//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Letters // Story: A Fresh Start // by QuilliamPenn //------------------------------// Chapter 5: Letters Pure white; nothing but pure, unending white, as far as the eye could see. Sketch had no idea where he was or how he got there. He felt no use or purpose in this strange place; he didn’t move or breathe at all, he wasn’t sitting or standing in this unending wasteland of white, with no cause or reason for it, he simply…Existed. Sketch could see nopony else around him; nothing but blank, pale white. He felt as if something was wrong in this strange place; yet it wasn’t that he was there. He felt like he belonged here, like he would be safe. As if this endless world of white were his haven; yet, something tainted it that he couldn’t quite put his hoof on, as if some dark presence floated around him; haunting him. Suddenly, a speck seemed to appear on the white ground before him. The speck was tiny and black, but against the clean white of the world he was in, it shone like the brightest beacon. The speck slowly grew into a bubble. It grew bigger and bigger until it was a bit smaller than Sketch himself. The bubble was inky black, its surface glistening in the light of a sun that wasn’t there. As he looked closer at the bubble he noticed something beneath it began to churn and move. He even thought he spotted a leg at one point. Suddenly, the bubble began pulsating; slowly at first, gradually picking up more and more speed. Now, all of a sudden, he could feel his limbs again; he went from simply existing in this world and feeling like he was part of it, to feeling as if he had been dropped in the middle of nowhere. The realization of where he was hit him like a brick wall and he began to panic. Sketch looked over at the bubble in time to see it make a tiny “Plop” and then rapidly shrink around the form of a small colt. The colt was shiny and blacker than night. It was as if it were created from some new form of darkness. The creature opened its eyes to reveal two deep red orbs that stared up at Sketch; the orbs looked as if they held the weight of the world behind them. It wore a blank expression on its inky black face. Sketch felt the incredible urge to ask the creature if it was alright, yet he wasn’t sure why. “Are…Are you ok?” The words felt scratchy as they left his mouth. The creature opened its mouth and responded; however it seemed as if it was speaking from a faraway place, not from right in front of him. Little more than a whisper left its shiny mouth. “What?” The creature cocked its head at him, then a disappointed look befell it appeared as if it were about to start crying, as it looked down at the ground. Sketch moved closer to it as if to comfort it, but before he could, the creature’s red eyes shot back up to him, it’s mouth open more than was possible for a normal colt or filly. There was a loud, ringing, screeching noise and in one fluid motion the creature moved towards him, it’s inky body appearing to become liquid given form. Sketch turned to flee but found himself stuck in place; he tugged at his hooves, trying to free them, but to no avail. The creature was on him in an instant and he could only stand motionless as he felt its inky form engulf him, the creature’s touch feeling like ice. It spread more and more until he could no longer see and then… Sketch gasped and righted himself in his chair. His mane was drenched in sweat and he was gasping for air. He was in his house now, in the chair he had fallen into an uncomfortable sleep in after giving Lyra the bed. “Are…Are you ok?” His eyes widened and he darted his vision over to the direction of the voice. It was Lyra, a scared look plastered across her face. “I uh...I…Don’t know” He replied, running a hoof through his mane, still staring at Lyra with wide eyes. “I heard you…and when I came in here I wasn’t sure what to do…” “I just had a….bad dream…its ok Lyra, sorry I woke you.” Sketch said, trying to regain composure. “You…wanna talk about it...or something? Uh…” “What uh…what time is it?” He said, ignoring her question.  “It’s like four in the morning, I think…” “Oh, alright.” It was then Sketch realized just who was standing in the doorway to his bedroom. The previous day’s events flooded back into his mind, nearly throttling somepony, working at Applejack’s, the letter. Stupid letter, he didn’t know exactly why he didn’t want to read it. For some reason it just gave him a bad vibe. “You sure you’re alright there?” Her voice penetrated his thoughts. “Uhh…yeah sorry Lyra…” “What’s on your mind?” she cut in. “I just… I can’t believe how much has happened to me the past few days.” He said, still trying to avoid talking about his nightmares. “I do have that effect on ponies.” she said, her tone laced with teasing. Apparently she still had the energy to tease ponies at four in the morning. “I’m too tired for your teasing…go back to bed.” Sketch moaned, waving his hoof limply at Lyra. “Well fine then, be that way.” She said her tone mock dejected, although as usual Sketch didn’t see she was teasing. “Lyra I didn’t mean-“ “I was kidding Sketchy, calm down.” Sketch let out an exasperated sigh; he really was too tired to process Lyra’s teasing right now. “It’s alright” The two ponies sat there in awkward silence for a moment, neither of them quite sure what to say. Sketch had never had a houseguest of the opposite sex before, and this was all very new to him. “So umm…” Lyra said awkwardly. “I Just wanted to make sure you were ok…I’m going to go back to bed…I guess.” She finished. “Night…” Sketch said. “G’night.” Lyra turned and strode back into the bedroom, the door making a tiny “Click” as she shut it behind her. “That was awkward…” He thought to himself; before, uncomfortably, falling asleep in his chair, again. ******************** Sketch opened his eyes for the second time that morning; yet instead of seeing his ceiling, he awoke to a snout full of carpeting. He huffed out of his nose and sat upright with a yawn. Sketch had managed to avoid having anymore nightmares after he had fallen asleep the second time, so that was good, yet somehow he had still ended up on the floor. Then, somepony behind him cleared their throat. Sketch turned to see a slightly concerned looking Lyra, eye patch and all, standing there behind him. For the second time that day he had awoken to her standing behind him; he hoped this wouldn’t become a trend. Lyra had apparently showered because she had a towel slung over her shoulder, and her mane looked slick. Her eye looked shiny and wet, as if she had been crying; Sketch wasn’t sure if this was just from her shower or not. “Good Morning.” He said groggily. “Morning.” After their greeting neither one said a word; they both were completely still and just stared blankly at each other. “Why are you on the floor?” Lyra finally asked. “I…uh…I’m not really sure. How long have you been up?” He said, trying to change the topic. “Not long, I woke up a bit ago and showered. I hope you don’t mind.” “Nah, not at all…” He said with a yawn, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he spoke. “You’re staying here as long as you need to I guess…So make yourself at home.” Sketch stretched his wings out, his body starting to finally wake up. “Yeah, about that…” She said in a sheepish tone. “What is it…?” “I really don’t know how long it will be until this situation blows over; it could be weeks before I can even think about going near BonBon again…she doesn’t exactly let stuff go…” “It’s fine Lyra, really…” He said with another yawn. Sketch sat there stone still with hooded eyes. His body had woken up but his brain had not, and he felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier. “I didn’t wake you up, did I…?” “Hmm? OH! No, no, no, I just got awful sleep, as I’m sure you remember, as I woke you up last night…” “Like hell I remember it…you scared the crap outta me…All the things you were saying and all.” Sketch wasn’t tired anymore. Lyra’s words had done more than enough to make sure of that. “What did I say?” He said worriedly. “Something about somepony named Gears; I think you said he was your little brother. But that’s all I heard.” She said hurriedly. “Oh ok, good.” In truth, Lyra was lying through her teeth, she had heard a LOT more than what she had let on. Lyra learned more that night of listening to Sketch mumble about his family while she lied in bed, than he would have felt comfortable talking about at that time, considering he barely knew her. As he fully righted himself, Sketch looked around his house. It still looked as messy as it had been the night before, with boxes and packing material scattered everywhere. “I’m going to go finish...uh…getting ready for the day!” Lyra said as Sketch looked around. “Sounds good.” He replied, only half listening to Lyra. Sketch brought his gaze over to his table, the contents of his saddlebag still strewn across it: a few bits, his notebook and pencils, and the letter from the previous day. The letter! He still hadn’t read it. It wasn’t that he had neglected to read it; he just didn’t feel like having to deal with something else, especially if it was his mother. But then another though hit Sketch, What if it WAS from his mother? He had never even looked at who it was from! Let alone read it. Neglecting to respond to his mother always ended up in a whole lot of yelling, screaming and nasty words. Last thing he wanted was her at his door. The fear of death now in his heart, Sketch zipped over to his table and stared at the letter. It laid facedown on the table so that he couldn’t see the name of its sender. He reached out with one hoof and flipped the letter over quickly. His stomach turned at the sight of who had sent it. His Mother. Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have minded getting a letter from his mother, not everything she did was awful and normally a letter could be a good thing. However, seeing as Sketch had recently moved out and told his mother his father and hers' fighting was the reason, this letter would no doubt contain the fires of Tartarus. All he needed was an orchestra to play suspenseful music as he opened the letter; hell, at least it would have been kind of amusing had there actually been an orchestra. ******************** Sketch, Considering the fact that you decided to drop all responsibility and exorcise yourself from your family, I am having your father drop off Gears next week at your new home that you spent all this money to buy, instead of using it to help the family. Consider it your way of helping out. Gears will probably be living with you for a while. I am selling the house and your father is moving to Canterlot, and I am moving somewhere else in Cloudsdale for personal reasons. I cannot handle Gears right now so he will be living with you. Expect your excuse for a father to drop him off sometime this weekend. Mom. ******************** Sketch sat and stared at the letter. He had to re-read it three times before he could make himself believe what it said. A cacophony of emotion rushed around his head: hate, anger, joy, sadness. Hate because his mother had managed to make him feel like crap for moving on with his life, Anger because not only had she done this, she probably managed to make Gears feel like crap too, Joy because this meant Gears would get out of the Crapstorm that was his parents’ feud, and Sadness because his mother was selling the house and his father was moving to where he worked. So that was it. There really was no hope of them fixing things. They had officially separated. Sketch still couldn’t process it, even after re-reading the letter a fourth time.  He couldn’t believe the ultimatum that he had just read. Gears was coming to live with him. His mother and father were done. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate already. A new job, helping Lyra, dealing with the fact he has a houseguest long term for the first time in his life. And not just any houseguest either, this was Lyra! She was funny, nice and pretty, and she showed him the respect most mares didn’t; she was different. He would also have his socially awkward little brother here as well. He only had one bed, and he surely didn’t have the money to go and buy another bed. Hell, he only had one bedroom! What was he supposed to do?! Each second he thought about it he became more and more frantic. All of a sudden, he found himself laughing, almost manically. “Sketch?” Sketch wheeled around, his eyes wide and almost crazed looking, as he was laughing awkwardly. Lyra frowned and recoiled slightly. “Whoa…You alright?” Still staring at Lyra, he reached around and grabbed the letter from the table, hoofing it over to her. She levitated it in the air in front of her. As Lyra read the letter, her expression grew more and more from one of concern, to one of pity and concern. “Dear Luna, Sketch…I’m so sorry about your parents…” “Words cannot describe…how screwed I am,” he said, his previous state of insanity starting to subside a bit; however he was still chuckling. “Should I leave?” “What?” He said, Lyra’s strange question diffusing his state. “You only have one bedroom. I’ll be damned if I take your bed while you and a foal sleep on the floor.” Her tone was stone cold. Then it hit him. Why had he shown her the letter, after her talk about how she hated feeling like a bother and like she was getting in the way? Why had he shown her that?! He had to fix this. “What!? No! No Lyra, I’ll take care of this, I promise. You have nothing to worry about. I will figure something out. Unless you want to leave, you don’t have to go.” “Well, now I do simply because I would be bothersome if I made you sleep on the floor, and not only you but your brother as well.” “Lyra, listen. My mother is crazy sometimes; I’m sure this is her overreacting or something, alright? I just need you to trust me on this.” “What if it isn’t overreacting…?” “Lyra, I know my mother. Something is off about this letter. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I can handle it, ok? You have nothing to worry about. You are not a bother. I wish you wouldn’t say that.” Sketch looked Lyra dead in the eye. Now that he had calmed down he noticed something in her one visible iris; if only for a moment, a glint of something, some emotion or feeling he couldn’t quite put his hoof on. “Alright then, but you have to promise me you won’t hesitate to boot me if I get in the way.” Lyra’s tone had returned to a slightly less moody state. She jabbed a hoof at him as she finished to show she was playing. “I promise.” He said. “Didn’t know you liked my company so much Sketchy, almost begging me to stay and all.” She teased as she turned and trotted into living room. Lyra sat down and levitated a book onto the small table in front of her. “You have books on...Insects?” she said as she opened it. “Yeah, I do, believe it or not. It may not be my talent, but I know my way around insects.” He said. He was still silently processing the letter he had received; trying not to show how freaked out he was. “Hey, you like toast or anything?” He called as he rifled through his near empty fridge. “That would be awesome!” Lyra called as she read. Sketch pulled out a jar of apple butter he had brought from his parents house and set it on the counter. He slid two pieces of bread into the sickly looking toaster he had and set the timer. After returning his bread bag to its spot in the pantry, he trotted back into the living room with Lyra. “It says here that there is a type of worm in the Everfree that will split itself to reproduce and form a larger creature. There’s no way that’s true.” Sketch chuckled. “It’s true! They’re called Lekgolo. Very smart little guys, largest colony ever recorded was about two thousand worms, all formed to make one giant worm.” He said as he sat on the floor next to Lyra, pointing a hoof at a picture of a very large looking worm. “In rare cases, if they create a big enough body, they will become almost sentient on the same level as ponies, sharing sort of a collective mind. They can form all sorts of shapes like ponies and two-legged creatures, although they usually stick with simple worm-like shapes.” “Well look at you, Mister Smarty-pants.” Lyra teased. “This doesn’t gross you out or anything? Most mares get grossed out by this stuff. I have other books if you want…” Now Lyra laughed. “Sketchy, I am not most mares.” “Fair enough.” he said with a smile. Sketch stared at the picture of the worm, Hundreds of little creatures all working together to form a cohesive, organized unit; a family. All working like gears in a well-oiled machine. Gears. Dammit, why did that keep coming back to him? Oh, right. Because he had recently received a letter informing him that not only had his parents finally ended it, his brother was coming to live with him for Celestia knows how long. How was he supposed to deal with this? He had a life of his own now! Granted he couldn’t be happier that Gears would be coming to stay with him, but he needed to figure out a way to handle this. DING Sketch was roused from his thoughts by the sound of his toaster alerting him the food was ready. He stood and trotted into the kitchen. When he got to his toaster he found two perfectly toasted slices of bread. He put each piece on a plate and took them over to where he had left the apple butter. After spreading some of the fruit substance on the bread. He took a step back to admire his work. “Food’s ready!” he said as happily as he could, bringing the plates into the living room, setting one next to Lyra and one on the other side of the table. “Ohhh that looks good.” Lyra said. Practically drooling over the food before her. “I hope it tastes as good as it looks. I’ve never had this apple butter before.” Sketch said, looking over the fruit spread. Lyra took a bite out of her toast, her eye lighting up as she chewed. “Dish ish amasfing!” she said, spraying small pieces of the toast everywhere. “Say it, don’t spray it!” Sketch said, waving his hoof trying to bat some of the crumbs away. She chewed and bit more and swallowed the toast, a small bit of red appearing on her cheeks. “Sorry…” Sketch laughed. “No harm done I guess.” The rest of breakfast was rather uneventful; Sketch and Lyra’s breakfast conversation consisted mostly of small talk. Eventually both ponies had finished their breakfast and it was nearly time for Sketch to head to work. “Say, is your head feeling any better?” Sketch asked, silently scolding himself for not asking sooner. “Yes, it is, thank you! I think it was just a random headache from all the stress. I’ll be fine.” “Alright, if you say so.” “You have any plans for today?” Sketch said as he stood and cleared the table. “I uh…I might head into town later to uh…pick some things up, but that’s all. Otherwise I will just hang around here if that’s alright!” Lyra said uncomfortably He found something off about this; Sketch couldn’t quite put a hoof on why Lyra was so vague about her visit to town, but he didn’t think it his business to intrude. But was there such a thing as intruding still? Were hosts supposed to know everything their houseguests did? He had no idea. “Yeah, but I hope you don’t mind the mess…I still haven’t cleaned up from moving in.” he said, trying to change the subject. Lyra laughed. “You think this is a mess? You should see my room some days. Whoo, I’ll tell yah.” Sketch laughed and trotted into the living room, putting on his saddlebag as he took it off his table. “Well, I’m not sure when I’ll be back; Applejack could have more work for me than yesterday.” he said, trying to remember what time he had left the apple farm the previous day. “I’ll be here!” Lyra said as she settled down in Sketch’s overstuffed chair with the book on Insects. “Bye Sketchy!” She called as he moved for the door. “See yah later, Lyra!” *********************   The flight to Sweet Apple Acres only took little over five minutes, mainly because Sketch actually knew where he was going this time; however, even knowing where to go, he almost managed to get lost again. His mind was preoccupied with the task of figuring out how to deal with the letter he had received that morning. For now though he had to, yet again, push it out of his mind. It was time for work. Sketch looked at the white arch that marked the entrance to Sweet Apple Acres as he trotted under it. The dirt road to the center of the farm had not changed. “I wonder what I’ll be doing today…” he thought to himself. After looking around, from what he gathered this part of the farm was mostly apple trees. He thought he could see rows of some other plant in the distance, but what type of plant it was he couldn’t say. As he looked around more he spotted a hill that rose slightly above some of the trees. On top of it appeared to be a red mare, or maybe a stallion; Sketch couldn’t tell from that distance. “I wonder who that is.” He said, and trotted off in the direction of the red pony. As he wound through a seemingly endless orchard of apple trees, Sketch eventually saw where the base of the hill began. It was rather skinny as far as hills went; it was steep and covered in tiny yellow flowers. Seated atop the hill he could see the blondish mane of the red pony, whom he now found to be a stallion. Sketch silently began to sneak up the hill; exactly why he was sneaking he wasn’t sure, but onwards and upwards he crept. After a few stealthy seconds of movement, Sketch came up behind the red stallion. He had a white brace type wrapping around his back. Maybe this was Big Mac? Applejack’s brother? He was strong looking, that kind of “wear and tear” strong. He looked almost raggedy, had it not been for how he seemed to carry himself. “Howdy.” the stallion suddenly said, startling Sketch a bit and almost causing him to fall off of the hill. After regaining his balance and averting a very painful tumble, he responded to the stallion. “Uhh, hi.” The stallion said nothing. He sat stone still, as if he were some type of stone gargoyle perched atop a building ledge; watching, waiting. “You’re, uh, Big Mac, Right?” “Eeyup.” he said, never moving his head from whatever it was he was staring at in the distance. “I’m Sketch…Nice to meet you.” “Eeyup.” “Chatty one isn’t he.” Sketch thought to himself. “I’m, uh, the new farmhand; I’m sure Applejack told you?” “Eeyup.” “Right…” Sketch said awkwardly. Sketch sat there in silence on the hill next to Big Mac. He tried to figure out what it was he was staring at, but to no avail. “Well, uh…I better go find Applejack and get to work. I guess I’ll see yah around.” He turned and started to walk down the hill, but was stopped by Big Mac’s voice. “Applebloom told me ‘bout yesterday.” “What?” Sketch said, surprised to hear more than an “Eeyup” from Big Mac. “You better not get involved with Applejack; I reckon y’all are smarter than that.” The Stallion said. “What do you mean?” He replied, not sure what to make of what was being asked. Big Mac was rather intimidating when he spoke in complete sentences. “Last farmhand AJ hired, he got involved with her. It ended painfully for everypony. If y’all are smart, I reckon you won’t be getting involved with mah sister.” Now he understood. “Oh, OH! No, no, no. That isn’t gonna happen, Big Mac; I wouldn’t even think of it. Our relationship is strictly…” Sketch tried to think of a good word. “Platonic?” “How ‘bout professional.” Big Mac said, still never taking his gaze off of whatever he was staring at. “Professional…right…sounds good.” Another moment of awkward silence. Why was Sketch finding himself in so many of these lately? “I uhh…better go find AJ so uhh-“ “It’s Applejack to you.” Big Mac cut in. “Applejack…right, yeah I better go find her…I’ll be seeing yah then.” “Eeyup” Without another word Sketch flew off, over the apple trees. Sweet Celestia, Big Mac was scary. As he floated over the treetops he couldn’t help but think about what Big Mac had said. Apparently Applebloom had a big mouth, because Sketch didn’t think Applejack would have said anything about the incident at the barn. Of course Big Mac could just be looking out for his sister, but what about the last pony who Applejack hired? What was that all about? What was Big Mac doing out watching the gate? Did he see Sketch come in? Something felt off to him, but he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. “Down Here!” came a familiar voice. Roused from thought, Sketch looked around for Applejack, He found her a bit away from him, on the ground; no surprise there. “Hey AJ- Err, Applejack.” he said after touching down, closing the gap between him and his boss. “Howdy! How’re yah doin today?” “I’m, uh…having an interesting morning…but otherwise I’m doing well!” Applejack gave him “that” look again. Scanning him; sizing him up. “Alrighty then. Well, I reckon I should be putting yah to work. Follow me.” she said, nodding her head in the direction they would be moving. Applejack lead Sketch through the farm. It was amazing how pristine the place managed to look, considering it was outdoors. Everything looked about as clean as the outdoors could get. The sky was clear; the smell of earth and dirt was in the air, mixed with that of apples. It was wonderful. For a moment, Sketch managed to get lost in this sensation. Let all his worries wash away in this safe, haven-like place.  “Uhh…Y’all wouldn’t have happened to have seen mah brother on the way in, would yah have?” Applejack asked, suddenly looking incredibly concerned. Sketch shook himself. “Uhhh, Red stallion? Short mane? Not much of a talker? “Oh yah did! Great, glad to know he’s alright.” Applejack sounded very relieved. “Why wouldn’t he be alright?” Sketch asked. “Uhhh…Oh look at that, we’re here!” She said, completely ignoring his question. Sketch looked ahead of him to see an empty field; there was no grass however, only brown, rich-looking, packed dirt. “We are?” “Eeyup.” Applejack said. “Obviously “Eeyup” is a common family word.” he thought. “There aren’t any apple trees here; aren’t we applebucking?” “Nope! Today I’ll be havin yah plow this here field. Normally Big Mac would do it, but he has been watch–” Applejack stopped herself. “Uhh. I mean, 'cause he hurt his back. Yeah.” Applejack adopted a sort of strange look. Almost as if she had been eating something sour. “So….What do I do?” “Huh? Oh, right. All yah got to do is hook up to that there plow and pull it from one end of this here field to the other, until the whole field has nice and neat rows all down it. Then we can plant the corn!” Applejack nodded over in the direction of a very shiny looking plow. Its blade actually looked sharp; the wood looked clean and new. “We just got ourselves a new one, so yah shouldn’t have too rough of a time plowin'. Come on, I’ll hook yah up.” Applejack lead Sketch over to the new plow. It sat in solitude under the shade of an apple tree that appeared to have grown away from the rest of the orchards.  A few minutes of fidgeting later, Sketch was hooked in to the plow. It was much heavier than he had expected. “Uhh, Applejack? Not to complain or anything, but this is really heavy…” “Oh, don’t yah worry yer head ‘bout that. Once yah get going in will cut through the dirt easier; Big Mac said something ‘bout momentum or some fancy schmancy math stuff like that.” “I never liked math.” he said. “Alright, well, y’all get to plowing that field. I’ve got…something else to get to doin. So I’ll check back with yah later.” Applejack said. “Alright Applejack; sounds good.” Sketch watched as Applejack took off rather quickly in the direction they had come from; back towards the entrance to the farm. What was going on around here? Was Ponyville always so…problem filled? Or maybe Sketch just brought trouble with him wherever he went. First Lyra and BonBon, then his mother’s letter, now this? Sketch looked at the large square of dirt before him; he had a lot of work to do. He might as well think about it while he plowed. Digging his hooves in to get a firm hold on the dirt, he pulled with all his strength, causing the plow to inch forward. “Damn.” He took a step and pulled harder; the plow started to move with him. Many times he repeated this process, each time he found the plow parting the dirt a bit easier, and the time between steps a little shorter, until eventually he was inching his way across the field. As he trudged along, Sketch could only be grateful it wasn’t summer; it would be hot and miserable. Although why exactly Applejack was planting corn before winter, he wasn’t sure. He had heard of Snow corn before: it only grew in the cold for some reason, some special kind of corn that was adored by the upper class in Canterlot. His father had brought it home from his work many a weekend. Something his mother would always get upset about. ********************  “Why did you need to bring so much of that Snow corn home?” Sketch’s mother snapped at his father. “Some friends at work brought it to me, that’s all. I wanted to let Sketch and Gears try some of it.” “Oh I see, your friends at work. I guess they probably know how poor and helpless we are too, right?” His father sighed. “No, they were just being nice to me is all, wanted me to have something nice to bring back for the kids.” “With all that money you keep you could have just gone and bought your own.” she said, her tone snippy and mean. Again his father sighed, but said nothing in response. Sketch’s father didn’t like to argue unless he got really, really angry. “Yeah, go ahead and ignore me like you always do.” Sketch’s mother murmured. Sketch sat there is silence while his mother murmured. His father had been cooking the corn; he really had not intended to make mother angry by making something nice to eat, he just wanted to make something nice to eat. Simple as that. However, Sketch’s mother saw it that he was doing this to show he was a better parent, because he brought better food. Canterlot food. “I am going to need a hundred bits extra this next paycheck.” she said suddenly. Sketch’s father stopped what he was doing and stood stone still. “Time to go…” Sketch thought to himself, and left to sit in his bedroom until the soon-to-begin shouting was over. ******************** Sketch sighed as the memory faded into nothing. He had managed to block most of the memories of hours of yelling from his mind, but his attempts at doing this weren’t always successful. He looked and found that whilst enveloped in his memories, he had managed to already make two rows in the field. “Awesome.” he said aloud, and returned to the task at hand. After a few minutes of pulling, once again Sketch’s mind started to drift, this time to the question of how exactly he was supposed to deal with the fact his brother was coming to stay with him. He had made a commitment to help Lyra, so he wasn’t going to kick her out. Besides the fact, he didn’t want to boot her out anyway. He basically had a three room house: the kitchen/living room, the bedroom, and the bathroom. How was he supposed to solve this? As he toiled away and the hours went by, Sketch tried to find a solution to his problem; a way to fix it. However, even after his long period of thought, he had come up with nothing. “Yer still workin on that, huh?” came a voice. Sketch looked up to see Applejack trotting over towards him. “This isn’t quite so easy, you know. I’ve never done it before.” “Ah I’m just messin with yah sugarcube; it’s alright, no need to be rushin. Yah don’t wanna end up like Big Mac.” “When yer done yah can get on home; like I said I don’t want you ending up like Big Mac and, no offense, but I don’t think you’ve ever done farm work before.” “That would be correct.” Sketch said with a wry laugh. “Oh and by the way, y'all won’t need to be coming into work tomorrow.” Sketch’s heart dropped. Had he done something wrong? Was Applejack really firing him? Oh Celestia how could this have already happened? “If this is about the field not being done I can always work-“ “You silly filly, I ain’t firing yah.” She said with a laugh. “What?” “What I mean is there’s a big storm the pegasus ponies have set up fer tomorrow. We can’t really do much in the rain, yah know.” “Ohhh” He said, mentally slapping himself for jumping to conclusions. “I only recently found out ‘bout it, so I thought I should let yah know.” “Oh, well thanks AJ- Err Applejack.” “Yer welcome…” Applejack said slowly, once again looking him over. “So I reckon I should be leavin' yah to it then. I guess I’ll see yah later Sketch. Oh and by the way, make sure yah put that there plow back under the tree when yer done alright?” “You got it, Applejack.” ******************** After another solid hour of plowing the field, Sketch managed to get the job done. His body ached and he was very tired. He was glad he would get the next day off, because he could barely walk after unhooking from the plow. Much to his chagrin, however, his wings had been folded up all day and he wanted to stretch them a bit, so he decided he would just hover his way home. “Tired or not, this is nice.” Sketch said to himself as he softly flew down the road leading into town. As silly as he always told himself it sounded, Sketch really enjoyed slow, long, walks or flights. Whenever he and his father would go somewhere, they were never in a hurry; the two of them would always take their time and relax, enjoy the freedom of being outside. “This, this is living Sketch. Nice, slow, leisurely, life. No rushing or bustling around. Just taking your time to enjoy everything.” The words of his father echoed in his head. Sketch never understood how his father and mother ever got together in the first place. His mother on one hoof, liked to live fast; she made reckless choices and often did so without really thinking. However, she cared more how others felt than his father. On the other hoof, Sketch’s father hated rushing through life; he would spend as much time as he could before making a choice, he would never, ever, do something without thinking it through. However, he really could care less how others feel, or how they are doing. Sketch’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a hard impact on his left side, not able to regain control fast enough he tipped in mid-air and fell down the hoof in the air he was floating. “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING DUMBASS.” Came the voice of a very angry mare. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” He said as he dusted himself off. The mare was crème colored, with a navy blue and pink mane adorning her head. Her cutie mark appeared to consist of three pieces of candy. “Are you alrigh-“ “NO, I’m NOT. Now MOVE, before I run you over.” The mare glared at Sketch, her eyes were filled with rage. “Fine, yeesh lady.” He said as he sidestepped the fuming mare. Sketch watched as the mare trotted off in the direction of Twilight’s Library, she appeared to be searching for something. “Yeesh. Guess somepony shit the bed this morning.” He thought as he turned in the opposite direction and headed home.   Managing to avoid any more run-ins with crazy ponies, Sketch arrived at home rather quickly. By now Celestia’s sun was about to set, its rays cast across the sky illuminating it in such a way that the sky glowed a deep, warm orange. It was truly a sight to behold. If he hadn’t been so tired from pulling that damn plow all day, he would have pulled out his notebook and sketched the scene before him. Turning into the smallish front yard, and trotting through the even smaller white picket fence, Sketch pushed his door open. “Lyra? You here?” he called as he trotted in, closing the door behind him. No response. “Lyra?” he called again. Still no response. “Guess she went to town.” he thought to himself. As he set his saddlebags down on the table, Sketch noticed what Lyra had kept herself occupied with while he had been gone. She had cleaned his entire house. Everything looked neat and as brand new as it could have been. The cobwebs were gone, as were the little bits of packing material. There was a sudden growling noise, causing Sketch to jump a bit. He looked down to see the culprit had been his own stomach. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. With a sigh he turned towards the kitchen, however just as he was about to go in to get some food, his front door flew open. In ran a very out-of-breath and startled-looking Lyra. And when she realized Sketch was standing in front of her, her startled expression only grew. “Hi.” He said, not exactly sure what to do. “Uhhh…..Hi.” Lyra said, her chest heaving. “Are…you alright Lyra?” It was now Sketch noticed Lyra had a small bag and her lyre under one of her front legs. She was out of breath and looked as if she had recently been moving very fast. “I’m…doing…perfectly…fine!” “You don’t look perfectly fine.” he said, not believing a word the mare had just said. “I was just-“ Lyra was interrupted by a very, very loud banging on the front door. “Ohhh…..” Lyra let out a worried moan. “LYRA I SWEAR TO CELESTIA IF YOU DON’T COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW I WILL BREAK THIS DAMN DOOR DOWN!” “Lyra! Who the hell is that?” He said, although in some part of his mind he already knew the answer. Lyra’s color seemed to drain from her body, a look of terror befell her face, and her pupils seemed to shrink as, in a quiet voice, she uttered a name. “BonBon.”