Chapter 42
Heart of Stone
I don’t know how long it has been since the time Applejack chewed me out for abandoning her cousin at the con. An hour? Two hours? Fuck, why am I guessing? I still have my mechanical pencil with me. It can tell me the time.
“That’s if you can get it out, you inept twit.” My eye twitches at that thought; a thought of narcissistic self loathing. Lying in the hay, I try to shrug this feeling off. The feeling of disapproval, the feeling that I disappointed someone, or in this case: somepony. “That’s right, somepony. Next thing you know, you’ll be referring to yourself in the same way. Look at you, lying here in the hay like you deserve.”
This is one my shameful secrets from my childhood that I never shared with anyone, or never liked to share with others. I mean, who would tell others about the imaginary friend that told you all the bad things you shouldn’t think about yourself, but that you’re going to think anyway? That sort of thing gets you weird looks by the adults, and trips to the school councilor.
I sniff hard and mentally glare at that voice. Oh, she’s not really a real voice. She’s my own thoughts and I know it. But it’s one of those things that we sometimes do to ourselves. Pretend that the voice in the back of our heads that tells us things, horrible things, isn’t ourselves but something else or someone else. It’s supposed to make the pain seem less harsh. A way to say to ourselves later on, ‘Oh, but they don’t know what they are talking about.’ Or we can laugh at them and tell them to shut up.
I don’t think that most people go as far as to name their self doubts though. “Ah, but you’re not like most -ponies-, are you, you stupid -mare-?” I sniff hard. “Shut up, Gothbunny.”
I don’t remember the precise moment when she came to me. But this bright pink, anthropomorphized, skinny, black wearing, goth bunny has been with me for a long time. I think back to my childhood when these painful self doubts would pull on my heartstrings after I got punished by my parents. I would lay on my bed with my pillow covering my face, wondering I was....no that’s a stupid thought. “Worthy of love? Of friendship? If your parents loved you?” Gothbunny hisses.
Back on Earth, these feelings were painful, but if you happen to have a y-chromosome? You’re told to suppress these emotions; fight them off. Guys aren’t supposed to feel stuff. Even the most sensitive guy is told to cover it up. It doesn’t bother you. It shouldn’t bother you. And while I got better about my emotions and more accepting on how to express them properly as I grew, old childhood habits cling to us.
These emotions were hard enough to handle. I got better with them in the last ten years of my life back on Earth, but I was still very much a loner offline. Except when it came to the fur meets. Before I was a brony, I was a furry, and to me the two just were overlapping genre. Furry taught me things. Like how to respect personal boundaries and express my emotions better. Ponies came along and taught me to be comfortable with the fact that I could like something cute and innocent looking and still be, ‘a man,’ about it.
But now with the whole, ‘switched genders,’ bit? Gothbunny is ringing back in my ears. Reminding me that I am - “A disappointment. You’re unwanted here. Applejack recognizes what you are to everything you touch. A poison that destroys all enjoyment, all happiness and leaves behind nothing but sorrow and misery.”
I can almost hear her having a voice of her own. It’s a harsh rolling voice that grates on my nerves. I swear I could imagine her sitting next to me smoking a clove cigarette...In the walls I hear chittering and squeaking. Mice? Rats?
“How does it feel...knowing that, to these kind strangers, you’re nothing but a leech. Feeding off their hard work and kindness...just like you always have...Just like you always will...Hear those creatures living in the wall? It would be a blessing if they just came in here and clawed out your-”
“I Said Shut Up, Gothbunny!” I shout angrily, slamming my hooves on the hay. I take a deep breath and pull the stuff to me in my arms creating a makeshift pillow. I feel an itch coming from my right hoof. I lift it up and roll my eyes at myself. There is a small bundle of I guess you would call, ‘hay-straws’ lodged loosely in my hoof-hole. “Much as I expected, you can’t even keep that thing-” “Shut It!”
I let out a long, drawn out sigh. So this is it. This is how I deal with my problems now. I lay in the hay like an animal and talk to myself. The only thing that could make this worse is if some-
“H.B.? Who are you-” Comes a quiet whisper from behind me. It causes me to freak and jump up suddenly. I expect a scream to come out of my mouth, but the universe must think that it’s being funny or something because the only thing I hear is a bleating noise and suddenly I find myself on my back, my legs stiffened in the air. “-talking to?”
I shake my legs a bit and find the stiffness leaving them. Great, it’s official. I am a, ‘Stuttershy.’ Sighing I roll back over. “Myself, Dib,” I finally admit. If I am going to have a little mental breakdown, I might as well be honest about it.
“Oh,” he replies curtly. Not exactly the response I was expecting but, it’s better than, ‘OMIGAWD, URCRAZILOLOLOLOL!’
I snirk at myself. Any response is better than that strangely imagined response, brain. “Don’t mind me, Dib. I’m just frustrated with myself, this situation and the fact that I just got hay in my hoof.” I start to pull golden straw stuff out of my hoof-hole. Half of me hopes that this stuff tastes better than I have made it out to taste. And the answer is: No. It tastes exactly like it should taste. Dry, old, crunchy, stiff grass. With the ever so unpleasant prick of dry grass shards pricking my tongue. I start to feel myself tear up. Darn it-pull yourself together! No freaking out in front of the kid! I sniff hard and frown. “You shouldn’t be here you know. I didn’t hear everything from here, but I am getting the impression that A.J. doesn’t want you being around me.”
“You’re my friend, H.B.,” Dib replies. Something about the way he says that strikes a cord. “And Applejack was in the wrong.”
I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t in the right here either, Dib.” I bite my lower lip. “I mean Crab Apple...”
“Like I told Applejack,” he pauses. “My name is Dib.”
“Still, if your cousin catches you out here, it’s not going to look good for either one of us.” Fuck. Seriously kid, would you just turn around and go back to the house!? I don’t need some overly emotional moment that sounds like it could be pulled from the script of a bad anime.
“I just want to do something to help you, H.B.,” He replies.
I take another deep breath. “Everyp-p-pony seems like they want to help me, Dib. And they do it without really understanding my situation. Right now there is little that I can even do about my situation. I’m stuck,” I pause trying to think of the right words, “At the moment. And there isn’t anything I can do about it.” “Other than be a big sulky butt.” “The best thing we can all do is just let your cousin sleep on the situation and we’ll talk about it like adults in the morning. There really isn’t anything that you can do about it, Dib.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, H.B.” I hear something rustling behind me. “I can help you...with this!”
==============================================================
Heartbreak needed to set this colt straight about things. “Seriously Dib, I doubt that there is anything in the whole of Equestria that can-” Her words were cut off by the sight of what Dib was doing behind her and replaced with a horrified ‘Flutter-scream.’
Dib was standing over H.B. on his hind legs with a rubber chicken clenched in his teeth. “Ooo Ee OO AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! I command you to revert to your true form!” He swung the rubber chicken about in his mouth widely.
Heartbreak’s look of horror melted away as she finally processed what he was doing. Still, the blank look of confusion mingled with fear didn’t leave her face. “Diiiib, what are you doing?”
Dib continued to wave the rubber chicken around wildly. “What’s it look like?! I’m trying to help you!”
Heartbreak started to slowly back away into the hay behind her. “Help me?! Help me with what?! And why are you waving a rubber chicken!?”
“It’s the only way that we can get your true nature to show!” he said through his teeth.
“What the fet are you going on about Dib!? And can you stop that?! You’re scaring me!” Heartbreak replied in a panicked voice.
“You don’t have to put up this act with me, H.B.!” Dib said, falling back to all fours. “I know what you truly are!”
A worried twitch ran across Heartbreak’s face. “What?!”
“Yes! Lyra and me figured it out! We saw the signs!” He came close to Heartbreak, rubber chicken still in his mouth. “And we want to help you!”
“Seriously Dib, I have no idea what you’re babbling about!” Heartbreak replied, quickly backing into the hay.
“You don’t have to hide it from me, H.B.!” His hoof shot up into the air. “You’re a werequine! A survivor of the Pony-Human war that took place before Equestria was established! A descendant of some poor human that was transformed into a pony just so they could stay in Equestria, only to be banished by the Princess to the desolate colony of Mineighsota! And I am here to help you revert back to your true form!”
Heartbreak’s face went totally blank for a moment as she once again, tried to process what she had just heard. Finally, a strained and dazed response fell out of her mouth. “...What?”
“You heard me! I know what you really are and-” Dib started.
Heartbreak shook her head and grimaced, she refocused on the utter confusion and illogic that stood before her. “Dib! Please! Stop this!”
“I-” Dib started.
“I really have no idea what you are talking about! But you are really scaring me!” Heartbreak pleaded.
Dib looked at the pony before him. There were tears forming in her eyes and she was shaking. He backed away in confusion, his teeth still clenching the rubber chicken. “I can help,” he started. “We can get you back to-”
She took a deep breath. “Dib,” she said, her words shaking just as much as her legs as she pushed herself up. “Does it look like I am transforming to you?”
Dib backed away, shaking his head. “Maybe it takes some time!”
Heartbreak took a deep breath. “Please Dib, I’m not whatever you think I am. You’re confused and you’re scaring me...I’m not this, ‘werequine,’ thing you’re talking about. I need you to calm down, because if you don’t, your cousins will hear you and come running to the barn to see what is happening. And if they do that, then we’re both in trouble.”
Dib looked down and then around. This all did seem really ridiculous, but a thought coursed through his mind. “Well...If you’re not one, then why did you lie to me!?”
Heartbreak’s face momentarily lost composure. “Lie to you about what?”
“Admit it! You never had a pet named Fingers! That was all a cover up for the truth!” Dib replied angrily. “You’re hiding something! Admit it!”
==============================================================
Fuck. Dib has no idea how close to the truth he actually is. If you were to take out the convoluted backstory? That’s what I am, sorta. Except I can’t - Darn it H.B.! Focus! If you let this go on for too long, A.J. is going to find you in the barn with her cousin! And that is just as bad as her finding her in the kitchen with her brother! I take a deep breath, how do I fix this sort of thing? Damn it, Lyra!
Looking into his eyes I see a mix of emotions: confusion, anger, fear and...hope? I have been terrible at reading emotions all my life, but a thought comes to me. This is about his dream. He wants this thing to be true so badly. Damn it, looks like I am going to have to cover this lie up with another one. Good thing that crying on cue has become almost second nature.
“Alright, I am hiding something, Dib. But for a good reason.” I look him in the eyes. “The truth hurts.”
“Aha! I knew it! Then you-” Dib starts.
“I’m not what you think I am Dib.” Alright, time to put on the sad face. Gawds, I feel terrible doing this. I’m a fake, a manipulator and a liar. But I need him to calm down and get back to the house. I think carefully over the next words that will come out of my mouth. “But even if I was, is this how you want your first contact to happen?”
Dib blinks and looks at me with a confused but thinking glance. “Huh?”
“Please Dib, put down the rubber chicken, and I’ll explain with a story that Minneighsotans tell.” Fuck! Do I have time for a story? How do I condense the thoughts in my head into something that will get my point across?! “But I need you to calm down and put the rubber chicken down.” Well, there’s a sentence I thought I would never utter in fear.
Dib blinks and slowly lowers his head and sets the rubber chicken to his side. “Alright,” he pauses. “Let’s hear it.”
Holy crap, it worked.
Wait...Fuck, it worked. Now I’m going to have to tell a story. I rack my brain for something, anything that will do. Wait. Yeah. I can make that story work. It needs a bit of tweaking but if I do it right...Better make it short and sweet. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“Once upon a time, as all stories begin, there was a sculptor named Stone Heart. But not just any sculptor, a sculptor who was a master at anything he put his hooves to. Be it clay, wood, rock, ice, crystal or metal, if somep-p-pony wanted something created, he was the one to go to.
“Once Stone began a task, he would not stop until it was finished. And it wasn’t finished until he said it was. Many a p-p-pony hated him for this because it meant that they had to wait a great long while. But he would tell them, ‘Your patience will be rewarded.’
“And rewarded it was. His statues were finely detailed, his carvings looked as if they would jump off the walls and dance, his ice creations looked almost like they were a crystal pony frozen in the stance of waiting for some love that would never come. But for all his work, all his effort and all his talent, there was a secret that Stone kept to himself. You see, he was incredibly lonely.”
Dib is looking at me as if he is captivated, his mane is depuffing, his demeanor is calming down. That’s good, unfortunately, but if you’ll forgive a turn of phrase, I can only see this ending in heartbreak.
“There would be many a mare who would come to him with intentions to ask him out on dates and the like, but always he would turn them down. Most would say that he was a tragic artist caught up in his own work, but really, it was because he set his standards too high. Nop-p-pony seemed right to him. But at the same time his loneliness was consuming him.
“So one night he decided that if he couldn’t find a somep-p-pony special that was perfect. He’d make a somep-p-pony special that was perfect. And so he set to work on his perfect bride. He went and acquired a deep rich brown clay for her body, the most beautiful blue crystals for her eyes and black ebony wood for her mane and tail. Then he set to work.
“Normally these three things are hard enough to handle and making them fit right was a difficult task even for a pony like Stone. But fit them together he did. For months he labored, endlessly putting in as much detail as he could. Foregoing sleep, almost never eating, working endlessly and obsessively. ‘My patience will be rewarded.’ He would tell himself. And when the pieces were done, rewarded it was.
“Her body was perfect in form, from her shoulders to her withers. Her eyes sparkled beautifully, despite being out of their sockets. And her mane and tail were so finely detailed that had you not touched them? You would never know they were made of wood. And yet, something was missing. In a stroke of the moment of creative insanity, he decided to add one more thing.”
Dib blinks. He’s looking at me in the bewilderment of ‘why the fuck is she telling me this story?’ But at the same time, he seems to want to know what happens. “What was that?” He asks me.
“A heart. He went searching for this heart in the middle of the night, digging in a local field were gems were abundant. He dug up many a good gem, but again, he was looking for the perfect one. So he kept digging through out the night, believing that his perfect love would be waiting for him at home. He dug and dug, but no gem seemed perfect enough, it was only when the first rays of morning light stung his eyes, did he finally spy what he sought. A beautiful bright red gem of the perfect shape and size.
“He grabbed the stone and held it tightly before laying a kiss on one of its many facets. ‘You,’ he said sighing with content. ‘You are for the one I shall love.’ And so, exhausted and drained, he rushed back to his maiden of clay, crystal and ebony. And there in the wee hours of the morning, with the last ounce of strength he had, he pushed the gemstone right into it’s final resting place before passing out.
“When he woke up, he was startled to find something strange. Somep-p-pony had placed a blanket over him in the middle of the night and there was the sound of a breakfast cooking. He walked out to the kitchen and heard somep-p-pony singing with a most beautiful voice. Peering in, he saw a strange mare over his stove. She had a glossy brown coat, a flowing ebony mane and tail and when she turned to face him, sparkling blue eyes. She smiled and looked up at him.
“‘Good morning, my love,’ she said happily.”