//------------------------------// // Chapter 28: The Ring of Fire // Story: The Private Scrapbook // by Cadabra //------------------------------// Chapter 28: The Ring of Fire The taste of love is sweet When hearts like ours meet I fell fer ya like a child Oh, but the fire went wild I fell in to a burning ring of fire I went down, down, down And the flames went higher. And it burns, burns, burns… Smithy picked her brother’s latest record off of the record player and broke it over the side of the machine. Even after seven years, Prairie Tune still managed to top the charts and tap into her deepest emotions. Feeling the satisfaction of breaking something fade faster than she'd hoped, she stepped on the broken pieced before she went back to staring sadly out the window. From her window, she could see the edge of the Everfree Forest where she lay Bladire to rest seven years ago. She’d trekked those woods several times at night with fresh flowers to put at his memorial stick, often wondering if he’d suffered long with that rope around his neck. Even after all that time had passed, so many things still reminded her of how much she missed him. Often she would wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares about him hanging in the tree, his bulging dead eyes staring blindly white at her. She daydreamed about how it must feel to hang as she stared out at the early spring colors, wondering what it would be like to have nothing but a memorial stick to be remembered by. The idea felt peaceful in a morbid sort of way. She smiled to herself as she thought more about it, wondering what it was that was keeping her from doing it. The answer to her question came running into view down below her, a yellow and black zebra child dragging a wooden two by four in her smiling mouth. Kizzy had grown up so much since the day she was born, and was the smilingest thing Smithy had ever seen. It didn’t matter what kind of cruel treatment she received from anypony. She somehow found a way to keep smiling through it. Where that curious optimism came from Smithy couldn’t tell, but it was the only thing that gave her sorry excuse for a life any meaning. Between the taboo of master/slave relationships and the events that had taken place seven years ago, Smithy wasn’t able to spend as much time as she wanted with Kizzy. The only time they got together was when Smithy had a task for Kizzy to do, and those times were always accompanied by Lizza. It was important for Kizzy’s linage to be kept a secret, and Lizza knew how bad Smithy was at keeping secrets. While they both knew that revealing the truth was dangerous for everypony involved, Smithy and Lizza had grown to both hate and respect each other because of it. All Smithy could do right now was watch Kizzy and Lizza set up this year’s zap apple stand, their mutual smiles like a stab at her heart. Smithy could hear the door to the room creaking open, but didn’t bother to turn around to see who it was. She could tell by the gasp at the broken record on the floor that it was her mother. “Prairie Tune’s new record!” Sew n’ Sow exclaimed as she rushed up to the broken pieces. “Smithy! What happened to it? He’s gonna be so upset when he sees this! Did ya do this? Oh mah stars! Where’s the paste?” Smithy rolled her eyes at her mother’s antics. “We got another record someplace,” she said blandly without looking at Sew n' Sow. Sew n’ Sow set the record pieces down before approaching her daughter at the windowsill. “Why’d ya do it, baby?” she asked as she gently rubbed Smithy’s shoulder. She could tell by the body language alone that something was bothering her daughter. While all Smithy wanted to do was spill her feelings out, she knew it best to just keep quiet. She'd been living the past seven years in a web of secrets and lies, so keeping her mouth shut and diverting her feelings had become routine. “Just a song,” Smithy began, turning her head away from her mother. “It was a kinda sad song is all. It reminded me of somepony I miss and I got a lil’ carried away. I’ll clean it up, mama.” Feeling satisfied with the answer, Sew n’ Sow began to hug her daughter. “I know how ya feel, honey,” she began. “I get that way sometimes ever since yer daddy passed on. I know it’s been a couple years, but sometimes it gets to me more than other times. I think I miss him most durin’ zap apple season. He used to just love it.” While she did miss her father badly, Smithy was glad to hear her mother rambling on about why she thought she was acting so depressed. In a way, she was glad Pokey Oaks had passed away when he did so that he wouldn’t have to watch his broken daughter’s unhappy marriage. She hugged her mother back, wishing she could tell her the real reason behind why the record was in pieces. “He’s with the stars now, mama,” Smithy said, trying to comfort her mother’s hysterical crying while subtly letting out what she had on her mind. Trying to calm down, Sew n’ Sow began to dry her eyes with a handkerchief. “Yer right,” she reminisced. “He’s up there with all them babies we tried to have. I guess it’s them babies turn with him now, and that first lil’ one y’all tried to have too. I’m just glad he got to meet one of yer youngin’s before we had to go. Speakin’ of which, ya shouldn’t be goin' 'round breakin’ stuff. It ain’t good fer yer boy to learn behavior like this.” Smithy could see her son outside, running around the half built zap apple stand with a hammer in his mouth while bullying Kizzy. He was the spitting image of Stinking Rich, just a nasty little version of him. “Don’t worry 'bout him, mama,” she lied as she watched Lizza holding onto a crying Kizzy, her son pointing and laughing at the pain he’d inflicted with the hammer. “He’s busy outside buildin’ up the jam stand, so he won’t even see I broke his uncle’s record.” Sew n’ Sow opened up the bedroom window to get a better look at her grandson. “Hey there, Filthy Rich!” she hollered from the window, waving frantically at the colt. “Did ya build that up all by yerself?” Filthy Rich nodded eagerly with the hammer still in his mouth. “I sure did, Gramma!” he lied enthusiastically, swinging around the hammer with pride. “Just look what I can do, Gramma! Are ya watchin’?” With a few unplanned swings of the hammer, the jam stand fell on its side. Sew n’ Sow smiled broadly at the embarrassed look on her grandson’s face. “Yer such a big boy, Filthy Rich!” she beamed. “Ya just keep on tryin’ now and y’ll get it in no time flat! Gramma loves ya, sugar cube!” Smithy rolled her eyes as her mother blew huge kisses at her son. “We better get down there before he busts that thing in two,” she said, pulling her overly enthusiastic mother away from the window. Finally giving up and shutting the window, Sew n’ Sow looked at her daughter with nothing but smiles. “He is gettin’ so big!” she said, her face beaming with grandmotherly pride. “When are y’all gonna have another one? Filthy Rich could use a lil’ brother or sister. He’s gonna be startin’ back to school in two weeks! By then yer gonna miss hearin’ lil’ hooves runnin’ ‘round. Besides, ya ain’t lost the pudge from the first one anyway.” Smithy hated when her mother did this. The last thing she wanted was more children. She and Stinking Rich barely touched each other anymore since Filthy Rich was born. Given the past they shared together, a healthy physical relationship with her husband was the last thing on her mind. Smithy knew that her husband and his gang were out getting their thrills with less than reputable mares of the night, buying up whatever thrills he needed from them. While that would have bothered any other wife, Smithy knew that their marriage was more of a forced business arrangement than an actual marriage. Sew n' Sow continued to ramble on about topics she didn't realize made her daughter very uncomfortable. “Oh, I almost forgot!” she declared amidst her chatter. “Yer favorite cousin, Apple Rose, is comin’ to the reunion! And so’s yer cousin, Apple Sauce, and who am I fergettin’… ah well. It’s family reunion time! Won’t it be nice to take turns sellin’ jam with yer family this season? I sure hope we can finally finish that quilt this year!”