//------------------------------// // A ROCK!? // Story: Depression is Tragic // by artistwithouttalent //------------------------------// The white unicorn foal sighed as she moved back from her workbench. The costumes she was working on at that moment were the 3rd iteration, and every time she came back with a costume she believed to be better, the mare directing the play said they were “nice”. Not amazing, not SPECTACULAR, but nice. “Maybe I’m not meant to be a fashionista after all,” Rarity said sadly, with her head hung low. Almost as if on cue, her horn glowed with the aura of unicorn magic, and Rarity was pulled from her chair by her horn. She struggled against its compulsion for the first few minutes of the journey before deciding that it wasn’t worth chipping a hoof to stop her horn. After a journey that seemed endless, her horn’s magic ceased and dumped her unceremoniously at the foot of a large boulder. “A ROCK!?” cried Rarity. “What is your PROBLEM, horn?” She probably would have kicked the rock if she weren’t concerned for the well-being of her fresh mani-pedi. She stared up at the seemingly useless rock, wondering why her horn would lead her here: the only major landmark in the immediate area was the boulder, and it was in the middle of nowhere. After a few minutes, she decided that the rock was not important, and began attempting to figure out where to go. Supposedly, her horn had dragged her hooves across the ground, but she couldn’t find a path, prints, or even a scratch on her hooves. She sat on one of the smaller rocks nearby. “Well, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into, horn,” she huffed. ••• In a barren stretch of farmland, the pink earth foal sighed. She hated working on the rock farm: there was no sunlight; no talking; no smiling (not that it was barred but it simply never occurred); and the work was long and tedious: she had to push a rock from one end of the field to another. This small pile alone had taken her 3 hours and she wasn’t even halfway across the field. Her mother rang the triangle signaling end-of-day. As the triangle rang, Pinkie looked up at the sky and wondered, “Is this all there is to life?” Her father stared at her from the house door and then looked out at a higher part of the field. He approached her. “Pinkie, why haven’t you moved Big Jim yet?” Shepherd asked her, referring to the large boulder on the edge of the field. “Well, you see, dad, I was-“ “Slower, please, Pinkie,” Shepherd said. “I can’t understand you when you talk like that. And please call me father.” “Yes, father,” Pinkie replied. “I tried to move Big Jim, but I was the only one trying to move him and he wouldn’t budge.” “All right,” he said finally. “We’ll move him together tomorrow.” He looked at her. “Cheer up, will you? This is a nice life.” “Yes, father,” she said in her usual glum demeanor. She loved her father dearly, but he just didn’t understand her. It wasn't that he was aggressive or domineering, they were just too different. He and his wife Pot were actually able to smile during their work, unlike any of the foals in their care. “That’s my girl,” he said. “Now let’s go in and get ready for supper.” As he said this and began to turn around, he noticed motion over by Big Jim, and given that the rocks did not have the ability to move on their own, Shepherd suspected something unusual. “Pinkie, why don’t you go inside,” he said with a curious look on his face, “I need to go over and check on Big Jim.” Thus began the onslaught of requests from Pinkie: “Oh, PLEASE, can I go with you, father, huh, huh, can I, can I, can I…” “Ugh,” Shepherd thought to himself. “It’s not a question of ability but permission.” Finally, Shepherd relented and told her, “Yes,” if only to stop her from continuing her requests. “YAY!” she replied, and just as she was about to bolt for the rock, Shepherd said, “BUT. Stay with me.” “Yes, father,” she said glumly. ••• As Rarity sat on the rock, she wondered what she would do: the journey that brought her here was very long and left no trace. Moreover, she had no idea where she was. As she sat there, she grew more and more hopeless, and eventually began to cry. Just then, an older colt walked up to her and asked, “Can I help ya with somethin’?” Rarity screamed and darted behind the nearest rock, mostly because she hadn’t noticed him, but also for his sense of fashion: “He had a goatee-beard combo. Who does that?” she thought As she cowered, Shepherd Pie walked over to her again and said, “Can I help ya with somethin’?” As much as his face-mane made her cringe, it wasn’t like she had much choice; it’s not like there’s anyone else around for miles. “Yes, sir. You see, now this will sound silly, but, my horn led me out here to this rock, and I need—“ “Hold on just a moment: your horn led you out here?” Shepherd asked “I know it sounds preposterous, good sir, but—“ “No, I understand completely,” Shepherd said, with a kind of reverence and awe. “You have the shine.” “The shine? I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Rarity said. It was at that point that she noticed the pink foal who had accompanied him, namely because she bounced out from behind him and began speaking so fast that one would swear she was speaking a different language. “Oh! I know what the shine is, it’s awesome!” Pinkie began. “I’ve got it, too, but I call it my Pinkie sense. It means that you can see the unseen, predict stuff, other really cool things!” “I’m sorry,” Rarity said, ”did you say see the unseen?” . “Yes,” Shepherd answered for her. “Pertaining to our ventures, the shine tells us when it’s time to harvest a rock.” “Harvest a rock?” Rarity said in disbelief. “Well, of course, silly filly,” Pinkie said, bouncing up and down, “what else do you do on a rock farm?” “A rock farm?” Rarity stated, failing to see any logic in what the Pies were saying. “Yes, ma’am,” Shepherd said, with a sort of pride. “The Barren Grounds Rock Farm.” “Uh, yes,” Rarity said, rather put off by them. “I apologize for disturbing your rock, but I must get back to town. Would either of you know the way back to Ponyville?” “Ponyville? Never been,” Shepherd said, and with that, Rarity broke into sobs. “Don’t cry, it’s ok,” Pinkie said quickly. “You can stay with us for now.” Rarity stifled the urge to scream and regained her composure “Really, that’s quite alright,” Rarity said, attempting to avoid this situation. “No, no, I insist,” Shepherd said. Something in his voice seemed off to Rarity, but she relented; it wasn’t like there was much else she could do. “Very well,” she said. “Thank you very muUUUUCH!” she finished as Pinkie wrapped her up and dragged her back to the farmhouse. Shepherd sighed. “Pinkamena Diane Pie, I do not know what I am going to do with you,” he said, and began slowly following the hyperactive foal.