A light breeze blew against your face as you rested your head on the bottom of the open window. The gust was unusually cold, a foreboding sign of the weather to come. The cold air brushed over your coat and permeated your skin, chilling you down to the bones, but you didn’t seem to mind. If the wind was bothering you, you showed no sign of making yourself more comfortable. Sounds of foals playing border on the edges of your hearing. The endless drone of chirping birds pecks away at your eardrums. But in the end, it was all white noise.
The one thing that was able to move you from your spot was the sound of the door opening behind you. As you turn to face whoever disturbed you, Ditzy’s concerned face came out from behind the door, the gray mare knocking softly to announce her presence. “It’s four o’clock,” she said gently.
“Thanks,” you respond with a sad smile.
“If you don’t want to-”
“No, I need to do this. I need to see him, one last time.”
Ditzy nodded. As you begin to get up, Ditzy comes up to you and wraps you in her arms, squeezing you gently. You could feel her gentle heat against your cold body as you placed your hooves around her in return. You wanted to stay there forever, but you know that you would hate yourself if you ran away now. You and Ditzy break the hug and stare into each other’s eyes.
“Do what you need to do, I’ll always be waiting for you when you get back,” Ditzy promised.
You nod solemnly and walk out of the bedroom door. Instead of going to the stairs, you turn toward Wingsley’s room and knock on the door, not really expecting him to reply. After a few moments, you open the door and step inside. Not entering any further than the door frame, you call softly to your brother. “Wingsley, it’s time to go.” He turned to you with empty eyes and stared at you. You motion with your head for him to follow you. Grudgingly, he did so.
“We’ll be back in a few days,” you tell Ditzy as you stand outside ready to take off towards Cloudsdale. “You sure you’re okay with me leaving, even with Him coming back?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine. I told you I had a friend I could trust, Time Turner can be very reliable.”
Making a disapproving grunt, you accept her answer. “Ready?” you ask Wingsley, turning toward him. He nodded emotionlessly. You both take off from the ground with great speed, your wings making the sound of a canvas sail buffeted in the wind as you fly against the air current. After a while, you reach a cruising altitude and let your mind wander.
How did all this happen? Everything was finally going to plan, my life was just beginning to calm down. Is it all over again? What will happen to all of the happy days with Ditzy? You torture your mind with questions. No, nothing is going to happen. Nothing is going to change. Why would anything change? It can’t change.
Several Days Earlier:
“So what are you going to do?” Ditzy asked.
“Well apparently there is going to be funeral, and I’m going to need to go there,” you reply. “It’s the least I can do.”
“The least you can do? He was your dad!”
You scoff. “My dad? Him? Hardly. He wasn’t a father to me or Wingsley. I’ll never think of him as one in a million years.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? Why should I acknowledge a deadbeat like him?” You chuckle grimly at the pun.
“Stop that!” Ditzy stood up from her seat and glared at you. “Stop talking like that!” You withdraw, perplexed at her sudden outburst. “Stop lying to yourself! If you keep saying things like that, you are only going to hurt yourself.” She paused a moment to catch her breath. “Not just yourself, but Wingsley, Dinky, Sparkler, and me,” she continued in a softer, pleading voice. “This isn’t the ‘you’ that I fell in love with, this isn’t the ‘you’ who worried all through our first date, this isn’t the ‘you’ that was almost too nervous to ask for my name.” She sighed to emphasize her point. “This,” she motioned around your figure, “isn’t you.”
You sit there in silence, knowing she was right. You know you shouldn’t be this cynical, but how else were you supposed to react? Your father never cared for you while you were growing up. He rarely wrote to you, he hardly existed at all. How were you supposed to feel bad for him? How could you feel bad for him? But if it was for Ditzy, anything was possible.
“Fine, fine. You’re right. I’ll stop.”
“Good.” She nodded, accepting your word without asking for any proof, but you knew that she would hold you to that promise.
You both sat in silence for a long while before Ditzy spoke again, bringing up the topic your mind kept shying away from. “So what about Wingsley?”
“I’ll have to tell him, he needs to know. Frankly, I’m a little scared.”
Ditzy got up from where she was sitting and plopped down next to you, her head leaning against your shoulder. “I’m sure it will be fine, he loves you. He might be sad but it’s gonna be alright. It’s something you have to get over with, like ripping off a band-aid. It’s gonna hurt when it happens, but it’ll go away after awhile.”
“Ripping off a band-aid? Who still does that? I mean, you might as well be getting your coat waxed. I don’t know if you have ever seen a pony waxed, but it is not pretty.” You turn to her with a slight forced smile in an attempt to lift the mood.
She giggled cutely. “I guess you’re right,” she said softly with a smile as she snuggled up against you. Your expression relaxed into a more genuine smile as you gave her a kiss on the forehead.
The blessed silence lingered for a few more seconds, allowing you to organize your thoughts. You had to tell Wingsley what happened, despite how painful it would be. “Ditzy,” you said hesitantly. “When Wingsley gets home I’m going to tell him what happened. Right now, I’m still pretty nervous, mind if we get some lunch first?”
“Nervous eater much?” Ditzy joked.
“You should have seen me at my senior year at high school.”
“I bet you were just as cute,” she teased in her adorable voice.
Sitting up from your spot on the couch, you lean over and gently kiss her on the forehead again. “You’re too good for me,” you whisper to her.
“Well you got me anyways, even though you totally don’t deserve me,” she giggled. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The lunch that you had with Ditzy was a nice distraction from your upcoming duty. When you were with her, you felt like you could just forget the rest of the world, like nothing else mattered. Not your job, not your dad, not even Wingsley. It was a horrible realization, you understood that. It was only recently that you had even been aware of it.
Sighing, you walk up to the door to open it for the both of you. To your surprise, it was already unlocked. With a puzzled expression you turn to Ditzy, who was becoming more concerned by second. You motion for her to wait outside while you go to investigate. Opening the door partially, you stick your head into the gap. None of the lights were on, but there was a figure inside. It was in the shape of a pony with a smallish figure.
“Hey!” you call. “Who’s in ther-” You pause for a moment. “Wingsley? Is that you?” You open the door fully and enter the house. “Hey bro, what’s up? You scared me there for a second.”
There was no answer.
“Wingsley?”
Silence.
“What’s going on with you?” You put your hoof on his shoulder. His motionless silence ended when he whipped around and slapped your hoof away, tears in his eyes.
“When did you plan on telling me?” he shouted at you through tears.
“Wingsley, I’m sorr-”
“Shut it!”
“Wingsley, believe me I was going to tell you myself when you got home today,” you try to explain calmly.
“Bullshit!”
“Wingsley!” you scolded, taken aback by his language.
“You were going to tell me today? That’s a little bucking convenient, don't you think?” he screamed. “Why should I believe you? You hated him anyway, were you just going to sweep it under the rug and forget about it?”
“No, of course not. I was going to-”
“I... I just don’t want to hear it from you right now!” he shouted.
“Wingsley,” you plead, “Let’s talk.”
He turned around and looked at you, disdain seeping from his gaze. “Stop treating me like an innocent kid!”
You’re taken aback by his statement. “I...”
“Just leave me alone.” With that, he raced toward his room, leaving you standing in the doorway as you struggled to take in what just happened.
The next day:
With the date and time of the funeral determined, there were certain arrangements that you had to take care of before then. One of the most important items on that list was asking for time off from the weather team. You went to the station early in the morning during the end of the first shift, assuming that your supervisor, Cloudkicker would be arriving shortly to read over the reports and prepare for the coming day.
The sky was still dark, since the way the sun was beginning to rise only slightly illuminated the clouds. Navigation remained difficult as you struggled to stay on course. Soft fog rolled away from the station, and through the fog, you could see the tops of the trees in the forest beneath you. With the lighting, the trees looked almost dead, as if they had given up taking in nourishment from the sun and earth. You also noticed that no breeze was blowing except the one you created with your wings as you cruised through the sky. The world itself was silent.
Landing on the roof as you normally do, you entered the main door to the complex. The sounds made by your hooves as you descended the stairs echoed through the building. The calm before the storm of a normal workday. Arriving at the door to Cloudkicker’s office, you knocked and waited for a response. On the other side of the door, you hear a thud, a curse, and the distinct sound of paper scattering. Obviously, she wasn’t expecting a visitor.
“Come in,” came a weary voice. You open the door and found Cloudkicker sitting in her chair, lightly rubbing her head. It doesn’t take much thought to infer what happened. “Oh, it’s you.” She looked up with general surprise. “What brings you in at this hour?”
“Felt I needed to explain why I’m going to need to take some time off,” you sigh, getting to the point straight away.
“Time off? Did something happen to Ditzy?” Cloudkicker asked.
“No, but close. Family emergency issues.”
“Can I ask you to clarify? You don’t have to if it’s a touchy issue,” Cloudkicker backtracked.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. A few days ago my dad died. I have to go to his funeral coming up.”
Cloudkicker gasped. “Ohmygosh, I am so sorry.”
You smile and nod your head in thanks. No you aren’t bucking sorry. You couldn’t care one way or another; you’re just doing what society deems acceptable. “Thanks, it’s been a tough time for all of us.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Two days from now.”
“That soon?”
“Yeah, just have to get everything in order first.”
“I understand. Work today’s shift and I can give you ten days off, that enough?”
“Plenty, thanks.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear it. You going to tell Prevailing? I know he is a close friend of yours.”
“I plan on it.”
“You have a few hours until your shift. Go grab some coffee and get some rest. You look like somepony that hasn’t slept in a few days. I can’t have you passing out on your last day, alright?”
“Yes ma’am.”
And you do just that. You find a comfortable place in the locker room, you sit up against the wall, and drift off into your first solid sleep in days.
The sound of hooves rouses you from your slumber. You open your eyes to find Prevailing standing over you, marker suspiciously in his hoof.
“Damn it, you woke up too soon.”
In your sleep-clouded state, you were having trouble processing exactly what was going on, but whatever it might be, if Prevailing was involved it couldn’t be good. You blink your eyes a couple of times as you struggle to stand up.
“And I was just about to show off my newfound artistic talent. Some ponies have no respect for the arts.” He smiled at you and gave you a light hit on the shoulder. “So whatcha’ doing sleeping here? Lose a bet? You love work so much you can’t leave? Hiding from the cops?” Prevailing asked, throwing his wild theories at you.
“No, no.” You yawn, still waking up. “Just had to ask Cloudkicker for some time off.”
“Time off? What’s up?”
“Just some family emergency stuff.”
“Just?” Prevailing questioned you.
“Well, I mean…” your voice trails off. You would prefer to not go into a lot of detail, you didn’t want his pity. “There’s just some stuff that came up, and I need to go for a few days back to Cloudsdale.”
Prevailing nodded his head, “Tell me when you get back, alright?”
“Sure thing.”
After finishing up your shift, you decided to fly back over to Ditzy’s house. The one thing that kept worrying you was what would happen if her ex came back when you were gone. You didn’t want to make her feel that you were suffocating her, but you were still worried about her safety.
Landing on the porch, you opened the door to the house and gave a knock post-entrance. “I’m home,” you called to anyone that may still be inside.
“Oh hey! Welcome back!” Ditzy greeted you with a hug and a kiss. “Did everything go alright? Were you able to get that time off?”
“Yeah, Cloudkicker was very understanding.”
Ditzy sighed with relief. “I’m so glad.”
“It does make things a lot easier.” You could tell your attempted use of small talk did nothing to conceal that you had something else on your mind. Ditzy saw through you immediately.
“So what’s really on your mind?” She looked at you with a smirk, and raised her eyebrow, proud she was able to read you so easily.
You sigh. “Are you sure you want me to go? I mean, what if he comes back while I’m gone?”
Her face darkened. “I understand, but I want you to go.”
“But-”
“But nothing. He is your family. Go see him off.” She smiled at you. “And don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I have more than a few friends that can help me out.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. Anyone I know?”
“Have you heard of Time Turner?”
“Heard of him, don’t think I’ve run into him yet.”
“He’s one of my oldest friends in Ponyville, we go back a long way.”
“Oh?” you ask, sounding somewhat suspicious. “When you say you go back a long way…”
“Hmm?” She looked at you, confused, then with a flash of realization she stammered, “No. No! There was nothing between us.”
You sigh and accept her answer.
“Besides, I have you. I love you, you don’t need to worry about me alright?”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m just being paranoid.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yeah, I trust you.”
She gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Good.”
“Hey Wingsley?” You knock on his door. “I’m coming in.”
As you entered his room, you noticed Wingsley slouching in his chair next to the bed. His attention was lazily fixated on a certain unknown object outside. After a moment, Wingsley passed a single bored glance over you before returning to his trace-like[S1] state.
“We’re leaving in two days.”
“Oh? What for?” Wingsley asked, in a disinterested tone.
“You know exactly why.” You raise your voice slightly, patience wearing thin. “The funeral is coming up soon.”
“So you’re actually going to that? Could have fooled me,” he scoffed.
“Celestia dammit, what the hell is wrong with you?” You glared at him in disgust. “He was your father!”
“Not according to you!” he yelled back. “You have never said one good thing about him, ever. You hated him!”
“Nevertheless, he is still our father. Who heard of children that didn’t go to their parent’s funeral?”
“You don’t deny that you hated him?” Wingsley challenged, raising his voice.
“How could I not!” you shout, raising yours in turn. “He ran away from us, he abandoned us!”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
Taken aback for a moment, your voice becomes dangerously calm. “Excuse me?”
“Even though he’s dead, you are still running away from him. You want to scatter his remains into the sky and forget about him.” Scattering remains and cremation was tradition in Cloudsdale as well as other cloud cities, given that mass was an important factor to take into mind when living on a cloud. Burying the dead was usually not an option. Scattering the remains in the sky meant freeing the spirit of the deceased so they could be as free in death as they were in life. “And you’re just going to keep running away, just like you have your entire life. Well, like father like son, I shouldn’t be surprised,” he scoffed. And with that, he turned back to the window, his body language making it clear that he was done with the conversation.
In that instant, you lost all control. “Never compare me to that bastard ever again!” Snarling, you picked up your hoof and raised it by your head. The immediate reaction causes Winglesy to cower away from you, shutting his eyes in the fear of pain. Towering over him, you looked at the scared, sobbing form of your brother. You wanted more than anything to beat him, to assault him for the terrible insult that left his mouth. You were furious, livid even, but you couldn’t bring yourself to release your hand and strike him. The cruel irony of striking the one thing you gave up your life trying to protect. With a huff, you turn around and walk away, saying over your shoulder “Pack your stuff and get ready. We leave in two days.”
Two days later, departure time.
“Nothing is going to change,” you whisper to yourself. You knew it was an illusion, but it was a necessary illusion, to hold back the pain of everything past and everything to come. You take a deep breath to clear your head before turning toward Wingsley. “Ready?”
“Hmmph,” Wingsley affirmatively grunted, half disinterestedly.
You took off from the ground, rocketing up into the sky. Looking back, Wingsley was not far behind you. Confident that he could do it on his own, you speed up and gain the necessary altitude for cruising into Cloudsdale. As your wings carry you closer to your hometown, to your father, you realize how right Wingsley was. You weren’t moving forward. You were still running away.
Running away, just like him…