I push open the doors of the town hall, stepping out into the bustling town square with a mild feeling of satisfaction. Having accepted two of the 'help wanted' papers push-pinned to the bulletin board--one of which I enjoyed quite thoroughly, as it involved tearing down an old, unused tool shed--I returned to the town hall with the intent of accepting yet another, only to find none were left. I've had it happen to me before, but usually there are enough odd jobs to last me a little while if I take a few of them each day. Even still, there is a sense of accomplishment, as if I have beaten my own challenge to see if I can clear that board of jobs.
As I think about it, subconsciously walking along the route that leads to my house, I wouldn't want to make my living any other way. Not only is it nice to have a different thing to do, a different place to see, a new person--pony--to meet nearly every time I accept a job, but the feeling of having helped someone, having done a good deed, is there. Definitely better than the monotony of a menial labor job. I let my mind continue to wander. I realize something after a minute: not once has a specific pay been described on the papers describing the jobs, nor have I ever asked for any pay. I have rejected it a few times, though. Every pony I have done something for has offered to pay me, usually a fair amount, often more than fair. Maybe they trust me a little more than I realize. My focus returns to what I see ahead of me; a few ponies pass by me, none I recognize. The don't make eye contact, or try not to, and make sure they aren't even close to making actual physical contact. Maybe.
Certainly a nice change from the city, I suppose. Shoulder-to-shoulder with everyone on the sidewalks, be they an average joe or a street wino who smells like he hasn't showered once in his life; and maybe he hasn't. It would be nice if this sleepy little town was more active at night, but I won't complain. I glance up as I round a corner on habit; Moonlight Avenue reads a wooden sign on a pole, pointing down my road. Well, not really my road, but the road my house is on. I casually stroll down the street, turning off at my house, number eleven.
I sigh to myself once I close the door behind me, not really sure what to do at this point. Maybe Rainbow Dash is off work today? No, it's somewhere around a...Friday? I count off the days in my head, trying to remember what day it is. I'm pretty sure it's Friday; yeah, I got smacked by a bear-thing around six days ago. I look down, lifting my shirt. My ribs are looking a lot better, most of the bruising gone at this point. Still hurts when I take in a really deep breath, though, or when you press on them hard enough.
Plus, it was overcast all morning. She is good at her job, though, really good, so maybe she'll get off early. I grab an apple out of the cabinet, then take a seat at the table, propping up my legs and leaning back. I slide my tomahawk out of my belt loop and begin flipping it in one hand, concentrating on letting it do a full flip before grabbing the handle again.
I miss Dash. The quietness of my house only reminds me of that, my lack of things to do even more. I haven't really hung out with her much since the past weekend; her week's been busy, as a whole two days of rain for the farmers of Ponyville was scheduled. She explained the clouds had to be made in Cloudsdale, floating Pegasus metropolis not too far from here, then distributed here, arranged, manipulated to expand and cover a larger area, basically 'activated' to initiate the rain, cleaned up, and then the whole process had to be repeated a few days later, to prevent the soil from not absorbing all the water and flooding. And having to direct all of that leads to very long days and a very tired Pegasus at the ends of those days.
The sweet flavor of the apple fills my mouth, and I toss my weapon a few more times. Maybe I could go find her. Can't be that hard, right? Wrong, given how expansive the sky is and how limited my access to it is. And for all I know, she could be doing things on the ground, as well. I sigh to myself. I don't like sitting here, doing nothing. I would much rather be doing something undoubtedly awesome with my sky-blue fr--
A series of rapid knocks against the door across from me interrupts my thoughts. I take my feet off the table, slip my tomahawk back into my belt loop, and go to stand up, grabbing my late lunch as I do. The door opens quickly, and a very excited-looking Pegasus with a multicolored mane tumbles in. I smile big, immediately filled with happiness and some relief.
"Mark! Mark! Oh my gosh! Alright, so, I was kicking this cloud, right? And then when it went all poof, and the sunshine hit it, it made this little rainbow! And I was like, 'no way, I know what I can show Mark'! I can't believe I haven't shown you it yet! It's undeniably, unquestionably the coolest, most awesome, most radical thing ever!" she gushes, gasping in a breath. "C'mon! Let's go!" Laughing to myself, I nod eagerly and follow her outside.
She leads the way, bubbling with energy. Every so often, she'll tell me to hurry up; I keep a steady jog, knowing if I go much faster, I'll run out of stamina quicker. Rainbow keeps talking to herself, saying things like, "Can't believe I forgot", or "Yeah, this weather's perfect". After a few minutes, I find she's led us to her house. Or more, the ground beneath her house. She glances around, frowning.
"Aww, hay! Forgot that I cleared all the clouds today..." Her focus shifts to her floating house; I can see her mind working. She turns quickly to me, putting out a hoof. "Stay here, I'll be right back." I watch as the light blue pony darts off into the sky, followed by a trail of rainbow. I raise a hand over my eyes, attempting to see what she's doing. Rainbow Dash appears to tear a small chunk of cloud off of the base of her house, then comes streaking back down to me. She lowers the cloud to the ground, looking at me. "Hop on!" I look at her incredulously. "Seriously, get on the cloud," she instructs. "I'm pretty sure this'll work. If not, don't worry, I'll catch you." Yeah, thanks. I comply anyways, getting a general idea of what she intends to do once I'm on the cloud.
I clamber on top of the soft, fluffy object, sinking in a few inches. Cool, Twilight's spell is still working. I look over at Dash. "Ready?" she asks, smirk starting to appear on her face. I give her a thumbs-up, and she disappears from sight, presumably going under the cloud. Okay, yeah, like an elevator, sort of. Except elevators don't go from zero to ninety miles per hour in two seconds.
I hold on for dear, precious life, watching the ground race away at light speed. I can't tell whether my ride is enjoyable or terrifying; maybe both, somehow. It's over almost as soon as it starts, though, and I find myself scrambling onto the main cloud composing Rainbow Dash's home. As I stand up, a little shakily, the Pegasus flies into view.
"That worked great! You aren't as heavy as I thought you'd be," she says, smiling cheerfully. I shake my head, blinking a few times, then smile back. "Okay, so, uh...just, get comfortable, I guess. I need to figure a few things out, gimme' a sec..." She starts looking up into the blue sky above us, then down at the cloud we stand atop. She twists her orange tongue out to one side of her mouth in thought, squinting high; I decide I'll find a nice place to lie down. It's not hard, given the general comfiness of seemingly all clouds.
"Okay, are you watching?" Rainbow yells over to me. I give another thumbs-up. "Don't blink!" she exclaims, and I see her eyes narrow in confident determination. She lowers herself down against the base of the cloud, then proceeds to launch herself into the air, angled straight up. I watch in awe as she soars up and up, soon only visible by the trail of color that follows her. She continues to climb, higher, and higher, and soon I lose her against the sky so similarly colored with her. I search the air for a few seconds, frowning.
A small speck, which at first I mistake for the light playing a trick on my eyes, begins to grow more and more prominent. I know it to be Rainbow Dash; given the rate at which she becomes clearer, she has to be traveling extememly fast. Somehow she manages to continue accelerating, though. As she nears, I try to focus on her, but all I can make out is a blur of rainbow, shooting straight down. I wonder exactly how fast she's going, as I think I can almost make out a vapor cone forming in front of her. There's no way...
And yet, the blistering white vapor cone continues to grow larger, blocking more and more of the blur that is the rainbow-maned Pegasus. She is getting close, now, only a few hundred yards up, the white cone below her almost completely enveloping her body--
A massive ring of color bursts out from Dash, spreading rapidly across the sky. The vapor cone leading the pony as she continues to streak downwards now shimmers with color and light; she disappears from sight, meeting and going below my elevation within a fraction of a second. My eyes feels like they're going to pop out of my skull; I stare in open-mouthed amazement as the wave of light continues outwards above me. The color of it, seemingly of every single particle of the air affected by it, changes with every passing moment, creating a brilliant display of every single color in the spectrum of light.
The shockwave of sound hits me, quite literally. Compressed air hits my eardrums with a loud thump, like a muffled explosion, and a blast of wind hits my body. It hardly registers, though, all of my focus on the ring of color. It continues to spread for maybe a few seconds longer, then the color slowly begins dissipating into the air, creating an effect much like watching a ripple in water as it loses its momentum. All too soon, the show of light is gone, the trail of organized color piercing straight through its center fading as well.
Something enters my field of view; I don't think I can take my eyes off the sky, though. A light blue object waves in front of my face; I blink a few times, looking over. There stands a pony, a Pegasus, with a sky-blue coat, a very wind-blown mane of rainbow colors, and a huge grin on her face. Her cerise eyes hold mine for a moment, and she watches me, panting heavily. I can't seem to react in any way, like my mind is so awe-struck it has shut down temporarily.
"Pretty...cool...right?" she asks between gasps of breath.
I stare at her a while longer, then my brain kicks in again. My gape turns into a grin that hurts my face, and I begin shaking with silent, uncontrollable laughter, nodding frantically. She starts to laugh as well, running out of breath to laugh with quickly. My giddy excitement continues for a while longer.
"I love doing those...I call it the 'Sonic Rainboom'," she explains before resuming attempting to recover her breath. "And best of all...I'm the only one that can do them." Rainbow Dash flashes that confident smirk to me, then squeezes her eyes shut. "Whew! Celestia, those are hard to do." I suppose my face conveys my next thought to her as she looks at me again. "I've gotta' go as fast as I can to make a Sonic Rainboom. Twilight said it had something to do with breaking the sound barrier and disrupting the light spectrum at the same time, I dunno'. All I know is that it's the coolest, most awesome, most radical thing ever." I grin at her, nodding in definite agreement.
"I've only done it...uhm...four times, as of now," Dash continues, before looking at me seriously. "I know it looks awesome, but actually doing a Sonic Rainboom...it's amazing. Goin' so fast I can't even see or hear, just letting myself fall, and then the feeling when the 'boom actually happens..." she says dreamily. "There isn't much else more awesome." Her eyes look deep into mine for a while; I get the feeling she chose her words carefully.
She breaks the gaze, looking towards her house, which sits behind me a short distance away. "Well, I'm starving, now. Wanna' grab a bite to eat?" I nod, smiling to her. We stand and head for her tower-like house made of clouds.
***
The sky-blue Pegasus trots around the side of her bed, carrying a novel in her mouth. She approaches me, sitting up against the foot of the cloud bed; I reach out my hand, carefully taking the book from her. I glance at the cover: Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone. "That's the first one in the series. It's really good. I mean, all of them are really good, though," she explains. "Just let me know when you finish that one, and I'll give you the next, cool?" I nod, then smile gratefully, setting the book down beside me. I watch her sit down to my left, looking at me with those big, magenta eyes, like she wants to ask me something.
"Hey, uh...I've been wanting to ask you...why is it that you don't talk?" I hold her gaze a moment longer, and she continues. "I just...well, the book reminded me of words and paper and stuff, the things books are made of, which made me think of how you always write stuff instead of talking, which made me wonder why you don't talk. I've wondered that pretty much since I met you, but I've tried not to ask, since I know you don't like it when ponies ask." I continue to stare at her, my mind churning. "If you don't want to, I understand," she says softly.
I look away from her, to the white cloud wall across from me, into a doorway I inherently know leads to the stairs. My initial thought is the usual no. It seems too quick, though, not really thought through; this leads me to start thinking it through. Maybe...maybe I could tell her. Maybe it's time. How long has it been? What, ten years? Ten years of silence, of keeping my memories to myself, trying to deal with them alone. But that's not working, is it? After ten years, it hurts just as bad. Maybe it really is time to tell someone. And there isn't anyone else I'd rather tell it to. I trust her, and she trusts me, and I know she won't leave my side, no matter what I say. I take in a slow, deep breath, sighing it out.
I turn back to the rainbow-maned pony, nodding lightly. She nods in return, looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and worry. I shift around for a moment, moving to where I can reach into the right pocket of my pants, pulling out the few sheets of paper and the recently-sharpened pencil I keep on me nearly all the time. I sift through a few of the pages, finding a nice, clean page, untouched by blood, water, or my hand. Folding the rest up and stuffing it back in my pocket, I grasp my pencil within my thumb and first two fingers of my right hand, focusing on the page. I stare at the white of the paper numbly for a while; I notice it is tinted slightly orange, and glance over to a window. The sky outside is of an orange color; there's only a few hours left in the day, only a few hours left to write. Closing my eyes, I let the memory come to me; it isn't one easily forgotten. I start a sentence, and Rainbow Dash leans nears my shoulder to read as I write.
I was asleep one night, around ten years ago, just a kid.
I was really more of a teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen, but a kid in comparison to myself now. Before my eyes begins a movie only I can see, a distant memory that is still so vivid.
I heard a few voices, ones I didn't recognize. Getting scared, I thought our house, my family's house, was being broken into.
Tossing off the covers, getting out of my bed. Pressing my ear to the door; deep voices, sort of gruff, angry-sounding. Opening my door as quietly as I can, trying to stay quiet, trying to hold my breath. I'll go get Mom and Dad, or see if maybe it's just a friend of theirs who showed up at a late hour for some reason I don't know. Quietly, down the dark hall, towards the room where my parents sleep.
I went to go get my parents, but they weren't in their room. I got my dad's gun out of the closet, then went looking for them.
Where are they? Not in their bed, asleep. An alarm clock beside their bed reads 3:47 A.M.; they usually don't stay up past two or so. Maybe it really is just a friend who's showed up at a late time; it's happened before. A very loud noise, one I'd recognize anywhere: a gunshot. There isn't any question, now, I'm getting Dad's gun. He showed me where it is, having trained me at a young age in the proper way to handle firearms, knowing I knew guns were not things to be played with but that I could use one if the time came. I open the closet slowly, still quietly, my hands starting to shake as I grab the gun out of the corner. It's an old Remington 870, a military-and-police version of the hunting shotgun, twelve-gauge. There is a box of ammunition up high in the closet; I grab it, fumbling with a few shells as I load them into the tube. Four twelve-gauge slugs, massive bullets that put massive holes in just about anything, especially people. I slide the pump forward, hearing a click as a round is chambered. Shouldering the weapon, I go back into the hallway.
My hand stops, perfectly still above the paper. My mind continues on.
I slowly walk down the almost pitch-black hallway, moving towards the stairs at the end of the hall. The doors to my left and right are only closets and nooks that house the washer and dryer. I keep my focus on my surroundings, shotgun pointed ahead of me. Carefully stepping down, I begin making my way downstairs. The kitchen is at the bottom of the stairs; it is still dark. The voices are much more clear, now, angry, a little panicked, definitely not ones I recognize. I speed up, noiselessly traveling from the bottom of the stairs to the kitchen floor. My hands are hurting from squeezing so tightly on the grip and pump of the weapon. Light floods into the room from the doorway that connects the kitchen to the living room. Unconsciously holding my breath, I move to where I can just barely see into the room while keeping myself hidden.
Two men had broken into our house. They tied up my parents so they could rob us, but they must not have realized I was in the house, too.
I watch them in horror. One robber stands over my parents, guarding them with a pistol while the other brings in a trash bag full of stuff, setting it on the floor. They wear dark clothing, their faces covered by cheap ski masks. The guard looks over at his partner, waving his gun up.
"You cleaned the place out yet? Don't got all day, y'know," he says angrily.
"Yeah, no thanks to you. Dumbass move, giving a 'warning shot'."
"Well, these two wouldn't shut up! I asked 'em nicely, didn't I?" the first one asks rhetorically, glancing down at something I can't see. I carefully lean out a little farther; I see a head, my dad's head, he's sitting up against the couch, beside Mom, I assume. My dad tries to say something, but it sounds like there's something stuffed in his mouth. The other robber looks down at where my parents sit, tied up and gagged, I think.
"Whaddya' wanna' do about them?" the second begins. "Should we just leave 'em? Maybe loosen the ties, so they can get--"
The first levels his gun out of sight, firing once. The pistol in his hand jolts back, flaring brightly; a split-second later, he shifts his aim, firing again. A mist of blood sprays towards him, and my dad's head lolls to the side. No, this can't be real, this can't be happening, he couldn't have just shot my--
The second man stumbles back in surprise, glaring at his counterpart. "Jesus, man, what the hell?! Why'd you--"
I watched them kill my parents.
Shock and rage push me forward, push the shotgun up, lining up the sights on the chest of one. A bloodcurdling scream of anger comes from my throat; the two turn in surprise. I squeeze the trigger at the first; the gun roars, echoing deafeningly throughout the room I now charge into, slamming back into my shoulder, half-blinding me with the muzzle flash. My left hand slides back, sending an empty shell out of the chamber, then forward, replacing a new one. I turn a few degrees to the right, the front sight of the 870 coming over top of what I see only as something that has killed my family. Another kick into my shoulder, another round out and another one in. My focus comes off of the sights, scanning for more targets. I see that the first target is still standing, screaming, but I can't hear it, only the blood pumping in my ears. There is a large hole in his stomach, blood and gore painting the the beige wall behind him. The gun travels up to the center of his chest, and I squeeze the trigger a third time. The screaming stops, and his body tumbles backwards with the momentum of the bullet, hitting the ground at around the same time the third, green, smoking shell hits the carpet of the living room.
I killed them.
The shotgun's barrel travels back over to the other man; his head is splattered against the wall, now. The room is quiet, but my ears still ring with the blast of the gun. My eyes search the room until landing upon two more bodies, slumped against the foot of the couch. The shotgun falls from my hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud. I kneel slowly, my breath coming out in ragged gasps. I place my hand against Dad's chest, shaking a little.
"Dad, please...please..." I shake him harder; all it does is make more blood spill from the hole in his forehead as his head rolls forwards. I frantically look over. "Mom? Mom, Dad, please, say something, just move, please...please, no..." I stop shaking them, taking my hands off of my dad's chest, off of my mom's shoulder, sitting back, falling back, scrambling to get away from the lifeless corpses. I bump into another body, a corpse I've created, a life I've taken. I move away from it, trying to get away. I can't get away. I can't. My own body begins to shake, tears rolling down my face. I wrap my arms around the bodies of my parents, pulling their cold corpses against me, sobbing into their shoulders, alone.
I was too afraid to talk. I didn't want to remember, and talking made me remember. So I stopped. I didn't talk for a week, then a month, then a year. I never tried. I don't want to try.
Police kicking in the door, to find me, clutching the bodies of my mother and father against me, crying to the point I made myself sick, twice, amidst a mess of blood, vomit, and two other shredded corpses, one missing half its head, the other missing half its torso. A trial, I am found not guilty on definite terms. A funeral, alone, no relatives to be with me, all of them either dead or nonexistent due to a lack of siblings, cancer of the brain, a car accident, or a single nine-millimeter bullet to the head, each. Therapy, failed. Schooling, failing, dropping out. Deciding to run away. Menial, worthless jobs, paying barely enough to support a no-questions-asked apartment. Three suicide attempts, all failed because I was afraid, wanting to die so badly but unable to force it upon myself. Throughout it all, silence. No talking, laughing, crying, shouting, screaming; silence.
I let them kill my parents, then killed them, for nothing. I can't talk because I failed. I am a coward.
I set the paper to my left, on the fluffy, white cloud floor, laying the pencil next to it. My eyes remain on the last sentence, repeating it over and over in my head. I feel numb. A light blue hoof presses down lightly atop the paper, crinkling it a little as it pushes the page away, doing the same with the pencil. The same hoof then moves around me, disappearing from sight over my shoulder. I feel a tight press against my back, followed by another a little below. A soft, sky-blue cheek presses against mine, colorful hair brushing aginst my face. My arms come up, seemingly under their own power, slowly wrapping themselves around the back of the pony hugging me tightly.
My squeeze slowly grows tighter, uncontrollably. My vision starts to blur over, and I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling a drop of liquid roll down and off my face. The tears come faster and faster, and soon I am sobbing into Rainbow Dash, pulling her against my chest. It hurts; everything hurts so badly. I want to stop crying, but I can't, continuing to choke on my own breath. I want to stop remembering, stop hurting, stop crying, but I can't. I can't.
"Hey, hey...it's okay," a scratchy voice says softly into my left ear, breath brushing against it. "You're not a coward, Mark. You didn't fail..." She rubs a hoof against my heaving back, trying to calm me down. I try to calm down, but my body won't let me. I'm reduced to a blubbering mess, unable to do anything except cry into the warm, soft, light blue shoulder beneath me.
I sob until the point at which I feel as if I am about to start retching, where I force myself to steady out my breathing. My breath comes between long intervals of holding it, trying to keep myself from getting sick. Soon all that's left are the tears streaming down my face, falling off my chin and onto Rainbow Dash's beautiful wings. I sniff a few times, wiping a hand against my eyes.
"You're not a coward," she repeats into my ear. "You took on a bear-thing in the Everfree just to protect me. I remember, I was there," she says, a little happiness in her voice. "I know you're not a coward. I know you're the most brave, strong-hearted hu-man in all of Equestria, and the only one, too." I smile, sniffing again. "But you're the bravest anything in all of Equestria, in the whole universe, braver than the Royal Guards, the firefighters, and everypony else, especially me."
"I'm a real coward. I ran away from my parents when I was just a filly. They always wanted me to be the best, and when I was the best, they wanted me to be better. I hated them for it. So I ran away, to show them I was better than them. But I always felt like I had to be the best, like even though I had ran away from them, I still didn't want to disappoint them. I was afraid of nothing. I never came home, I ran away to Cloudsdale." She stops, continuing to run her hooves along my back. I find myself stroking her back, as well, just above her folded wings.
"I got a letter one day, saying they had died. Some sort of flying accident. I realized how much I missed them, how much I really loved them, but it was too late. I feel like if I fail, or let anypony down, I would be failing them, and I've already failed them too much. I'm scared of nothing, all the time." I feel her own tears soaking through my shirt, and clutch her as tightly as I can to me. I want to tell her that she doesn't have to be scared, that she doesn't need to be, that her parents loved her, that she didn't fail them...but I can't. And so I tell her the only way I can, by not letting go.
I don't know how long we sit for, hugging each other within her cloud house, at the foot of her bed; I don't care. It's just me and her, alone with each other in the reddening room, tinted by the burning sun setting far, far away. "I haven't ever told anypony that before," she says quietly to me over my shoulder. I nod lightly, the same true for me. Her embrace tightens, as does mine.
I feel the pressure against my back start to lessen as she shifts her grasp on me; I release her a little, as well. She pulls back so that her face hovers only a few inches from mine. Her rose eyes glisten with the remaining light of the day, amplified in color by the sunset and by the watery remains of tears. She gazes into my eyes for a long time, searching for something that I think she finds.
Rainbow starts to move in towards me, slowly, her eyes fluttering closed. I watch her face near my own, my heart beating a little faster. A part of me, a very, very small part, screams at me to stop her, to push her away, that everything she is about to do is wrong. And yet, another part, another, much larger part, calmly tells me to go with it. And honestly, the calm part of me sounds more reasonable. Her lips meet mine; I close my eyes, kissing her as she does me.
An ever-so-familiar taste enters my mouth, one of a warm, delicious spiciness, like the taste of liquid rainbow, only much, much better. It is almost as if the feeling of warmth spreads throughout my entire body. I inhale her breath, taking in the spice present there, as well. I feel her tongue brush against my teeth, and allow it in, meeting it with my own tongue. The spiciness is suddenly much more vivid, somehow even more enjoyable and savory. My hand comes around the back of her neck, both rubbing and pressing along her silky mane.
We pull apart simultaneously, opening our eyes. Looking into hers, I see happiness, relief, excitement, and something else; lust. Dash approaches me faster this time, pressing her face against mine. My nose presses against her snout as our lips connect once more, faster, even more passionately. Our tongues dance with one another, trading the tastes of our mouths. She wraps her forelegs around my back, pulling me as close as I can be to her. I take in her smells, tastes, warmth, wanting more of her. The Pegasus seems to want the same, kissing me furiously. She begins standing up, pulling me with her; I, in turn, pull her up as I stand, holding her against me. Rainbow Dash begins pushing me backwards, towards the bed. Whoa, she wants to take it all the way!
And so do I. The small part of my being continues to shout protest that she is a pony, not a human, an alien at the very least, that everything I am doing and thinking is horribly, horribly wrong. I continue to listen to the calmer part, though, the one telling me that this is right, that it's okay, to go with it. Dash breaks contact with my lips, flaring out her wings and hovering in the air in front of me. Her mouth drops a short distance to the collar of my shirt, and she begins tugging on it. With some help from me, she yanks my shirt off, proceeding to smash her mouth against mine again before giving me a push on the chest.
I lose my balance, as expected, and fall back onto the bed, only to be pounced upon once more by Rainbow. She passionately kisses me again as the last light of the day begins to fade to darkness.