//------------------------------// // November 18th // Story: Finding Fluttershy // by SamFaith //------------------------------// This story can also be found on GoogleDocs Those large, cyan eyes watched as I lifted, slid and occasionally, threw box after box of my past out of her room. What had once been a wall of boxes vanished down the hall and into the living room. Eventually I revealed the closet, set into the wall separating the room from the bathroom. I remember thinking something along the lines of, "Oh, horsefeathers! How long has that been there?" "Is this all really necessary?" Fluttershy asked, "I mean... " She let out a whimper, bringing me to a complete halt. I slowly set down the box I was carrying and walked back to her. She had dropped her gaze and hid behind her mane. "What's wrong?" "Um... All this work? For me?" "It needed to be done anyway. Besides, you deserve better than sleeping amongst dusty boxes of forgotten relics." "But... " She said, and paused. I assume she was expecting me to no longer be listening to her, instead she had my full attention. Which, in addition to being unwarranted, may have been a just a little unwanted. "Please, tell me." "But I ..." She paused again. I grew impatient waiting for her to finish her sentence. "Flutter, tell me." "I shouldn't ... " "Please?" "Couldn't ..." I waited as she let her insecurities hold her back. The moment stretched on into an eternity, as I grew ever more impatient for the next word from Fluttershy. "Flutter, please," I said, "If you don't tell me what's wrong, I'll worry myself to pieces." "But I just want to go home," she said. The defeat in her voice was unbearable. If ever I could feel a knife in my chest without actually touching steel, this had to be it. Worse was the pain I saw in her eyes. If I had a knife in my chest, she had one in hers too, and I could see that my hand was responsible for putting it there. "And I'm making it feel permanent, aren't I?" She nodded, her soft eyes almost buried in her sad, scrunched face. I immediately knew I should say something, but didn't know what. Ever since she appeared on that street corner, I all but stopped spouting the first thoughts that came to mind. This did not necessarily mean what I eventually came up with was any better, but at least I was thinking about my words. "Fluttershy," I said before stopping, carefully processing what I wanted to say, "Fluttershy, I admit I don't know how or when you will get home, and I don't know what I can do to help that. But, I can try to make sure you're comfortable and happy until then." "Either way, these boxes still need to be moved," I continued, "needed to be moved for a long time. I apologize for using you as an excuse for starting this project, and would be happy if you would be willing to help me." "You would trust me with your things?" "Of course, why wouldn't I?" "You didn't trust me the park," she whimpered. The sudden weight of realization came crashing down on my head. I winced, squeezing my eyes tightly shut, just because I had been too harsh, and I was willing to blind myself to it. I took another deep breath, forcing the air through my lungs to calm myself. "You're right, and I was wrong," I said, "I shouldn't have said anything more than 'Good work'. But, I did, and I'm sorry." A smile, I returned it knowing that even though she will never forget that incident, she had forgiven. The next couple of hours were spent going through the multitude of boxes that had been dragged out of that back bedroom. Most of it was junk that had piled up over the years: magazines from all the major game critics, graded homework from classes I passed ages ago, and issues of the local free tabloids containing long-forgotten articles. Other discoveries included tools and kitchen devices that were purchased with a specific purpose in mind, yet, over the years, buried in the ever-growing pile of boxes. The rest were personal belongings: various toys and collections that defined my childhood. We made piles to organize the various treasures and trash we uncovered. I took the lead opening a box of ancient school papers that no longer held any emotional attachment at all, this box went in one corner of the room, establishing the location of the 'recycle' pile. Fluttershy discovered a box with a collection of various woodworking tools, including some that were handed down from my grandfather. Pointing to one side of the large bay door that separated the living room from the foyer I suggested that it would be a good place to start a pile destined for the garage. I reached in a box and pulled out a sketchbook, filled with drawings I had poured hours into, including a fully-colored picture of a character I had long forgotten the name of. Even without her name, my nostalgia demanded that I keep it. I set up another pile next to the door on the opposite corner of the 'garage' pile for objects that would find a home somewhere else within the house. Box by box we worked our way through the collection, until she opened a box with something that caught her eye. From it she gently pulled out a stuffed doll in the shape of a dinosaur, made out of denim with multicolored dinosaurs printed on it. She examined the tiny tyrannosaurus, with it's googly eyes that would never move again, at least not without serious restoration work, and the patch of darker blue sewn into its sholder. "Oooh, it's so cute!" I couldn't move, paralyzed by the rush of emotions that were flooding my mind. The pony was holding my doll, my childhood companion, my Deeno. I could feel something inside me twist and threaten to tear free, to direct me into action, to an action I know I would regret. Then, I saw it. Something was familiar about how Fluttershy looked at the doll. The way she gently held it before her was heartwarming. This was exactly what I needed to see to bring a smile to my face. "I haven't seen Deeno in a long time. He's almost as old as I am... well I mean... I got him when I was three, and held onto him ever since." "Oh, um... you probably want him back, then." Fluttershy said as she offered Deeno to me. I gently took the doll, the pain of nostalgia gripping my heart. For the first time in my life I understood why some people tried to avoid their nostalgia. It can be a painful thing, especially when there's substantial guilt associated with it. The thought that Deeno had spent the last four years stuck in a box like this, ignored and all but forgotten was enough guilt to bring me to tears. "Y'know," I said, my voice cracking, "He deserves someone who will care for him and treat him with gentle kindness." "Oh, no... I couldn't... he's your doll. You've had him for so long." I smiled at her, "It would make me happy to see you two take care of each other. Besides, I ... I can trust you to keep him safe until you go home." Whatever I was expecting to happen, I should have expected differently. Of course she would act like a child, even though she was full-grown she had to be a child at heart. Now, she was a child with a new friend, imaginary perhaps, but she was still excited about him. Again, I saw something that made me think of Alex, something nearly intangible, fleeting as I tried to put my finger on it. By the time we had opened all the boxes, and sorted their contents into their respective piles noon had come and gone. About a quarter of the pile was moved into the 'recycle' territory. Another pile had formed out of unwanted, or unusable junk that just could not be recycled, and yet another from antiques that I had no use for, but could find a home with someone else. Even Fluttershy had a pile, from the top of hers, a little stuffed dinosaur looked at me, and for the first time in a long time I believed I could see him smile. After surveying the progress we had made, I turned to her and announced, "Lunch sounds like a good idea right about now, what do you think?" Right on cue her stomach growled out for some food. The sound was like a manticore snarling from the open mouth of a cave; deep, menacing and LOUD. I nearly burst, holding back laughter as Fluttershy blushed and attempted to regain her composure. "O-oh, yes. Lunch sounds ... lovely." As quickly as I could I stifled my laughter and set to work in the kitchen. After lunch our attention turned to the guest room. Surveying the damage the boxes did I realized how grateful I was that this town gets very little moisture. Very little, if any mold had a chance to form in the room. That did not, however, dissuade me from bringing a bucket of bleach. Fluttershy insisted on helping, so, after opening the window I offered her a mask and a sponge. She had to stop a couple of times to catch a breath of fresh air, but that was expected, and if I had anything to say about it, encouraged. In spite of her occasional breaks, it was nice to have someone to reach the tops of the wall and the ceiling. Once the room was cleaned we started moving the piles in the living room. We started by hauling everything that was going to the garage, out there. I never really used the garage for my hand-me-down hunk of junk from the 1980's, so space was not an issue. Everything was piled, carefully and neatly, in a corner, to be sorted later. Next was the kitchenware. A lot found a home right away, the few things that didn't were returned to the living room, and placed in the 'Donate' pile. Fluttershy proved to be a wonderful helper, capable of re-arranging entire shelves without a ladder, or pulling everything down. I dreamed about being able to see the world from the sky, and even envied her for being able to see my own kitchen from a different angle. The next pile to move was my 'Keep' pile. Nearly a third of it found a home somewhere in the living room, consisting mostly of ancient VHS tapes that I refused to let go of, as well as a couple of DVD collections that I forgot I had, or how they came into my possession. Other things, such as my old sketchbook and an assortment of science fiction collectables made their way into my office. The rest went into my bedroom. Before finally stopping for dinner, we moved the 'Junk' pile. Even being a much smaller pile than I expected it to be, it was still respectable. I was amazed that most of it fit into a single garbage can, leaving the larger objects on the curb. Fluttershy was, once again, invaluable. She flew a route back and fourth through the kitchen, picking up junk from the living room, and depositing it at the door attaching the laundry room to the garage. From there I would take it to the garbage can. I struggled to work fast, as for a moment it seemed that the stream of stuff to toss was unending. Dinner once again saw Fluttershy barraging me with questions about this world. In-between bites of beans, steamed carrots, and sliced apples, the conversation did not stop. "What were those little black boxes you had?" "Wha- Oh, you mean the ones that were flat, about yay long, and so thick?" I said as I demonstrated the size of the object with my hands and fingers. She nodded. "Those are called 'tapes', well VHS ... but that's just their format. They store video like the disks we use, but the disks are much newer, and they don't record." "Record?" She echoed. "Put a video onto it," I explained, "With a DVD you're stuck with the first thing you put onto it, which usually isn't much of a problem... but with a tape, you can record something new and it will erase whatever was on it before. It was very useful for watching TV shows that were shown when I wasn't home." "What kind of videos do you have on those tapes?" "I don't remember all of them, some of them have TV shows that ended recently. I know I've got the last episode of Voyager somewhere ... Others, who knows? Maybe some cartoons from the '80s?" "Like the 'Rescue Rangers' one?" "No, I don't think I recorded any of those..." "Oh..." She hesitated, and I seized the moment. Even when our words were few, she asked the majority of the questions. I always wanted to know what she knew about Equestria, she obviously knew things that hadn't been in the show yet. I decided that it was my turn to ask instead of answer. So, before she got her next question in I asked one of my own. "You really seem to like those stories, what kind of stories are you used to?" "Well, I like fairy tales like, The Tortoise and the Hare. Umm... Twilight has a collection of books about an adventurer called 'Daring-Do'. I never read it, but Rainbow..." she said before trailing off. "I'm sorry, Flutter, I didn't mean to bring it up." "Oh, no... It's okay. I miss them so much, but I can manage as long as I know that I'll see them again some day." I smiled, even though my heart ached. I could only imagine what she was going through, separated from her family and friends. I did my best to keep her happy, but even the best laid schemes suffered from the old cliche. After dinner we returned to the guest room. The bleach fumes were long gone, drawn out of the open window by the gentle caress of the passing breeze. Furniture was moved, opening the room up into a much more inviting place. Then, everything from Fluttershy's pile was brought into the room. After a little coaxing, she was willing to direct as I moved objects to where she wanted them. Everything found a home: an old push-button lamp on her bedside, her skirt and hoodie in the uncovered closet, even an empty pot was given a space on a table. I promised her that I would find a plant to put in that pot. Ultimately, she was happy about the room, her room. That, in turn made me happy, as I felt that every second I spent on this project had been validated. I let out a yawn, and she followed suit. We exchanged our "Good-night's" and moved for our respective beds. As I usual I left my door open just a crack, and before I could turn on my white-noise machine I heard the faintest snoring coming from the other room. I smiled and let out a tear, envisioning the yellow pony wrapped up in her blankets, with a stuffed dinosaur in her hooves. The remaining piles would wait until tomorrow. Letty and the others would show up in his truck, and between us it would take us no more than three trips to deal with the 'Recycle' and 'Donate' piles. Sure, they would be a little upset with me, delaying our regular Sunday lunch so we could do this. Fluttershy, in the meantime, would likely be at the park. There was nothing that could possibly go wrong.