//------------------------------// // We Wish You // Story: This Town Will Never Let You Go // by RB_ //------------------------------// The sun-baked wood of the train platform creaked and squealed under her hooves. Insects chirped and cried in the grass of the field across the tracks. The station clock, hanging large over the single ticket booth, tick-tick-ticked away. This was the first time the station had ever been deserted enough for Apple Bloom to hear any of it. She shadowed her eyes with a hoof, squinted. No one in sight. No train, either. “Hello?” she tentatively called out. No reply. She started forward again. Her hoofsteps echoed in the hollow space beneath the platform. Rat-tat-tat went her hoof on the glass of the ticket booth. “Hey, anypony in there?” She didn’t expect a response, and she didn’t get one; she could see that the little hut was empty, the angled sun casting light and long shadows through the window. It was morning, around eight. The station was meant to open at seven. She knocked on the window again. “Anypony?” Still nothing. She sighed, clamped her eyes shut, and rubbed the bridge of her muzzle. “Alright,” she said to herself, hoof dropping back to the platform floor. “Guess not.” She turned to go, fully intending to march straight to town hall so find out just what exactly was going on. She didn’t take two hoofsteps before a sound behind her nearly made her jump out of her coat. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, a meaty thwack followed by a brittle crunch, and— The whistle of the train and the screech of the brakes and— she turned around to find that a bird had flown into the station clock and plummeted to the platform floor. Swallowing, her heart racing—had a little bird really startled her that much?—she held her breath, waiting a few moments to see if the bird would get up, but it remained deathly still. She glanced up. The face of the clock had split down the middle. It had read eight o’clock when she’d arrived, she’d have sworn it. But the hands had stopped at noon. “Apple Bloom,” the mayor said, sitting behind her desk. “It’s good to see you. What can I help you with?” Ivory Scroll had held office as long as she—or anyone else in town—could remember. She looked very different now, of course, compared to how she had when they’d both been younger. More lines in her face, more patches in her coat, and (Apple Bloom was fairly sure) the grey mane was entirely natural, now. Still, she was as cordial a politician as she always was. For whatever such a thing was worth. Apple Bloom shut the thick oak door to the mayor’s office behind her. Her eyes ran over the details of the mayor’s office, the filing cabinets, the photographs on the wall, the window behind her desk that overlooked most of Ponyville, with the clocktower in the distance—she’d seen it all before. The place stank of paper and bureaucracy, just as it always had. Apple Bloom didn’t like the inside of Town Hall much. In her experience, it just wasn’t a place you ever visited on good terms. “Thanks for seein’ me,” she said. Ivory gestured towards a seat on the other side of the desk, but she remained standing. “I’ll get right to the point,” Apple Bloom said. “I was just down at the train station.” “Oh.” The pleasant expression on Ivory’s face faltered. “I see.” But Apple Bloom held up a hoof. “No, it ain’t about that. I just want to know when the trains are going to be up and runnin’ again.” “Oh.” Her expression shifted to a more apologetic one. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t say.” Apple Bloom’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” “We’re waiting on an investigation by the Equestrian Train and Rail Board,” she explained. “It’s standard procedure in cases like this. We can’t reopen the train station until we get their approval. I’m afraid it’s entirely out of our hands.” “Funny,” Apple Bloom said. “I didn’t see much investigatin’ going on when I was down there.” Ivory gave a half-smile. “Well, you know how those Canterlot bureaucrats like to drag their feet when it comes to the smaller towns like ours. I’m afraid we’ll just have to be patient.” “For how long?” “I don’t know. We’ve never had anything like this happen before.” Apple Bloom squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and let out a breath. She was beginning to get a headache—she could feel it building behind her temples. “I’m very sorry, Apple Bloom,” Ivory said, as she opened her eyes. “If there was anything I could do, I wouldn’t hesitate to, you know that. But as it is my hooves are tied.” “S’alright,” Apple Bloom said, after a moment. “Let me know if you hear anything.” “Of course. You’ll be the first to know.” “I appreciate it.” She gave a crooked smile. “Me and the other half of the town who’ve come askin’, right?” “On the contrary,” the mayor said, giving a smile of her own. “You’re the first to complain.” Apple Bloom’s brow furrowed at that. “Now, is there anything else I can help you with?” “Nope,” she said. “That was it. Thanks for the information.” “It’s what I’m here for,” Ivory said. “And, for what it’s worth, Apple Bloom… you have my deepest condolences. We really are doing everything we can to make sure this never happens again.” Apple Bloom just nodded. A minute later, and Apple Bloom stepped out into the sunlight. She squinted, raising a hoof against the glare. The sudden shift from the soft light of Town Hall to the bright, glaring sunlight stung her eyes—and it did little to help with the growing pain in her skull. After a few moments, though, she adjusted well enough to get on her way. Back to the farm, now, she supposed; time to help with the chores. It wasn’t as though she was going anywhere soon, after all. Not by train, at least. The streets of Ponyville were crowded today—for as crowded as Ponyville ever was, anyway. It seemed the heat had not been enough to deter those looking to take advantage of the otherwise nice weather. She stepped out from under the overhang of the town hall and set off, heading east. She said hello to the ponies she knew as she passed them, of course, but she wasn’t paying much attention, particularly with the headache. That is, until the ice cream stand. Perhaps it was the novelty of it. It was a cart sort of a thing, with big wheels and traces at the front so it could be moved easily, and it was painted in stripes of white and bright red. A canopy hung over the top, patterned in the same, and a sign stood next to it reading “Ice Cream, 3 Bits”. It was the sort of thing you might find at a carnival. Goodness knew where they’d rolled it out from. Perhaps it was the age of the pony managing it. They looked to be no more than thirteen or fourteen, just a filly, with a freckled face and a ponytail. She had to be standing on a stool just to reach the counter. Or perhaps it was just the crowd of ponies in an un-orderly line coming out from the front of it. Whatever the reason, something about the stand caught Apple Bloom’s attention, and she found herself lingering on it for a moment, watching as the too-young stall-worker dipped her scoop into a tub of vanilla and reached for a cone. It was just an odd feeling, at first; a general sense that something wasn’t right, in the pit of her stomach. She frowned, and looked closer. Something was off, she was sure of it, she just couldn’t quite… She moved closer, circling around to the side to get a better view, all the while asking herself what she was doing but doing it nonetheless. There was something about the filly… no, not just the filly, her customer, as well, and the others in line. Something about the way they were moving… No, not the way they were moving, she realized. The way they weren’t. The ponies standing in the line were as still as statues. They didn’t shift their weight. They didn’t change their expression. The filly at working the stand was moving, but her motions were… stiff. Wooden. Her hooves moved, going about their tasks, but not her torso, her head, or anything else. Her eyes stared blankly forwards at her customer, and her smile never wavered. She passed a cone to the unicorn at the front; he marched away, limbs moving in perfect coordination. The other customers took a single step forwards in unison. It wasn’t just them. Apple Bloom looked around, and the same was true of all the ponies in the square. Here, a group of teens. There, a mother and her two daughters. They moved like figurines, like dolls, joints bending and limbs moving but with no life behind them, nothing organic to their motion. All too clean. All too precise. All too guided. Her head throbbed, but she just stared. A sharp pain ran through her skull, then, and she clamped her eyes shut, grimacing. When she opened them again, she looked at the stand, but whatever spell had overtaken them seemed to have been broken. The customer at the front smiled and handed the filly his three bits, and trotted past her, ice cream cone in tow. Apple Bloom blinked again, and shook her head. But no; the ponies remained normal. Muscles relaxing, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. “Miss? Are you okay?” She started, whipping her head around a little too fast to her left side, sending another jolt through her skull. Wincing, she then froze when she saw who had spoken. It was the little filly from behind the ice cream stand. She looked back at the cart, but now it was a stallion manning the thing, with a paper hat on his head. He greeted the next customer with a smile. Apple Bloom looked back down at the filly, who was looking up at her with concern in her eyes, and a hint of nervous fear. “I’m…” She swallowed, put on a smile. “I’m fine.” The sun was beginning its descent by the time Apple Bloom stumbled back through the gates to Sweet Apple Acres. Her headache was in full force, now, pounding behind her ears. Rubbing her temple, she hobbled on three legs up to the door of the farmhouse. Up the stairs; she needed to get to her room, needed to rest and let things run their course. Let what she’d seen—what she’d thought she’d seen—fade to the back of her mind, where such things belonged. She stepped up onto the landing, happened to glance to the right— The door at the end of the hall was open. She blinked. That was Granny’s room. Frowning, she steadied herself and made her way down the hallway. The pain in her skull seemed to retreat as curiosity took its place. The door wasn’t fully open, as it turned out, just ajar; it swung inwards slowly and silently under her hoof. Something seemed to draw her forwards, into the room. There was an incredible stillness about the place. Stepping through the door felt like stepping onto sacred ground; like entering a church. Like entering a graveyard. She almost felt she should hold her breath. The room was the same as it had been the last time she’d been in here—gosh, had that really been a week ago? It felt like forever, now. The only difference to how it had been then was the bed, which was, of course, now empty. For a reason she’d never have admitted to, Apple Bloom let out a sigh of relief at that. That wasn’t the only thing that had changed, though, now that she looked more closely. The bed was sitting crooked, the foot a few inches further away from the wall than the head. Perhaps it was the impossibility of her earlier experience that led her to circle around the foot of the bed and peer into that shadowed gap. Perhaps not. But there it was. Carved into the wooden frame of the bed, deep, unsteady gouges from a blunt instrument. Cut into the wood facing the wall with barely enough room to fit her hoof in, where no one would ever see it normally. Seven words. This town will never let you go.