//------------------------------// // The Ponequine Carousel: 3 // Story: The Fall // by Kentavritsa //------------------------------// ”Thank you, Rarity!” I simply nod, before I go where she had told me to go for the carousel. Negotiating the flight of stairs up to the second floor proved easier than I had initially imagined. I could not say that these adorable boots were a hindrance, even with shoes on. “Clip, clop! Clip, Clop!” I hear my shoes, with each and every step. There is clearly no escaping the noises, my shoes make; as I continue, towards the indicated location. It is not just in my head, I am hearing the shoes hitting the floor. Of course I had chosen these shoes, and I had accepted the help putting them on. I can as well accept, what this means and what it makes me. I don't need to horse around, but I am a filly nonetheless. Now I am still going to enjoy myself. In an instant, there is a flash of images; memories, of who and what I had once been. Riding the carousel should be a blast. Just that I am a Pony now, riding the carousel-horse. Or, is that a Pony, too; just like me, which is strange. I still do want the offered ride, I can't just turn back now. Should I explain, what I had experienced? How does one even explain; what one can barely remember, or understand? I am a Pony, a little filly. It is all I am, and it is all I will ever be; though I expect to grow up to a mature Pony and mare one beautiful day, in the village of Ponyville. While I had been something other than a Horse, or Pony; I have little to no recollection of this time, knowing I could never go back to what I had been. I had effectively given up on that life, once and for all. I had found it, too hard for me to bear; swapping the life for the one I have now. Maybe this is a better life, than I could ever have had back then and there; because it certainly does feel better right now. I am free to enjoy this life, with a mare who cares about me and will be protecting me if need be. At least I think so, even if I could never know; before this is put to the test. “Clip, clop; clip, clop!” I hear, as I am finally approaching the carousel. The noises are knocking me out of the thought-pattern, right back to where I am. Thankfully. The image of a past memory, shattered, into dust; possibly never to return, ever again. As sweet as the original memory may have been; it is liable to be a hindrance in my life and recovery. “Why do these carousel horses look like Ponequines, just like the once in her boutique?” I ponder; “These does look nothing like a Carousel Hours, or a Pony for that matter!” I continue. Now I continue, slowly trotting up towards the first of the Carousel-Horses of the carousel before me. Of course, I have to step out in order to have my promised ride; but why should this stop me now, after I had been promised I could have the ride? At first, I had expected the same old and hard plastic feel to the surface; the why they always felt under your hands, only I have no hands to touch the surface of this carousel-horse with, The surface feels nothing like I had been expecting, and the fact that I have hooves in place of hands is not the cause of the dissonance. Not even the boots and shoes I had on, could be accounting for this. Or, could it? While my memory is vague, at best; just as my specific recollection is less than reliable, but this is not the hard surface of the carousel-horse I still cling to at this point. The memory is that, of a happier time; my childhood, before my path started to spiral out of my hands. Or is it hooves now? No, it was certainly hands; back then, I am sure of it. While I am a pony, now; which is making this feeling a bit awkward at first, but I think I can mount this carousel-horse the same way as I once had. Now a Ponequine, but I manage to mount her. “But of course, she is a mare!” I ponder; “Anything else seems to be unthinkable!” I consider, as I am getting up onto her back. The carousel is still silent, and unmoving. It is so much easier, to mount my carousel horse; when it is not in motion, and safer. Considering that I am on the second floor. There is one distinct difference, from the old carousel horse; this Ponequine feels warm, and her skin is more elastic, than I could recall. Should I freak out, or thank Celestia for this one change? I have no idea, so I stick with doing neither. In the end, I manage to place my rump onto the saddle; secured onto the back, of this Ponequine. That was easy, wasn't it? Now I am slipping my hind hooves into the stir-ups, right and left; before I am grabbing hold, onto the Ponequine herself. There is a strange, and unforeseen stirring in the mare I am holding on to. “Neigh!” she exclaims. I am momentarily taken aback, by the unexpected response; but this is after all a land of magic, very real. I gather my wits, and hold onto the Ponequine now under me. All the carousel-horses are white, with a deep purple mane and tail; this is after all Rarity's home, so what had I been expecting. Though the saddles are different colours, following the rainbow; all very fancy, stylish. On second thought, I notice they had all been given make-up, based on the premise of being Rarity. Well, why not? There is a chime, and the music is starting up; just as if this had been one of these old carousels, I barely remember anymore. The volume is picking up to the working standards, and the horse starts moving forwards. After a moment, the horse is trotting, then she gets into a steady gallop, I cling to her back and neck. “Okay, this is not the carousel I recall!” I realize; “But I guess, it is more exciting, this way!” I conclude. While I feel her body going up and down, in the traditional manner of a regular carousel horse; she is also moving like a real horse, or pony, as she is galloping round the home of Rarity's. From my position, on top of the horse; I can clearly see most of the village of Ponyville. It is now my home. After a while, as she had reached a fast-paced gallop, it is too exciting; I lose interest in the view, in place of holding onto the horse upon which I am sitting. While my position is good enough for a good view of most of the village, I am not high up enough for an unobstructed view; however, it is more than high enough, for it to be a pretty mean fall, if I were to fall off of this horse and fall to the ground. I guess that reflex had not quite let go of me, even if I had forgotten most else of who I had been before. Should I have been thankful, for this reflex; or should I resent it, for being flat wrong, in my new position? So much is different here, in the village of Ponyville in Equestria, than everything I had ever known, in my former life as a poor human. Most of what I knew, is now wrong. Let's just leave it at that; and move on, trying to grasp the life as a Pony, and enjoy this ride. In the end, all things come to an end; and so does this carousel ride, too. At least, I had had fun; while it lasted. The ride slows down, the horse slow down to a trot; before it all stop, just where I had started the ride. I climb off of my horse and step back into the house. I continue further in, and close the door behind me. Had this all been a dream? I can't shake the event out of my head; the ride had felt so real; even if it had been strange and close to impossible. Just the fact that a mare has a functional carousel on her house? People just do not have such things. A carousel is on a theme-park, that is where it belongs. Isn't it? Either way, I had enjoyed the ride and the gift for all it had been worth. I will treasure this memory, for as long as I can remember it. Even if it turns out to be a lucid fever-dream as I wake up and shiver in the morning? As I get down the flight of stairs, my mother is waiting for me. She is not impatient. Why should she be, she is after all my mother. On second thought, she does look positively excited. She had concluded the deal; the clothes she had bought for the two of us, hers and mine. Maybe she had enjoyed a glimpse of my joy and excitement; right there with me, and thus had the reason to be excited? Or, she is merely excited for me. She is doing her job, as my mother; seeing to my well-being, as a young foal, filly? I am not holding either against her. It is not my place. I am merely happy; for a mother who cares for me, and looks out for me. “That was quite the ride, wasn't it?” she inquires, as I am getting close to her side once more. “Yes, mum; it certainly way!” I respond; "Thank you, Rarity, for the ride; it was such an exciting thrill!” I add. Of course, I had to thank Rarity; if I had thanked her, before the ride or not. This is not an offer, I could have been expecting; she had not been obligated to offer me the ride, even if I had seen the carousel before I had entered the shop. “Such an adorable little filly, I sometimes wish my sister Sweetie Belle could have been a bit more like her!” Rarity ponders, with a sting of guilt; “You are quite welcome, my dear!” she responds. Of course, being the element of generosity; this had been natural to her, it is just the kind of mare Rarity is. No point in fighting it, and not when it is making her fellow ponies smile. “I think, I will have to be back soon; since we will need new clothes, every once in a while!” my mother exclaims. “Of course, my dear!” Rarity exclaims, smiling. “Welcome back!” Rarity points out, as we trot out of her boutique. “Thank you, Rarity!” my mother responds, and I chorus her just a moment after. The door slams shut, as we exit; but with a very lady-like little noise, not the monstrous boom one would commonly have been expecting. --- --- ---