//------------------------------// // At the End of the Day // Story: I'm Afraid of Changeling (and other short stories) // by Cold in Gardez //------------------------------// “And you see the dark clouds near the top of the frame? Those represent the ill feelings in the hearts of the warring tribes as they gathered in the plains below.” “Mmm. Interesting.” Paint Daub’s potential customer, a well-dressed earth pony stallion, gave her painting a look that bordered on interested. “How much did you say it was?” Daub put on her best smile. “Well, sir, this one took several days to produce, but to be honest I haven’t had much luck selling any paintings this week. I suppose I could part with it for 50 bits.” “Hmm... 25.” Daub nearly choked. “Twen... sir, that would barely cover the cost of the canvas, frame and paints, much less my time. No less than 40.” “Thirty. No more.” The tone in his voice was unmistakable. This was the highest he would go. “Well...” She grimaced and tried to find some silver lining. “As a first-time customer, I suppose that would be... acceptable.” No more was said between them as she wrapped up the painting, and he forked over her pitiably small earnings. It was all she could do to keep the smile on her face until he was out of sight. Then she sighed. The rest of her wares, unsold, stared back at her from the street corner she had set them out upon. Dozens of canvases filled with splashes of color, detailed character studies, portraits, landscapes, abstracts and murals, all of a quality at home in any museum in any of Equestria’s cities. But museums didn’t pay for paintings – too many ponies donated them. And she couldn’t afford to donate her paintings. She could barely afford food. “Sorry guys,” she said to them. “Maybe tomorrow, huh?” She started to reach toward them, to pack them up for the day, when a perky voice sounded behind her. “Hey, are these your paintings? These are neat!” Daub turned to see a garishly pink mare eyeballing her works. Her mane was a mass of pink curls that somehow defied gravity, and she held it out of the way with a hoof as she pushed her face up against one of Daub’s canvases, presumably for a better look. Or perhaps a taste. “Yes, I, uh...” She cleared her throat and tried again. “These are mine. Do you see any you’re interested in?” “I like them all! But especially this one!” The mare said, bumping a small work with her nose. It barely even qualified as a painting, just a small scrap of canvas Daub had used to mix paints. Then, just as quickly, her mood seemed to deflate. “But I’m sorry, I don’t have any bits today.” Of course she didn’t. Daub held in a sigh. “It seems like no one does. If you really like that one, just take it. It’s not even worth the space in my bags.” “Really?” The mare somehow said the word while gasping. “But... really?!” “Uh huh.” The strange pony beamed at her. “Thank you! Oh, here, have this!” She turned her head and from somewhere – magic? – produced the largest cupcake Daub had ever seen in her life, balanced perfectly atop her nose. She held it there for a moment, like a seal doing a trick, then with a slight toss of her head sent it in Daub’s direction. She barely caught it in time with her magic. It was nearly the size of her head, a masterpiece of chocolate and fudge slathered with an avalanche of pure white icing. By the time she remembered to look up and offer her gratitude, the odd pony was already gone. * * * Firefly waited until the other foals were gone before she started to cry. She wasn’t the only filly they picked on – most of the other foals in her class had suffered their bullying at some point. But today they had gone too far, stealing her doll and stomping on it until the stitches burst and the stuffing spilled out onto the ground. Then they laughed, kicked it back to her and toddled off, already reminiscing about it. She didn’t understand cruelty yet; she was far too young for that. But she knew pride, and knew she couldn’t show her pain to them, lest they feed on it as well. And so she waited for them to leave before she cried. Eventually the tears dried, and she realized she wasn’t alone. Sitting on the porch beside her was a full-grown mare, pink as the inside of a shell, with a poofy mane that looked like a cloud that had somehow gotten stuck on her head. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Firefly sniffed. “Nothing.” They were quiet for a while. The mare’s gaze settled on the remains of the doll spilled out at their hooves. “Was this yours?” she asked. Firefly nodded. “Her name is Prancie.” “Did some mean bullies break her?” Firefly nodded again. She remembered their laughter, the sudden squeals of pleasure as Prancie’s side had torn. Her vision swam as the tears threatened to return. They were silent again. When Firefly finally managed to blink away the tears, the strange pink pony was holding Prancie in her hooves, cradling her like she would a foal. “You know,” she said. “One of my friends really knows how to use a needle and thread. I bet if we asked nicely, she could fix Prancie for you.” “R-really?” “Mhm. Cross my heart, hope to fly!” That made no sense at all, but the smile on the pinke mare’s face said more than her words ever would. Firefly pushed herself back onto her hooves, and together they walked down the street. * * * The sun was well below the horizon when Pinkie finally got home. The tips of her hooves dragged with each step, and she barely made it to the Cake’s couch before collapsing. Mrs. Cake walked in a few minutes later, apparently drawn by the noise. “Why, hello Pinkie Pie. I haven’t seen you all day! Been busy with your friends?” Pinkie nodded. Her throat was too tired from cheering ponies up all the day long to try and speak. “Oh, I remember what it was like when I was your age, always running around with Carrot or his friends. Ha! We were so young then.” Her voice trailed off as she wandered into the kitchen. Silence followed. Pinkie felt her eyes start to drift shut. Before the dreams caught her, she briefly saw an artist with a full belly; a filly holding a mended doll, crying with happiness. A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips, and then she slept.