//------------------------------// // January 17th // Story: Closet Pony // by DouglasTrotter //------------------------------// >>>Date: January 17th, Time: 8:50 am<<< I have a guest, and it looks like she'll be staying with me for quite some time. To be honest, that's not what I find strange. What I find unusual is the fact she's adjusted to the current situation better than expected, given the circumstances. The first night was beyond stressful as we got ready for bed. I watched Apple Bloom with a trained eye to make sure there wasn't any problems. Though the filly had to be exhausted, I remember how gentle she was with that ribbon, placing it at the foot of the makeshift bed. Apple Bloom's head barely hit the pillow before her eyes closed. I should have taken the bed for myself and given the couch to my guest. It's what I get for being polite as I awoke with a good crick in my neck. Apple Bloom was still curled up under the red blanket I placed on her the night before. The more I stared the more it bugged me. Does that pink ribbon she was so gentle with hold some significance, beyond the idea that it's the only thing from Apple Bloom's world to remind her of home? Typical could describe the subsequent morning after my usual morning ritual to relieve myself. I passed Apple Bloom in the hallway as I exited the bathroom, and she yawned a "good mornin'" to me in that southern, cowgirl-esk accent before the door closed behind her. When I came to the family room, I knelt down at the spot Apple Bloom slammed her hooves into the prior day. She was still in the bathroom, from the sounds of it, while I investigated the spot. I pressed my hand against the spot. There wasn't a dent in the concrete; instead, it had a soft, sandy texture beneath the dingy old carpet on top of it. Her hooves, from what I could tell, pulverized the concrete into dust. The shiver down my spine was proceeded by an all too familiar feeling: it was a cold sensation of dread. "Hey, what ya got for breakfast? Whoa! Ya ok there?" Apple Bloom said to me. "Yea, you just startled me." I said. I fixed us both some breakfast, after picking myself up off the ground from that little jolt. Apple Bloom ate some chips with her apple slices, drank some water, and watched TV. I found it kind of cute the way she just stared at the TV and its dancing images. She's more like a pet at times. (Note to self: I have to be vigilant. Though Apple Bloom doesn't appear to understand human language in its written form, she does understand it verbally. Program the cable box to block all channels but the network with the cartoons on it. I don't want her finding information about historical events of violence, wars, weaponry, and what not. Apple Bloom doesn't need to know how cruel and sadistic humans can be to one another. Also, password protect this computer and these journals as a precaution.) I stayed off my laptop the entire day to keep an eye on my guest, much to her annoyance. She gave me the oddest, deserved stares at times. Not to mention Apple Bloom flicked her tail at me a couple of times. Last night seemed to be the same as before, though, thankfully, it was less stressful. Apple Bloom took off her ribbon, her head hit the pillow, and her eyes closed. I awoke this morning to her sound asleep under that red blanket. Today presents a different kind of challenge. I've got one filly in my house that will be eating the last apple for breakfast. ----End Entry---- >>>Date: January 17th, Time: 10:00 AM<<< I should trust Apple Bloom. From the looks of it, she just sat there and watched TV. At least she didn't have to deal with the clerk. "You baking an apple pie with all those apples?" the clerk said with a cheery smile. I can't stand that smile. It's the same as all the other checkout people. They give you that happy, false smile they're trained to give customers. The truth is most, if not all of them, would sooner spit at me than give me a proper hello. Their job was on the line if they didn't greet me in a "proper" manner. As for her comment about baking something, that had to be a joke. Sure, any idiot can follow a recipe, but I'm not about to experiment. I don't have the time or funds for it. The store compounded my excursion. It was quiet enough, but why are there so many freaking varieties of apples? That problem made the little trip three times longer. I'm just glad to be back home right now. Another thing I'm thankful for is the fact Apple Bloom doesn't seem to mind eating apples on a consistent basis, though I do wonder if it would be wise to learn about the different varieties. Perhaps Apple Bloom has a preference for one over the other. I know there are green and red ones. That's about the extent of my -- "Ah meant to ask ya," she said to me in a calm tone, "what's the name of some of ya'lls apples?" "I believe the one I carved up for you is called a Macintosh." I said. ----End Entry---- >>>Date: January 17th, Time: 11:45 AM<<< Wow. What happened there? I said Macintosh and, despite the TV being on, the whole house had an unnerving silence to it. Apple Bloom stood at the glass table in the dining room. Her eyes remained focused on the apple. Not too long afterward, heavy tears ran down her cheeks and onto the apple slices on her plate. Soon, I felt the house shake a little as she bolted back to my room. "Here we go." I muttered to myself when I heard the brown wooden door to my closet slide open. Apple Bloom's eyes fixated on my closet's contents. Her rear-end plopped onto the cream colored carpet remnant near my bed. I can't even describe it. It was her eyes. They were so happy and cheerful. All I saw were the glazed over eyes of an individual that lost something precious to them. Her eyes remained fixated on the terrazzo floor, and I sat beside her. hand reached toward her and I said, "Let's go back to the family room." "Ah wanna go home!" Apple Bloom bellowed, succeeded by a heavy cry; her voice had that familiar tone of a child, a lost child. She latched onto my waist in a strong yet gentle grasp, with her front hooves, just as I finished my sentence. This is my fault. I was too quick to believe things were calm. I believed Apple Bloom had come to terms with the current situation. As I sat beside her, I thought, "this is what I get for my assumptions, for my beliefs." The usual cavalcade of crap existed in my closet; clothes, bits and pieces, old junk from my childhood, all of it a common sight for any human. Apple Bloom buried her head deeper into the front hooves she propped up on my right leg. In that small space of time we sat near my closet I felt dead inside. My hand rested on her back. I said nothing beyond my selfish desire of wanting to go to the family room. Am I a horrible person? ----End Entry---- >>>Date: January 17th, Time: 8:05 PM<<< "Sorry," Apple Bloom said to me, an apple slice halfway in her mouth. "You shouldn't talk with food in your mouth." I said, trying to be the "adult." "Ah know...." she said. Her voice trailed off. The house maintained its awkward, eerie silence while we ate lunch together. The crunch from her fresh apple slice didn't break the tension. It added to it while I sat with her, eating a sandwich with a cup of soup for my lunch. "If you, I mean...." I said. Typical. I'm so useless. "Ah'm fine. Thanks for bein nice and all." She said. "Sure," I said. I thought about changing the subject. I wanted to speak. I wanted to talk. I just -- the words were there but wouldn't come out. Perhaps it's for the best. Apple Bloom has to go back. She needs to go home. If I become too attached, it will hurt when she leaves. "Sometimes, life has no easy answers. Sometimes, it has no answers at all. It only has more questions." I knew the quote by heart. I can't remember when I flipped the picture frame down on my desk. Though, now that I think about it, I wonder if the word "Macintosh" set Apple Bloom off. Does she have a family member , deceased or alive, named Macintosh? Our lunch ended and I encouraged Apple Bloom to take a nap. She slept for three hours, and relief came when I looked at the stove's digital readout to see it was 6:25 PM. Our dinner was easy enough to prepare. Slice a couple apples up and serve them for my guest. I eat my sandwich. Dessert was a treat for Apple Bloom since I had some brown sugar and cinnamon, making some cinnamon apples via the microwave then topping them with vanilla ice cream. I secluded to my laptop after dinner, letting Apple Bloom watch TV. I guess I'm just afraid. There's nothing -- "You ok?" she said, coming around the corner. "Yea, I'm ok." I said. I wonder if she would like to go outside for a bit. She hasn't seen the backyard yet. "You want to sit outside for a bit? It's supposed to be a full moon tonight, and the sky will be pretty clear." I guess I'll end this journal here. A bit of fresh air will do us both some good. ----End Entry----