Hi all, it's ping111 again, here with a quick side-story to A Little Twist - Mareci mon Ami. If we replace "Mareci" with "Merci", we get "Thank you, my friend" in French. This story was inspired by a second run-through of "The Cutie Pox" and my own ability to speak the 'language of love'. I also love just to look at funny fanart people have made on DeviantArt, and the story cover struck me. I give full credit to whoever made that dashing image. Luckily, this story was not jotted in Hebrew, but in fact, mostly in French. Another difference in the notes is that I actually wrote the first couple paragraphs (Waking up and the dream sequence) instead of just bullet points, with plenty of eraser marks where I accidentally continued to write in French. As you can tell, this story will make tons more sense if you have a slight knowledge of French and its culture (or a handy Google Translate tab open). Now kick back, relax, grab a croissant and beret, and enjoy the sweet song of my words weaved at the looms of the mind. Enjoy!
The distant sun's glare rose slowly over the looming horizon like fingers, casting long, crimson shadows on the endless rows of sturdy trees. The morning dew twinkled as it dripped off the sweet, juicy apples hanging from the branches. It was a brand new day in Ponyville, and Apple Bloom - well, wasn't quite brand new herself. Moaning lightly at the sunbeam who had targeted her tender eyes like a cruel sniper, she rolled over. Plushy down pillows found themselves further compressed, and warm blankets wrapped tighter than ever around her body. Her lips were turned up in a sleepy grin as she observed the machinations of her subconsicous.
"Wow, Apple Bloom," the orange pegasus cried in shock as she gazed upon the farmer pony's pastel flank. "You finally got your Cutie Mark!"
"What exactly is it?" Sweetie Belle questioned directly, and without flourish - so unladylike.
"Golly, thanks guys!" Apple Bloom beamed. "Ah think it's a flower or sumthin'. Ah reckon ah saw it during the whole Cutie Pox fiasco. It does seem awful familiar."
The Cutie Mark Crusaders laughed in unison before clumping together in a hug. However, it was during this warm show of affection that something strange happened. Scootaloo, looking crestfallen, murmured something the Apple pony couldn't comprehend, as if it were a secret language. Rarity's younger sister frowned, but nodded in agreement and replied in an equally strange fashion. It was so close to English, yet is just wasn't that. As the world faded to a blank white, one of the fillies remarked something about a "floor duh lists", and tried as Apple Bloom might to enquire just what she meant, her mouth made no sound. Yet, she heard accented chants of her name. A southern drawl, if one might be so bold. "Apple Bloom... Apple Bloom..." They were getting louder now. "APPLE BLOOM!"
That final shout snapped Apple Bloom out of her dormant trance.
"Whuddayouwant?" she slurred. "It's so... early!"
"No it ain't! Look at the sun! We have work to do! Anyway, come downstairs, it's breakfast time!" Applejack barked. She didn't believe in oversleeping in such nice weather, being an Apple at heart. Further than that, Cider Season Anyways, the sleepy filly sure was hungry.
"Alright, give me une minute, Ah'll be right with you. Is it really time for petit déjeuner already?"
Apple Bloom eloquently said. She didn't know why, but she felt pretty darn fancy today. She did a couple of yawning stretches and scratched vigorously all over her tiny body. When she was thoroughly satisfied, she strutted over to the bathroom. A vivid pink bow sat before her, but for some reason the filly ignored it. Practicing a skill she had learned from the girls in shcool, she wrapped her soft mane around her hooves and tied it into a long, winding braid. It just seemed more elegant, more chic. On the linoleum floor she spotted a maroon cape adorned with a midnight sky-blue, badly-sewn patch containing a lemon-yellow pony rampant insignia. Chuckling, she subconsciously folded it up neatly, but her hooves continued to wander without command, as they twisted and folded and tucked the flowing fabric into a half-flanked beret, which was carefully adjusted onto the top of the filly's head as to be just so. After splashing her face with a couple rounds of cool water from the sink, she finally glared up at the mirror to look at her visage. What else she saw shocked her.
Was it an afterimage from yesterday's events? A morsel of dreams floating in her wide, golden eyes? Or did she finally have her Cutie Mark? She shook her head violently and rubbed her eyelids feverishly in anticipation. Once they finally opened, she was elated, excited, and just plain giddy.
"Mon Dieu! Applejack, Ah finally got mah Cutie Mark! Ah don't believe it!"
"Just a sec! Lemme get the camera!" She was so proud that her little sis has finally discovered her true talent!
Applejack galloped upstairs, Granny Smith and Big Macintosh in tow, their eyes widening in pure pride when Apple Bloom's flank came into view. They cheered and whooped as the camera flashed like sparks off a fire in rapid succession, which made the pony in question very, very dazed. It felt as if the world were gazing upon her, smiling and cheering her on, chanting her name, just like in her long since forgotten dream.
"Sweet Celestia, Ah'm so proud, kiddo," Granny Smith croaked in her version of a shout as the enormous lump in her throat warbled her voice to a mere whimper. "Ain't you just downright proud, Big Mac?" A thundering "Eeeyup" from the stallion of few words answered the question with eye-opening gusto. "All Ah gotta ask ya is this: What in tarnation is it?"
"Well, Ah ain't quite sure, Ah'm guessin' it's a fleur of some sort," Apple Bloom explained, beaming, but her eyes apprehensive, "but Ah recall it somewhere from yesterday's crazy goings-down. It's still très bon in mah book!"
Tears continued well up in the eyes of all, but old Granny Smith's emotional dam couldn't bear the load any longer, and she sobbed in pure ecstasy, burying her wrinkly face into Big Mac's muscular side. After some time of pure silence and smiles, the orange mare finally spoke up. "Just one more thing," she said kindly. "Would ya be so kind as to kick the Frenchie mumbo-jumbo? Ah can't comprehend a word o' that language." All present laughed wholeheartedly, except for the youngest in the group. "Ah don't recall speakin' no fancy-talk today."
Gasps echoed around the room, so powerful they seemed to suck in all the air in the room into powerful Earth pony lungs. It's as if time stood still, and the room suddenly got a lot colder. The entire jovial vibe was dropped as horror dripped into its place.
"Whaddya mean, you haven't been talkin' fancy?" the worried apple farmer interrogated. "Was the first thing ya said to me, to give ya 'oon minoot'. Then, you said your Mark was a 'tray bomb' or summat like that! What's goin' on in yer noggin?"
"Ah didn't say anythin' like that!" Apple Bloom snapped. "Je vous a dit-" "Right there!" Applejack screamed! "That's French you're talkin'! And you mean to tell me you aren't?" The now-multilingual pony said: "Je veux parler Anglais! Pourquoi je ne peux pas?" Salty tears ran down Apple Bloom's face, beckoning for her big sister to help her.
"Alright. What's your name in English?" she pressed. "Ap... Ah.. Uh.." Tension warped the filly's face as she attempted to recall something she had used all her life. She was happy enough to comprehend the question, but the answer just wouldn't come. It was just out of reach... Like the best apple off a tree, always a bit too high for her... Believing she had finally found her name in a divine revelation, she blurted without second thought: "FLEUR-DE-POMME!" Teensy yellow hooves slowly found their way as they trembled onto their owner's mouth. She wanted to stomp her feet and buck everything in the world and damn Celestia for cursing her to lose touch with her own life. But instead, all that came out, in nothing more than a whimper:
"Merde."
TO BE CONTINUED...