yet it wasn't so much that one should fear
that which encroaches upon our home,
but that such fears could only come from
home and
home alone
— | | —
— — — —
— |
— | — —
it creaks
— |
g. r. A..
Beyond the darkness of the night and the blearing curtains of rain swayed a cluster of orange shimmers in the wind. They freely danced to the cacophonous thrums of the midnight storm, crackling in bewitching merriment even as the world around them remained deep in quiet slumber, save for the occasional applause of thunder overhead. To the untrained eye, one would deduce that there was some inexplicable purpose to this spectacle, that there must be something mystical responsible for the conjuration of this midnight revelry.
Applejack knew it was anything but.
A sigh rose from the confines of her throat as she watched the display intently from the window. The lights were coming from an apple tree that had been struck by lightning—one of the older ones, judging from the size of the fire and the direction it was coming from. Were it not for the rain already doing her bidding, she would've marched out there right now, yanked out the hose and quickly put an end to that nuisance of a party before it got out of control. Nevertheless, as grateful as she was for the weather, she still refused to remain content as an observer, throwing out a few grumbles here and there even as her stomach began to twist and turn from thinking about the debris she'll have to clear up in the morning.
"Is it really alright, just leaving it like this?"
Glancing over her shoulder, Applejack mustered a smile for a nervous Sugar Belle, who moments ago barged into her bedroom and woke her up to warn her about the fire, bless her heart. "The storm's makin' quick work of it," she assured. "Probably'll be out in an hour or two, I reckon."
Her sister-in-law sighed in relief. Or that's what it sounded like, at least. Even though it had been months since the day Sugar Belle moved in, Applejack wasn't exactly used to her company yet. Not that she was unwelcome or anything to that extent, of course, far from it. After all, it's beyond an Apple to spurn one of their own. If anything, Applejack appreciates how she would always offer to help out around the farm in any way she can, which really helped in lessening the family's workload overall.
Still, there was something strange about it. Seeing Sugar Belle canter between the ageing walls of the Apple homestead, listening to her dainty hooves as they made every gentle creak up the wooden stairs, hearing her merry humming swivelling out the kitchen alongside the aroma of freshly-baked muffins, all of it just felt strange.
But it wasn't wrong by any means. Far from it, if anypony asked. Yet it just wasn't right either. For some reason, it felt as though the family had broken some cardinal rule within these four walls by inviting Sugar Belle into the homestead and it had now become Applejack's obligation towards the family hearth to cast the offending presence out.
Of course, Applejack knew better than to think that—nay, she was better. Sugar Belle was family, through and through. There's no good reason for her to be stuck in that mindset, there really wasn't. Still, the thought does come back to her, time and time again. A spectre standing in the corner of the room, waiting.
"It has been raining a lot lately, hasn't it?"
Applejack coughed. "Yep, noticed it too. I'd ask Rainbow about it but she's out of town." Something about going on another awesome adventure or something, the farmpony recalled with a distant smile, somewhat comforted by the fact that the pegasus was doing enough adventuring for the rest of them. "A bit of rain's good though. Makes up for that dry spell a few months ago."
"I just hope Mac's doing okay." Sugar Belle bit her lip at the violent pummelling of raindrops against the windowpane, before shaking her head profusely. "I'm sorry, Jackie, I know you told me not to worry about it—"
"It's fine, sugarcube."
"I can't help it! I mean, what if he gets caught in a mudslide or something? What if—what if the carriage gets trapped in a ditch and pulls him down with it? What if he sprains his hoof? What if he twists it? What if—"
"Macintosh knows to lay low when a storm's comin' his way." Applejack chuckled for her sister-in-law. "I know, I know, his head can be in the clouds sometimes, but if there's one stallion I know who's almost always too careful for his own good, it's my brother. You know exactly what I'm talkin' about, don't cha?"
Sugar Belle responded with nothing more than a giggle, one that Applejack had always found soothing in spite of her misgivings. She never knew why that was the case. Big Mac once told her about how it sounded familiar to him, about how it felt like it came from somepony near and dear to his heart. Of course, Applejack immediately chided him for stating something so absurdly dense and painfully obvious, though as she had more chances to listen to it over time, she was beginning to understand what he meant. Not entirely, not enough for her to deduce where exactly they might've heard it from, but she was getting there, getting close. She just needed to hear it a little more.
"Oh, the fire's dying down."
At Sugar Belle's exclamation, Applejack glanced back out the window. "Seems like it," she managed right as she broke into a gaping yawn. "Think I'm gonna hit the hay. How about you?"
"I think I'll stay up a little longer. Make sure the fire's really on its way out, y'know?"
"Alright then. Just don't stay up too late. If anything else happens, you know where to find me."
Applejack doubted anything would actually happen. That's not to say that Sugar Belle's fears were unfounded—her sister-in-law had every reason to be worried, whether it was over the fire or about Big Mac getting into trouble. It's just that in the grander scheme of things, the endless problems of Sweet Apple Acres seemed minuscule compared to whatever chaos and turmoil being tossed up in some corner of the world somewhere. Perhaps her adventures over the years had disillusioned her to the scope of her personal troubles somewhat. With her growing nonchalance towards the farm's many affairs, she was certainly starting to think that was the case.
Still, insignificant as it all may be, Applejack would never trade away the farmstead and all the frustrations worming within its woodwork for any greater glory beyond its borders. In fact, her past adventures made her more appreciative of them. Sweet Apple Acres was, and always will be, home to her and her many mundane worries. Such was in line with the life of an Apple: simple as simple could be, as it has always been from the roots up to the branches of the family tree. Of course, there were some exceptions among the leaves—she was an especially noteworthy stand-out, what with being the Element of Honesty and all—but when it all comes down to it, an Apple will always look forward to a simple life. An honest life.
With one last yawn, Applejack returned to her room, giving her hooves a few long stretches before climbing into her bed. As she dug herself into her covers, she spied the distant flames waving to and fro at her from outside her window, her heavy eyes beholding the pleasant show before the mare slowly and surely sank back into sleep once more.
Beneath it all, the unmoving earth shifted.
.
.
"Wow," whistled the younger, aghast at the damage before her.
"Eeyup," reciprocated the elder, who had earlier done the very same.
The Apple Sisters stood before a field pockmarked with apple chunks and wooden splinters. In the middle of it all, the tree from last night, burnt entirely into a near-unrecognizable black. What had caught both of them off guard was the fact that the lightning had struck it right in the centre, splitting the tree cleanly in half and leaving behind what looked like a spiralling cornucopia of shattered bark and seething grey. At what point of the night did it happen, Applejack didn't know. When asked, Sugar Belle apparently didn't either.
"So wait, we're supposed to get all that out?" Apple Bloom asked with an exasperated sigh as she turned to her sister. "Couldn't it wait until Big Mac comes home?"
"Was plannin' to, until..." Applejack simply gestured at the mess. "And if the storm could do this? Means it can easily push his return trip back one or two days."
"I guess." Returning her gaze to the broken tree, Apple Bloom wrinkled her snout. "But don't you think we should probably get some help with this?"
"Sugarcube, we both know you're all the help I need." Applejack couldn't help but break into a chuckle when her sister shot her a crusty stare. "Just messin' witcha. Pretty sure the two of us ain't enough to clean all of this up by nightfall, so I went ahead and got a few extra hooves from town while I was at the market this mornin'. Will need some help hauling all these off anyway. They'll be coming by a bit later in the afternoon. In the meantime..."
Applejack retrieved her axe from the ground and hoisted it up onto her shoulder with a huff. Apple Bloom did the same, though she had with her a large pair of pruning shears instead. A cheery exchange of grins later, the two stepped forward into the wasteland before them, both equally determined to clear the family farm free of all the outstanding debris.
And for the better part of the next half hour, that was all they did. The pair tirelessly worked as a team, with Applejack chopping up the bark of the fallen tree into smaller chunks and Apple Bloom shearing off its frayed branches. It wasn't their first time doing this, of course—there had been many apple trees that were struck by lightning in their lifetime, so much so that the family will anticipate the loss of a tree, maybe even two, should a storm as ferocious as the one last night come to pass. Nevertheless, as Granny Smith said it best back when she was still around, one tree struck down was already one tree too many, though few had ever met a demise as impressive as the tree they were dismembering.
"What's his name?" Apple Bloom suddenly asked.
A whoosh as Applejack swung her axe down, its head wedging into the bark with a loud crack. "Whose name?"
"The tree," Apple Bloom clarified. Applejack could almost hear the waggling of her sister's eyebrows. "What did you name him?"
A downcast gaze at the charred body before them. "Don't know," she said, briefly inspecting it while tugging at the handle of her axe. "Don't think I ever named him. Or her. Could've been a her."
"She probably went by something old-fashioned sounding-like."
"Could've been a him."
"Like Juniper. Or Magnolia. Or something."
"Sugarcube, she's an apple tree," Applejack pointed out just as she yanked her axe free from the bark. "That's like if you had a newborn foal and you named the babe Yak."
"Hey, what's wrong"—Apple Bloom snorted back a laugh—"what's wrong with Appleyak?"
Applejack could only roll her eyes as her sister broke into a giggling fit. "All I know is that this fella's been around for a while," she continued. "Means if he or she ever had a name, we'd probably have to hear it from Goldie Delicious herself, and as much as I'd like for us to have a sisters-only road trip right about now, this farm ain't gonna clean itself."
"Maybe it would if we asked nicely."
"Well, good luck with that. Odds are it'll give us another mess to clean up anyway." With a hefty sigh, Applejack set aside her axe, fanning herself with her hat as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Gonna head back real quick to refill my canteen. Need me to do yours?"
"Sure thing!" Apple Bloom handed over her canteen. "Ooh, can you get me some of Sugar Belle's muffins while you're there? They should be fresh out of the oven about now! Please?"
Applejack chuckled and nodded. "I'll make sure there's enough for the both of us."
It was a long but customary traipse down the dirt path back to the farmhouse. Would've been a pleasant one too, were it not for the sweltering sun overhead, which was perplexing considering how heavy it had rained just the night before. Glancing up from beneath the shadow of her stetson, Applejack stopped briefly to furrow a sweaty brow at the clear skies, some part of her idly wondering what treacherous scheme the weather ponies were currently concocting behind her back this time, before shaking her head in resignation to what the fates may bring.
An invigorating aroma rushed out to greet her when she entered the front door. Sugar Belle didn't even notice her cantering into the kitchen—the baker was too busy topping her latest batch of apple muffins with a creamy swirl of frosting each, dressing them up and ready to be served to the workers coming to help clean the farm. It wasn't until Applejack went ahead and refilled the canteens at the sink that she perked up, greeting her with nothing more than a glance and a smile before immediately returning to work.
"Almost done, just give me a few more minutes, Jackie."
Applejack chortled. "No need to rush, sugarcube."
Sugar Belle was quick to do the contrary regardless. "I was planning on heading out to give you girls some water once I'm done with this," she gave an explanation as if it was owed. "Are you two doing alright out there?"
"Eeyup. Ain't our first rodeo, don't worry about it. Tree came down pretty hard last night though, so we have a bit of a bigger mess to clean up, but it's nothing we hadn't done before." Applejack drew her gaze towards the muffins. "How're they comin' along?"
"They're okay, I guess."
"Huh. They smelled great to me."
"They're a little flat on the top. I knew I should've added more baking soda into the batter." Sugar Belle stopped midway, settling back down into her chair. "Figures. Every time I work on a big order like this, something goes wrong. Maybe I should just make a new batch."
"And throw all these out, are ya kidding?"
"I know, I know!" Sugar Belle giggled with the candour of a dozen wind chimes. "I know. It's kinda stupid to say that, I guess. It's just that they're... you know!"
"Uh." Applejack tightened her smile. "Not really?"
"Muffins! The one thing I've been baking my entire life! Everything I taught myself, everything I learned from the Cakes, every recipe I've written down as well as the ones still stuck in my head, it's always the muffins that I'm the best at! Like if it was cornbread or... or scones or tartlets or anything else, you know, just not muffins!" The short laugh that followed crackled with shame. "I guess what I'm trying to say is they could've turned out better. They should've, and it just... it just annoys me that I can't always get it right."
"Sugar Belle, no one's tellin' you to do that."
"I get it." A sigh. "You're saying it's unnecessary. That I'm just being a little overdramatic."
To that, a chortle. "Not exactly."
Setting her hat onto the table, Applejack pulled up a nearby stool and sat across Sugar Belle. She leaned forwards, her chin level with the tray as she took a longer, harder look. The muffins stared back up at her from their silicone nests, their crumb-coated exteriors glazed in a golden sheen that gleamed brilliantly in the afternoon sun despite being the purported failures that they were.
"Between you and me, I think it's kinda important to think that sometimes," she said, glancing up with a grin to meet Sugar Belle's curious gaze. "I also happen to think that sometimes, the best thing we could do for today is just being good enough. And that sometimes, being good enough is what matters. Can I have one?"
The dainty nod from Sugar Belle was more than enough for her to pry one of the muffins from the tray and pop it into her mouth.
For the longest moment, all that was between them were the sounds of languid chewing and a long exchange of earnest stares. Throughout it, Applejack played the part of a finicky food critic, trying her best to maintain a straight face while Sugar Belle nervously shifted about her seat, the baker's excitement radiating from cheek to cheek as she waited with bated breath for the coming review.
Of course, there was never any doubt that the muffins were delicious. Even the most pompous nobles of Canterlot would find it impossible to denounce them after having a taste themselves. Nevertheless, the jovial grin that Applejack wore was the show of reassurance that Sugar Belle needed. Likewise, the sprightly giggle that Sugar Belle elicited in return mattered just as much to Applejack, perhaps even more so.
"Thanks. Think I needed to hear that."
Applejack chuckled. "Don't mention it. Anythin' you need, we're here for you. You're an Apple, after all. You're family."
"Family..." A long pause. "Applejack, can I get something off my chest? If that's okay?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"Frankly, I wasn't sure if I was going to like it here, I really wasn't," Sugar Belle admitted, her voice soft with gratitude. "Like, visiting you three was one thing but actually living here? For the rest of my life? I couldn't really imagine it. I know, I know, it's strange, thinking about it now. When I got here too, I just... I don't know, everything just felt so new to me that I wasn't sure if I'd ever fit in."
Her gaze retreated to the space between the legs of her chair, a gentle crease growing in her dimpled cheeks.
"But the longer I've been here, the more... I don't know, the more I feel as though I was meant to be here all along. That it's because I'm here now that everything that came before started making sense," she continued. "It's weird, I know, but you get what I'm talking about, right? You ever get that feeling, Jackie? Like if you had been anywhere else, things wouldn't have worked out as well as they have?"
"Sometimes. Maybe a little more than I probably should," Applejack admitted with surprising ease. "Why, what brought this up?"
"I... don't know, actually. Guess I'm just being a bit schmaltzy right now, sorry about that." Another laugh. This one, however, was hefty. Laden with age. "It's just that I never really imagined that I would have... that I could be in a place this special."
"Special. Huh." Not a word that most ponies would use to describe Sweet Apple Acres, though Applejack had heard far worse. "I guess it kinda is in a way. Never really thought about it like that but it makes sense. It's home, after all."
"Mm-hmm." Sugar Belle let out a tender sigh, her gaze adrift. "This is what a home's supposed to be like."
Applejack wanted to agree. She could've very easily done so, in fact. It's just... the way Sugar Belle had said those words, the air that carried them as they left her lips—it reeked with a presence that was too unlike the mare it came from. For a moment, Applejack thought she had misheard it, that it was just something she had imagined, but as the silence between them grew longer and the ruminant frown on Sugar Belle's face became darker, more pronounced, there was no denying what those words had been filled with.
This is what a home's supposed to be like.
Resentment.
"Applejack!" a shrill voice from outside filled the room. Apple Bloom's. "Applejack, are you there?"
"What's the matter?" the aforementioned mare took a second to yell back, trotting up towards the kitchen window with Sugar Belle following close behind. Apple Bloom was standing on top of the nearest hill, frantically waving at them as if her life depended on it. "What is it, Bloom, what happened?"
"The ponies you asked for help! They're here!"
"And you had to go and make a big scare out of it," Applejack quipped underneath her breath, rolling her eyes while Sugar Belle giggled. "Alright! Just tell them to go on ahead, Apple Bloom! I'll be down in a minute or two—"
"No, not that!" Apple Bloom immediately interjected. "They found something! They were lifting up the tree and they found something falling out of it and... y-you have to come and see this! Now!"
With that, her sister ran off, leaving her baffled at the sudden turn of events. Thinking about it, it wouldn't be the first time Apple Bloom had called for her out of the blue like that, looking and sounding all panicked, only for Applejack to be sorely disappointed with whatever she had been making a huge fuss about. Some part of her had been secretly hoping for Apple Bloom to finally grow out of that phase one day, in fact. Exactly when that mythical day would come, Applejack can only imagine.
"Is everything alright, Jackie?"
"Everything's fine. Far as I know anyway." Applejack's gaze strayed back out the window again. "I'll head out and see what all the hullabaloo's about."
"I'll come with you. Oh, and I'll bring the muffins!" Sugar Belle offered, though it wasn't until she turned back to the meadow of muffin trays stretched out across the table that she only fully realised the scope of the work that was ahead of her. "You know what, I think it's better if you go on ahead first. Probably won't take me too long to plate these all proper-like, hooves crossed."
Applejack couldn't help but laugh. "No need to rush, sugarcube. And I really mean it this time."
Sugar Belle responded with nothing more than a cheeky giggle and a mock salute.
The sweltering heat that had been simmering throughout the afternoon seemed to have diminished by the time Applejack had emerged from the farmhouse. Scarves of grey enshrouded the summer sun as they slowly stretched themselves across the sky, the ineludible herald of the storm that was to come later that night. All Applejack could do was toss an upward glance of worry, praying deep down that Sweet Apple Acres will emerge completely unscathed this time as she made her way back to the mess left behind from the night before.
Beneath her hooves, the tremors went unnoticed.
.
for we were but a penitent few, we know this much to be true. we can only look for help in each other.
exiles in symbiosis.
| — | —
thought of how incapable i was. harkening back to unkept promises, those grave mistakes. what manner of prayer would absolve us, elusive still. rations have whittled down to stalks of wheat, five.
she claims i should have prayed harder.
the guidance i seek escapes quill and parchment all the same.
— | —
| | |
HE who speaks in tongues
spoke naught amidst our tribulations
our time of need
why is it so
curse HIS silence
apathy, convenient
|—|—
| | |
beware
beware
beware
neath sleeps HE
.
"What the hay is this?"
It protruded from between a gaping abyss in the decaying bark of the charred tree, what Applejack had at first thought to be a stray branch. It was desiccating, strip by calloused strip falling away as it reemerged into the sunlight, fumigating the air with an abhorrent stench of morel and mayflies. On its surface roosted a scaffolding of maggots, some of which had begun crawling back down into the familiar darkness while the rest wriggled across its surface en masse like anemones.
"What the hay is this, somepony tell me!"
Applejack was met with only silence from all the workers around her.
She knew, however, that there would only be silence. She had expected it, in fact.
For the silence came not because the answer was beyond their comprehension, but because they could never muster the courage to accept it.
And Applejack was no better. She recognized it for what it was immediately, this dilated monolith swelling out from deep within the scorched confines of the fallen tree. She knew deep down, as did everypony else, what exactly she was looking at.
It was a bifurcating stalk of Equestrian hooves, conjoined at the elbow.
It was, in other words, a corpse-in-waiting.
"Apple Bloom, go get the guard."
.
say grace
— | —
sing it loud
— |
for home is HE
| — — |
for HE
is
HOME