//------------------------------//
// Better 
// Story: My Sister, Cozy Glow 
// by Mica 
//------------------------------//

Two summers later

Back home at the bayou, Ma, Pa, and I spent all morning digging two graves in our backyard, putting no bodies in them, and then filling them back up again with dirt.

The left grave was for my sister. The right grave was for Biscuit.

Biscuit’s mom is talking to us again. She said “Howdy” to us when she came to the funeral today. She came over to drop a few things of Biscuit’s into the empty grave: a picture of him at his dance recital, some of his buckball cards, and the old saddlebag he went to school with.

In Cozy’s empty and unmarked grave, Ma dropped some of Cozy’s orange hair curlers into the dirt. Ma asked me if I wanted to keep them. 

“No, I don’t need it,” I whispered as soft as I could. I touched my head with my hoof. “She’s up here.”

We filled up the graves, and I fell to the ground and I cried. I cried a lot, okay? 

I’m proud. I’m proud that I can still cry. For real. I’m gonna write it down in my diary. “Today, at Biscuit and Cozy’s funeral, I cried. I cried and I felt it.” And on the day I lose all the feeling in my heart, I’ll remember that time I cried for my dead best friends.

I wept over Biscuit’s grave—but my hoof felt the sharpness of a chipped-off piece of rock. And I didn’t push it away.

I was crying for Cozy, too.

Before that day, I had made a little wooden podium and a couple of wooden benches. I chopped the wood, sanded the boards, hammered it together, all by myself. Pa, Ma, Biscuit’s ma, and Twilight sat on the benches, and I stood at the podium and gave a eulogy of sorts. Twilight came alone. She requested no guards, no advisors, none of that. Twilight took off her crown and sat in the back row so that Ma and Pa could see, Biscuit’s ma smiled as she cried, Ma leaned on Pa's shoulder, and it was real nice.

I’d given a speech in Bitsbrugh of course, but I didn’t recycle that speech. I wrote a new speech.

You never think that you’re gonna kill somepony. You hear news about brothers killin’ each other, mothers killin’ their sons, husbands killin’ their wives, and you think, never me. That’ll never be me. 

Until it happens to ya.

Biscuit was the only one who stood by me. We loved each other. But I liked to hurt him. I liked to hurt him bad. Why he accepted me for being that way, why he might’ve enjoyed it, I don’t know. Was it just the demon inside me that loved to do those things to him? 

Then, did I really love him at all?

Did I really love Biscuit with my real heart? 

I don't think so. 'Cause real love would never end in such a horrible way. Biscuit deserved real love. And now he’ll never get a chance, because of what I did.

What the demon did.

“But none of that matters right now.” I looked straight into Biscuit’s ma’s eyes as I said that. “Whether it’s a demon or not a’int the point. ‘Cause no demon can change or ease the pain that you’re sufferin’ right now.”

For a while, I’d tried to think about the times I was talkin’ to my real sister. The non-possessed version of her. I tried to catalog the times she was able to poke outta the stone prison that the demon was trappin’ her in. I thought about that dream where I kayaked with my sister. In the cave. And I tried to think if there was any times Cozy was like that filly in the cave. 

And I racked my brain for many days, tryin’ to come up with a whole list of times I could talk about. I couldn’t come up with any good ones. Real ones, I guess. When she was only yea tall and hugged me and squeaked “I luv yu, Spur”, did she mean it? Or was it just the demon that took over Sis that was talking?

I don’t really know my real sister that well. I know the demon much better.

I wish I could’ve gotten to know my real sister. What kind of things did she like? What were her favorite toys? What was her favorite color? Some things about her are like the demon. I know she likes kayaking. I know she likes teacakes. She has courage, and a strong resolve. But other things…I don’t know. She had a kind heart. I think. But nopony ever got the chance to see somepony that was for sure the real her. 

Whether it's real, or demon, or neither, one thing that I’m damn sure of is that: There were happy memories. And there were sad ones. And we should think about the happy memories, and not worry about where they might’ve come from.

And that’s the gist of what I said. And Ma, Pa, Biscuit’s ma, and Twilight listened to my every word, their eyes almost glazed over. Were there only four ponies? It felt like many more.

It felt like there were four more ponies listening to me than the hundreds of ponies in Bitsburgh that time.





And at the end of my speech, Biscuit’s Ma hugged me. She actually hugged me. “That was lovely, Spur. Thank you.”

“Gol—I mean, thank you, ma’am,” I said.

Can I tell y’all a secret?

I’m not cured.

I’m just better.

The demon’s still there in my head. It just a’int as bad anymore. I haven’t heard any voices for seven weeks and counting. Sometimes something triggers it, and it’ll come back for a day. But then it’ll go away quickly so I don’t worry about it no more.

I keep this a secret from everypony. It’s just…everypony gets so unsettled when you say you’re “better”. It’s outta sight, outta mind, but it’s still there. It’s always there. 

It’s kinda like Bloofy. It’s been years an’ years since he last blew up into a giant tornado. Now he’s older, the most damage he’ll do is chase a ball of yarn round the top of the dresser and drop it on the floor. But he’s still physically capable of turning into a tornado. He still could. But he’s “better” though.

Everypony’s scared of the word “better.” Cause “better” means that it’s still there. Hangin’ in the corner of yer eye. Something so so tiny that you almost don’t notice. 

But it could balloon up into something bigger and more horrible than you could ever imagine.

That scares a lotta folks. It don’t scare me. Maybe it’s just ‘cause I’m the one who knows it’s better. I’m the one who’s aware. I’m the one who’s in control. So isn’t that what I really wanted all this time?

But if I ever see you one day, don’t you get scared. If ya ever stop by our house down in the bayou, jus’ give us a knock! We always love us some guests. I’ll cook ya up a nice peach cobbler. You don’t have to eat the onion salad. And don’t ya worry, I’ve got Cozy the Evil Spirit under control. 

Why’ve you ever gotta worry about what's goin’ on in other ponies' heads? First of all, is it any of your damn business? And second of all, when did somepony else's thoughts ever hurt ya? It’s only actions that hurt. 

Words. 

Slaps. 

Stabs. 

Fucks.

Can I tell y’all another secret?

Princess Twilight’s cured. You should see the four page special in the Canterlot Journal from just two months ago. It starts on the front, and ends right next to the quarter-page SaddleSuds dish soap advertisement. It’s such a nicely written article—I couldn’t have done it better myself. “Equestria saved from near anarchy, as Her Majesty Princess Twilight is cured from magical curse placed on Her by evil restless spirit of Cozy Glow.”

I’m telling ya, Princess Twilight is cured. 





Biscuit’s ma and Twilight joined us in the house for brunch. It was barely noon, and the bugs were screeching. It was gonna be a hot one today.

I whipped up a batch of peach biscuits for us. I know, heating up the oven in the summer makes the whole house stinkin’ hot, but damn it, I just couldn’t wait till winter to bake some. I made it all from scratch. Ma doesn’t even have a recipe. I wrote up all the measurements myself. I took the sugar cookie dough that my sister used to really like, added a little more flour to make it crumblier, and mixed it in with finely chopped peaches in sugar. And since it’s summer now, I used fresh peaches, picked straight from our back garden. They’re sweeter this year. 

Ma and Pa are kinda glad that I’ve decided to stay here in the bayou and take over the farm. Most fillies and colts my age end up goin' off to the big city like Canterlot or Manehattan to work in some fancy government job or an academic position. And then the farms in the bayou get abandoned and overgrown once their parents get too old. I always thought that was kinda sad.

“So you’re stayin’ here on the farm, huh?” Biscuit’s ma asked me as I pulled the baking sheet out of the oven.

I chuckled. “Well, yeah. After a whole year o’ hangin’ round Canterlot, I think I've had enough of the big city. But I guess I’m different than most ponies my age, I'm sure that Bisc—

“Bloofy…” I tried to fix my mistake.

“It’s okay,” Biscuit’s ma said. “Sometimes I forget too.”

After pausing for a while, I decided to say, “I like it when I forget.”

Biscuit’s ma smiled. “Me too.”

Ma’s changing out a lot of the old furniture. We don’t invite anypony over for Hearth’s Warming no more, so Ma changed out the large dining table for a smaller round table with four chairs. We brought the front porch rocking chair over for  Twilight to sit. It was a tight squeeze.

‘Course, Ma and Pa were head over heels ecstatic to have the ruler of Equestria at our home. Think of the story they'll get to tell their neighbors on market day this comin' Wednesday. 

“Well, Princess, it’s a mighty honor to have you here in our humble home! Won’t you have some more sweet tea?” Ma was sweatin’ an’ all nervous. She might’ve looked scared, but trust me, she couldn’t have been happier. 

Finally, our house is now the talk of the town. The good kinda talk. ‘Cause Princess Twilight is a personal friend of ours. And she comes to visit our home. 

Let’s see, Aunt Sumac bought us one of those new window-box air conditioners, imported from Manehattan. She’s retired and living off her savings, so I don’t know how the hay she afforded one. Uncle Banyan got us a brand new microwave oven with twelve power levels.

The same ponies who used to hate us now love us. It’s strange. Maybe they didn’t really hate us back then.

Or maybe they don’t really like us now.

In any case, they’re not welcome at our home for Hearth’s Warming no more. 





Ma came back with another pitcher of ice cold sweet tea. Pa turned the knob on the air conditioner to the right, and it hummed a different note. 

HRRMMMMHHH…

“Maybe you’d like a little extra cushion on that rockin’ chair, Princess?” Pa said.

Twilight raised her bare hoof. “Oh, don’t worry—” 

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” Ma cut in. “Spur, go get her that cushion that you and I sewed up yesterday. The nice one with the lilies on ‘em.”

I took glances back at Twilight as I ran upstairs to get the cushion. Her mouth was moving like she was chatting with Ma and Pa. Smiling. 

Twilight's eyes were just a teeny little bloodshot. Very, very mildly. Nopony would notice it, except for me.

Down here at bayou, any princess comin’ to our town is an occasion. We don’t see much of the central government round here. I think, okay, I think, if all the Equestrian government were to fall, for some reason or another, we at the bayou will be livin’ just the same. Okay, maybe our mail will be late, but it’s late anyway. And the labor inspector won’t come by the sawmill every three months.

But the peach trees’ll still grow.

And I’ll take out my kayak on a cool Sunday mornin’. 

But all that a’int relevant one bit, ‘cause like I’m tellin’ ya, Princess Twilight is cured. You know, they had a whole hootenanny of a parade up in Canterlot to celebrate. Did I tell ya they had real gold leaf confetti?

Princess Twilight's eyes were just dry, that's why they looked bloodshot.

I'm tellin' ya, the Princess is cured.

And I don’t mind that I’m not cured. ‘Cause there’s some things ‘bout the demon I like. Sometimes I get dreams about Biscuit. I kiss him and slap him to death, but not all the way to death so that I can do it again. And they’re dreams, so they don’t hurt no one, and Biscuit’s already dead so they never really come true. I just wake up all warm an’ fuzzy. 

Upstairs in the attic is Ma’s sewing room. That’s where the chair cushion was. Ma’s taken on some sewing as a way to make extra Bits. She can make cushions, dresses, saddlebags, and even stuffed toys.

A lot of Cozy's stuff is stored in a chest, in the storage cabinet in the attic. You know, like the unfinished part where the roof slopes an' it gets real real low. It’s not the best way to keep stuff in this hot humid weather. I think there’s some spiderwebs and mold growing inside, but I haven’t opened the chest to look and check.

Ma and Pa only had one child. 

Their other child was taken from them. When exactly, they don’t know. They don’t know when the demon came. Or when did it smother her brain enough to totally convert her from good to evil. Was it when she was a little infant in the crib? Babies are easier to smother I guess. Or maybe the demon was evil enough to wait till she was a little older?

So that there would be something to take away from her.

I got the cushion, went back down the attic stairs, gave the cushion to Ma, and Ma tied it to the back of the rocking chair, right at the curve in Twilight’s spine. “There. That should be much better now.”

“You were right,” Twilight said as she munched through my biscuits. “Your peach biscuits are so much better than storebought. You know, Spike and I still try to bake together whenever the both of us have time. Maybe you could share with us the recipe?”

“Oh, sure thing.”

She turned to Ma. “The quality of your peaches is most excellent. The castle’s suppliers in Appleloosa pale in comparison. Perhaps we could buy a small allotment of your harvest for our castle kitchens. We can offer you 80 Bits per carton.”

Pa’s eyes widened. “Why, that’s too generous of ya, Princess! We’d be honored to! And no need for you to pay, your patronage of our farm is more than enough fer us—” 

“No, no, I insist. I’m just a pony after all. And I should pay you a fair price.”

"Well, in any case, it'd be an honor, Princess."

“No problem. Just my way of saying thank you. I enjoyed your company very much.”

Ma bowed and blushed a little. “Oh, why, that’s mighty kind of ya to say, Princess.”

“Not at all! I hope we can see more of each other in the future. Wanna be fr—”

The Princess stopped talking. All of a sudden.

Twilight was breathin’ heavy. But only I could hear ‘cause I knew to listen for it.

I never told ya this, but I feel a certain…kindred with Twilight.

As far as I’m concerned, Twilight’s part of the family.

Our family.

The Cozy family.

I may have lost a kid sister,

But I gained a big sister.

And we’re both better.

(You can be cured and still be better too. Remember what I told ya? Princess Twilight is—

The whole table was silent for a few minutes.

Then Twilight shook the film of sweat off her head. “I’m so sorry. It must be the bayou heat,” she lied. She was sitting right next to the air conditioner.

She’s cured.

I tried to hide the smirk creepin’ up my face.

“That would be wonderful, Princess,” Pa broke the awkward silence. “We can probably send ya a carton of peaches a week during the peak season.”

And then Twilight started chattin’ with Pa about the paperwork for the purchase order.

The demon took my sister. Little by little, it ate through every last morsel of her brain. Until there was nothin’ left to bury. Nothin’ but soulless gravel. And I don’t wanna be like her. 

I wanna be the first pony that successfully lived with this demon. Not the first pony to be cured from it, nor the first pony to fight it away. But to live with it. To coexist with it. And to be the goodest pony I can be, living with it. 

So then when it comes time for me to be buried, you can bet damn sure that it’ll still be me sittin’ at the bottom of the grave.

I actually sorta like that.

All this time, I’ve wanted to find the reason. The reason for me to live, as Cozy Glow’s sister.

So every day, I’ll wake up and I’ll try to straighten the curls in my mane.

And I’ll smile.