//------------------------------// // Assholes of history // Story: House of the Rising Sunflower // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// How late was it? Unable to tell, Sundance lifted his head and was beset with immediate regret. A terrible crick in his neck crippled him, and while he tried to give it a good rub, he had himself a look around. His friends, all of them, were quite comatose. Some were hunched over the table, while others were sprawled upon the floor. Dark shadows lurked, waited at the very boundaries of the light, which seemed dim and weak somehow. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall falling asleep—but the last thing he remembered was… something about tax credits or incentives or some such thing. It was all so hazy.  Then, as he strove to regain his senses, he heard the soft rustle of feathers not his own. Gooseflesh overcame him, along with a chilly sensation deep within his thoughts, a cold spike in his mind. He tried to rise from the table, but his body felt all wrong. Everything was slow, sluggish, and he had the odd sensation that he was wearing his own flesh, which somehow fit him poorly. What a curious, terrible sensation it was, disorienting and diminishing.  Like a liquid pouring, the shadows came to life. They coalesced, swirled, and in doing so, gained a terrific solidity that turned Sundance’s blood into slush. All around him, the light lost strength as the darkness gained corporeal form. A tall, distorted, slender figure took form within the gathering dark, and then, just behind it, another figure gained reality at an alarming rate. It was hard to breathe now, such was Sundance’s terror. The odd detached sensation of his clenching sphincter formed a syncopated rhythm with his thudding heart.  Glowing eyes formed within the voluminous hood of liquid shadows, eyes that defied colour and description. A fierce luminescence existed within the darkness come to life, and to look into the shadows that contained these eyes was to know tenebrous terror. Sundance was aware of his own heavy breathing, yet he could not feel his own hot breath. Unsettling emptiness moved in and out of him as his barrel heaved.  “Forgive me,” a voice boomed, “but I come as the bearer of ill-tidings, Sundance.”  “Am I dreaming?” he asked, barely able to wheeze out his own question.  “Dreaming?” The tall figure made of darkness paused for a moment, as if to consider these words. Then, after a brief eternity of terrifying silence, it said, “This is no dream, Sundance, but the hour of your death. Look”—a phantom limb made of tenebrous darkness gestured in Sundance’s direction—“just over there. Behind you. See thine own end.”  Biting his lip—which somehow felt off—Sundance resisted the urge to turn around. He fought against the sinister need to turn his head left, but he had to know. He had to know. Still chewing his bottom lip, his head began to turn, very much against his will, and he cursed himself for his own betrayal. At the head of the table, slouched over, he saw… himself. Yep, he sure did seem to be gone. Which might explain why nothing felt right. But if his body was over there, then what was he feeling all around him right now, and why did it feel so wrong?  “I’m dead?” he asked, uncertain if he should believe this.  “Verily, ‘twas boredom that was your undoing, along with all of your friends. Such lamentable fate thou hast bestowed upon those chosen as kin. One by one, they fell, but so engrossed in your task, you failed to notice. ‘Tis a dangerous foe, ennui.”  “My mother did tell me that if I kept this up, I’d die of boredom. I didn’t believe her.” Unwanting, unwilling to believe his fate, Sundance stared at his own body and watched as his barrel did not rise and fall. Such stillness was unsettling, and he somehow shivered.  When he could bear to look no longer, he returned his attention to the pair of shadowy figures, and then began to study them. Was he still a pegasus? Could he still observe? What might he see? Given his current state of being, or lack thereof, what fundamental aspects of himself persisted beyond his failure of existence?  “So what happens now?” he asked of the two shadowy terrors.  “You will die as you live,” the smaller of the two figures replied. “You will be sorted, all of the proper forms will be filled out, procedure will be followed,  and you will be filed away. Such is the fate of bureaucrats.”  “Well then,” he said as he rapidly came to terms with his demise. “That doesn’t seem so bad. There are worse fates than being stashed away in a filing cabinet. What about my friends?”  “They’ve gone on to the Fields of Green.”  “And they’re having the time of their lives,” the second figure added.  “That can’t be right,” Sundance said, “you can’t have the time of your life if you are dead. Right, then. What if I refuse to be sorted? I think I’d rather be with them. I demand access to the appeals process. I’m willing to file my own paperwork. I’ll not be forgotten in some drawer while my friends are off frolicking.”  “You wish to file an appeal?” the taller of the two figures asked. “Even at the hour of your demise, you chose the path of pen and ink?”  “Clearly, there was an error in the system. I demand that I be given the means to sort it out.” When he tried to peer beneath the hood of the taller figure, the clammy chill of death permeated his bones, and he was forced to look away.  “You know, it occurs to me… that this should be scaring him,” the smaller of the two figures said. “Yet he seems quite defiant, just as I said he would be. You owe me lunch.”  “Oh, bother and blast!” The taller figure cloaked in shadows snorted. “It seems the gig is up, Twilight. Do not gloat, it is unbecoming.”  The shadows retreated, the tenebrous terror was peeled away as if it were an unwanted shroud, and Sundance watched as the two figures revealed themselves. The taller was Princess Luna, who at the moment, appeared to be quite put out and annoyed. As for the smaller, it was none other than an exceedingly smug Princess Twilight Sparkle, who was quite full of herself.  As the darkness turned to light, everything seemed a little less real.  “What’s this all about?” demanded Sundance.  “Sane, rational beings should not be so comfortable with such inane endeavours,” Princess Luna replied as she tried to recover some of her regal splendour.  Which was hard to do when one’s fellow princess made such silly faces.  Annoyed, Princess Luna extended her wing, pushed her fellow alicorn away, and rolled her eyes in such a manner that only an immortal being could manage. Which is to say, they rolled completely around, like the moon leaving the horizon, only to rise again once more. Sundance found it quite disconcerting to see her eyes vanish upwards, and then rise from the bottom a second later.  “We had to settle a bet—”  “Shut it, Twilight.” Once more, Princess Luna did her utmost to shove the smaller alicorn away, but Twilight was immovable. “Sundance, your will is admirable. But the point of this paperwork is to discourage corporate cockroaches. Yet, you somehow seem emboldened.”  “I believe in what I’m doing,” he said to explain himself. “Just as I did when I began my genealogy project. It is a task, nothing more.”  “But a terrible task it is…”  “It’s not so bad.” He shrugged. “Actually, it is nice having something to do. It gets a bit boring around here. Now I have paperwork to help me pass the time.”  “Nephew, you are an unnatural creature.” Head held high, Princess Luna’s eyes narrowed. “But then again, I am endlessly fascinated by the inner-workings of the postal service, so whom am I to talk?”  “Don’t you have more important things that you could be doing than pestering me?” Sundance asked in a bold, accusatory manner.  “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Nephew,” Princess Luna replied. “Right now, I am in millions of dreaming minds. I am but a mere sliver of myself, and so is Twilight. We’re just out doing the rounds. Say, Nephew, before we depart… is there anything that we can do for you before you go?”  “Do for me?”  Princess Luna’s wings fidgeted against her sides. “A pleasant dream perhaps… one that does not involve paperwork. An exciting dream where you are the hero during some crisis. Or perhaps a steamy wet dream to showcase your many hidden desires?”  “I didn’t sign up for this,” Twilight muttered as she backed away.  “I’m good, thanks.” As tempting as it might be to gain insight, Sundance prefered to probe his hidden desires on his own.  “Prophetic visions, perhaps?” As the offer was made, Princess Luna’s eyes grew unfocused. “You have the sight for it, Sundance. Though what the visions mean are anypony’s guess. Seeing and understanding are two very different things. What many ponies believe to be surreal and confusing dreams are really just precognitive foresight. But the brain gets scrambled trying to process it.”  “Tempting, but no. Honestly, I should try to wake up so I can get a bit more work done.”  Lower lip protruding, Princess Luna pouted.  “Come morning, have a pleasant day with your friends,” Twilight suggested. “Most of yesterday was lost to drudgery. While I am certain that your friends will stick with you, they may not share your endurance. Just saying. Do what you can to lift their spirits.”  “Right. I’ll keep that in mind. That is, if I remember when I wake up.”  “Good night, Nephew. Please, for your sake… do not develop an interest in chartered accountancy.”  “Yes, good night, Sundance. Nightly class sessions will resume shortly.”  “Say again?” he asked.  But it was too late; the pair of princesses had already departed.    Sundance awoke to the sensation of a sharp beak nibbling upon his tender ears. Opening just one eye, he saw only darkness, but knew that dawn would come soon. Groggy, his body heavy, he lifted himself up from the table and then looked down at the owl that gazed up at him with warm affection. She hopped and bounced around the table in something that was almost a circle, but didn’t disturb any of the documents.  “Owlister,” he whispered as her thoughts were broadcasted into his own.  He saw a great, blazing fire that rent the bejeweled fabric of night.  “Yes, I know, Owlister. The sun will rise soon. I can feel it.”  She let out a soft hoot, a remarkably considerate sound that did not disturb the sleepers.  “I don’t know how, Owlister. I just do. Let’s go. We’ll leave them to their sleep.”  Again, she hooted, trilled softly, and all this was punctuated with some beak snaps.  “What do you mean, I should ask the old timers about the rabbits?” The jumbled images he saw in his mind were not at all clear and Sundance, still not fully awake, tried to make sense of owl-thoughts. Which were not at all like pony-thoughts, even if pegasus ponies were considered bird brains.  “There’s too many rabbits to eat? We’re in danger? Alright, fine, I’ll ask the old timers about the rabbits. Give me a chance to wake up first. And the old timers as well. It’s like you want me to get an earful.”  The young owl chattered as she hopped up and down, while her claws went clickety-clack against the table.  “No, it’s not funny, you nutter. Hush… we have sleepers.”    It was not a perfect summer morning; a steady drizzle and poofy white-grey clouds obscured the view to the east. As for the southern view, that was downright ominous. Clouds down that way were blacker, bleaker, and had the promise of thunder about them. Still, it was a nice morning, as it was a bit cooler than it had been, and that was a relief. Atop the ledge of rock above the waterfall, Sundance watched as the barony down below came to life.  No signs of any spiders, and that was a relief. He’d already checked the outhouses and found them empty. Nothing lurked in the old kitchen cave, and a general inspection of likely hidey holes had revealed nothing. Yet, he still worried about the spider menace. Maybe they’d found food in other places. Perhaps they gathered their numbers and planned for some great invasion.  But for this morning, it was quiet, save for the Greater Equestrian Screaming Owls, who greeted the dawn with their usual fanfare. Something was off with the owls; they were lethargic and some of them were quite plump. Owlister had said that there were too many rabbits to eat, and try as he might, Sundance could not make sense of this situation. But he trusted in his owls, and if they said something was wrong, then something was wrong. And if something was wrong, then something would be done—though he had no idea what that might be.    “Earwig, a word with you if I may.”  “Milord, yer talking all noble-like more and more.”  Suffering distraction, Sundance wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Had he changed? If so, he hadn’t noticed. Realising that he was distracted, he gathered his thoughts and decided to ignore this ever-so-curious factoid—at least for now. If there was a crisis, or a crisis-soon-to-be, he had to get down to the bottom of whatever it was that was going on. He squared his shoulders, struck a noble pose, and then fought to keep a straight face because Owlister’s claws were prickly.  “Owlister has brought to my attention that there is something wrong with the rabbits.”  “Oh… that… I was going to bend yer ear about that, actually, if things got worse. But yes, Milord, there’s a bit of a problem a-brewin’ with the rabbits, Yergrace. We’ve noticed some troublesome signs.”  “Troublesome signs?” Sundance’s ears pricked. “Owlister told me that there are too many rabbits to eat.”  “Oh bother,” Earwig said as her features turned downcast. “That’s what I was afraid of.”  “Explain, Earwax. I don’t know about this stuff. Please, teach me.”  “Well, Sire… it’s a matter of nature. And weather. And why weather has to be controlled sometimes. And nature needs controlling too, I guess.” The old, greying mare sucked in a deep breath, and then flicked her tail to shake free the raindrops that glistened amongst its strands. “Been a lot of rain this year, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Was a rainy spring with lots of storms. We saw some flooding. Well, we’re up in the highlands, Milord, and if we saw floods, just think of the lowlands.  “When the lowlands flood, a lot of critters make their way up to these here parts… rabbits especially. And we’ve been noticing a few more rabbits than usual. Floodgate thinks that the floods have sent the rabbits up this way, which they have, but he thinks that all the rabbits have caused the spiders to swarm more than usual, which is why spider season feels a bit worse than it usually does.  “But the real danger, Milord, is if we’re overrun by rabbits. They’ll eat our crops… which the little blighters have already been doing, but I suppose it could get worse. And I think the owls already know it’ll get worse, because they can’t eat all the rabbits. Which means we’re probably going to get swarmed, and have our crops devoured. It’s happened before, Milord.”  Sundance, who’d never considered cute fluffy bunnies a danger before, now wondered for the first time if he’d have to defend his lands from the least likely of threats. All of Earwax’s words made sense, and he wasn’t about to doubt her wisdom. Floodgate was a smarter pony than the others gave him credit for, and even if his ideas were a bit out there, he was seldom ever wrong. Like every other pony in the barony, he had his purpose here.  “What happened last time we were overrun by bunnies?” asked Sundance.  “Cucumber, Milord,” replied Earwig, “he went off, spent a few days in the wilderness, found the warren, and then set it ablaze. Then, afterwards, he set snares and traps, Milord. A clever one, that Cucumber.” “And that fixed things?”  “No, Milord. We still starved come winter, which was long. About a dozen or so died. They were old and not very strong workers. The Milord demanded that we stop feeding them so that the rest of us might survive to see the spring.”  “Oh, I see.” As awful as it was, Sundance didn’t want to condemn the act, because he understood how it might have been necessary. It was something he hoped that he would never have to do, and surely, he would find some way to seek help before it came to that. Just thinking about it put him off his need for breakfast though.  “Milord, you have wings. You might be able to find the warren… though something tells me that you wouldn’t know what to look for.”  “I could look for the spiders visiting the All You Can Eat Bunny Buffet,” he replied.  “Even if we bomb the warren, there will still be lots of bunnies around. Too many, from the looks of things. More than the owls can eat, anyhow.”  “I’ll figure this out,” Sundance said to Earwig. “We have hunters now, and meat-eaters. The bounty of bunnies might be a blessing. But it is prudent to act now, it would seem. Before we are overrun.”  “It is a bit of a problem, Milord. We were going to mention it if it got much worse. Bless those screaming owls.”  “If we deal with the bunnies, that’ll probably have some effect on the spiders,” he said as he spoke his thoughts aloud.  “Aye, everything is connected and all that, Milord.”  “I have those javelins,” he muttered to himself. “Might be a good chance to learn how to throw. But I feel a bit squeamish about killing.”  “You didn’t seem squeamish when you put that splitting maul into that owlbear’s skull, Milord.”  “Earwig, that was an owlbear, and circumstances were different. These are bunnies—”  “These are bunnies that have killed us in the past, Milord.”  “Right, point taken. I’ll kill the little squeakers. It’s them or us.”  “That’ll be added to yer list of accomplishments, Milord. Bunny-Slayer. You’ll be the most fierce lord in all of the land.”  “I think I prefer the Owlbear Axe-Murderer.”  “Not as magnificent as Bunny-Slayer, Milord.”  When the old mare began to snicker, Sundance’s cheeks flushed with heat.  “Right then… once breakfast is done, I plan to hold a meeting so we can discuss this crisis. I wonder how this will go down in the annals of history? The Great Rabbit Rebellion? The Sunfire Barony Bun-Bun Slaughter? We’ll have to find some means of glorifying this, or it will be absolutely ridiculous.”  “I don’t know nothing about no assholes of history, Milord, but we’ll always sing yer praises.”  “Why, thank you, Earwig. That was most kind of you to say.”  “Think nothing of it, Milord…”