//------------------------------// // Arrival // Story: The Only Prescription is More Pony // by F.Venka //------------------------------// I could hear something in the distance. It became quieter and quieter, as if the source of the sound was vanishing from existence as time went by. I couldn't identify what it was; I only heard it go away. It was then when I could get myself a look of the situation itself: cold sands, the sky below them. An awful headache appeared just some seconds later, product of who knows what. It was all clear and familiar for me: I was back at Silk's body, it was more than obvious. Would it happen every single night? I heard him voice a little moan before raising his hooves towards the night sky. Even for being in the middle of the desert, it was oddly cold. The stars shone with surprising intensity and the moon was much closer than I remembered. He groaned before launching himself forward, ending up on his haunches. Accompanied with a cough, he stood up. He noticed the rails right in front of him, with solitude surrounding him. The cold nocturnal breeze had managed to make everything just as frigid, including him. "I wonder what I will do as soon as I get to Appleoosa. I need to get there, no matter how." He didn't doubt it for a second and he directed himself towards his right, following the train's rails. His stomach growled just as much as him, the cold slowing him down as time passed, but he managed to advance nonetheless. The silence of the sands at night made him border into agoraphobia as much as the constant questioning about if he would ever manage to get enough food to reach his destination. If he was lucky, he would make it in maybe nothing but some hours; he could get through that with ease; he could go on for a few days without eating, and he considered himself to be surprisingly resilient to thirst. ...That was only if he had chosen the right direction; if he hadn't made the right choice, he would probably perish and be consumed by the sands before anypony could even find him. He stopped as that chance passed through his train of thought. He looked around, his sight lost. The desert was almost uniform, to the point he had to retrace his steps when he turned around to see if he could find something that helped him make the right decision. He found nothing and just decided to keep on moving. What time is it now? For how much time was I knocked out? He gave large steps. He wasn't quite sure of if he would ever reach the town of destination, but he wished to make it with all his might. At times he tried to speed up and run but immediately stopped himself right before he started to get too tired. I'll get tired and hungry faster this way, he reasoned in those cases. The course itself was monotonous and took far longer that Silk had thought. Hunger seemed more like torture to him and, seemingly, it would only get colder, if that was even possible. It was then when he could make something out in the distance: it was a wooden roof, if his eyes weren't failing him. He sighed with relief and started to trot a tad faster, as his destination got closer and closer with every time his hooves touched the cold sand beneath him. The breeze had made his scarce sweat turn into his worst nightmare, and his stomach made a noise that didn't let him think. He did his best effort at putting that aside. He took a deep breath before starting to gallop. Submerged in a sudden motivation, he directed himself towards the recently seen cottage, hoping that it would turn out to be the destination he had been looking for with an overpowering determination for what felt like weeks. The sound of sand flying backwards as it was shot behind by his hooves reminded him of how his goal was closer and closer. It wouldn't take longer than some minutes to reach the long-awaited spot. The surprisingly clear and bright light of the stars allowed him to see much more than he had expected: both his clear path and the solitude in the desert. After a considerably tiring lapse of panting and gasping out self-encouragement, he approached more and more to the seen roof. Behind it there was a line of what surely were houses, laid out in a way a small and humble town would have; a drastic change from the crowded buildings in Canterlot. "Maybe they are the outskirts of Appleoosa? Maybe they are they older settlements, and now they are unoccupied. Well, I'll surely find the rest of the town behind this if I walk for enough time." He lowered the intensity of his steps, reaching the pace of an energetic canter. The first house in the way, if it actually was a house, was nothing but seconds away. "It would be more rational to rest a bit here. If I reach Appleoosa while tired, the heat will do whatever it wishes to do with me. If I manage to get food before starting to investigate, it'll be trillions of times better." "Investigation? What investigation?" I tried to ask him. I was still his mind, and the last time I asked him a question, he answered. There was clearly no answer. Whether he was ignoring me or I wasn't in control anymore was unclear. He got closer, finally, to the first enclosure. It looked lots like a house: the orange paint that used to be on the walls was almost entirely peeled off by the wind and the door seemed to have been victim to all kinds of abuse and improvised fixes: it was made out of an uncountable amount of planks layered over splintered wood with no apparent pattern. Silk asked himself, to his mind, if there was even a proper door to begin with or the door was also improvised and fabricated with spare pieces of wood. He raised a hoof, without finding any sort of mechanism that allowed him to open the door itself. He gave it a soft kick, perking his ears up at the hollow sound that came as a response. It sounds... umm, like it can be taken down. There's no other way to open it, and I don't think it'd be a good idea not to search here, he remarked to himself as he directed his sight towards the rest of domiciles further away. The position of the houses, a semicircle arching in the opposite direction of the moonlight shrouded them in shadows. Plus, it doesn't look especially friendly over there... Leaving out a sigh of mild resignation, he spun around, readying his hind legs for a buck. Would he land the kick on the door hinges? There was no indication of what direction the door opened, or if the door even opened with a direction. He closed his eyes before giving the hit. A startling uproar pierced through the silent nocturnal desert air: the land of wood behind completely shattered. His legs, thanks to inertia, kept advancing past the hit, ending up with his legs firmly grasped by the two holes he had just made on the door. Tiny splinters had dug into his coat, and they only got worse as he struggled to get his back legs back on the ground. "Agh, horse apples, why didn't I think about it? It was clear it would happen..." he groaned out in a raspy tone as he pushed himself away from the door. "Plus, it didn't even move. It's still closed, the damn thing..." Again and again, he tried to get away from the holes he had just made, at which he made little to no progress. After a while, he just gave up and hung his head low, sighing. "I have to take it down." Between groans and frustrated huffing, he managed to free himself from the wooden trap. He, as if to appreciate his failure with further detail, turned around to face the door. There they were: two holes with enough size for him to stare inside with relative ease. There was a table with pair of objects over it, and some tall drawers around. He then sniffed the room itself and, to his surprise, found quite the smell: the smell of rotten fruits, to be exact. Which ones he couldn't tell, but it was crystal clear, at least for him, that the smell was plaguing the entire house. "Let's just punch the door a few times..." he whispered beneath his breath as he gave a small step back. He would have to kick the door lots of times before being able to enter. He directed his gaze towards the group of homes in the distance, turning his head back at the sand when he noticed how the darkness seemed to form the shape of something in one of the doors. "That's nothing, Silk. Nothing but your imagination, now get this door open. Nothing bu--" The sound of wood clashing came from behind him, from the semicircle of houses. In a jump, and against his own will, he kicked himself against the door, feeling the weakened wood give in. Before he could even breath in surprise, he landed over the planks in root of the thrust, the smell of rotten fruit invading his nostrils. Ah, what a welcome... he remarked in his mind, getting up. To his surprise, the planks hadn't broken: the entire door had just gone down with him, like he had just pushed it. "What could be in here, anyway? I only came in here because it's too dark and I can't even trust myself anymore. It's like... like..." he said out loud, stopping when he looked at one of the walls: there was a portrait hanging. He got closer to it with a couple of steps and squinted to see it in the dark: he could see three ponies, a stallion and two foals. They all seemed to be male, from what Silk could gather. The grinning faces of the two colts made him notice how grim the stallion's face was. He looks like he just got the worst news ever imagined. He looks... devastated. And his children are so happy and joyful. It's almost like he gave all of his happiness to them. He shook his head before giving a couple more steps, this time towards the table in the center of the room. There were two baskets over it, both covered with tablecloths. He reached one with his teeth, removing the cloth. The smell of food decomposing was still in the air, and it seemingly wouldn't go away. "What could this thing have...?" he asked nopony in particular as he raised his head and took a look inside. The basket itself seemed to be empty, or at least almost empty: a blank paper could be seen at the bottom. "Well, not much... What about this one? Probably nothing as well." He uncovered the second basket and, contrary to what he had thought, he did find something: two red apples that appeared to be in strangely good shape. "Hey, food! That's what I'm talking about. Still, why are these... still ripe? For how much time has this place been abandoned? ...Has this place been abandoned?" After having a short-lived questionnaire, he proceeded to bite one of the apples, after reasoning that they might have seemed to be ripe but might haven't been. "Still juicy," he whispered, baffled. "Well, it would be a shame if I didn't use the apples... Plus, I really need some food. I know I will." After some seconds of munching the already mentioned apple, he reasoned that he would end up needing a place to store his provisions if the journey got too long. Looking around for something, he directed himself towards the opposite wall in the room. There, he could see something hanged on a nail. It looked like a bag. "Let's hope it is..." he said to himself as he reached for it. It did feel like one. He pulled with his teeth and the object fell from the nail, straight to the floor when he let go of it. "How... oddly convenient. If there was somebody else here, I'd say-- ugh, why did I say that? Now I think there's somepony else here. Maybe I'm right." He squinted again, his eyes never able to see well in the darkness of the night. "Is that a strap? Because if it is, this is a saddlebag. It looks more like a rope, anyway." He reached down to the ground, biting the rope with his teeth. He immediately let it go. "Rust," he said in a loud voice, giving a step back. "It tastes like rust, like that room in the train. Maybe it's not even rust." "I don't need the rope. I'll just... I'll j-just..." he tried to say, his speech becoming just a little more difficult to articulate. I worry too much. It's rust. It's rust. It's just rust. Nopony was killed here, he repeated to himself as he walked towards a certain darkened part of the room. "Look, this... right here..." he said, extending his hoof outwards to reach it. "This isn't a body, you see--" His hoof touched something solid. It could have been anything. It could have been just a bunch of sheets, for all he knew; at the time, his mind automatically went with the worst option: a dead body. "Oh my goodness, that's not... that's n-not..." he said, not even noticing he was speaking, as he jumped back. He landed near the table, at which he grabbed a random basket and stormed off. The basket seemed eerily light, but he brushed off as his own body not caring about many things at the time. When he was already outside, he gave a couple more steps before stopping altogether. Maybe it's not dead. Maybe I was just stealing somepony's things. I broke into somepony's house as he slept. He set the basket down, just then noticing how it was the one with the blank paper. Oh, great. I got a bite off an apple and a blank paper. Eh, at least I got a basket. I can still get some things in here. He directed his eyes towards the night sky as he felt the breeze soften in its course. I can't seem to stop thinking this is a ghost town. This is not a ghost town. There are ponies out there. They are asleep. They are just resting, like I should be. I should be sleeping and then, tomorrow, ask for directions. Yes, I should do that; I should do that, that's smart. He sighed. "I can't even convince myself. I'm scared. I'm alone, lost, with no food and I think I'll start to get hungry and starve just because I had that apple bite. I've gotten nothing but an empty basket and I'm certain I've already found a dead stallion. Great, just great. It's like... like I'm not even here. Agh, just listen to yourself, Silk. You don't even know what you're saying. It's like you're trying to mask your fears with a conversation with yourself. ...And I'm doing a really sloppy job." He turned himself to face the distant houses. Alright. If there's anypony out there, I highly doubt it'll be out to harm me. Just walk and nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad... will happen. The sound of the sand beneath his hooves filled the otherwise silent desertic ambient. The basket was hanging from his teeth, dangling back and forth with every step. It would take some minutes. There's got to be a town hall in here. I'll be able to get a map there, I'm sure. I just need the map and I'll be fine. Appleoosa can't be far from here: the climate is near identical. It's not like this is Appleoosa: there's no way it could happen to Appleoosa as well. Canterlot is the capital; of course they would target it. Questions rose into my mind then: who did what, when, where and why? Why Canterlot? Who targeted it and with what purpose? The Canterlot incident... was it something that only he could remember? Railroad hadn't remembered it when he mentioned it. Railroad either didn't have half of a clue, or he hid it very well. He sighed again. I wonder what happened to him. Nightmare probably found him and killed him. That would explain the blood... But it doesn't explain why it smelled like rust and not fresh blood... Agh, am I really thinking about that? Railroad's probably going through the same fate as me. He was probably thrown off the train itself before me, so it wouldn't be much of a surprise if he managed to get to Appleoosa already. The colt seemed a little too athletic to be a train conductor. Sand, sand and more sand. There was nothing else in the distance. Dunes and little houses, not a single soul to be seen. "A deserted desert," he said out loud, chuckling a bit. "It sounds redundant and obvious. It is redundant and obvious." I can't help but to wonder about that portrait. What happened to those two foals? The room seemed to be the entire house and, unless the broken door covered a doorway towards a basement, I doubt there was something I missed. Maybe they live somewhere else. What about his face? He looked much more than just sad. That stallion had an extremely depressed look. Maybe his life had taken an unlucky turn recently? That wouldn't explain why the two little colts were smiling. ...Well, they're children. They seldom worry about things like that. He came to a stop randomly, close to his destination. He dropped the basket and, somehow, got the blank paper out. It was then when he realized that it wasn't completely blank: on the other side, a message could be read: "I'll be gone soon. Ask Blizzard for help. Love you two," he read out loud, only to realize the message itself after finishing. Then... he is dead. He is dead, after all. He told his kids to take care of themselves; he told them to go look for somebody called "Blizzard." He knew he was going to die, that's the reason behind why he looked so depressed. He knew... he knew he wouldn't live to see his children grow up to be stallion like him. He got the paper into the basket again and picked it up, resuming his course. "Such a... sudden method of discovering things... I wonder if the kids are alright. I'm sure they are." He, then, arrived at the front door of another house. This one seemed different from the other one: the paint hadn't fallen off, and the door was actually more like an actual door instead of a bunch of planks together. He pushed the door softly with his hoof, at which it opened with a screech. He looked inside, seeing nothing that caught his attention entirely. The window that allowed seeing the road in front of him showed nothing but more sand, as if to remark on the point that he was alone and lost. He entered the place, noticing how silent it was. He couldn't explain it, but that particular house came off as even more silent than the previous one to him. It was like it had gone past the point of silence and it had started to make sound occur at a lower volume. After examining the room for some seconds, he noticed something else hanging from a wall. It looked like another portrait, but there was nopony in the frame. It was just a bunch of trees. A painting, he said to himself. They're called paintings. He turned around, catching a glimpse of the room itself on the dark. It seemed to consist of absolutely nothing: there was no table, no nothing. It was just the window and the painting. Did anypony actually live there? "Nothingness. Ah, nothingness," he said while sighing. "I had forgotten how unsettling you were." He directed towards the door once again, noting something: I can sleep here. Let's see if I can find something else around here... Having said that, he inspected half of the 9 houses left, not bothering to force the doors that wouldn't open. So far, he had gotten a little bag filled with oats, a functional saddlebag and four apples, together with the presence of salt cubes, which he wasn't able to store. Things got quite different when he reached the second-to-last house. He walked towards it like any other, and opened the door carefully. The door in the sixth house had fallen, so he tried not to make that happen again. He heard a barely audible snap when the door opened, which he dismissed as the house settling. He entered the house or, rather, the room, noticing the window in the back. The moonlight passed through it, lighting a certain part of the floor. It was then when he realized that there was something written on the floor. It looked like the same phrase repeated over and over again. "I... am... s-sorry...?" he read out loud whilst noticing how shaky the writing was. He stopped for a moment. I don't need to see it, I just know it: this entire place is filled with "I'm sorry," right...? I don't want to be here. I want to get out of here. He turned around and gave a step forward, towards the door, but froze when he heard something: "Don't go." The voice had come from behind him. Was there anypony there, in the shadows? He couldn't turn around, but he couldn't keep walking either. He just stood there. "Please, don't go. You'll only hurt me. I beg you, please don't do it. I've done nothing to you. Don't leave me, dear." It was the voice of a mare. She sounded senile, but not old. She sounded crazy and incomprehensible but, at the same time, her agony was evident on her speech. Silk stood there, completely still. He wasn't even thinking. I could palpate his fear, however. He was terrified. He just wanted to run. "Don't... don't go away!" the voice got louder, and the sound of a chain being dragged across the floor appeared on the background. It was getting louder. This mare, whoever she was, was getting closer to Silk with every second. "I need you to survive... Those children need me to survive..." "Those children"? Does she mean... is she Blizzard? Silk wasn't sure of where he was going with that train of thought. I need to get out of here, damn it! Those foals are also probably dead. She must have gone insane after failing at the task of keeping them alive. ...It's like... everywhere I go, death and disappearance are much more common. This mare's about to die and I won't do a thing to save her. Don't turn around, don't turn around. If you face her, you won't be able to run. "Why don't you understand!?" the mare's shouts got past pleading and turned into a full-fledged demand. "I need to get out of here! I swear I'll raise the foals for him! Just let me out of here!" The chains got louder and louder, up until the point Silk could hear them right behind him. "The chains... the chains are digging into my body! I'm about to... to get rid of them... The chains are restricting me... I don't need them... I don't need them... The children need me... I need you..." Just as she said that last "you," Silk felt his left back leg being grabbed. That was all the impulse he needed. He jumped, startled, kicked the mare's hoof away, and stormed off, barely silencing a scream beneath his breath. As he got far from the house itself, he could clearly hear the shouts of agony of the mare behind him. Did she manage to get the chains out of her...? Maybe she... Maybe she ripped her own body open in an attempt to escape? Just thinking about it makes me sick. I should have never entered there. He ran down the path towards the second house he had gone to. Don't look back; the empty house is just some seconds away. Lock the door and you'll be fine, Silk Thread. Just lock it. You have everything you need here. He jumped into the open door and closed it behind him with such a strength he had to check that he hadn't broken it. Nothing but silence came afterwards. His agitated breath got into normal range after a while, as he lay down on the wooden floor. It wasn't exactly as comfortable as a bed, but anything would do the trick. "What was that mare talking about...?" he asked himself beneath his breath, as he drifted off to sleep. "I can't help but to feel bad for her. She must have gone through such a trauma to end up like that... I wonder if she broke her shoulders to escape that place..." He sighed, getting his tail out of his face. I really shouldn't think about it. I should think about what I will do when I wake up again. I should be getting ready to hit the road once again. Appleoosa's near, but it isn't coming towards me. With that said, he cleared his thoughts and, without much of a further struggle, he fell soundly asleep on the floor, leaving all memories behind. I, at least, had gotten no new information on why is Silk doing this entire journey, and only got more possible questions. He acts like everyone should know about what happened in Canterlot, but whenever I ask him about it, he doesn't want to remember. Also, this is the third time I've heard that "I've done nothing to you" phrase. It has to mean something, but what...?