//------------------------------// // Prologue: I Can See the Sun // Story: Things Lost and Broken // by Nineveh //------------------------------// Things Lost and Broken Prologue: I Can See the Sun [/hr] “Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings." -Anaïs Nin I was taught as a young filly that rainbows were a symbol of promise. I've carried that with me ever since I was that age. Of course, my parents were the ones who taught me that, more specifically my dad. Mom ran away from home after I was born. I'm not mad, or anything. I don't have reason to be, really. I didn't even know her. Because of this, my dad was really kind to me, and often spoiled me, afraid to lose the last of his family. Until mom was found. Dead. The cops found a dead body in the woods and identified her as my mother. She died only recently prior to us finding her. It seemed she was brutally murdered, and possibly raped. The remains of her indicated that she may have been a drug addict, and further investigation identified her as a prostitute. Dad was heartbroken. Not only did he lose the one mare he loved, but the mare he loved didn't seem to love him. He began to drink, and we grew further and distant. We were no longer the close father and daughter. The thing is, this is reality. At marriage, a young mare and colt promise eternal love, never to leave the other's side, no matter the consequences. But, then again, promises are one of the things lost and broken. My dad promised the filly me at a young age that he would never leave my side, that he'd love me and be with me until the end of eternity. Yet, here I stand now: in the rain, and a flood of ponies dressed in black before a box, being slowly lowered into the ground. I don't wear black. Dad always told me that black is a depressing color. Besides, I don't even have any formal clothes. All the ponies around me are crying, sobbing at the loss. How can they cry? I should be the one crying; I've known dad better than they ever will. But, why are tears not falling? Even the sky is crying, gloomy and depressed. What made it upset, I wonder? I wasn't even there when he died. He ended his life without telling anyone. The last words he said to me were, "I'm going out for a while. Stay here." He went mad when mom died, drinking and gambling everything. He began to come come really late while I was already tucked in bed, drunk and yelling and sobbing. He never took out his anger on me. He was drunk, yes, but he learned to control himself with me. Then he went out and thought out the most creative way to die. I never knew how. And I never will know. Everyone has left now. Here I stand. Alone. Like I've been for the past fifteen years. Just me and my dad. Just me and a grave. I stare blankly at it. "You promised," I mumble. I feel the life drained from me. "You promised, dad." He doesn't answer. "Dad, can you hear me? You're drunk again, aren't you?" He doesn't answer. At this point, I feel a tear down my cheek. Even though it's raining and I'm soaking wet now, I can distinguish the tear because it's warm on the midst of the cold autumn raindrops. Why is it cold? It shouldn't be. It's only August. But, maybe, it only feels cold to me. I should probably leave. I've been here too long, and I can't see the sun anymore. And I really never will. It won't be the same. I've lost everything, haven't I? I've lost my family, my friends, the love of my life, my home, my dignity, my happinessー everything. I turn to leave, and my eyes graze the blank and stark plain. This is the plain that Dad and I used to go all the time. Before Mom died. But then, that changed. The grassy hills became desolate mounds. The vibrant flowers became dull and stale. The life, the open freedom became dead and imprisoned. "Dad," I say, not looking away from the plain. "We should really start coming here again, once you stop drinking so much." He doesn't answer. Rage fills my lungs and my chest. In anguish, I bolted up into the sky, leaving behind a world broken and incomplete. Higher, higher, higher. I don't stop. How can I stop? I've only ever gone up. But, maybe, this time I will go down. Maybe I will fall, this time. Just this once. I look down over my shoulder, at the dark and cloudy world, gray and stoic. It looks plain. There is life, there is love, there is friendship, somewhere. Just not here. Here, I fall. I let my muscles relax, and I feel gravity pulling me viciously to the ends of the earth. I only see a blur of gray. The clouds flash past me, and I can't see the sun. I will never see the sun. I close my eyes, and breathe in, releasing everything in my head. This is the end. I land. No, I don't land; I'm still alive. The ground came gently, warm and soft. I open my eyes slowly. Directly above me, I see an angel. Two angels: a colt and a mare. It's so soft. I see their wings outstretched towards me, and I realize that I am engulfed in the fluffy feathers. Who do they belong to? I don't see them clearly, because they're silhouetted against the dark sky. Wait. No, they shade me from the sun. But, how? I squint weakly beyond their heads, and I see the sun. The sun. I feel it's warmth, happiness, and I see the two heads, silhouetted against the bright sky. Who do they belong to? "Dashie." My eyes spring open. It can't be. I've heard this voice. I've heard this voice a million times before. I've heard it before I went to bed, before I left for school, before I left for work. I've heard this voice. But, the voice is long gone now. Except, it's not. It's the voice of someone I love, someone I cherish, someone I callー "Dad?" All of a sudden, his face becomes clear, as if a huge spotlight illuminated his face. I see him. I see the sun. I feel tears drop from the sides of my eyes. "Dad. What the hell? You scared me." "Dashie, you should know not to say 'hell' in such a crude manner." Now, this voice, I don't know. This voice, I've never heard. But, for some reason, I feel it compelling, familiar, common. I feel as if I've heard it as many times as I've heard my dad's voice. I feel like I was born into this voice; like the voice is the only voice that has ever said, "Good night," or, "I love you." My body acts on its own, and before I realize what I'm doing I hear the word I've never called anyone before: "Mom." Light explodes everywhere. The world becomes bright, and everything becomes clear. Suddenly, the clouds explode into a spectra of colors, reflecting luminously against the bright blue sky. The hills and grassland far beneath me are now strikingly green, almost seemingly fake: but it's real. It's all real. The last words I hear from Mom and Dad before they disappeared into mist and became the dew on the grass that they lay me down on are: "You're not alone." [/hr] I open my eyes. The same dream, again. It almost seems too unreal for a dream. But, the events were true. It's been two years since then. Now, I live in Cloudsdale with the few friends I have left. The memories of my family and old friends are still vivid in my mind, withstanding the age despite the rusting of all my other memories. I crawl out of bed, and I look outside my window, and as I have for the past two years, I can see the sun.