//------------------------------//
// A Flowery Longing 
// Story: Maimed by Love 
// by GermanBrony_12 
//------------------------------//

The sun hung low in the sky as Big Macintosh trotted back to the hospital along the dimly lit dirt roads. He had toiled all day, leaving just a couple hours to visit his lonesome victim in his desolate private ward. From his mouth dangled a small box, wimpled by purple plaid fabric. Even if it meant a bit less time with Featherbangs, Big Macintosh felt he had to bring something to cheer him up a bit and make up for how he had wronged him. He worked hard to keep the parcel stable as he marched onward toward the destined place.





A knock resounded through the hallway. “Come in,” called a soft, muffled voice, followed by a series of coughs. Big Macintosh nudged the door open and gazed upon the bedridden pony. Featherbangs smiled and greeted his visitor.

“I, um, brought this for you,” said Big Macintosh, gently setting the basket on the bedside cabinet.

“Which one’s the gift, the package or you?” he said, winking and flipping his hair.” I think I know which one I prefer.”

Big Macintosh rolled his eyes, beginning to regret his own kindness. He pulled a chair over to sit by the bed and began to lift the purple covering of the basket. As the cover was drawn back, the most delectable apple pie to ever grace the earth came into view. It looked soft yet still able to provide the necessary crunch which everypony craved. The filling was, of course, apples. But these were no ordinary apples; they were the esteemed zap apples which came but once a year, giving the pie a delectable rainbow glow accompanied by a heavenly odour which drew even the hospital staff from the other wards to the door of his ward. His mouth watered as he stared at the godly pastry.

He could not resist: he drove his hooves into the basket to pull out the succulent pie, but his arms failed him and he could not lift the pie from its finely woven container. The crust had been so densely packed with lucious zap apple filling that he could not combat its weight in his newly weakened state.

Pitying him, Big Macintosh slid the pie out of the basket and shifted to sit beside Featherbangs on the bed. He leaned over, lifting a slice to the pony’s mouth for him. He gazed back at the scarlet stallion, letting his jaw drop for the divine pastry. Featherbangs felt the juicy zap apple filling ooze out over his tongue, its warmth spreading through his mouth as he licked the jam from the supple sweet. He crunched down through the crispy pie crust, immersing himself in the heaven that was Big Macintosh’s zap apple pie.

The baker beside him moved closer, leaning toward his face. He lifted his other hoof and brushed aside his fluffy frosted bangs, gazing into his verdant eyes. Featherbangs froze, unable to speak. The two were silent, each enraptured by the other’s eyes, flawlessly illuminated by the orange light of the setting sun.

Big Macintosh’s already red face turned an even brighter red and he dropped the remaining pie darting out the door in a panic. What was he doing? He had only come to visit the pony he injured, yet here he was, getting all intimate with a stallion he barely knew! What a fool he was!

Big Macintosh turned to look back at the serene private ward before rushing out of the hospital, hiding his bright red face from the receptionist as she waved him goodbye.

It was already nearing nightfall; Big Macintosh would have to hurry in order to make it home on time, yet his pounding heart left him able to do naught but tremble outside the hospital entrance. It was times like this that Big Macintosh found himself wishing he were a unicorn or an alicorn, that way he could light his way home on dark, lonely nights such as this one.

It was already too late. All the stores had closed, and Princess Luna had already taken over for the night. There was no choice but to stay at the Ponyville inn.

He made his way to the little building at the centre of town, its windows glowing a soft yellow-orange. It reminded him of what he had left behind: that beautiful orange light, reflected by the gentle green eyes of Featherbangs. He missed him.

Pushing back his thoughts, Big Macintosh opened the door and requested to stay the night at the inn. Luckily he had brought just enough bits to afford a room, having planned to buy a lantern for his journey back. He settled down in the small, sparsely decorated room at the back of the inn and lay on the hay bed. It all felt so cold and lonely, as if somepony was supposed to be there with him but lay alone in some far off land instead. He sighed as he felt his heart ache with longing for a pony to lay with, a pony to talk to and laugh with, a pony to spend the rest of his days with, a pony like… 

Big Macintosh sat up, blushing, and rapidly shook his head. He had to stop thinking. He had to go to sleep. He thrust his head into the pillow and buried himself in the blankets. Despite his efforts, however, his thoughts immediately drifted back to that barren private ward. It must be cold for him too; it must be lonely there… Maybe it would be okay to decorate it with some flowers sometime…