its life force. It was a yellow earth-tone color, towering above Ditzy's roof. He had not been able to notice before, but it had a shape like his own—one which stood on two legs and had two arms and a head, all attached to a large torso.
From there he watched as Rumble first threw a rock at a garbage can, then went to retrieve the same rock. After a few seconds he saw the deep yellow shape bend down, hearing it mentally plan to take the colt.
Soon after it became a big blur, with his replay of the event becoming blurred to match it. He threw up the trash can, then the house exploded. He could not make out anything until he ran down the adjoining street, looked about, then go the other way.
But the shape had disappeared.
He played it forward a little to confirm his aether sight had been in use, and it was confirmed when he saw a gold wispy shape and a purple wispy shape standing in Ponzi and Rumble's respective places.
When he had ended his aether sight the two shapes went back to normal ponies. Bryce had looked about, trying to see if there was any physical sign of what he had seen.
And there had been nothing, not even a footprint for a creature of its size, something everyone had failed to mention.
The only evidence there had been anything lay on the mare, Mina, who had come in at the last possible moment with injuries no one in their right mind could inflict on themselves.
He replayed this memory, upset with himself to know she had been this hurt and he had not seen her.
He blew out a sigh through his nose as he turned over, hoping a more comfortable position could bring sleep on. He wanted to take his mare's advice and try to put the day behind him, but when you had the ability to playback the memories as if they had been stored in the cloud it was near impossible.
Bryce rolled on his back next, choosing to stare off into space if he could do nothing else.
It was not long after he felt the space had been occupied—an intruder had once again found their way into the barn.
“You really should sleep, Bryce,” he heard the voice of Providence tell him. As before he could not pin down the source; the voice came as if from the air itself.
Anyone who had heard this would no doubt have jumped out of bed to find this ‘Providence’, but Bryce was tired; after a long day of being a one-man wrecking crew he was beat. He chose instead to lie down in defeat; whatever Providence had to say could at least pass the time until early in the morning.
“I can’t…” Was all Bryce had to answer back.
“Is it cannot or will not?” The bodyless voice questioned. “You know yourself you have the ability to shut your eyes, focus your mind and be out in a snap.” From nowhere a loud ‘snap’ followed Providence’s statement, one which almost forced Bryce to cover his ears.
What Providence had said was the truth, he could not deny it. “Maybe I don’t want to then; what’s it to you?”
“To most right now I am certain it is of no consequence, but to me, what happens to you is of more importance than you know. And even if I am not important, would the mare who has caught your heart not worry?”
He glared up at the ceiling, wanting to ram the voice’s owner into the ground. “She’s already worried; it’s not like this can make it any worse.”
He heard Providence make a sound like a sigh. “You are a master of the mind, able to bend the world to your will and turn the mind of the most persistent of any bring with the mental capacity to consider a world outside itself to any other mode of thinking.
“And yet you are unable to see how such actions and behavior can affect anyone outside yourself.”
Providence waited a beat before adding, “But I suppose your mind ‘fails to see the point in it’.”
Bryce felt his words burn into him. For someone like him this was the truth, but he did not appreciate anyone using it against him; he had never used it as an excuse, much less told anyone about his mental shortcomings.
Which begged the question, how did this voice know?
Before he could ask, more demand how Providence knew, the voice spoke. “Though that is not what worries you. It is not what happens inside your mind but what your mind can do. Otherwise you would not be reviewing these memories.
“You are worried you are losing control of yourself.”
The silence which followed unsettled the scene inside the barn.
Providence felt the need to fill the void.
“Take for instance at the Nut house: Cocoa had distracted herself with the praise she received for her part of the meal, and with her mind on this the hot platter in her control made its way in your direction. You felt the need to use your abilities to push it out of the way, but did you mean to use such force?
“And with Rarity we know you had no reason to hear her thoughts—and why would you, she is a true friend; what ill will could she have against you?
“At Ditzy's house the use of your abilities were proven to be justified—without you Rumble may not be with us.”
Bryce thought this over. While one out of three events from that evening could prove his mental abilities were a blessing, the remaining two could not. And even the one exception would be a stretch if Mina had not been present.
A stretch, Hell, she was the only reason he now lied on his bed instead of in a jail cell. Without the mare to validate his story—in large part through her injuries—he would have believed there had been only himself, a stallion, a colt and an infant salamander.
But this only raised further questions, with the biggest one being how the voice know these events had happened, and not only that but in the ways he had stated.
Bryce glared back up into the ceiling, for he could think of no better place to look. “How do you know all of this?”
Providence did not answer him, not at first, but his answer served to further upset Bryce. “How I know is not important,” he said in his usual tone. “What matters is you are still no safer than you were before. In fact, you should take what your friend, Ponzi Scheme, told you to heart. Your friend-”
Bryce did not allow the voice to finish; he had had enough. To know Providence had known about what happened with Rarity and at Ditzy's house was believable, if they had been on the street. That he knew what happened with Cocoa and Almond was less so, unless the voice's owner had been outside the house and heard everything. But to believe the voice knew about his conversation with Ponzi Scheme at the bar was like finding a needle in a haystack—something was not right with this…Providence, or whatever difficult-to-pronounce name it had.
Bryce glared deeper into the ceiling. He called forth his aether sight to see if there was something he could not see in the normal way.
And it made him furious to find there was nought for him to find.
He gritted his teeth, at his limit with this voice. Invading his bedroom was one thing but stalking him to and from Ponyville was another.
He shot out of bed, hellbent on finding this ‘Providence’. He darted his eyes in every direction but the only telltale glow of another's life force came from his own grey wispy glow.
He bolted into all the stalls, checked every corner before he ran into his studio once more, this time without destroying the partition curtain.
But as before when he had looked during the afternoon there was no one to be found.
Bryce balled his fists, trying to contain himself and not level the barn around him. He did not know what else to do but shout into the impossible emptiness of the barn. “Where are you?! What do you want from me?!” He shouted questions much like these and more, but Providence refused to answer, not wanting to speak until Bryce had worn himself out.
And within ten minutes, he had, having screamed his voice hoarse. His weary body fizzled out as he tripped and fell to the floor. He lied where he fell, not yet understanding why we was on the floor.
When he could see he no longer stood upright he began to pound the ground, damning any and everything which had him in this state. Most of his curses fell on his abilities, without which he could have gone about as a normal, dull human being in this world.
Once Bryce had worn himself out, with his whole body dampened by sweat, Providence spoke. “You should not be so quick to curse which was given to you, for it could only go to someone like you. You see, Bryce, you have something greater than you realise.”
In his mind Bryce started to damn the voice, this Providence, this thing which somehow knew him but could not be known. If what he had was great then why was he the one now sprawled on the floor, close to pure exhaustion but still unable to find rest?
If what he had was great, then why did he have to use his friends the way he had?
If what he had was so great, why did it cause so many—not only ponies in this world but humans from his own—such misery and suffering they could not hope to be relieved of.
Whatever Providence saw in Bryce, Bryce only saw pile upon pile of bullshit, and at the center of it all lay him and this great thing.
Once Bryce had worn himself down, down to the point he could no more than breathe—breathe and remain angry at everything—Providence spoke. “Are you ready to listen?”
Bryce said nothing—what could he say to a voice he could not find, and, in short, refused to leave him alone?
A sigh came through the barn at all sides. “You have done well to contain yourself this time, but if you continue in this way you will only bring yourself further down into the waste you have buried yourself in. You alone have the power to control what happens, and if you choose to not control these abilities now you risk harming those close to you.
“Today you have invaded one friend's innermost thoughts, and another friend you made suffer second-degree burns. If you continue in this way you may end up breaking someone in ways which cannot be repaired, no matter how much of your own life force you spend in vain to try.”
Providence waited to ensure Bryce understood what had been said, knowing the human had heard. The voice had no other choice but tell Bryce what he needed to know.
“I do not enjoy what I have to tell you, but you were correct: you have lost control. If you do not regain it—and soon—others will continue to pay the price. This is meant to let you know, because someone close to you…”
It came as a surprise to know the voice had gone silent, but Bryce had caught on to the last few words. He pressed himself up, finding it hard. “What…? Who…?”
Providence sighed once more. “I will not tell you more, Bryce.” Before Bryce could protest, the voice continued, prepared for what he said next. “It is for your best interest, Bryce. If I told you who it was you would only tear yourself up, and only create more misery for yourself. But if you do not know—and if you listen to me—both of you are safe.”
Bryce looked to the ground, not sure who or what the voice meant, but he could think of only one pony closer to him than any other. “Is it…? It is Fluttershy…isn’t it…?” The voice remained silent. Whether Providence continued to leave him in the dark for Bryce's own good or out of spite Bryce did not know.
He felt his stomach drop, not knowing why but despised the feeling. To know his mare may be in danger—and with a warning it may be of his own doing—made the feeling he had come to call ‘right’ anything but.
He pushed himself up, standing now on his knees. He found it hard to breathe, hard to keep his mind on any one thing. “Just…tell me… If it’s her then tell me… If it’s her then… Then I’ll…”
“Avoid her at all cost, make her worry more for your health and mental state, force her to wonder if she had done something to upset you to where the sight of her disgusts you?
“Are you so willing to put her through this again after you found someone whose presence makes everything feel ‘right’?”
Bryce looked to the hard-earth floor, trying hard to run his fingers through the dirt. All he managed to do was scratch the surface and catch dirt under his nails.
“What do I have to do…? Just tell me that…”
“You must regain control, Bryce. Do as the earth beneath you and be of strong will, resistant to change and able to endure for now the venom that is cast against you. You must do as you did before: keep your mind strong, your abilities in check, and use them only when the needs of others warrant their use.
“If you can do this, then whatever bad may happen can be prevented.”
Bryce looked to the dirt under his fingernails; how could Providence ask him to be strong like the dirt which had come loose with a little picking? He took in short, shallow breaths, not able to keep from being angry at the voice’s refusal to provide a straight answer.
He kept his anger in check—he understood enough to know the voice spoke a little sense. He let his hand fall to his side as he stared up to the ceiling to scan the heights of the barn one more time. He found nothing.
He sighed, wanting this all to end now, but knew if it kept his mare safe, he had to play along. “Alright… I’ll do…my best to do what you want. Just…please…if you know…let me know she will not suffer…” He placed a hand over his fist. “Just please tell me if I do this, I won’t harm her enough to…”
Providence waited a few beats, then spoke. “I will allow you to know this much—if only to calm yourself for the days to come: if you stay the course and control yourself enough then you will do her no harm, and she will not suffer.” The voice waited a few more beats then asked, “Now, has this set your mind at ease?”
Bryce nodded. To know this was enough to make the hardship to come sufferable; he would bear it all for her.
“Good. Now, what shall you do? Sunrise is in less than two hours.”
Bryce took a moment to consider this information, then his gaze settled on the curtain around his studio. He stood up and went inside. He could see Fluttershy had organised this area as well, with his botched creations placed in an ordered fashion despite how horrid they appeared. His tools were in order, as opposed to being strung about the benches and desks in ordered chaos.
He looked around a little more before he took a seat. There was no way he could sleep—not tonight, anyway. Better to spend his time doing something, even if it turned to trash. He did not know if this world had a Christmas—with the Hearth’s Warming holiday yet to be known to him—but in any case, he could try to make something of worth.
If it did not work out with Fluttershy—and he still believed in a possibility it would not—then at least everypony had something to remember him by when he left this life for good.
With determination, he rummaged inside a drawer and found the box of matches. After he lit a few candles he was prepared to work.
Before he could, he caught something in the corner of his eye, in the corner beside his furthest workbench. It was a large piece of wood, one covered by a towel. He slid himself over on the bench he sat on to take better look. He tried to think why this was here; it appeared to have been worked.
He placed a hand on the bottom, with only a part of the square base left uncovered. What he felt made memories come back from the afternoon, before he had ripped the curtain to his studio off the railing and forced everything within it against the back wall.
This was something Providence had said was important; important how, Bryce did not know.
He rubbed the base a few more times but settled to not see what the towel hid from view; whatever it may reveal did not matter. If Providence wanted him to know he could say what it was himself. Bryce looked up to the ceiling, waiting for an answer, but none came.
He snorted, deciding to leave his work where it sat: in the corner covered by a towel. He had to be at Fluttershy’s in a few hours, according to Providence, and he wanted to get something done right for a change.
Bryce turned around, selected a right-sized piece of wood and went to work.
I must tell you now while the next few days of Bryce’s life will be pleasant it is not meant to last. For a few days Bryce will be able to spend time with his mare, and all the hardships of his life will be insignificant to him, for all is, for now, ‘right’ by him. After the good times have passed his suffering will resume, and he will not have his mare to comfort him.
What happened the next morning when Bryce went to Fluttershy’s cottage? Read the next chapter if you would know.