Work is somewhat more exhausting than usual today. Maybe it was the break in my monotonous life last night. Maybe it was just my restless sleep. I'm worried about that strange bat-pony being all alone out in the woods. She's been out, all alone, for nearly a year, in the wild.
"You know, dearie. This store's been in the family for over six generations." Mrs. Cake enthralls me with the history of the store for the hundredth time. I only half-listen as I toss a tray of cupcakes into one of the ovens. Between having already heard this story, and reading about the town's history over at the library, I know exactly how the story goes, even when she omits details.
I walk back across the kitchen to frost a batch of sugar cookies, but as I pick the frosting-bag up, a hoof stops me. I look down to see Mrs. Cake staring up at me worriedly.
"Why don't you take the day off? You seem a little out of it." I roll my eyes and set the frosting-bag back down. "There's something on your mind, dearie. It's distracting you."
"I'm just thinking." I look out the window, at all of the ponies running around, shopping, chattering, playing. Part of me wishes I didn't despise their joy; they are nothing but kind to me.
"You should stop that. It makes you all sad and mopey." She giggles softly and nods her head to the door. "Take the rest of the day off, clear your head, and relax. All you ever do is work here."
"Because I enjoy it." It is true. I'm not working here for money, I get a monthly stipend from the princesses for "doing whatever it is that humans do." Their words, not mine.
"Please. We both already know how this conversation is going to go. We have it every couple of days." She's right. It starts out with me losing focus, her asking what's wrong, me saying there's nothing wrong, and then her giving me the day off. With full pay. I just nod, hang my apron, and walk to the door.
"Go relax. Take a nap, read a book, whatever it is you need to." She calls after me.
I step outside, and am almost instantly warmed by the morning sun. I check my watch. It's only eleven in the morning. I decide to head to the library to see if I can find any books on bat-ponies. I might as well do a little research if I'm going to befriend one.
As I walk toward the library, a few ponies stop me and ask how I'm doing. I exchange pleasantries with them before excusing myself and carrying on my way. Being anti-social doesn't mean I can't be nice sometimes; I just have a little trouble wanting to converse and meet new people, or ponies.
As I approach the door of the library, I take a moment to admire it. Nearly every day for a year, I've seen this door. I place my hand on the door. For a wooden structure, it feels incredibly soft. "Comforting" would be a more fitting word. The doors in Equestria are so much more welcoming than those on Earth. I feel like the doors here are gateways to adventures, or that they hide pleasant things. The doors on Earth just felt cold, lifeless, uninviting... like they hid something dark. Though, I suppose I can attribute that to all of the thriller and horror movies I watched. Things like that can get to me.
I chuckle to myself as I open the door. Reverie, as enthusiastic as ever, gives me an incredibly warm welcome.
"Good morning, Anon!" She grins from ear to ear. She enjoys seeing me almost as much as I enjoy visiting her domain.
"Morning." I lean over the front counter as she stacks and sorts books with her magic. "I don't suppose you could help me find a book." She gives a slight smile.
"As a matter of fact, I can!" She can be so sarcastic sometimes. "What can I help you with?"
"I need a book about bat-ponies."
"Wh-why?" The sound of her voice alerts me to her distaste of bat-ponies. I should tread carefully, bat-ponies might be a bit taboo around these parts.
"Just a little curious. Started reading a little bit about the sub-species of ponies, glanced over bat-ponies, and took a little bit of an interest in them. I always was a bit of a fan of bats." Lying is bad, Anon. She gives me an extremely nervous look.
"They're in the Kindness wing, on the "B" shelf." She shivers gently as she points. "If you ever meet one of those ponies, I highly suggest keeping your distance. They have a negative reputation." I nod and walk upstairs. This is the first instance that I have heard a pony say anything racist. Or specist. Ponyist? I shrug and walk into the Kindness wing.
The Kindness wing is where every book that has to do with animals and pony biology is located. I've tried to avoid it as much as possible, because the books on animals and the books on pony anatomy aren't separated. I need to complain to Reverie some more. She does a good job of organizing, though. I find the book I'm looking for almost as soon as I walk up to the "B" shelf.
"Bat-ponies: Everything You Need To Know And More." I turn the book over in my hands. It looks ancient; possibly a few centuries old. It's in excellent condition, possibly due to magic. I can only hope its contents are relevant to the current age.
"Let's see. Bat-ponies can best be described as a sub-species of Pegasi. Like most sub-species, bat-ponies are considerably different from their parent species. Unlike Pegasi, bat-ponies have tufted ears, slitted eyes, bat wings, and fangs. They can also hang on to most surfaces, upside-down, due to increased micro-friction in their hooves. Why this is possible is unexplained, though many chalk it up to their unique magic, as all species typically have. Unlike most sub-species of ponies, bat-ponies have two main sub-species of themselves: blood-drinkers and fruit-eaters. There are also bug-eaters and fish-eaters, though those are incredibly rare. Blood-drinkers and fruit-eaters are easily discernible from one another, due to their fang types. Blood-drinkers have sharper fangs, while fruit-eaters have duller fangs."
"Interesting, alarming, and yet... alleviating. Good to know Speck won't be drinking my blood any time soon." I skip a few chapters and read more in depth on the fruit-eaters.
"While fruit-eaters have a similar diet to most other ponies, they prefer fruit above all else. They are especially fond of sweet, tropical fruits, such as pineapples and mangoes, but are also especially fond of peaches, bananas, and oranges. Just like their blood-drinking counterparts, fruit-eaters sleep during the day, but are more apt to sleep during the night. Bat-ponies are an incredibly close-knit species, and will typically mimic the sleep cycles and activities of those closest to them, in order to spend more time with one another." This book is incredibly straight-forward with its information. I skip a few chapters to read more about their magic.
"Bat-ponies are able to cling to flat surfaces whilst upside-down, due to micro-friction in their hooves, as stated earlier in this book. Unlike their pegasi counterparts, bat-ponies are unable to control the weather. However, they make up for this with quicker reflexes, slightly faster flying speeds, and heightened senses. Bat-ponies also use something called echolocation to located objects in the dark, or even communicate with one another." I skip around the book and read more tidbits of information.
"Anonymous?" I look up from the book. Reverie stands on the opposite side of the table I sit at. "You've been up here for a couple of hours." I check my watch: two o'clock. I think I've learned everything I can from this book anyway.
"Yeah, sorry. Got really into this." I stand up and walk over to shelf the book. Reverie follows.
"Are you okay? You're looking kind of shifty. Did you get enough sleep?"
"Yeah, I guess I'm just a little burned out from work."
"Well, go home and get some rest." I sigh as we walk down the stairs and into the main lobby.
"Alright. You have a good day."
"I will."
I leave the library.
~~~
She awoke in the middle of the day, disgruntled and uncomfortable. She couldn't sleep, because of what was on her mind. She was curious. She dropped from her tree, checked her bricks, and snuck through the forest. The townspeople went about their merry business, ignoring their surroundings. She took this opportunity to sneak toward the edge of town. No one noticed her. The large, two-story cottage that she had spent a short time at sat on the outskirts. No one saw her sneak in. She scouted around, checking the windows. The whole house was dark. No one was at home. She flew up onto the roof and looked into a window. She saw a large bedroom. She tried the window. It gave, and she snuck inside. She looked in the closet on her right. A pile of clothes sat on the floor. They smelled like the human she met that morning. A smile teased her lips, and she buried herself in them. She didn't know why she felt so drawn to him. Maybe it was because he was different, just like her. Maybe there was some commonality between them.
She fell asleep.
~~~
I stand outside my house. As I stare at the wide open window on the second floor, I feel as though something is incredibly off. Maybe I left the oven on? Or maybe I forgot to take the trash out this morning. I continue staring at the window, but shrug after a short while and enter the house.
Nothing is out of the ordinary. The house is quiet and empty. Speck's groceries were put away this morning before I headed off to work. I pick a glass out of the cupboard and fill it with water from the sink. I down it fairly quickly before heading upstairs.
I approach my bedroom door, and the feeling returns. I don't know why, but my door seems a little strange today. Opening the door, I notice nothing out of the ordinary in my room. I step inside and look around, check under the bed, and behind the door. I look toward the closet. I shrug, grab a clean set of clothes out of my dresser, and enter the bathroom for a quick shower.
~~~
The sounds of running water stirred her from her sleep. He was home! She panicked, unsure of what to do. What if he checked the closet? What if he found her? Was she welcome here during the day? She buried herself deeper in the clothes and peeked through the slats on the closet door. There was no use in attempting to escape.
~~~
I dry off and change into my new set of clothes after shutting the water off. Something still feels wrong, but I can't place it. I step out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. The sound of shuffling comes from the closet. I feel like I may soon discover why I'm feeling paranoid.
I approach the closet as quietly and calmly as I can. My hand wraps around the handle as I take a deep breath. I fall backwards as I fling it open, something barreling into my chest. My head hits the ground; I feel my surroundings twist and turn as my vision blurs. Whatever hit me was startled. Whatever hit me now sits on the other side of the room. I roll over onto my belly and try to get up, but I feel too dizzy to stand. I opt to sit and hold my head.
Something heavy rests on my leg. This is it. This is the end. Whatever I just frightened is going to kill me. I prepare myself for the worst, but nothing happens. It stays still.
I look up, my vision stabilizing, to see two dull orange eyes looking right into mine. Her mouth moves, but I can't hear what she's saying. She's visibly panicked, her hooves hovering over my face in an attempt to assess the damage.
"Anon? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" She bites her bottom lip as she places a hoof over my hand. I shake my head and place my other hand on the hoof that's still on my leg. She glances down, obviously worried.
"I think I'll be fine. Why exactly are you hiding in my closet?" She blushes and looks away. She takes a deep breath.
"I couldn't sleep, and I was kind of hungry, so I came over, but you weren't home, and I didn't want to wander around town looking for you because everypony hates me because I'm different, so I let myself in through your window, and I thought it would be a good idea to take a nap in your closet, but then the running water woke me up and I didn't know what to do, and I thought I could just fly past you and out the window, but I hit you, and I'm sorry, I'll understand if you hate me."
She brings her hooves up to her face in a destitute attempt to hide. This, combined with her long-winded explanation, melts my heart. I try really hard not to laugh, mostly because it might hurt my head, but also because it could hurt Speck's feelings. I pull her into a hug, hoping it'll calm her nerves and assure her that I'm fine. I'm not mad at all, just surprised.
"It's alright, Speck. You wanna go back to sleep? I don't mind you hanging around in the closet." She gasps rather loudly. I have a feeling she didn't gasp at the offer.
"Anon! I didn't know you liked puns!" I now recall something from that book about bat-ponies. They love puns.
"What pun?"
"Hanging around." She nudges me and winks, smiling widely.
I sigh and my hands meet my face with such a force that scientists would be able to conclude the result of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable wall. One of the only things I dislike more than bats, is puns.
"Anyways, sure I can hang around for a while. Just a warning, though. I might drive you a little batty." Her snickering intensifies. This little bat-pony, as obnoxious as her puns are, is incredibly cute. I don't think I'll be able to handle her; I might get diabetes or something. I stand up and start to walk toward the door, completely ignoring her. No pleasantries, no "good-bye," no "see you later." I know she'll try to use another pun.
"Anon, wait!" She trots up to me as I walk toward the door. "I wanted to know if you could help me make some banana bread muffin. My mom used to bake them with me all the time, and I'm kind of craving it." She smiles up at me as her tummy grumbles.
I feel nothing but disgust. Muffin batter. That was so obvious and so subtle at the same time: Schroedinger's Pun.
"If you're serious, I'll help you. On one condition." She tilts her head. "No more puns." She hops around and screeches with joy. Somewhere, in a far off land, an ancient, priceless vase shatters. I roll my eyes and lead her downstairs into the kitchen.
As soon as we enter the kitchen, she darts over to the fridge and starts tossing things across the room. As I catch as much as I can, especially the fragile things like eggs and fruit, I set them on the table. She rushes over to the cabinets and starts throwing more things at me. Bowls, flour, sugar, and a bunch of unnecessary things.
"Is that all of it?" She tilts her head as she asks and flies over to the table. I stare at the ingredients.
"Aside from nearly everything here being stuff we don't need, all we're actually missing are the bananas." I turn my head to look at her, and she holds up a bunch of bananas. I don't think she's actually moved from where she floats, and I'm fairly certain she wasn't holding those bananas a second ago. But, she has the bananas we need. "Alright. All we have to do is make the -" I cringe, "- batter."
"Okay." She shrugs and passes the bananas to me. I stare at her, expecting a laugh, or giggle, or kee. She doesn't even react to me saying "batter."
"Did your mom ever make anything else with you, or was it just the muffins?" I gather up the needed ingredients and move them to the counter-top.
"Just these." Speck starts to clean the table, putting everything back where it goes.
"Any special reason?" I start to peel some of the bananas. She watches me intently.
"Well, I've always found bananas to be quite -" She tries to push my hands up to smush the banana against my face. I already know what she's going to say, and there's nothing I can do to stop it, except pray. "- appealing." I set the banana down, groan, and hold my head. It takes all of my willpower to not cry, despite her self-satisfied grin and incessant kee'ing. Only the dead may know peace from this torture.
"Can we just bake these muffins so you'll go back to sleep?"
"But Anon! I'm not even tired anymore!" It isn't even four o'clock yet, the sun is still high in the sky, and Speck is nocturnal. I stare at her, and she slowly stops smiling. I wonder if bat-ponies' sleep cycles are able to change this quickly. She's probably just excited and antsy. "But, if you don't want me around, I'll leave after we finish the muffins." She flattens her ears and lands on the floor.
"I'm not comfortable with asking you to leave, Speck. I don't like the idea of you, or any pony, having to live out in the wilderness." I sigh and kneel down, my hand lifting her chin up so she'll look at me. I have probably just opened my very own Pandora's box. If she stays here, on the same sleep-cycle, and her misconception of my love of puns, I will likely regret every decision I've made today. Speck hugs me.
"Thanks, Anon." It's been a while since I've had a hug. I hug her back.
"Ready to bake these muffins?"
"Yeah." She nods slowly and lets go of me. As I stand, she balances herself on her hind-hooves with her fore-hooves on the counter. She watches as I mix the ingredients together in a bowl. Her brow furrows as I pour a little bit of vanilla extract into the bowl. "What's that for?"
"It adds flavor." I whisk the extract into the rest of the batter.
"That's weird. I don't think my mom's ever done that."
"Really? You might like this more, then."
"Nah, nothing's better than my mom's cooking." She smiles up at me as I pick the bowl up and pour its contents into a muffin pan. She has a point. I love nothing more than my own mother's cooking. Too bad I haven't had it in a while.
I slide the muffin tray into the oven and turn it to the "muffin" setting. Technology in this world is so simple and straightforward. I set a timer for thirty minutes and turn back to Speck. She stares at me quizzically.
"Why'd you put them in there? Don't you have a kiln?"
"A kiln? Like the kind you bake bricks in?" She nods slowly. "No?"
"Oh. That's what we use to bake our muffins."
"Strange. Well, it's going to be a while before the muffins are done. Is there anything you want to do while we wait?" She looks around the kitchen and taps her chin with a hoof.
"Could you take me into town to meet some of your friends? I don't know anyone around here, because most of them hide from me. Only a few shopkeepers talk to me, and I think it's just out of pity." Every time she tells me about her life, I feel something tug at my heart. She's lived like this for a year. All alone, with few ponies to talk to. And here I am, reaching out to her.
She asked to meet some of my friends. The only ponies around here I can call my friends are Reverie and the Cakes, though the latter are my employers, so I'm not sure if they really count. Reverie even told me of her distaste for bat-ponies, so she's definitely out of the question.
"I don't really have any friends." I sit down at the table. Speck sits across from me.
"That's sad."
I shrug and sit back in my chair. We sit in silence for the next half hour. Speck just looks at me the whole time, studying me. The timer starts to go off, which causes Speck to gasp audibly. She darts over to the oven and stares at it as she stamps her hooves with glee.
I have to hold her back as I open the oven and take the tray out with a gloved hand. She struggles, hooves reaching and wings flapping, to get a muffin.
"Anon! Come on, I just want one!"
"You have to let them cool down a bit." She struggles even harder, but gives up shortly after and plops down on her rump with a huff. I roll my eyes and pick a muffin up. It's hot, but I hold it just long enough to give it to her. She tosses it between her hooves with soft grunts, before finally holding it fast and taking a bite out of it. As soon as her fangs sink into it, her wings flare out and her eyes widen.
"This is the best muffin I have ever eaten." She rolls backwards, kicks her hind-legs, and moans softly as she scarfs down the muffin. I chuckle softly and leave the room so she can enjoy it.
~~~
The bat-pony sat up as her new friend left the room. She felt as though she'd died and gone to pony Heaven. She cared about little in that moment. The muffin tasted as though it was baked by angels themselves. She perked up at the thought. Angels. The same ones told to her in stories by her mother. Angels, as the stories said, were ancient beings, long gone, that would look over ponies. The angels protected them, gave them shelter, helped them find food, and even cared deeply for the ponies until they could stand up on their own hooves. This little bat-pony always thought the angels were another name for parents. Though, what if her new friend was one of those very beings from the stories? She had never seen, nor heard, of any creature like her friend, anyways.
What if he was an angel?
~~~
A loud gasp comes from the kitchen, and a bat-pony, soon after, flies out of the room.
"Are you done making love to that muffin?" I smile as she climbs up next to me on the couch. She sits next to me and looks over my arm, at my journal. I close it and toss it on the table in front of me.
"What's in that book?"
"It's nothing." She reaches for it, but I stop her.
"Come on! I can't even read those weird scribbles! What's the big deal if I look at it?"
"I don't care if you can read it or not, Speck. It's personal, and I'd rather you not look at it." She groans and slumps against me. She yawns. I yawn.
"What's in the book, though?" I let out a long, drawn out, agitated groan.
"It's a book about everything I've been through since I came to Equestria. It's a book about a lot of things that happened to me before that. It's just personal, okay?" It has everything about me in it, from the earliest thing I can remember. Everything, except my name. I look down at her. She has an intrigued look on her face. She lays across my lap and stares up at me.
"Will you read it to me?"
"No." She frowns.
"Will you read it to me eventually?" I roll my eyes.
"Maybe."
We sit silently, enjoying one another's company. I sift my fingers through her mane and over her ears. It kind of feels nice, almost relaxing, to pet a pony like this. I don't feel alone.
"Anon?"
"Yeah?" I look down at her as she rolls onto her back to look up at me.
"Are we friends?" I look up and think for a moment. On Earth, I wouldn't really consider someone a friend until we did something together. Be it playing a sport, watching a movie, or having a lengthy conversation, it didn't matter as long as it was something to spend time together. I hardly ever went out and did stuff with people I'd just met, though. That would probably explain why I didn't have many close friends. Speck, on the other hand? We just baked muffins together, and spent a good few hours together. I guess I can count that as part of the criteria.
"I suppose so." I ruffle her mane with a smile. She sits up and hugs me around the chest as tight as she can. I hug her back, and feel just a little bit happier. "How about we go finish those muffins off?"
"Alright!" She leaps off of me and zips into the kitchen. I follow her as quickly as I can and find her already sitting at the table, stuffing her face with another muffin. I sit down and reach for one, but she swats my hand with a hoof. "These are mine!"
"Fine. I'll just eat something better." I stand up and walk over to the counter. Opening a breadbox, I pull out a day-old loaf of cinnamon raisin bread. I cut a few slices, toss them on a plate, and return to my seat across from Speck. She's stopped eating the muffins and stares at my bread. She reaches over the table, toward my plate. I scoot it back. "What're you doing?"
"I want to see what that tastes like." I furrow my brow and stare at her.
"No. You have your muffins that you won't share, I have my bread that I won't share." She looks me dead in the eye. I can see the devious plans already forming within her noggin. I push my plate toward her, but it's already too late.
"Well, if you won't give me a piece of your bread, I'll just have to loaf about and rye until you share." I barely let her finish as I throw a piece of bread at her. It sticks to her face, and she throws her hooves up in triumph. She picks the piece of bread up off of her face and takes a bite out of it. She chews it for a second before spitting it out on the table. She places the rest of the piece on my plate.
"That is absolutely disgusting, Speck! Pick that up and eat it, or throw it away!" She picks the uneaten piece up and throws it in the trash.
"How can you eat that?" She takes a bite of one of her muffins.
"I like it." I notice she's starting to look a little tired.
"But it has raisins. Raisins are gross." I roll my eyes, and she sticks her tongue out at me.
"I try to ignore the raisins, actually. Once you get past those, it isn't bad." She rolls her eyes now.
"Do hoomans lack taste buds, or do they just not have standards when it comes to their food?"
"It varies. Some people like certain things, some people don't." Speck ponders for a moment.
"So, some ponies like raisins? Does that mean there are ponies that don't like bananas?" I nod. She gasps loudly. "What kind of sick pony doesn't like bananas?!" I laugh softly as she huffs and gets up from the table. She looks tired as she turns to me on her way out of the kitchen. "If I ever met a pony that didn't like bananas, I'd have to split before giving them a piece of my mind." I cringe as she flies out of the room, her kee's echoing through the house.
I'm alone. I take one of her muffins and take a bite out of it. It isn't bad. Not the worst I've ever made, but not the best. I walk into the living room with it in hand, and find no sign of Speck. She must have gone upstairs. I sit down and open my journal again, to today's date, and start jotting down the day's events.
~~~
She shut the closet door behind her and bundled up in her friend's clothes, basking in their warmth, and his smell. She smiled and shut her eyes, ready for sleep to take her. She was alone in that moment, but she was not alone in that house. And for that, she was happy.
~~~
I look up at the clock as I finish writing. Six o'clock, on the dot. I'm tired, so I suppose I should turn in early. Journal in hand, I leave the living room and head upstairs to my bedroom. As I enter, I notice the closet door is open slightly. I smile softly to myself as I toss the journal on my nightstand and walk over to the closet.
Inside lays a snoozing little bat-pony. Soft kee's sound as she snores. I carefully pick her up and wrap her up in my shirts, like a little bat-pony blanket burrito, and carry her over to my bed. It wouldn't be very nice to let a guest sleep on the floor, in a closet. I pull the comforter back and set her down on the bed and fluff a pillow up under her head.
She stirs as I climb in on the other side, still clothed. She rolls to face me, her eyes still shut, and her soft snores still sounding. I lie down and look at her for a moment before rolling over and closing my eyes.
Today might be over, but my time with this bat-pony is only beginning.