Chapter Seventeen
A Few Hundred, Ordinary Lives
Hello.
We regret to inform you that your husband has died.
We’re so very sorry, ma'am.
He was a good stallion, I’m told. He did well. This was a terrible tragedy.
There wasn’t anything left to bury, but we’ve managed to recover his belongings.
Please accept this letter of condolences from the Princess herself. It’s the least we can offer.
This war is hard on all of us. We’ve all got to do our part.
You should be receiving your first check in about a week.
Goodbye.
Goodby—
I landed face first into the dirt.
“Gray, you idiot! Get up!” I was flipped over by a pair of hooves and forcibly shaken awake. “Gray!” the voice hissed again. “Get your gear on! The rest of the company’s already half ready! Come on! It’s time to go!” The hooves gripped me under my forelimbs and hauled me to my own hooves.
I pushed the pony away, falling backwards onto my bed and quickly blinked away the remnants of sleep. Fletcher’s bespectacled and visibly annoyed face swam into view.
“Fletcher!” I leapt to my hooves, immediately waking up. I glanced to the side, my senses immediately taking in the buzz activity outside of the tent. Through the fabric wall, I could see the silhouettes of my fellow soldiers rushing to and fro, undoubtedly carrying out some orders. I turned back toward my friend. “What’s going on? Are they attacking? What’re our orders?” I blurted out.
Without even waiting for his response, I rushed to the other side of my tent and began packing up all of the equipment I would need on the field, hastily stuffing my canteen, flashlight, binoculars, and other items into my saddlebags without any semblance of order.
Fletcher chuckled. “Scouts spotted them marching beside the canyon a few miles east of here. Best guess is that they’ll get to the bridge in an hour or so.” He slapped me on the back. “And guess who got the orders to be right on the front lines, ready to engage those bastards the moment they cross?”
I smiled weakly and began to strap on my armor. “Us?”
Fletcher chuckled and sat down on the edge of my cot. “Of course it’s us! Company C always gets saddled with this sort of stuff! You don’t see the other regiments doing nothing.”
I sighed. “Of course.” I fit the heavy armour onto my chest, grunting as its weight settled onto my shoulders. “Of course we get to engage them first. Ain’t that just our luck?”
Fletcher nodded in agreement and absentmindedly cleaned the lens of his deformed glasses on my bed sheet. “It’s bullshit. I know. But orders are orders, and we gotta be ready to roll out in five minutes or so, so you best get your ass into gear.”
“Yeah yeah. Just hold on.”
I checked one final time to make sure I had everything and Fletcher and I exited the tent and galloped over to the rest of our unit. We stood there for several minutes, as our supervising officer explained to us what needed to be done.
Time passed in a whirlwind of activity, and soon enough, Fletcher and I were marching side-by-side along with rest of our company down the small, dusty path that led to the bridge and to the enemy. The canyon, specifically the single bridge that crossed it, was one of the major choke points for the Equestrian military in the war; the canyon provided a near perfect defense and separated Equestria from her enemies.
Intel had known for weeks that the enemy would be making a move on the bridge sooner or later. The canyon itself was too wide to waste time and resources to travel around it, so the bridge was their only option of travel. It had been a waiting game, as both sides waited out the other, in hopes one would run out of supplies.
A great deal of our military was dedicated to making sure the bridge was well defended. We had been stationed near it for almost two months now, without any action. Morale and supplies were low, but it could only be assumed the same could be said for the other side.
But now, as the enemy finally approached, the Royal Company C, a unit made up of 108 brave stallions, were sent to the front lines to protect the nation we called home. I was going to war. We were going to war.
Without even turning my head, I stole a glance at my fellow troops and could see the slightest hints of fear evident in their faces. I’m sure my own showed that same unwarranted fear, that natural uneasiness that appears unheeded when you know very well you may die. Next to me, Fletcher mumbled something under his breath, most likely a wish for things to turn out alright.
As we rounded the bend, the gorge and its bridge came into sight through the thick blanket of fog that had set in over the surrounding countryside. The bridge in question was nothing particularly special or ornate; it didn’t even have a name as far as I knew, and it didn’t even look sturdy enough to support the weight of a particularly heavy wagon, but it would play a decisive role in the future of Equestria regardless.
With a bark of orders from the front of the formation, we ground to a halt and set up a defensive perimeter just in front of the mouth of the bridge. I took up position next to Fletcher just to left of the center and stared out over the chasm as far as the mist would permit me.
Twenty tense, nerve-wracking minutes passed before word came from a pegasi scout that the enemy had reached the bridge. A collective murmur ran through the gathered troops as we all prepared for the fight that was to come, taking a small comfort in knowing that, if we failed here, the rest of the military was mobilizing behind us, ready to take our foes by surprise if they managed to get past us. The enemy wasn’t getting further into Equestria, even if we failed.
The fog seemed to thicken as the seconds ticked by, restricting the field of vision to halfway down the bridge. Pegasi zipped around the sky, trying their best to peer through the inconvenient weather. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough pegasi with enough weather experience to clear away the fog in any meaningful way, so we were stuck, unable to see much of anything.
I looked at Fletcher and clasped his hoof, knowing that he would have my back through this. He smiled at me. “Don’t worry, Gray. We’ll beat back these bastards. We’ll do it…” His voice wavered, as if he wasn’t so sure of his own words.
Then, a unicorn to my left sent a bolt of magic whizzing out into the sky. “Contact! Pegasus!” he screamed, pointing up into the mist. A wave of unease passed over the gathered soldiers.
I took a small breath and touched the dog tags hanging around my neck and peered into the distance, alert for any signs of movement. For a brief moment, I thought of my home and of my wife. I didn’t know if I would ever see her smiling face again. I didn’t know if I would ever return home, to what was safe and familiar.
I refocused my attention on the bridge, driving those thoughts from my mind. Seconds passed and minutes passed and nothing happened. Everything was silent. My fellow soldiers could not look more somber and grim. I tightened my grip on the cold steel of my tags.
From the other side of the gorge, a thundering explosion shook the earth, catching a few of us by surprise. I could see the faces of my comrades turn white as ivory, if they weren’t that color already. We all knew the sound of a mortar shell being fired and we all knew that there was nothing we could do to stop the devastation that came next.
Normally, in the event of an incoming mortar, the pegasi would take to the air to try and stop or divert it, but there was none of that now; the fog was too thick and they could never find it in time. There was nothing to stop the mortar’s impact.
I closed my eyes and thought of home again, of lush, green hills, of quaint towns where the streets weren’t paved with blood, of my family and friends. I thought of the last time I saw my wife as she waved goodbye from the front door.
There was a flash of light that nearly blinded me, even through my closed eyelids and cut through my memories. A split second later, a wave of scorching heat that felt as if it seared the hair from my coat hurtled into me. The world went silent and I felt myself leave the ground, carried by the shockwave, flying haphazardly through the air, colliding with chunks of rock and fellow ponies, alive and dead.
I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. There was only blackness.
I felt myself float, fly through the sky, on the unseen and unheard. I heard whispers of voices from all around me and I couldn’t feel anything anymore.
The only thought I could spare in that moment was that I knew I was dead.
And death didn’t hurt.
There was only blackness.
Death didn’t hurt.
It felt… nice…
But then, as I floated upwards toward light, I felt myself slip, and I was tugged back down, falling, as pain flooded back into my body. I slammed back into consciousness and took a deep, gasping breath.
I opened my eyes.
The ground in front of me was torn open, another deep gash that would mar the landscape for a long time to come. A few paces in front of me was Fletcher, my best friend, only thirty-four, a shard of wood speared through his chest. Dead.
Through the ringing in my head, I heard somepony screaming, somepony crying, somepony shouting.
I wasn’t sure if it was me or not.
I felt the gravel under my body, and a dull throbbing where my back had smashed the ground in the landing.
The air was pungent with the smell of smoke and the acrid scent of burning flesh and blood.
I managed to move my neck and looked up briefly, and saw blue sky peeking through the fog.
I looked forward and saw the shadowy figures of the enemy creeping their way through the mist and smoke and debris, making their way into Equestria.
I looked down and didn’t see my legs.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~
I sat up out of bed, a ragged scream escaping my lips. I flung the sheets off of my sweat-drenched body and reached for the bat I had lying next to my bed, brandishing it, ready to confront any potential intruders. My gaze flashed around my bedroom, trying to identify the ponies who were about to attack me.
Only there was nobody there.
I was alone.
Still panting heavily, I punched my mattress partly in anger and partly in frustration and let the bat drop to the floor with a clatter. That had been the third time in the same week I had nightmares of that day. Three days I had woke up screaming, my muscles tense, the adrenaline of war pumping through my veins.
My eyes slid down my body and onto the stumps where my hindlegs once were. The dreams were so vivid, so real. It would almost be easier to count the days I didn’t dream about that day than the days I did.
I blinked away the sleep from my eyes.
Grumbling under my breath, I reached over and grabbed my wheelchair, bringing it closer to the side of the bed and swung my body into the seat. I ran my hoof over the familiar armrest and spun the chair around with some effort. I gripped the wheels and rolled myself into the bathroom, somewhat reluctant to start the day.
I stopped in front of the counter and studied my reflection in the mirror. An old stallion’s face looked back at me with world-weary eyes. Tentatively, I touched a hoof to my face, feeling the wrinkles that time had gouged into my previously smooth flesh. I ran a hoof over my scalp, barely feeling the wisps of hair that made up my thinning, graying mane.
I was so old. Where had the years gone?
The war had been so long ago, and even though we won, I, and so many others, had lost so much. Ever since that day by the bridge, I had been a broken stallion. Both my body and my mind were crushed, defeated the instant I lost half of my limbs. Both literally and figuratively, half a stallion returned home to a neighborhood that didn’t accept—didn’t understand—what he had been through. They didn’t have to see some of their closest friends brutally murdered in front of them.
They, and most of Equestria, were unappreciative for those ponies that had given so much for them. They turned their backs on us, on me. They were thankless, hateful, that we fought the war that we had to. They called us killers, war-mongers, deranged and so many other things, even if we never personally committed the atrocities that some of our brethren did. Many of us were victimized for what others had to do to survive.
I think that their malicious and cruel comments hurt more than physical injuries ever did, at least for a while.
The ungrateful bastards hated every soldier that came out of that war.
The day I returned home, I was being carted down the street in the back of an ambulance, my injuries finally healed enough to allow me to go home. Even now, years later, I could still feel my neighbors’ heated, piercing stares from their windows as I trundled along the road and hear their spiteful murmurings as I was brought up to my front door and to my wife, the only pony in my life who still supported me.
My wife…
I closed my eyes, blinking back tears.
I stared at my reflection, at the deep bags under my eyes, at my gaunt cheekbones, at the tuft of hair atop my head, at my unshaven beard, at the tears sliding down from my eyes.
I cried and the old gray stallion in the mirror cried with me.
Some time later, I wasn’t sure how long, I mustered the energy to haul myself into the shower and sat on the small fold-out seat that had been there since I lost my legs. I fumbled with the knobs and eventually managed to turn on the water, and let the warm liquid pour over my face and body until I couldn’t discern my tears from the water.
I rested there until the heated water ran out and gave way to the icy cold that froze both the room and my skin and stemmed my tears.
Eventually, I turned the knob and shut off the stream of water. I sat in the shower, my head pressed against the wall beside me. I grit my teeth, stemming a frustrated and tormented scream that threatened to escape my throat.
I sat there for a little longer, letting my freezing coat and mane dry in the vaporous air, a slight shiver every now and then the only indication that I was still awake. A few more tears ran down my cheek. I let loose a deep sigh and wiped my eyes, upset at myself for getting so emotional.
I was too old to be getting so upset all of the time.
Shoving aside the shower curtain, I feebly brought my wheelchair closer and swung myself back into the familiar and worn seat. Grabbing a towel from the nearby rack, I rubbed it over my coat, wincing slightly as I felt the rough fiber against my fur, irritating my skin. I was old and frail; time had taken a toll on my body and with each passing day, I could feel myself grow weaker and even more fragile. Soon, I wouldn’t even be able to brush my own teeth, let alone get in and out of my wheelchair like I relied on so much.
I wasn’t sure what I would do when it came to that, when I got too weak to even move or take care of myself. I was much too proud to have my own caretaker, let alone live in a nursing home. I didn’t trust those ponies, with their pills and much-too-wide smiles. I would rather die than become some vegetable to take care of.
And I couldn’t ask my son to take care of me. He would rather die than have anything to do with me.
I was alone.
I exited the bathroom, purposefully avoiding the mirror, lest any other painful memories well up. I had already spent a great part of the morning lamenting about the past and the future, and I didn’t want to spend any more time on either.
I rolled out into the living room, my wheels scrapping against the doorframe as I went, as they always did. I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was only a few hours before noon. Feeling that I should probably eat something, even if I wasn’t all that hungry, I wheeled myself towards the kitchen, ready to start the day.
Reaching my destination, I rolled to the refrigerator and opened the door. The light inside sluggishly flickered on and I peered inside, my eyes glancing over the sparse interior. There was hardly anything on the shelves that still constituted as food. I had to remember to go to the store sometime.
With a small grunt, I leaned in and grabbed a carton of milk. The expiration date was dated two days ago. I opened the carton and took a cautious whiff of the milk, only to gag violently at the foul smell. It was definitely bad. Coughing, I turned and poured the milk down the sink drain, flushing water down after it.
With my plans for cereal ruined, I grabbed a knife out of the drawer and cut myself two slices of bread, silently wishing that somepony would invent some sort of pre-sliced bread. I placed the bread in the toaster and waited a few minutes for it to cook.
As I passed the time, my thoughts unwillingly strayed back to the past once again, back to days when my wife would be up and in the kitchen preparing breakfast before I had even woken. I would crawl sluggishly out of bed, and she would greet me with a smile on her face and a kiss that would start my morning out right.
But after a while, after I came back from the war, our roles were reversed as she became weaker as her health slowly declined. Despite my own handicap, I became the one to wake first and take care of her and our son. It wasn’t long after that she couldn’t even make it out of bed, and there was nothing I, or anypony else, could do to stop the illness that consumed her life.
I could still remember the smile on her face as she closed her eyes for the last time.
The ding of the toaster jolted my out of my memories. Shaking my head, I grabbed the two pieces of toast, buttered them and placed them on a ceramic plate. I brought the food and an extra plate over to the dining table.
I set a place for my wife across the table from me, as always, and began to eat.
As I ate, I looked out through the sliding glass doors that led to my backyard. I could see my next-door neighbor working in his yard, pulling weeds out of his flowerbed. Behind him, his two children, a colt and a mare, were tossing a ball between them, shrieking with joy. I watched them for several minutes before his wife came out with a tray of drinks, setting it down on their patio table.
The stallion pulled one more weed and stood up, chatting with his wife as he walked over to her. The foals ran over and hugged their father, who scooped them up, twirling them around before setting them back down. Teetering for a moment, the two foals fell on the ground, giggling madly. With a smile, the husband took a sip from his drink and kissed his wife on the cheek.
They were happy.
I ate my last piece of toast and turned away from my neighbors. I didn’t want to look at them any longer. My house had once been like that, years ago. My son’s laughter once filled these rooms. My wife once shared the bed with me, even in illness.
But they were gone now. My wife was dead, and my son had his own family. I was alone.
I took my dirty plate into the kitchen and ran it under some hot water. I grabbed a sponge and washed the plate clean with as much vigor as my old hooves would allow me. I shut off the faucet and dried the plate off with a towel, making sure it was as clean as it could be. If there was one thing I learned in my life, it was to make sure things were done properly.
With the plate spotless enough for my standards, I turned and opened the cabinet door. I reached up to place the plate back in its proper place, my hooves trembling.
But the plate slid out of my old, feeble grasp and shattered on the floor with a resounding crack that split the silence.
My eyes widened in alarm almost immediately. I couldn’t tell where the noise came from, which could only mean the enemy was fast approaching. Hurriedly, I scanned the room for any encroaching intruders. I thrust myself out of the chair, onto the floor, and pressed myself against the cabinets for protection, wary of an attack. My breathing was ragged and shallow.
I hoisted myself up and peeked over the counter and out of the windows. Shadowy figures moved through the trees beyond the yard. I could see four ponies off to the side, laughing and laughing and laughing. “Private,” I glanced at the soldier to my right, “Private Inkheart, what do you see out there? How many are there, you reckon?”
Nopony spoke.
I nodded, sinking below the counter again. “Good. That’s good. You think you can make it over to that other window?” I gestured towards the living room, ignoring how fast my heart was beating in my chest. “Keep watch from over there, alright? Don’t let them overtake us.”
There was silence.
I turned to my left. “Fletcher,” I whispered, “see if you can’t flank them, take them by surprise.” I paused, looking at the linoleum floor in confusion. “And where the hell’s all my stuff? How can I be expected to engage the enemy without any equipment?!” I turned around, searching for the closest pony to give orders to. “You!” I barked at a lither pegasus. “Corporal Clegg, isn’t it? Come over here. Been meaning to speak with you.”
The stallion approached. “Sir?”
“Find out where the hell all our equipment’s got to. The enemy’s upon us.” I paused, eyeing the stallion’s bum leg with some apprehension. “Actually, take two others with you. Get it done quicker. Now hop to it.”
He saluted. “Yes Sir.” He galloped away as best he could with a bad leg.
Feeling satisfied, I turned and, with some effort, pulled myself up and peered at my surroundings, taking care that I wasn’t exposed. I spotted a claw hammer laying just a few paces away, just outside the wall’s security. I let myself smile. “That’ll have to do. A hammer’s better than nothing…” I collapsed back down to the floor and crawled over to where the hammer was. I slumped against the barricade we were camped behind and cautiously reached for the hammer.
I wrapped my hoof around the tool and brought it in, clutching it tight to my chest. I caught Private Inkheart’s attention, but he indicated that he had nothing to report, so I crawled back into better cover.
Just then, there was a loud knocking sound. I tensed and glanced in the sound’s direction, ready to attack whatever made the noise. The enemy probably circled around to attack us from behind while I was preoccupied with giving orders. The clever bastards.
Then, the knocking came again. My eyes scanned the vast landscape, trying to pinpoint exactly what exactly was making the sound. My hooves were shaking violently and I had to keep a firm grip on the hammer, so as not to I drop it. I had to find some warmer clothes for protection against these northern winds.
A voice spoke up. “Hello?” The voice came from directly in front of me, but I couldn’t see the speaker. “I know you’re in there. Can I come in? I just want to talk…”
I gripped the hammer tighter and took a deep breath, but ended up coughing violently instead. I ground my teeth in frustration, convinced that I had just given away my position. They weren’t getting in here without a fight.
“Gray, are you okay?” asked the voice from behind the door. “I’m gonna come in, alright?”
The door handle clicked and turned.
I dragged myself closer to the enemy and hide behind the corner of a nearby wall, ready to assault the stallion the moment he got near.
The door swung open. “Gray, where are you? I just wanna talk.” The stallion walked around the room, searching for me. I didn’t believe his assurances of talking and peace. I knew that he would attack me the moment he saw me, so I patiently waited until he wandered over to where I was hiding so I could attack him.
As he approached, I leapt out, sweeping the stallion’s legs out from under him. He fell to the ground with a pained grunt, and I scrambled on top of him, holding my hammer to his throat. “Why’re you here?!” I growled. “Who sent you?!”
The stallion coughed and tried to shove me off of him, but I stayed fast, laying all my weight into him. He sputtered and frowned at me, eyes full of anger. “Gray…” he started, “G-Gray, what’re yo-you doing? It’s me, your s-s-son.” He pressed up my hoof, trying to lessen the pressure on his windpipe. You’re having another episode. You’re hallucinating again. The war’s over, Gray, the war’s over.”
I laughed, throwing my head back. Did they really think that I could be fooled so easily? “Enough of your lies!” I barked. “Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”
The stallion looked up at me. “Do you think Mom would’ve wanted this when she died?” He scowled. “I don’t know how she loved you at the end, after everything, but she did. She loved you, after all you did to this family, and now you’re killing the only family you have left.”
I stared down into the stallion’s pale blue eyes.
I blinked.
“Son…?” I sat back, removing the hammer from his throat. I looked around the room, seeing the familiar furniture, seeing the walls and carpet, seeing the house I had lived in for so many years. There was no battlefield. There were no soldiers. There was no war.
I looked down at my son.
“I…” I sat back, the hammer falling from my hoof. “I didn’t… I mean, I thought…”
He sat up, rubbing his neck. “Ugh…” A cough. “W-when was the last time you took your meds?”
I looked towards the kitchen and the small container of pills that I knew were sitting on the counter. “I… I think it was a few days ago…”
“Gray!” He looked at me sharply. “You have to remember to take them so stuff like this doesn’t happen. What if it wasn’t me today? What if it was the mailstallion or one of your neighbors that knocked on your door and you ended up killing them?” He felt his throat again, wincing as he touched it. “See, this is exactly the reason I left.”
I sighed. “I know… I know. I just don’t want to be dependent on them. I don’t want to take them…”
My son stood up, and brought my wheelchair over. “Well suck it up. You have to. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t care, but my bitch of a wife thinks that you’re still able to be saved, for some reason.” He heaved me into my wheelchair and shoved me into the living room.
Steering me on the side of the coffee table, my son collapsed on the couch opposite. He gazed out the back windows without saying anything, obviously deep in thought. I twiddled my hooves, unwilling to look at him out sheer embarrassment. Of all the days I had forgotten to take my medication, it had to be the day my son decided to visit.
I almost killed him.
I almost murdered my own son without even thinking twice about it.
The very thought made my stomach churn.
The stallion in question spoke up, his voice hard. “I didn’t want to come over here, you know. I would’ve happily stayed at home with my own family, but my idiot wife still thinks there’s some good in you. She’s been nagging me for weeks now to come over here, and when I finally do, I’m attacked! Attacked by my own father!” He glared at me, anger burning in his eyes. “I suppose nothing’s changed, has it? You’re still the same unstable drunk asshole that ruined my foalhood.”
“I’m sorry…” I murmured.
He scowled. “I don’t care. I really don’t. You may be the only family I have left, but I despise you. I want you to know that.”
I shook my head, still unwilling to look at him. I kept my eyes locked firmly on the floor. “Son, you don’t mean that. You—”
“I do mean it!” he growled. “You fucking ruined my life—and Mom’s life too! I would’ve loved to never see you until you were lying in a coffin, but my wife seems to think that you’re getting lonely cooped up in here, or something. I just don’t see how that could be though, seeing as you drove everypony away yourself! You must love being by yourself, ‘cause that’s what you spent your time trying to do my entire foalhood!”
“That’s not true!” I finally looked up, staring at my son from across the table, feeling his icy gaze burn into me.
He chuckled. “Oh yeah? Well you sure did a fine damn job of it!”
“No… I… That was such a long time ago. I’ve changed! Please!” I inched the chair closer. “Please, son… I love you…”
He glared at me. “No you don’t,” he whispered. “And even if you do, I don’t care any more.”
There was silence.
I looked into my son’s eyes and saw none of the young, innocent colt I had raised. It had been years since any sort of compassion graced his features. He was a cold, heartless shell, the remnants of what could’ve been the kind of caring stallion I had hoped him to be, as any father wants their son to be.
And I had only myself to blame for not being there for him when he needed it, and for everything else he blamed me for. It was all my fault.
“Look, Gray,” he continued, drawing my attention back to him, “the wife thinks it’d be a good idea if you got out of the house for a bit. There’s a parade downtown later today, and she, not I, wants you to come with us, alright?”
I pressed my lips together, unsure how to respond. I looked at my son’s reluctant and furious face and knew that he didn’t want me in his life. He had made that painfully obvious many a time. I had hoped that he had forgiven me over the years, but it seemed nothing had changed.
I hadn’t seen him or his family in years. I had only met his son, my grandson, once or twice. As uncomfortable of an afternoon it would be, I felt a twinge of longing for my family stir. My son may have hated me with every fiber of his body, but my grandson and daughter-in-law still had some love for me.
But even that love wouldn’t last very long. Everyone always left in the end.
I sighed and looked anywhere else in the room but at my son. “I—I suppose I can. I would be nice to get out of the house and all…”
“Alright.” He stood up, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But listen here, Gray,” he said, jabbing an accusing hoof in my face, “If you ruin this day for my family, you’d better wish that you died in that war, you understand? If I see you spending any time with my son than necessary, I will not hesitate to abandon you there, no matter what my wife says. I don’t need you to screw up his life the way you did to mine.”
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I nodded in understanding. With a snort of disgust, my son left me and marched over to the door. He turned and looked at me one last time. “I’ll be back in about an hour with everypony else to pick you up. Don’t forget.”
And with that, he was gone, the sound of the door slamming marking his departure.
I stared at the wall for what felt like an eternity, unable to find the resolve to move from my spot in the living room.
My son hated me. He hated me with all of his heart, ever since he was old enough to realize he could. At first, I hadn’t cared that he despised me. Those days I hardly cared for much but a bottle of alcohol and a nap. But, as I grew older, especially after my wife’s passing, I found myself longing for his love and respect, only to be spurned every time. It broke my heart to see him hate me so, but I think it hurt me more to know that it was all my fault.
I may just not have killed my son a few moments ago, but I killed his soul, his kindness, his innocence long ago.
I blinked.
My eyes drifted over the clock on the far wall and widened in surprise. Almost fifty minutes had passed since my son had departed, and I hadn’t done a thing but sit and wallow in my own mind.
My son, and his own family, would be here any minute to pick me up.
Shaking myself out of my stupor, I quickly wheeled into the bathroom and freshened myself up. I hadn’t seen my grandson or daughter-in-law for almost two years. I had to look presentable for them at least, because I knew that I couldn’t mess up my chance with them the way I had my son.
Feeling that I cleaned myself up enough, I went back out to the living room and waited for my son’s imminent arrival. A few minutes passed with no indication of their presence, and I ended up looking out into the backyard. The family next door had gone back inside, leaving their own yard empty and abandoned. A pair of swings swayed in a gentle breeze. The ball that the foals were playing with earlier lay abandoned in the grass. A lone glass still remained on the table, half of its contents gone.
There was a knock on the door. “Come on, time to go!” yelled a voice from beyond it.
“Just a minute, son!” I called back. “I’ll be out in a moment!” I took a final glance around the room, making sure that nothing was out of place. Nothing was; the room was impeccable as always.
Knock. Knock. Knock. “Time to go!” came the voice again.
I growled in annoyance. “I said that I’ll be right out! Calm down!” I shook my head and sighed. “Geez… These foals have no patience anymore…” I muttered to myself.
I wheeled myself toward the door, ready to go spend the day with what little family I had left, but the phone sitting on the kitchen counter rang. I jumped at the noise. Nobody ever bothered to call me except the occasional telemarketer or old friend that managed to look me up, and I only kept the device around for emergencies.
I stared at the phone with slight trepidation as I rolled over to it. I rang again, a small red light just above the rotary dial blinking on and off and on and off and on and off.
I was a bit unsure about the machine. Sure, I understood the benefits of having a phone, but it was such new technology, in my eyes at least, that I didn’t really trust it. All the newfangled devices they had today baffled me. Writing letters was always more relaxing for me anyways.
And besides, hadn’t I unplugged the phone?
My eyes followed the phone cord over to the power socket in the wall. The plug sat on the counter just below the socket. The phone wasn’t plugged in.
The phone rang a second time.
Phones weren’t able to do that without power.
Cautiously, I reached out and picked up the phone, bringing it to my ear.
“Hello…?” I whispered, my voice unsteady.
On the other side, a mare’s chipper voice answered me. “Yes, this is a collect call for a Mrs. Rêves from Mr. Pink. Will you accept the charges from Canterlot?”
I was silent, unsure how I should respond.
The phone was definitely not plugged in. There was no way that it could work, but there was definitely somepony on the other end. Somepony that was talking to me.
There was a knock from the front door. “Time to go!”
I slammed the phone back down on the hook and turned away, my hooves shaking. I took a deep breath and swung my chair around, deciding to leave the mysterious phone behind and enjoy the day out with my family.
And the phone rang a second time.
I stared at the machine in silent dread. It wasn’t going to let me have a moment’s relief. I squeezed my eyes shut and briefly thought about just leaving, but, as the phone rang again, I knew that I couldn’t. I was going to have to answer it.
I picked up the receiver again. “Hello?”
The same mare answered. “This is Canterlot calling, are we reaching—”
“Hey, you coming back to bed?” A mare’s voice came from behind me.
I flung the phone down on the counter and spun around to face the mare. A young, light-blue unicorn mare was leaning against the doorjamb to the living room, watching me with unrestrained lust. She smiled. “Sorry, hun. Did I surprise you?”
I gaped at the mare in shock, my mind unable to comprehend what was going on.
Behind me, the phone on the counter was still working, the mare’s voice barely audible. “See, there’s a stallion answering, but he keeps hanging up…”
“Time to go!”
The mare sauntered over to me, flicking the tip of her tail across my snout. She leaned closer, planting a kiss on my forehead. “What was it you had to do that you had to interrupt our time together?”
I pushed the mare off of me and darted out into the living room, desperate to get away from her. “Wh—who are you!? What’re you doing in my house!?” I fumbled behind me for any sort of weapon, but my hooves only connected with the couch.
The mare looked worried and crept forward. “Are you feeling okay? It’s me, your loving wife. Don’t you remember me, Gray?”
I shook my head forcefully. “My wife is dead! She has been for fourteen years now!”
The mare bit her lip. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Gray? You’ve never had a wife before me… unless you’ve been withholding information, that is. There’s only ever been you and me.” She stepped forward, forelegs wide in an attempt to hug me, but I pushed her away.
I gulped. “I’m f-f-feeling fine a-and I know that you’re not my wife. You look nothing like her! Now, I don’t know who you are, but I want you to leave, or I’ll call the authorities!”
The mare sighed. “Gray, I’m your wife. I’ve lived with you for five years now. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to calm down so we can talk about it…”
Three knocks from the door. “Come on, it’s time to go!”
I smiled in satisfaction, my attention drawn to the door. “Well, if I’ve never had a wife before you, than why is my son at the door with his own wife and son? You’re much too young for any foal of ours to have his own child!”
The mare stared at the door for a moment. “Gray, there’s nopony at the door.” She looked back at me, concern evident. “Gray… I don’t know what’s going on. You’re obviously not feeling right. You need to go rest.” She gripped my hoof and the arm of my wheelchair and began to wheel me into the bedroom.
“Get away!” I yelled, swatting at her. “Don’t make me hurt you!”
The mare smiled sadly, wincing slightly from my blows. “This is for your own good. You need to rest. Sort things out.” Her eyes shone. “Everything will be okay. You can trust me.”
There was a burst of static from the phone in the kitchen. “…answering, but he keeps hanging up…”
The mare tugged on my chair, but I gripped the wheels tightly, stopping her. “No…” I shook my head, a sudden thought popping into my head. “No, y-you can’t be real.” I pointed an accusatory hoof at her. “You’re not real! You’re just another hallucination, like before! I never took my medication.” I grinned madly, feeling triumphant that I was able to tell reality from delusions for once. “You’re not real!”
The unicorn blinked once and then pressed her lips against mine. Her tongue tried to force its way past my lips, but I kept them firmly shut and struggled against her affections, eventually managing to push her away.
She broke away, wiping some saliva from her snout with the back of a hoof. “Oh, Gray, I love you, but sometimes you can be so silly.” She gripped my wheelchair and pulled me forward toward my bedroom. She smiled. Now, come on, how about I go convince you that I’m real, huh? I know a few tricks that’ll prove how very physical I am…”
She reached for the doorknob, intent on opening it, but the door was flung open before she could, revealing a young, light-blue pegasus mare. She gasped in awe, covering her mouth with a hoof. “Oh Celestia, what a fabulous room!” she exclaimed. “Are all of these…”
I looked at the new mare, a sense of dread settle in my stomach. This bout of hallucinations was the worst one I had ever experienced. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the visions. “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real…” I muttered under my breath, hoping that if I repeated it enough, the two mares would go away.
I opened my eyes again. “—look at this tub! Hey, you wanna take a bath?” The new mare’s face peeked out from my bathroom, a mischievous grin on her face.
There was three knocks from my front door. “It’s time to go!”
The pegasus mare walked out from the bathroom, concern evident in her face. “Hey, can you hear me alright, Gray? Is there anypony in there?” She reached out to touch me, but I wheeled away from her as I did with the unicorn mare earlier.
Speaking of the unicorn, I wondered why she hadn’t said anything, I glanced at the hallucination in question, only to find her frozen stock still, hoof still outreached for the door handle. She was completely and utterly motionless, completely silent.
My breath caught in my throat as I felt a sense of panic set in. I didn’t understand what was going on. All my normal delusions involved the war, or my past in some way, but this was something different altogether. This was horrible. I had never even had an attack close to this bad before, even including the time I went without medication for two months.
I was scared. Terrified, even. Body-numbing, distressingly horrified.
The pegasus mare walked forward. “What’s wrong? What’s going on Gra—” She froze, cut of in the middle of her sentence. She stopped moving, just like the unicorn mare.
The room was silent for a moment, save for my own sigh of relief. Whatever sort of delusion I was having, it was like nothing I ever had experienced before. I had never been so lucid and aware of my surroundings and actions in any previous occurrence.
I looked at the two immobile mares, hallucinations, standing in my living room, thankful that they had both stopped moving. Whatever was going on, whatever reason my mind conjured them up for, seemed to be stopping. Soon enough, I knew, they would both disappear and I could take my pills and go on with my day.
The phone crackled to life once more, somehow making itself heard from all the way in the kitchen. “…there’s a stallion answering, but he keeps hanging up…” Making doubly sure the two mares weren’t moving any more, I wheeled myself towards the phone, intent on hanging up the receiver so I could forget the past few minutes and just go be with my family.
But just as I was about to reach for the phone, I heard a polite cough from behind me. I turned around to find a young, sky blue stallion outfitted out in full military armor reminiscent of my own staring at me with a solemn expression on his face.
He cleared his throat a second time and inched closer to me. “Sir,” he began in a deep, unwavering voice, “I regret to inform you that your father has died in service of Equestria and her interests.” He held out a small, plain box that appeared to come from nowhere. “As the last remaining kin, the few belongings he had with him are now yours. Do with them as you wish.” He dropped the box in my lap.
I looked at the stallion in confusion. “My father?” I asked incredulously. “My father’s been dead for over forty years now, and he never even served in the military! The war’s been over for even longer! What are you going on about?”
The stallion merely smiled. “I am sorry, sir. I, and by extension, Celestia herself, extend our deepest sympathies for your loss. This war has been a very trying time for all of us, and your father paid the ultimate price for our safety.”
I frowned, glancing between the box in my lap and he soldier. “Are you even hearing me? The war has been over for—” I stopped short, realization falling over me once again.
“Oohhhhhhohooo no, no. You’re not real. I forgot for a moment. I’ve been hallucinating this whole time. You’re not even real! That’s why you make no sense!” I pointed a hoof in the stallion’s unflinching face. “You’re not real! Ha! Ha ha hahahaa!” I giggled, clapping my hooves together in delight.
Th stallion didn’t move and continued to stare at me with his steely eyes. “Try not to be to upset, sir. I know that the loss of a close family member can be hard, but perhaps you can alleviate some of that sadness by buying some war bonds. That always manages to cheer me up.”
I chuckled again and circled the stallion. “Who are you?” I murmured. “Why am I imagining you, of all ponies? I can’t remember meeting you at all.” I glanced at the other immobile figures in the room. “Why am I hallucinating any of this…?” I came back to the stallion’s impassive face. “What’s your name? Who are you?”
The stallion didn’t answer.
I waved a hoof in front of his face. “Hello?” I prodded the stallion’s cheek, but he didn’t even budge. He had become frozen, just like the others were.
I was so tired of this shit.
Knock. Knock. “Time to go!” Knock.
Hearing the voice sent a chill down my spine. I whipped my head around to stare at the front door, my eyes wide. Was my son really still out there, waiting for me to meet him, or was I just hallucinating that as well? If I opened that door, what would be waiting for me out there?
I almost didn’t want to know.
Ever so slowly, I rolled closer to the door, but it didn’t seem to get any nearer. I was moving across the floor, away from the back of the house, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. Furniture passed by me, but I never seemed to move.
Something knocked at my door.
“Time to go!” it yelled, shouted, roared, screamed, bellowed, neighed, hollered, shrieked, cried, screeched.
I found myself wheeling away from the door, into the living room. Like a switch had been thrown, I suddenly knew that I couldn’t open the door just yet, but I didn’t know why. I didn’t have the energy or the willpower, maybe. Maybe I was afraid of it.
I was approaching the entrance to the kitchen, when an old, cerulean-colored griffon stepped out of the doorway, and stopped my wheelchair with a clawed talon. He leered down at me for a moment and straightened the pair of glasses perched precariously on his beak.
“Well, well, well… What’d we got ‘ere?” The griffon’s voice was filled with malice. “A poor, legless, washed-up, failure of a pony, eh?” With a grunt, he gripped my foreleg, digging his talons in hard enough to draw blood, and threw me to the ground. He loomed over my prone body, a sadistic grin plastered across his beak.
He kicked my wheelchair out of the way and seized me by the shoulder, lifting me off of the floor, chuckling all the while. “You ain’t nobody special!” he barked. “You’re a mis’rable ‘scuse for a pony! Your family never loved you! Your wife stayed with you outta pity, and your son loathes you! Nobody could ever love the likes of you! You shoulda died out by that bridge! It woulda been better for everypony!”
He threw me to the floor and kicked me in the stomach, knocking the air from my lungs. I tried to take a deep breath, but he kicked me again before I even had time to think. Pain racked my body. I was too old to take that sort of abuse.
The griffon attempted to kick me a third time, but I anticipated his movements and managed to roll from his foot, feeling my old military training beginning to seep back into me. I pushed myself up off the floor as best I could, leaning against the backlegs of the frozen pegasus mare. I looked up at the griffon, my ribs throbbing from their abuse, and realized something.
“But…but, you’re n-not real!” I wheezed, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. “You shouldn’t be able to touch me! You’re just my imagination!”
The griffon’s eyes gleamed with a malicious light. “You’re wrong, ya know. I’m very much real.” He bent down and scooped up the claw hammer from earlier that was still lying on the floor where I had left it. He examined the hammer for a moment. “I’m very much real.” he repeated.
I shook my head. “No! No. You’re not real! I—I’m just hallucinating!”
The griffon smirked. “Wrong!” He traced my jawline with the claw side of the hammer. I felt the cold metal against my skin through my coat. “Am I gonna ‘ave to demn’strate it for ya? What do I gotta to do to show ya, laddie? Am I gonna ‘ave to kill ya, so you can see just how real all this is?”
He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Why’re you so afraid of dying, huh? There’s no reason for it.” He smiled. “You’ve gotta go sometime, and ya know, deep down in that black ‘eart of yours, that your time is long overdue…”
He raised the hammer high, preparing to strike. I clenched my eyes shut, not wanting to see the blow that would end my life. I had been alive for so long, I had seen so much and lost too many things and ponies I cared about. I hurt so much all of the time. Everything hurt every day. Maybe death would finally be the end I was looking for. I had cheated death once, had felt its grip on me, seen the light, and returned. Maybe this time I would find peace. Maybe this time I could be happy.
“You’re wrong, laddie. Everythin’ about ya is wrong,” the griffon hissed, “an’ I’m ‘ere to make ya right, an’ if it don’t work, I’ll do it again and again until it sticks…” A pause. “Now, be a good little soldier, and die for me and your country, will ya?”
I fell backwards onto the floor as my grip on the immobile mare behind me gave way, and waited in that position for that single instant when everything would fall away and blackness could overtake me once again.
But nothing happened. There was no impact of the hammer against my flesh, no shout as the griffon swung down, no anything, no anything. I creaked open my eyes to see the hammer frozen mere inches from my snout, its owner just as motionless as it was.
I crawled out from under the hammer, my entire body trembling. I eluded death for a second time, even as I had begun to come to terms with it. I had lived for so long. I was tired.
After a few moments, I inched over to my wheelchair, ignoring how tired my forelegs were getting from pulling myself along the floor. After struggling to turn the chair upright, I heaved myself into the seat and moved back over to the mysterious griffon. Leaning in close, I tentatively prodded the griffon with my hoof, feeling just how very solid he was. He was no hallucination. Hallucinations couldn’t throw you around like a ragdoll. Hallucinations weren’t solid. Hallucinations couldn’t physically kill you.
I gulped and backed away. They were real. They were all real. The mare on the phone, the mare convinced she was my wife, the pegasus mare, the soldier, the griffon. They were all really here. I wasn’t imagining them. There were really in my house.
There was a knock at the door. “Time to go!”
I blinked.
And when I opened my eyes, I was alone. All of the intruders were gone, leaving my house just as empty as it used to be. Even the telephone in the kitchen was back on its cradle.
“What do you think?” A new, yet familiar, voice spoke up from behind me.
I recoiled at the sound and spun around to see a light-blue unicorn stallion wearing a tweed jacket and a bowtie sitting on the couch in the living room. Everything about him was familiar, from the smile on his face, to his near analytical gaze, almost as if he was from a dream that I couldn’t quite grasp.
“Ah yes. Hello, Gray.” he said, acknowledging me as I finally noticed him. “Tell me, how do you feel?”
Cautiously, I wheeled over to him, staring at him, trying to place where it was I had seen him before. The stallion folded his forelegs in his lap and we gazed at each other in silence for a few moments, before he repeated his question. “How do you feel, Gray? Angry? Confused?”
I nodded.
The stallion chuckled. “Yes, that’s to be expected, I suppose. All of this was thrown at you rather suddenly. But, judging by the way things have been going, I’d say that it’s been working out, wouldn’t you?”
“What’s going on? What’s working?” My voice faltered in my throat. “Wh-who’re y-you?”
“Ah. That’s right. How silly of me.” The stallion leaned back further into the couch, settling into the cushions. “Well, there was a time that you called me Doctor, but I’m not sure that that name applies any longer, at least not here, in this place.” He paused. “I suppose that you can make up a name for me, if you’d like. It really doesn’t matter. I’m not sure that you’ll remember any of this anyways. The mind has a tendency to forget, after all.”
“I don’t—You said that I used to know you,” I scrutinized the stallion’s face, “and you seem sorta familiar, but…”
Doctor seemed disinterested. “I’m sure you’ll create a backstory for me to satisfy your needs in a second. But I assure you that we have met before.” He brushed some unseen dust off his jacket lapel before returning attention to me. “Now, tell me, how do you feel?”
I snorted in exasperation, annoyed at his constant inquiries. “I don’t know! Angry, I guess. Confused. Uneasy. Scared. I don’t know. I don’t understand what’s going on! Does that help?!”
Doctor nodded. “That’s understandable. I’d ask you what you think of the mare on the phone, the griffon, and all the rest, but I’m sure you don’t understand anything that’s been going on at all. I think—”
I gasped in realization, cutting him off. “I remember now! You were the field doctor that patched me up after I lost my legs! Geez, you didn’t age a day, did you? What’re you doing here?”
Doctor sighed, visibly irritated. “If that’s what you want to think, Gray, then I won’t stop you. You’re trying to make sense of everything that’s happened, but all you’re doing is delaying what needs to be done.”
“And what’s that?”
“Tell me, do you feel anything for these ponies that have appeared in your house and disturbed your afternoon? Do you feel any forgiveness, pity, anger, kinship, for what they’ve done?”
“No. I—I don’t know. Why would I? I don’t even know why they’re in here at all. I was going to spend a nice day with my son and his family, but all this has got in the way. That griffon almost killed me!” I grumbled.
Doctor was silent for a moment, obviously trying to think of what to say next.
A loud wail split the silence.
Surprised, my eyes shot to the source of the sound. Lying on the couch next to Doctor was a small, pink colt, barely a few months old, crying his lungs out. Doctor didn’t even seem to have noticed the foal, for he didn’t even blink when it began to cry.
The colt flailed its legs in the air, revealing sparse patches where his coat was falling out. He looked horrendously sick. His eyes were bloodshot, his ribs were visible, and he was obviously in a lot of pain, probably the reason for his incessant crying.
I grabbed at Doctor’s hoof, getting his attention. “Doctor, who’s the colt?”
Doctor glanced up at me and his eyes followed my gray hoof to the pink colt. His eyes widened in surprise and he muttered something under his breath. He looked back at me, distress plain on his face. “Well…” He swallowed. “Well, I suppose that you could call him Pink. Of course, names aren’t a matter of much importance as of right now, so his doesn’t mean much.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s in a lot of pain. He’s… regressed, stuck in his past, so to say, and… and he’s scared. He’s scared because he has even less of a clue about what’s going on than you do. He’s not in control anymore…” He placed a hoof on the colt and stroked his head, quieting his cries.
“C-can you help him? You’re a doctor, right?” Pink squirmed under Doctor’s touch, a soft, mewling whinny the only sound he could muster.
Doctor solemnly shook his head. “No. I can’t. Only you can help him. You’re the one in control now, Gray. You have the power to decide both your and his fate, and I can only hope that you’ll figure it out.”
“What?!” My voice cracked. “I don’t even know him! Why do I have to help? Why can’t you?!”
Doctor merely smiled again and began to straighten his bowtie. “I can’t tell you that Gray. You have to figure out on your own what you’ve done and what you need to do, and then maybe, you, and Pink here, can be whole again.”
“You mean…” I gripped the stumps where my hindlegs used to be. “…my legs?”
“No.” Doctor reached out and jabbed at my chest. “Maybe you can repair your soul. Maybe you can repair your mind.”
“But where do you fit in? Who are you?"
Doctor leaned back and smiled. “I’m you, Gray. Everything in here is you. I’m just a small part of our mind that realized what happened when Pink withdrew into himself and went behind the wall. I’m trying to fix what he did, what we did. After all, I’m you, Pink is you, and you are you. We just have to figure out who we are. Our wall destroyed us, split us, and now Pink is trapped, repressed, behind it, and you, a combination of all the memories we wanted to forget, are in control for the first time.”
“I don’t underst—”
The stallion, me, cut me off. “You don’t have to. You probably won’t remember any of this. Or that mental institution, for that matter. Of course, I probably won’t either, so just go with it.”
There was a knock at the door. “Come on, it’s time to go! You’re gonna be late!”
Doctor smiled. “Shouldn’t you go see who’s at your door?”
“I…” I looked at the door with apprehension. “I don’t know.”
“I know.” he, I, said.
Rather abruptly, the room burst with sound as a cacophony of voices from nowhere exploded into being.
“Wrong! Do it again!”
“I regret to inform you that your father has died.”
“Time to go!”
“Is there anypony in there?”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“There’s a stallion answering, but he keeps hanging up.”
It was the intruders from earlier, all speaking, all at the same time. But they weren’t in the room. Their disembodied voices filled my house, filled my ears, filled my mind, until all there was was their voices.
The unicorn mare’s sugar-laden voice spoke up. “Are you feeling okay?”
The griffon’s vicious shout boomed. “Wrong! Do it again!”
The soldier’s gruff whisper cut through me. “I regret to inform you that your father has died.”
The pegasus mare’s voice was full of concern. “Is there anypony in there?”
The phone beeped. “There’s a stallion answering, but he keeps hanging up.”
The pony at the door knocked again. “Time to go!”
Doctor pointed at the door. “Go open the door.”
“Time to go!”
“Is there anypony in there?”
“Wrong! Do it again!”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“I regret to inform you that your father has died.”
“There’s a stallion answering, but he keeps hanging up.”
With a sense of uneasiness, I rolled myself over to the door, feeling Doctor’s eyes on me as I went. My eyes.
“Wrong! Do it again!”
I stared at the door.
“There’s a stallion answering, but he keeps hanging up.”
I placed a hoof on the doorknob.
“Are you feeling okay?”
I took a deep breath.
“Time to go!”
I turned the knob.
“H-hello?” My voice was weak.
I opened the door, only there was nothing on the other side. There was nopony waiting on the other side. No knocker to greet me.
There was nothing but a blank whiteness.
There was a knock on a door.
“Come on, it’s time to go! Open the door!”
I inched closer to the threshold and peered out into the emptiness, hoping to see somepony, anypony, anything.
“Hello?” I asked again. “Is there anypony out there?”
Nothing answered.
Before I could even react, the floor of my house lurched, sending a wheel of my chair over the edge, throwing me from the seat. I fell into the emptiness.
I screamed for a long time, my eyes clenched shut on pure, instinctual fear.
And I fell.
Wind whistled past my body, but I couldn’t feel it.
And I fell.
Invisible flames burned away at my flesh, exposing the bone underneath to the cool air.
And I fell.
I could hear voices that weren’t my own.
And I fell.
My limbs felt as if they were being torn apart.
And I fell.
The scent of burning flesh assaulted my nose.
And I fell.
The world felt as if it split in half.
And I fell.
My mind felt as if it split in half.
And I fell.
And I continued screaming, dreading the moment when my body would connect with the bottom in a visceral moment that I would never survive.
And I fell.
I didn’t want to die, I realized.
I was just as afraid as I had always been, all my life.
Afraid of hitting the bottom of whatever was at the end of the whiteness.
Afraid of loneliness.
Afraid of love.
Afraid of separation.
Afraid of death.
Only, that moment of impact never came.
Death never came up to meet me.
I wasn’t falling anymore. My body was stationary and resting on a comfortable cushion.
Cautiously, I opened my eyes, hoping that something, anything, would be there to greet me.
And I was staring at static on a television screen.
There was a knock at the door behind me.
A stallion’s voice came from the other side. “Come on, Pinky, let us in! It’s time to go! You’re gonna be late for your show!”
A cold breeze blew in from the broken window in front of me.
Behind me, the door unlocked and slammed open with a loud crash.
I blinked.