//------------------------------// // Chapter 17: Letters // Story: Clean Slate // by Alaborn //------------------------------// Clean Slate By Alaborn Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein. Chapter 17: Letters Silver Spoon The Meadowfield School 14 Meadow Lane Canterlot, P.E. Diamond Tiara Sweet Apple Acres One Orchard Way Ponyville, P.E. January 2, 1478 AC Dear Diamond Tiara, How was your trip? I’m back in Canterlot after a depressingly short holiday break. Even though it’s only a week after Hearth’s Warming, the decorations at my school have already been taken down. Seeing them over the last month improved my spirits, but now everything is gray again. I said I’d help you remember your past, and taking the train back to Canterlot reminded me of something from our past, our first trip to Canterlot together. It wasn’t long after I moved in next to you. It was us, my parents, and your parents. We were maybe six years old. The adults were so busy with their “adult conversations” that they weren’t paying attention to us. We sneaked away and hid on a small dining cart, concealed by the tablecloth. We sat there, giggling, for nearly fifteen minutes before we heard the frantic pleas of our mothers! Okay, being sent to bed at five o’clock PM wasn’t fun, but hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time, right? Maybe it was a good idea. I remember your father and my mother taking the time to talk to us on later train trips. I don’t think we ever got in trouble like that again... on a train, at least! I have to cut this letter off. It’s getting late, and I still need to read three chapters in my ancient Equestrian history textbook before school tomorrow. I promise to keep writing. Your friend, Silver Spoon I folded up Silver Spoon’s letter and placed it in a notebook. The letter was waiting for me when I returned from Manehattan, and this was my third time reading it. I still didn’t remember that trip. It sounded like fun, just being two little fillies making mischief. It was nice of our parents to recognize what every foal wants, to be treated like an adult once in a while. School in Ponyville started a week after Silver Spoon’s boarding school. In fact, it started this morning. Celestia’s sun had not yet risen, but I was up for an important reason. It was time to share my Hearth’s Warming gift for Apple Bloom. “Just five more minutes,” she mumbled as I nudged her. She was used to rising with the sun, but we were restricted by the clock today, and because it was winter, that meant rising before dawn. “Get up. It’s time to work out!” I said. “What?” Apple Bloom muttered. “We’re going to spend the morning making you as strong as your sister!” “Ugh.” Apple Bloom finally opened her eyes, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and walked out of the bedroom. I heard the water running in the bathroom, and when Apple Bloom returned afterward, she looked much more alert. “So where are we going?” Apple Bloom asked. “It’s outside of the center of town,” I said. It’s about the same distance from the town center as my lawyer’s office, but further north. “It’s probably best if I just show you.” I led Apple Bloom to Snowflake’s gym, a large nondescript stone building. Inside the door was a small reception area, where I saw a young stallion, the one I had spoken to in order to buy our memberships. We both showed him our cards, and he led us inside the gymnasium. “Snowflake, your new members, Apple Bloom and Diamond Tiara, are here!” he called. My jaw dropped when I saw Snowflake. When I bought these memberships, the young stallion was the one to show me around the gym. I never saw Snowflake, and believe me, I would have remembered that sight. The white pegasus stallion was almost comically muscled, with a blond mane in a buzz cut, and the tiniest wings I had ever seen. “YEAH!” he yelled; both Apple Bloom and I flinched. “Welcome to Snowflake’s Gym,” he continued, quieter. “Are you ready to work out?” “I guess, but what do we do?” Apple Bloom said. “New to the gym? Then tell me what you want to get out of working out!” “I want to buck apples,” Apple Bloom said. When Snowflake didn’t respond, she demonstrated, planting her front hooves and lifting her rear legs before kicking. “All right! We’ll build muscles in your hind legs and core, but we won’t forget those forelegs!” Snowflake said. “What I’m looking for is a continuation of some physical therapy I did,” I said. “I worked with weights, walked on a treadmill, and did step exercises. I need to rebuild my endurance and especially the strength in my hind legs.” “And we can do that,” Snowflake responded, a bit less intense in his response to me. Louder, he said “Let’s see what you’ve got!” He motioned to a machine I was familiar with, one used lift weights with one’s hind legs. I walked over and rested my barrel on the bench. Snowflake secured my hooves into the lifts. I heard the sound of metal on metal as he adjusted the weights attached by pulleys to the lifts. “Ready,” he said. I pushed, but nothing happened. “Please, start with a lot less,” I said, looking back at him. He looked somewhat sympathetic as he adjusted the weights again. I was able to move the weights a little, but he stopped me before I continued. “Don’t strain yourself,” Snowflake cautioned. With one final adjustment, he found a weight at which I could complete ten reps. He brought Apple Bloom to the bench, and after assessing her, immediately doubled the weight. After two pulls, he added another plate. “That’s pretty good for a filly of your age!” Snowflake said. “But it’s not good enough!” Apple Bloom whined. “I want to buck apples now!” “Then we’ll get you there. YEAH!” Snowflake yelled. Afterward, Snowflake got his young assistant to continue testing Apple Bloom, Snowflake focused on my needs. He tested me on the treadmill, had me do bench presses with my forelegs, and finally took me to a track along the edge of the room. “What’s this?” I asked. “Here’s where you’re going to get a full body workout. This is the sledge!” I looked at what Snowflake called the sledge. It was just an oval platform, capable of holding a variable amount of weight. Rope connected it to a harness. Other than aesthetics, it looked like the yokes my family used on the farm. Snowflake secured the yoke and encouraged me to pull. He had a pretty good idea of how much weight I could pull now; the sledge was a struggle to pull, but I was able to get it moving. Snowflake encouraged me, using a gentler tone than he used on Apple Bloom. And with his encouragement, I pulled the sledge all the way around the track. “Why is it taking so long to walk to school?” Apple Bloom asked. “I think it’s actually shorter from here than it is from the farmhouse,” I said. But with the burning sensations we both felt in our leg muscles, I understood how the walk felt longer. Getting inside the schoolhouse and sitting down was a welcome relief. But seeing Silver Spoon’s empty desk reminded me about the letter I needed to write to her. Diamond Tiara Sweet Apple Acres One Orchard Way Ponyville, P.E. Silver Spoon The Meadowfield School 14 Meadow Lane Canterlot, P.E. January 10, 1478 AC Dear Silver Spoon, Thank you for writing so quickly. I appreciate your assistance in helping me recover my memories. I’m afraid I don’t recall the trip you wrote about in your letter, but it sure sounded like fun! Even if it didn’t trigger any of my past memories, reading your letter helped me learn a little more about you and my father. I’m working on my physical recovery as well. There’s a gym in town, and I’m going to be working on strength training and endurance. I’ve brought Apple Bloom with me. She is determined to get strong enough to applebuck with her family. As for me, I’ll be lucky to ever get as strong as I was before the accident. I’m not sure why Apple Bloom is so focused on getting stronger. Maybe it will help her feel more like an adult, like the way we felt when our parents started talking to us like adults. Or maybe she thinks that will help her get her cutie mark. None of the Crusaders have their cutie marks, but then again, neither do I. I’ve been on some of their crusades. Really, they seem more like an excuse to have fun with friends than a serious attempt at discovering their special talents. I wish I could remember more about how I got my cutie mark in leadership. Can you tell me some more stories? And please stay strong for me. Show those Canterlot snobs that you’re better than they are! Your friend, Diamond Tiara That reminded me; there was another pony I wanted to write to. Diamond Tiara Sweet Apple Acres One Orchard Way Ponyville, P.E. Crystal Crown 588 East 12th Street, Apartment 208 Manehattan, P.E. January 10, 1478 AC Dear Aunt Crystal Crown, Greetings from quiet Ponyville. It’s especially quiet, being on a farm in winter, with only the occasional howl of a timber wolf breaking the silence. (Don’t worry, everypony says the timber wolves rarely leave the Everfree Forest.) From what little I know, you probably don’t know much about what happened to me, beyond my father’s passing. So I’ll use this letter to explain what I know. My father died in a carriage accident, along with the two ponies pulling the carriage. I barely survived, spending months in a coma before waking up. It took time to learn to walk again and use my hooves. In some ways, I’m still in recovery. In particular, I don’t remember anything from before I woke up in the hospital. I don’t remember my father, my other relatives, or my friends. It’s strange; I know things, facts like the names of cities and the math and grammar I must have learned in school, but there are no personal connections left in my mind. But my guardian has taught me that family is important, so I’m eager to talk with you, to build new connections. So tell me anything. What kind of art do you make? How do you like Manehattan? Are you married? I’ve also heard that my father didn’t get along well with you, or with his brother. If that ever showed up in my interactions with you, I apologize. My life is a clean slate now, and I’m hoping to build a fresh relationship with my family. I’m living with the Apple family of Ponyville, a family with roots in this town as deep as my family. You can write me at the return address on the envelope. Please write back! Your niece, Diamond Tiara I folded up this letter and placed it in an envelope. I was afraid that none of these letters would help me regain my memories, but I was still going to try. If nothing else, I’d build friendships, and writing letters like this was improving my mouthwriting. Silver Spoon The Meadowfield School 14 Meadow Lane Canterlot, P.E. Diamond Tiara Sweet Apple Acres One Orchard Way Ponyville, P.E. January 24, 1478 AC Dear Diamond Tiara, Bump, bump, sugar lump, rump! That’s our special greeting. When I visited you at Sweet Apple Acres, I noticed you didn’t remember it. So I wanted to tell you about how we came up with it. We were around seven years old. We were in the garden behind your house, having a tea party. It was the two of us, a few dolls, and an imaginary Princess Celestia. Yes, yes, I know, but we had an excuse. We were seven years old. Anyway, we both reached for the sugar at the same time, and we bumped our hooves together. You laughed and said “Bump”. Not tolerating being bumped, I returned the bump, and repeated the word. And then, since we were over the bowl with the sugar lumps, you pointed and said “Sugar lump!” And then I said the first rhyming word that came to my mind, “Rump”, and added it to the saying, punctuating it with a little bump from our rumps. Right after we picked ourselves up off the ground and calmed our laughter, we knew we had a good thing. With a bit of practice, we adapted the greeting to be used while standing, and ever since, we’ve greeted each other in that manner. It may be silly. Strike that. It is silly. But it’s something we came up with, something of our own, and I treasure that memory. Can you picture the garden? There was honeysuckle blooming, the fountain was burbling as it always did, and we had to shoo flies away with our tails. But the best thing in the garden that day was you and me. Sometimes, I feel like the fillies and colts at The Meadowfield have their own special greetings. I don’t know if it’s old friendships, pony cultural societies, or just shared experiences of being Canterlot nobility. Whatever it is, I don’t speak the language. Every day, I feel like you did that cold December day. I’m doing well in school. We’ve already had a variety of quizzes and exams, and I’ve done well on each. I’m not top of the class, but I get A’s and the occasional B plus. I still don’t have any close friends here. I can work together with other ponies in class, but I don’t know how to talk to them outside of class. That was always your talent. You asked me to tell you more about how you discovered your talent. I find myself having a hard time coming up with a good story. It’s just one of those things you know, but it’s hard to describe, if you know what I mean. I do sort of wish you were here with me. Then, I could help you every day. I won’t be back until summer, unfortunately. Until then, I promise to write. Your friend, Silver Spoon Without being there, it’s hard for me to offer help to Silver Spoon. She’s confident that knowing ponies is my talent. I’d have to think if there was something I could do to help her. A few days later, I got a response from my aunt. It was a rather thick envelope. Photographs and newspaper clippings fell out of the envelope. I decided to read the letter first. Crystal Crown 588 East 12th Street, Apartment 208 Manehattan, P.E. Diamond Tiara Sweet Apple Acres One Orchard Way Ponyville, P.E. January 28, 1478 AC Dear Diamond Tiara, First, I want to ease your concerns. We had a wonderful relationship; you were always happy to see your Auntie come visit. Your father, despite his differences with me and Golden Sky, always treated us civilly when the family came together, and as near as I could tell, he never shared his true opinion of us with you. I also have to admit that it’s been too long since I’ve seen you. We both came to town for your mother’s funeral. She was always a joy to be around, and hosted parties for most of the holidays. You and your father did not deserve to lose that wonderful mare. Unfortunately, it was your mother who kept us together as a family. We expected some silence as Filthy Rich grieved, but he never wrote to us again. Selfishly, our only contact with you was cards for your birthday. It’s been four years since I’ve seen you, and I think four years since your uncle has seen you as well. I should be able to tell you about the fine mare you were growing up to be in the months before your accident, but I can’t, and for that, I’m sorry. But please tell me about your life now. As for me, I’m an artist, and have been living in Manehattan, art capital of Equestria, since not long after getting my cutie mark. I first worked with my beloved crystal, designing many beautiful pieces, but in time, I grew tired with the scene. There was nothing else to say with crystal, and art demands to be heard. I’ve worked in more avant-garde art, where the message is more important than the media. My gallery is the talk of trendy art circles, and I’ve received a number of awards for my work. I’ve included some pictures and articles to give you an idea of my work. I’m single, with no special somepony to speak of, but Manehattan is the best city for singles. I’ll spare you the details, though. Maybe when you’re a little older! I would love to show you my Manehattan, the city I love so much. I know your responsibilities may not allow that, and you should make those your priority, but if you’re ever free to visit Manehattan, I would be happy to host you. Your aunt, Crystal Crown The photographs and newspaper articles discussed Crystal Crown’s latest endeavors in art. I wrinkled my nose. They looked like those modern art exhibits that made no sense to me. The articles indicated that a lot of influential ponies approved of her work, and for that I was glad. Still, I couldn’t see the attraction in her art. I idly wondered what her old pieces looked like. Diamond Tiara Sweet Apple Acres One Orchard Way Ponyville, P.E. Crystal Crown 588 East 12th Street, Apartment 208 Manehattan, P.E. February 4, 1478 AC Dear Aunt Crystal Crown, For several days, I pondered how to respond to your letter. You wanted to hear about me, but what is there to tell? I’m just a schoolfilly, one without her cutie mark at that. But then I thought about my classmates. What story could I say about them? Not much, that’s for sure. You wanted to hear about me, so I’ll respond, but please remember that my life won’t be as interesting as yours. I live with the Apples now, a good, hardworking earth pony family. Our family has a business relationship with the Apples for generations, so I’m sure you remember them. My own relation with the family member of my age was pretty poor, but they welcomed me as family regardless. You may have heard of my guardian Applejack, known now as the Element of Honesty. From what I’ve seen of her, she was an honest mare long before the Elements were recovered. I can see why my father respected their family. I share a room with Apple Bloom, who I once treated poorly. I think we’ve reconciled, mostly, but sometimes I’m not sure. Our friends include Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, and together we’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders, perpetually in search of our cutie marks. While I don’t remember it, I have photographs that show me with a cutie mark, which I lost when I lost my memories. It’s a rather unusual situation. In any case, we Crusaders are a club, doing the craziest things in search of our cutie marks. I don’t think we’ve tried working with crystal. Maybe you have some tips? I go to school. Our teacher, Cheerilee, is highly respected as a teacher. I do chores on the farm. There’s a limit as to what I can do, due to my injuries. It feels bad not to be able to contribute equally. Deep down, I know I’m not likely to stay on the farm. I have Barnyard Bargains to consider. But it’s awkward not knowing if that’s my special talent. Thank you for keeping in touch. I like hearing your tales about Manehattan. It’s so different from Ponyville! I’d like to hear more. Your niece, Diamond Tiara A few days later, I found myself putting off my homework by rereading some of these letters. I stared at Crystal Crown’s photos again. In each, she wore a different outfit, with different jewelry. I think my favorite was that silver and sapphire necklace. I wonder.... Diamond Tiara Sweet Apple Acres One Orchard Way Ponyville, P.E. Silver Spoon The Meadowfield School 14 Meadow Lane Canterlot, P.E. February 10, 1478 AC Dear Silver Spoon, What would inspire a wealthy pony to wear silver jewelry? Imagine you had the money to buy any jewelry you wanted, any precious metal, any gemstone. Why would you wear silver if you could wear platinum? It’s a question I came up with after looking at some photographs of a wealthy pony. I imagine there’s somepony at your school who isn’t wearing the finest jewelry money can buy. Why don’t you try asking them about their story? Does that piece of jewelry have a special significance to them? Perhaps you’ll find somepony who loves silver, and that would be one way to build a friendship, and a future business relationship. Or perhaps they just want to share their story, if you’re willing to listen. It’s not just jewelry; the same story could be extracted from their clothes or accessories. I hope you can find somepony willing to be as good a friend as I once was. Your friend, Diamond Tiara “More! Yeah!” As winter continued, the mornings at Snowflake’s gym started to blur together. This morning, I pulled my sledge as I watched the giant pegasus inspiring Apple Bloom with his demands. I found his tone of voice intimidating the first time he used it on me, but Apple Bloom ate it up. Apple Bloom kicked a hanging sandbag with her rear hooves, sweating profusely, but determined to punish the inanimate object. “If there were apples on the tree, they would be neatly lined up in buckets. YEAH!” Snowflake yelled. “Now take a breather.” Snowflake trotted up to me as I breathed heavily, my flanks lathered with sweat. “Are you feeling the burn, Diamond Tiara?” he said, gentler than he spoke to Apple Bloom. I grunted. “I’m keeping up, but it feels like I’m not making any progress,” I said. “Have you ever looked behind you?” I looked behind me. I didn’t notice before, but the pile of weights on the sledge looked larger. “You’re pulling another eighty pounds,” he said. “Now let’s switch to weights.” Snowflake secured my hind legs. I noticed he pointedly kept me looking forward as he adjusted the weights. It wasn’t until I completed another difficult rep of ten lifts that he nudged me, having me look at the weights I had lifted. “That’s a lot more, right?” I said. “Fifty pounds! You should be proud of your hard work, Diamond Tiara.” “How is Apple Bloom doing?” I wondered. “Even better!” Snowflake responded. “If I put that filly’s mind to something, she just won’t quit!” I watched as Apple Bloom pivoted, kicking two sandbags in quick succession. There’s no way Applejack would be able to say she couldn’t help on the farm this year. She trotted over, and Snowflake set up the weight machines for her, adding another five iron plates to the load. I sighed. Not everypony would be able to contribute. Winter was nearing its end, and for us earth ponies, it couldn’t happen any sooner. The earth below us was begging to be worked. But we still had to wait for winter to be wrapped up. On March 12, I received three letters. One was another update from Silver Spoon. It turns out that one of her classmates favored a silver horn ring, a gift from her father that held particular sentimental value. The way Silver Spoon described it, she had finally found a friend at school. The second was another letter from Crystal Crown, discussing another art show of hers. More photographs and newspaper clippings greeted me. The third letter was from an unfamiliar address. The name was familiar. I looked back at Crystal Crown’s letter. I had breezed past the words on my first read, but she mentioned passing my address on to her brother, my uncle. Sure enough, the third letter bore the name of my uncle. My heart rate accelerated, I opened the final letter. It was another thick letter. I first noticed a colorful brochure fall to the table below me, showing a lodge in a snowy mountain. Then I saw the photograph, a smiling pegasus with vibrant orange eyes, his yellow wings sticking out of winter gear consisting of goggles and a heavy down coat, standing with a snowboard tucked under his foreleg. I opened his letter. Golden Sky Golden Skies Resort and Lodge 100 Jennet Lane Jackson Colt, P.E. Diamond Tiara Sweet Apple Acres One Orchard Way Ponyville, P.E. March 8, 1478 AC My dear niece, I put pen to paper as soon as I read your aunt’s letter. I was shocked when I had learned of your father’s passing, but I am grateful to know you survived. My sister is quite upset that it had been so long since she saw you, and my sentiments are the same. My words won’t be as poetic as hers, though. I share my sister’s realization that the simmering feud with your father is no reason to treat him as we did. Although it’s been years since I returned to my hometown, I would have come in an instant to say goodbye to Filthy Rich. And I’d like to make up for this by building a new and stronger relationship with you. I won’t screw this up, I promise. Your aunt says you lost your memory in an accident, so we’ll have to build new memories. My life took me far from the quiet forests and fields of Ponyville. I live in the mountain town of Jackson Colt. It is where I built my first business, a snowboard resort with a name inspired by my own. It’s not the only business I have a hoof in, but it is my first, and the one that means the most to me. My business dealings may take me to places like Damver and Billyings during the season, but Jackson Colt is where I set down roots. The fine mountain air, the chill breeze, the thick snow cover... it’s wonderful, at least to those ponies (and goats and donkeys) with winter in their blood. It always makes me smile when I can share this place with vacationing ponies. Even if they prefer to sit by the fire and drink hot chocolate, they will return to their homes with incredible memories. Although you can’t tell from reading a letter, I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes, trying to think of what else to say. I don’t think you want to hear me talk about all my business interests. I’m not married, so I can’t talk about my foals. It’s always easier to fill a conversation when you’re face to face, am I right? So, before I commit any more crimes against paper, I’m going to wrap this up. Please write and tell me about what’s going on in your life! Your uncle, Golden Sky Looking at the brochure, I was impressed. Golden Skies Resort and Lodge looked like a nice place to visit, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of living there year-round. I looked out the window at the snow-covered ground. Soon, Winter Wrap-Up would clear the skies and melt the white snow. That is something I could talk about. I thought as well about some of the things I shared with Crystal Crown. Inspired, I began to pen my response. Diamond Tiara Sweet Apple Acres One Orchard Way Ponyville, P.E. Golden Sky Golden Skies Resort and Lodge 100 Jennet Lane Jackson Colt, P.E. March 12, 1478 AC Dear Uncle Golden Sky, As a stallion with what many would call a dream job, my life as a schoolfilly probably won’t be very interesting. But we need to start somewhere, so I’ll do my best not to bore you. Yes, Aunt Crystal Crown is correct, I did lose my memories in the accident that claimed the life of my father. I’ve mostly recovered from the physical consequences of the action, but my mind is the one thing that’s defying improvement. Since I don’t remember our relationship, I’ll treat this like a new friendship. I’m living with the Apples, a family I’m sure you’ve met, due to the family business and the prominence of both families in the history of Ponyville. Right now, there’s a rising level of antsiness (is that a word?) as winter nears its end. We’re eager to wrap it up. There’s just so much that winter gets in the way of, like growing food and turning the ground. It makes everything from repairing a barn to going out and playing more uncomfortable. Speaking of playing, I have three friends, one being the youngest of the Apples. We’re all searching for our cutie marks. I probably shouldn’t mention you, because I don’t think we’ve tried to get snowboarding cutie marks. When the only mountain nearby is as steep as is the one where Canterlot rests, the consequences of failing to get our cutie marks would be a lot worse than tree sap! School is proceeding normally for me. It’s strange how I can remember facts I learned, but not how I learned them in the first place. It’s like everything personal was removed I set the pen down as Apple Bloom entered the room. She carried a large and undecorated book in her mouth, which she set on the table next to me. “I got this for you,” she said. “I just wanted to say thanks.” “Thanks?” I said. “You know, for the gym membership. Snowflake’s really helpful, and you’re helping me get what I want most, well, second most.” “Second most?” “Well, first, I want my cutie mark, then I want to be strong enough to contribute on the farm, just like Applejack and Big McIntosh,” Apple Bloom said. “And maybe this will help you get what you want most.” “You mean second most?” I replied, smiling and wiggling my blank flank. I opened Apple Bloom’s book, examining the large and blank pages. “It’s a scrapbook,” Apple Bloom explained. “I thought that if you filled it up with things, letters and pictures and souvenirs, it might help you remember something. And you can make it all pretty and such with stickers and glitter, if you’re so inclined.” “Thank you, Apple Bloom,” I said. She nodded, and departed the room. I set aside the letter I was writing. That could wait. Instead, I looked at some of the things I had collected in the five months after waking up. Letters. A postcard of the Manehattan skyline. Pictures, both new and historical. Even if Apple Bloom’s thoughtful gift wasn’t going to help me recover my old memories, it would help me cherish these new ones.