//------------------------------// // A Winged Revelation and A Campfire Horror Story // Story: Of Hooves and History // by Ahmad J Charles //------------------------------// The salty sea air stood still as we collectively used Ron’s vine rope to haul the paramotor components up the cliff incline. it wasn’t easy. Squeezing the main frame out of the portal was a challenge in itself, and bearing significant weight, it took three tries and a near fall to get it consistently moving up. Sunny and Izzy pulled from the top while I pushed, given my greater foothold on the cliff than their hooves could. Groans and moans of exertion could be heard, but a word was spoken. I silently whooped a “Yes!” as the main frame landed safely at the base of the tree, but that was all. Hauling up the other items wasn’t too difficult, and by noon, all six items were hauled up to the clifftop. Sunny sat by the tree, staring blankly at the maimed branch with an indescribable face. Izzy looked rather normal, but I could sense from her body language there were even more questions. Might as well give up the goat, so to speak – but don’t initiate it. “Ready to go?” I asked, sliding on my backpack and gripping the paramotor frame. “Ready as ever,” Sunny replied, a slight unsteadiness in her faux confident voice. She trotted over to the box and pushed it with her head, which was admittedly rather nerving. Izzy used her unicorn magic to lift the propeller, and I took the duffel with my other hand, clipping the wing bag to the top of the paramotor frame. Barely a quarter of the way through the forest and Sunny was sweating bullets pushing the box. Coupled with the handgun demo prior, I really felt awful. “Leave it,” I said softly, patting her shoulder. “I’ll come back for it. Let’s go.” “Okay, hah, thanks,” Sunny panted, and we carried on our way, soon arriving in the forest village. Alphabittle was there to greet us, and I shook his chunky hoof with a smile. “Ooh, what do we have here?” he inquired with a sly smile, observing all the bags. “This isn’t even the whole package,” I laughed. “Still one that I’ll bring in a moment. If you can keep them off to the side and ensure they aren’t touched.” “Will do.” I propped up the paramotor frame, set down the bags, and dashed back into the forest for the box. There was not much difficulty locating it; it had a bright red lid and a white label. I lifted one end up and dragged it through the forest, clearly indicating my return. “You may come watch, but it’s not necessary,” I announced, as several unicorns gathered, before dispersing. Clearly their curiosity levels were considerably lower than Izzy’s. However, Ron Roper stayed. “Now, let me explain,” I began, opening up the box and the duffel. “This is a paramotor, or powered paraglider. Sunny knows ‘cause I’ve shown here photos and a video of it, but I’ll reitereate. It’s… basically a chair with a giant block and a fan strapped to the back.” I pointed to the round bag. “This… giant mushroom, holds a wing. It’s curved and made of special fabric, with thin ropes attached to it to control it. Clip them to the chair, get a head-run into the wind on flat land, and away you go.” “Sounds like fun,” Ron said. “And how…” His voice cut out as it was replaced with a joyful gasp and shriek from the other two, as they connected the dots of my plan. “You’re going to go flying?!” “AND TAKE ME WITH YOU?!” “Yes, Izzy!” I said with a grin. “We’ll start halfway on the route and –” There was not a need to complete my speech as my midriff was warmed by the engulf of purple unicorn forelegs. Instead, I jumped to the next one. “And that’s where you come in, Ron.” Pulling out my toolset from the duffel, I began to assemble the paramotor, starting with bolting up the propeller hoop and tightening the netting. Next, I inspected the wiring, clip rings, and buckles to ensure everything was properly rigged and in working condition. Finally, I assembled the footrest and installed the propeller. “Looks amazing,” Ron breathed, smiling in awe. I sat down in the chair and buckled up, as if ready to take off. “Now, Izzy can sit in my lap, here. What we need to do is make a harness to securely and safely hold her, connecting it to the main harness.” Ron and Sunny both seemed to get a grasp of the mechanics and began sketching out some ideas on paper. I shortened the cross-torso strap so it’d fit more snugly, and wrapped the vine-braided straps diagonally across the intersection of the main harness’s side straps and the cross-torso strap. After some test sits, we agreed to extend them across Izzy’s shoulders and onto D-rings by the seat’s bottom left and right edges. Likewise, the leg straps would clip onto the same D-rings. Ron used a “spring-tongue” mechanism (originally developed for use in Alphabittle’s competition games) to clip on the ropes and link them together. It worked well under stress tests, but the fact he made them out of hardwood was just mind-boggling. Finally, it was time for some test fits. There was no need to tell Izzy anything – she just jumped right into my lap. “Now this clicks here, and your feet go through these loops,” Ron and I guided her. I slid my feet off the footrest and attempted to stand. Oh boy, was this heavy! I felt like deadlifting at the gym. But with half a dozen tries, I was able to comfortably lift and walk. Running would be nigh impossible, unless… I unlooped a portion of the leg straps and squatted a little. “Izzy, can your hooves reach the ground?” “Yeah.” “Awesome. Let’s run.” So, with some encouragement from Sunny the cheerleader, we practiced running up and down the widest road in the village, learning our tripping points and our soreness points. After an afternoon of practicing with three breaks, we began prepping to leave. Before daylight faded, I showed Alphabittle and a few other unicorns where the sub was, and they promised to check up on it regularly and ensure it was safely secured to the rocks. We made more cinnamon rolls and distributed the payload evenly – I clipped the wing back to the top of the paramotor frame and slid the tent bag between the seat and the frame, securing it with a few cords. A kind senior mare lent Sunny her cart, and I plopped the duffel and backpack in it, along with my skateboard and a sealed basket of the cinnamon rolls. Alphabittle kept the propeller hoop box in a closet in his teahouse, promising to keep it safe. “One more thing,” Izzy asked, pointing to the propeller. “Does it get… loud?” “Not as loud as the M1911 but close. Got a hoodie by any chance?” She rushed into the house and brought back a pair of green earmuffs and a pink hoodie with some balloons and candy wrapper printed on it. I stepped into the widest clearing and flipped the motor, gradually cranking up the throttle. “Yep, totally fine!” Izzy declared with a confident grin. With the preparation over, we made one final check to ensure everything was where it should be and worked properly, then hit the road heading east. Turns out, travel between Bridlewood and Zephyr Heights was fairly common, and so an eastward trail had been established that lead to a main double-lane gravel road leading straight across the grassy plains, valleys, and hills. Glancing back down the road, the bordering trees of Bridlewood could just be seen, as the last of the sunlight faded. I scraped together some loose branches and Izzy used her magic to ignite a fire, while Sunny tried to figure out how to assemble my camping tent. It took a bit of frustrated attempts, but she got it upright and secured within half the hour. Izzy pulled out some marshmallows and we gathered around the fire to rest and eat. It was pretty obvious other ponies had used this “rest point” before, as sitting logs and stones were already in place. Sure enough, the questions came firing back. “When did you first get a gun?” “Oh,” I began, taken aback that Izzy still remembered. “At fifteen. It was a loaner to my dad, who supervised me at practice ranges. I lost interest later when construction on the sub started and I got into history, archeology, ecology, and engineering. However, a close call during a drive in a rough neighborhood made me rethink it. It was a tough decision, but I went ahead and purchased the M1911 brand-new, right after acquiring my license and permits.” “I had it customized with different-etched grips and dual-sided safety levers. Took a combat training course – but just the first stage. Not too unordinary – I’ve been in self-defense training since I was a kid.” “I can presume this came in handy at one point on your travels,” Sunny said. “Indeed. Though travelling can be tough, because every country’s gun laws are so different, some stricter than others. I made a country guide with the help of a lawyer who was a friend of my dad’s to ease the process.” “Tell us a story!” Izzy exclaimed. I sighed, before managing a slight sad smile. “Glad to say those are few and far between. Probably the worst one was in Mexico. A damn stupid move on my part to even attempt to visit such an area, and I regret it to this very day.” “What were you seeking?” “Blocks of stone that made up the wall of a temple, which stood at the top of a small hilly cliff right on a river’s edge. It was told to possess a load of clues to how the United States of America – the country where I’m from – and Mexico were interacting and coexisting at a certain point in time. However, I wasn’t the only one.” Sunny’s eyes widened, and I began. “It’s practically impossible to bring any guns into Mexico, so I had to apply for a registration and borrowed one there instead. Took ages, but was completed. I never spoke to anyone about it. For a couple weeks I familiarized myself with a town near the temple, then mapped out a route. No one had laid a stake of claim on the land, so at face I was safe.” “Wrong!” Izzy mouthed. “Big time. I left in the early morning, hoping to reach there shortly after sunrise. Unbeknownst to me, a gang was using it as a stash for illicit goods. We engaged in a shoot-out as the sun came up. Twice I nearly got pink-misted, and cut my fingers and scratched my legs trying to escape up a flight of stairs laced with a thorny bush. After a while I decided to wait them out, but they held their ground, with some quickly moving the goods while others tried sniffing me out. In the end, the blood of four mobsters was shed at the top of a tower, their bodies falling into the river below.” “What’s pink-misted?” Sunny asked. “It’s when you get shot in the head and the brain just bursts into a liquid matter that splatters out as you die,” I replied. Izzy’s lips trembled, and I nodded sadly with a brief question of my own, but held onto it for a later talk. “In the warm light of the risen sun, I find the carved wall, took a bunch of photos, and performed some forensic tests. But as I cut away some overgrown vine branches to reveal an additional part of the letter carvings, I find a red streak on the wall. I trace it down to the floor, where I notice a bright glint underneath the branches and leaves I had just cut. Excitedly, I reach down and pick it up, thinking it to be some rare gold artifact. But the moment my mind recognizes its form, I start shaking with horror and pain.” “It wasn’t an artifact – it was a necklace with a rose-shaped pendant. And on the back was an engraved message: For Your Heart. The chain had been snapped in combat, and the wall didn’t mean anything anymore…” I trailed off, my gaze sliding sideways as the back of my eyes started to burn. And for the third time in less than two days, the air stood uncomfortably still, only distorted by Izzy’s sobs, the fire’s crackles, and the distant sound of the gentle night breeze. “I…I, had… no idea being a historian and archeologist could be so… tragic,” Sunny said shakily. “It can be, but rarely. That town was already a shady place to begin with. Anyways, I extended my stay and spent the next two weeks in the mental ward of a city hospital. The gun I gave back, never wanting to touch it again, knowing whose blood had been spilt from its firing. I couldn’t face my family for an entire year after returning home, despite earning an honorary award for a research paper I wrote based on the findings. There was a rainbow beyond the red rain, however.” Izzy’s face rose. “H-how?” “Sometime later while in university, I took a short vacation to another state whose gun laws are more supportive and relaxed, and met lots of kind-hearted people who were proud of being armed. They instilled confidence in me to be fearless in defending myself where necessary. I got comfortable using guns for recreational use, too, and was given a Glock 19 as a gift – that’s the other gun I have, besides the one used to demonstrate. I rarely carry the M1911.” “Any other times you’ve had to open fire on your travels?” she then asked, clearly still shaken. “Only twice. Once in a home invasion, and the other to thwart a robbery. Sometimes I’d head down to the nearest range and sharpen up my skills, but that’s about it. In all honesty I shouldn’t have even brought them with me on this trip. It was an accident – I’d left them in the sub a couple weeks prior to departing and forgot they were there.” “I can’t really blame you,” Sunny remarked drily. “If you’re constantly in uncharted territory and being amongst folks with a low degree of trustworthiness you’d be more than inclined to protect yourself, even if being permitted to do so is a hassle. And it seems to me in your world that the deepest secrets to the past tend to lie in areas with the least safety in the present.” I yawned and sided up to Izzy, stroking her heavenly soft mane whilst flashing a warm smile at Sunny. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told such a story. There’s no way either of you deserve to suffer the same mental trauma as I did. Let’s close up this day on a better note.” I told them a funny tale of Ryder’s awkward mishaps when the two of us visited a library, and we all lay down to sleep – with Izzy curled up under my arm, just in case.