Dear Braeburn,
I thought I should let you know what’s going on with me after the whole incident. I know you were hoping I wouldn’t contact you; the last thing Appleloosa needs are my tainted letters. Well, feel free to crumple, crush, rip, burn, soak, and tear any letters I send if you want. Truthfully, I just need to get my thoughts out and either way; I can imagine you reading this letter wishing you could see me again.
I’m doing alright all things considered; I found a place in Ponyville of all places. The bed and chairs creek and moan in displeasure at my slightest movement; the wallpaper is desperately trying to pry itself off the wall with all its willpower; and the carpet has seemingly been subjected to intense sauce-related tortures before finally giving up and dying. Yet, I kind of like it; it reminds me of Appleloosa in a way. And wait, before you get mad I don’t mean because it’s in disrepair. I mean because it’s quaint in a way that defies the palace and Canterlot so vehemently – in that way, it also reminds me of you.
My main problem currently is working out what to do. We’ve both felt plenty out of place but have you ever felt a creeping scowl spread across your face when you see your cutie mark in the mirror or a rush of jealousy just seeing ponies get on with their days. I mean I’m a Sentry for Celestia’s sake, as if my dad needed another reason to be disappointed in me after finding out about us. It’s amazing how much of a child you feel again when a parent gives you that look but I digress. I’ve tried talking to random ponies, going to the cafe or market, I hardly feel like a shut-in. Still, I think I’m quickly going through about all the small talk I can handle for a lifetime.
Well anyway, I ran into Applejack the other day. Despite my now expert ability to suddenly change directions whenever I see any of your family, it was bound to happen eventually. I was picking up some apples from the market, a slightly sour expression on my face I’m sure, when she snuck up behind me declaring with confidence that she didn’t expect to see me here. She was with Twilight, I can only assume she was told about it all because she blushed as I turned around and looked around kind of awkwardly before I gave her a reassuring smile. I made up some excuse about wanting a change of scenery to them. Of course, Applejack said it was a shame you and I had a falling out; and how she’d be happy to invite me with her to Appleloosa next time she goes if I ‘want to make things right’. I politely said I would consider it: maybe I actually would if I knew what right meant.
I dispensed small talk with both of them mechanically; I distinctly remember complaining about the weather despite it not having rained in a week. Applejack gave me a funny look, replying with something along the lines of ‘Well not great for the orchard I s’pose.’ Eventually, I blurted out that I really had to get to a mane inspection: staring with a dead serious intensity. They smiled at me, looked at my unchanging expression, and then smiled with slightly more concern and confusion. After we parted ways I realised; that first of all I had left my apples on the counter but also that I now found it hard to tear my thoughts from you again. It’s the reason I’m writing this now.
I never told you but the truth is when we first met I did dismiss you as just another one of those small-town earth ponies. Somepony with little ambition, all too happy to tell the same stories about their town over and over again like grand tales of Equestria’s history are just footnotes compared to the great felling of your pride apple tree. You did always joke about Appleloosa being the centre of the world.
I don’t think I ever told you how much I didn’t want to go either. My parents proud of me for becoming a real sentry, a royal guard and personal guard to the royals no less, decided to take me on holiday to somewhere warmer and ‘closer to my roots’ before I moved into the castle. Despite being as close to farmers as Cloudsdale is to the ground my Mother especially has this romanticised idea of us being just like the common folk just because her grandfather made his fortunes apple farming. She always neglects to mention he purchased an apple farm with his inherited money. At the time her joyful facade annoyed me to no end, why would we want to compare ourselves to uneducated country farmers anyway? I couldn’t help but feel bitter about their choice as well. Why shouldn’t I get the choice of holiday, it was my holiday, they’d had their chance to indulge in slum tourism when they were younger after all. At least a small farming town like Appleloosa would have a bar.
Dull and monstrous: an affront to all things natural and an enemy to all things beautiful. That’s what I thought of trains at the time. I wasn’t so stupid as to reject their purpose: even as a Pegasus, it was more convenient. But as you know, I still find them ugly. Small fears from your childhood always seem to find a way back into your life, you look at what you were once terrified of and laugh, yet once you let that veneer of logic slip, it slowly and methodically creeps back into your mind. Suffice to say, I found the journey there uncomfortable.
We stepped off and there was a thick air of tension. My Mother looked disappointed: presumably due to how new and up together it all looked. My Dad looked distant: presumably due to the black hole of grandeur in the rustic design. And I looked like I was looking for a bar: due to the fact I was.
“Well...” My mother started. She did not finish and instead looked to my Dad for a continuation.
He shrugged, “Could be worse.” I always appreciated my Father’s honesty if nothing else.
I decided not to speak and instead gave them a contemptuous look which let out the words ‘I told you so’ without a single sound.
My Mother spoke, “Just remember, this is a celebration, not just of your accomplishments but of all the accomplishments of our family that led to yours. A time of change for all of us, as you take your first steps to being the figurehead of this family.”
It would be a stretch to say I was enamoured by my Mother’s words which echoed the same thing she said a thousand times but I was definitely more engaged by them than usual. All these years she told me how great I was going to be and here I was one step away from walking into the blinding and engulfing light of greatness. Recently I’ve been wondering if there’s some sort of grand conspiracy to make children think there’s more to life than they can see. Well; the conspiracy was working and I felt a renewed sense of purpose to enjoy this holiday – Just one more Holiday with my family.
I’ll spare you all the details of my first few days in your town. I rammed my head into every activity with the enthusiasm of ten foals and against all odds it actually worked. Dad and I had a laugh at our incompetence with a lasso, and even my Mother and I enjoyed sharing a drink together as she told stories of our family that – much to my surprise – I hadn’t heard before. I can only assume it was the collective thoughts of soon to be soon-to-be-broken routine. I felt like I should have been going to bed with a smile on my face but instead, I felt uncomfortable at the realisation we never had such a connection before.
It must have been near 5 am on the third night. I lay in bed still restless despite being half-drunk and sauntered across the town square back to the bar with the intention of making that fully-drunk. One lone Stallion sat in the back corner and his eyes instantly rested on me as I entered. Locals. You’d think they would get used to tourists. Those striking green eyes, thick mane, and strong jaw could only be the works of inbreeding I was sure - and he could at least take his hat off indoors. I looked away but I doubt you did because just after I sat down and ordered my drink you were already sitting beside me. I’ll try and remember how it went:
“Braeburn,” You paused for a second with a smile, “And who might you be?”
“Flash,” I extended my hoof formally.
You in turn looked delighted by this formal gesture,
“It’s my pleasure Flash,” You said shaking my hoof vigorously with a grin, “How’s Appleloosa treating you? You been involved in the dances yet? Ain’t nothing else like it this side of Canterlot”
I looked at you sceptically and sipped my drink, “I’m not one for dancing when I’m sober.”
“Hey, don’t tell the foals but most of us agree with you,” You said letting out a sly chuckle.
My pride leaked into a smile, “You’re talking to a future royal guard; I know how to keep a secret.”
“Is that so? What’s a big shot such as yourself doing in town?”
“Holiday, my mother thought it a good place to come to celebrate getting the job – I mean uh not to say it isn’t it’s just –“
“I get it; it ain’t no Manehattan,” you nodded, “More the sort of place for celebrating being an apple guard”
“You think strawberry guards could come here to celebrate too or would it be distasteful?” I downed the rest of my drink.
“Reckon so; though I would give a funny look to any vegetable guard”
We both let out drunken chuckles.
I spoke, “So... if you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here at this time?”
I swear you blushed, “Well, when I can’t sleep I come here to relax. You?”
“The same.”
It was your turn to down the remains of your drink, “Hey, it don’t look like either of us are going to sleep anytime soon, and I know a mighty fine place to watch the sunrise if you’re interested.”
I wouldn’t normally be interested but there was a wholesome look on your face, like all you wanted to do was to show every tourist all your town has to offer. Not to mention the strange but compelling nervousness I was starting to feel in my stomach. The sky looked especially pretty as we walked; somehow I’d neglected to admire it, and the stars were shining extra brightly to ensure they caught my attention this time. The moon clearly jealous of this spectacle for me decided it would only show me a sliver; I thought it looked even more beautiful that way.
You told me little stories as we passed places. Not boring things I knew like how most of it was built in the last few months. Pride and love-filled retellings of how your brother fought off 3 Buffalo with his bare hoofs, the laugh you had when you found out the secret ingredient to your mother’s famous apple pie or, the close call of a collapsing water tower almost crushing you and your father. And maybe it was just because I was drunk and tired, but I opened up about my family, about my realisation that we were never close, and about how despite being closer with them those days I felt lonelier than ever. Even back then you listened with a fierce intensity; you weren’t waiting your turn like most people, I have no doubt you would have heard me out until the end of Ponykind.
I hate to admit it but it was beautiful. Tall Jagged rocks around us tearing into the sky, ripping the night away. In front of us, below the cliff edge on which we sat: the fruit of a year’s work. Green and reds of the apple trees stood in staunch resilience against the drear brown around. And we were just in time to see the siege lifted, bright oranges and yellows spewed out from the horizon and covered the entire orchard in their harsh elegance.
We sat there close together in peaceful silence for a bit before I spoke one quiet word, “Thank you.”
You spoke equally softly, “I should be thanking you, truth is I was waiting in that bar for a stranger to come along.”
You looked embarrassed and I didn’t understand why, “How come?”
“It’s a small town I’ve never been sure I’ll meet someone I have a – connection with”
“I’m sure some pretty mare will come along someday,” I replied.
You looked me in the eyes. Uncompromising earnest. A hint of desperation. The lights of a train; yet a weak light in the darkness.
“You mean...” I suddenly felt cold.
You spoke with dripping shame, “Yep.”
There was a tense silence, it was my turn to say something but I really didn’t want to. I was terrified, I told myself it was of you but there was this creeping suspicion it was of me. So the silence continued and somehow I think it made the tension twist and contort into understanding. You slowly moved your hoof closer to me and without thought, I put mine on top of yours. For a moment our fears were still again.
It’s that moment that keeps playing through my head recently. I do miss how easily you could calm my worries. When I’m laying in bed in the morning wondering whether I should even bother getting up; it’s not your body next to me I long for, nor even your ear for me to ramble into, but a simple ‘it’ll be ok’ out of your mouth; because even now I would trust your word to my grave.
Yours sincerely,
Flash