//------------------------------// // Unwelcome [Sad] // Story: Stories That Are Fine // by Speccer //------------------------------// Zecora picked up a blue flower and put it in her saddlebag. She squinted through the fog. She saw houses, although its inhabitants were curiously missing. Ponyville. The town where ponies chat and run around even in the most horrid of weather. Surely a little fog wouldn’t turn the whole thing into a ghost town. Zecora sighed. No, it wasn’t the fog. This had seemed like the perfect weather to take a trip to Ponyville. Who would notice a hooded figure slipping around in the shadows? Apparently, a very pink pony would. A very vocal pink pony. She moved into the town. To her left, she saw a pharmacy. Not that she needed anything in there, the forest provided all the herbs she would ever use, but she still would’ve liked to step in. Maybe talk to the cashier. She turned away from the store. The huge closed sign on the front was enough of an indication that she wasn’t welcome. Looking around, as far as she could see, there were no open doors, all doors bearing a similar closed sign. Any time she paused, the world would seemingly do the same, holding its breath and watching for any sudden movements. It no longer bothered her. No, she was just used to it. Her eyes caught a glimpse of purple. She moved towards it, soon clearly making out the flower. It was not on her list, but only because she didn’t believe she could find it. Her hoof moved to grab it, before noticing something that made her heart sink. The flower was in a pot. On somepony’s window. It wasn’t a surprise as the Whispering Petal was truly eye-catching when it bloomed. She wanted to sigh and turn away, but her eyes were locked on the flower. Why? Why couldn’t she just take it? Surely it would do more good when brewed into a healing potion rather than being used as eye-candy? And what did she have to lose? Respect of the ponies who locked their doors at the mare glimpse of her stripes? The ponies who shun her for… for- No. She might have been an evil enchantress in a cursed forest, but she was no thief. Zecora turned away from the flower and trotted deeper into the town. Soft thuds emanated from her hoofsteps. She heard her own breathing as she walked through the street. She was used to the silence. The glares. At this time, she couldn’t see ponies slamming their doors, drawing their curtains, but she could still hear them. Hushed whispers reaching her from the dark alleyways, where ponies had fled to seek refuge from… her. She ignored them. She always had. She reached the town square, grateful that nopony had accidentally bumped into her and ran away screaming. In the past, she had avoided entering the town, not wanting to cause unnecessary panic. But at this time, she had a destination in mind. The only place that promised to bring a glint of sunlight into her somber morning. Well, maybe not literally. Slowly, she began to make out the sign hanging in front of the store she was planning to visit. A small smile crossed her lips as she looked at it. The Quills and Sofas. The only building she’d ever been inside. Not including the one store when she’d first visited Ponyville, but that was a memory she didn’t wish to relive. Not that she really needed quills, much less sofas. The reason Zecora headed for the slightly odd enterprise was the owner, Lazy Quill. The only pony knew by name. No, the only pony who knew her by name. He was a nice pony to talk to. He was a… pony to talk to. When Zecora had returned to Ponyville, everything had turned into chaos. The first time, she’d believed it was some sort of attack from the Everfree. The second time it was harder to believe, although, it wasn’t far from the truth. Soon, she was left standing in the middle of a desolate labyrinth of streets, like every time thereafter. Fortunately, she noticed that one shop hadn’t closed. After about her fifth visit, she had built up enough courage to enter. And she was glad she did. Zecoras hear beat was accelerating. Last time Quill had talked about handing down his business to his nephew. It was probably a smart decision, as the stallion’s white coat was somehow turning even whiter, and his hips worked about as well as old hinges, desperately in need of oiling. Zecora couldn’t wait to meet the young mare. She moved to the door, pushing it with her hoof. It didn’t budge. She pushed harder, her frustration building. She took a step back, her heart thrashing inside her. She looked around. Nopony was in sight, as expected. Looking back at the door, she noticed something. There was a sign, displaying six redundant yet horrifying letters. ‘CLOSED’ Zecora took a deep breath. What were the odds that this store would be closed for ‘normal’ reasons on a Wednesday afternoon? There were no additional signs specifying a time of reopening or the existence of some holiday. An irrational fear crossed Zecora’s mind. What if something happened to Quill? She had to know. She pushed her weight against the door. “Please! Would anypony be so kind as to ease my mind!” she desperately shouted. The fog didn’t shout back. It didn’t even whisper back. Zecora, sanding in the silence felt her heart sink. She turned her head and froze. From inside, she saw a stallion peeking out. It was hard to make out hard his color through the haze of the fog and the tears she hadn’t even noticed before. Even then, Zecora could see his well-groomed mane. The stallion locked eyes with Zecora, whose heart was just about to burst out of her chest. She raised a hoof and gave a small wave, feeling her breathing calm down. There was no doubt. This stallion was the new owner of Quills and Sofas. It was a shame, Zecora would’ve liked to properly say goodbye to Quill. There was still a chance he was in the store. Zecora watched as the stallion cautiously backed away. A second later the blind dropped closed. She was left standing there, in front of the door, stunned, alone. Wordlessly, she turned around and ran, her choked sobs quickly becoming distant. Why did she have to be so… different?