//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Silent Dreamweaver // by -Brutus //------------------------------// In some run-down bar in Baltimare, a white-coated stallion sat on a stool. This was one of his favorite places, anything to get away from that place he called “home”. His lofty green eyes moving left to right, the stallion hid a bored expression by sighing. A empty shot slides across the counter, his hoof pushing it back and forth in the form of a rhythm. There was spark of enjoyment that he got out of this, vodka numbing his emotions. Good enough of a escape, although he would be punished in the morning- he didn't care. Everything is quiet to him; he was exclusive in his own universe. All of good feeling that came from drinking would go away within minutes, as the good feeling began to wash away. Grunting angrily, raising his hoof which a barcolt snaps to attention- smiling best as he can to this customer, he doesn't speak. Nodding his head as he poured another shot of vodka, picking up bits this white stallion just threw on the counter. As soon this exchange was finished, this drunken stallion threw his head up and downed that drink in fast motion as second shot was poured, then third, fourth. He instantly began to regret that many shots within few hours, his vision began to blur and room was spinning. Falling off the stool he was on and clumsily trotted to bathroom, he hit some ponies on the way. Throwing up the toilet lid up, his stomach began to deplete its contents in another way. Alone in the bathroom cubicle, he began to sob, then cry. His hate of life began to snake its way up; all he could think at that moment that he wanted more drinks to try force this feeling that held such power over him everyday away. He detested it, loathing himself and the world. Wiping off his mouth with his hoof, he slowly crawled to one of many sinks. Splashing his face with cold water, and looked up at the mirror. His green mane was a mess, same can be said for his tail, dark bags under his green eyes and his white coat have seen better days. He growled at his reflection, wanting nothing more than smash that mirror in so he could not see himself anymore. Feeling a bit better after his episode in bathroom, and putting on best stoic face he can muster, he trotted out of the bathroom. After only few steps, he blacks out, hitting the floor face-first. The liquors that he boozed came back up with a vengeance. When he came to few hours later, cursing inwardly at the great celestial body of light, filtering through his room’s window stacked with symptoms of his hangover: massive cephalalgia pounded at his head, and his stomach felt like a knife was twisting around inside of it. Both his physical and emotional pain went up two-fold as he realized where he was, in his room, in this damned house. His lower lips quivered, shutting himself down before his hungover reminding him that he needed to get a remedy. Flattening his ears, he began to open the door silently after getting off his bed, gulping, hoping intemperately that he won't run into him. Sighing out as he made it to the bathroom cabinet, popping in two pain capsules with a glass of water, then began his short journey into kitchen. Taking out a two raw eggs, after few moments of shuffling around the kitchen. A dreadful, but remediational drink sat on the kitchen table. At least it was dark in this room, as there were no windows. After few moments, Silent chugged the raw eggs concoction down.  Just after he finished his drink, he felt the room rumble from hoofsteps. Out of corner of his eyes, his ears flattening far as it can. As expected, his world rocked for second then spun as brown hoof made contact with his face. In full force, his father appeared angry and spiteful- his eyes burning with hatred toward his son. Creeping on the floor toward to the wall, latching his back against it to support him as the middle aged stallion angrily stormed off out of the room, then came back holding a box and a piece of paper. Nervously wondering what was being said on the paper, he got his answer as it was shoved at his face. It was very brief: Silent Dreamweaver, I'm so bucking tired and sick of taking care of you. You're a borderline alcoholic, depressed and at times suicidal. We can't even communicate about anything anymore. In this box, it contains your personal things and some money for you to survive off. Good-bye That's it?! Silent started to pant heavily, doesn't his father realize that he is one of chief cause of his behaviour in past years? He can't even admit that he was the wrong in this whole thing?! Rage began to swell up within him, overriding his usual lazy and stoic attitude and his mask broke for first time in long time. Standing up quickly, flipping over the kitchen chair that stood between both father and son. The brown stallion backed up slowly as Silent advanced on him; picking his hoof up in vain attempt to block his face as Silent punched him full force, knocking his father down. Silent wanted to keep going, but his emotional state was in disarray, and as he began to cry he picked up the spilled box up along with the money. It would be last time they see each other it seems, Silent's agonized face would burn into his father's mind for years to come. Silent began inhaling and exhaling sharply, trying his best to hold himself together for little while. Silent silently went up the stairs, then left into his room and took out some bag of his favorite “remedy”: a pipe and some personal drinks into his saddlebag. Taking out a black turtleneck shirt, putting it over him to keep himself warm in cold nights to come; it also serves well for covering up most of scars that was all over his body. A green glow began to cover his bag; levitating his bag overhead as Silent went back where he came from and transferred the box's contents into his bag with magic, which was a ton of small books. It was still morning as he stepped out of the house, and a pang of guilt came over him. Silent may have come to hate his father but it was still his father; if he thought back for few moments, Silent could recall good ol' days with him and his mother, cuddling lovingly around fireplace, Silent reading a book with his father, going to park where his father pushed him on swinging set. Not wanting to leave like this, he turned around back into the house where he found his father sitting on the couch with a somber face. Silent stood then walked out of that house, feeling slightly better. Muttering something to himself, the sun was watching over him and entire city of Baltimare. Silent trotted on the sidewalk as stallions pulling taxis rushed past him, figuring out his next step in this hell-hole of a life. When Silent's mind drifted toward transportation that paced all around him on the street, he thought of train and the railroad that they just finished that connected various cities and towns. It could be bit of new start for him, at least Silent could hope for. Counting his money, he had about five thousand bits which was enough for a year. Silent's internal smile didn't last that long as a cold realization that his father somehow still cared for him despite his deeds to him in past. Silent wanted to scream, as he was torn between his hatred and love for his father. As he tilted his head slightly, his hungover struck him again. Stopping at middle of sidewalk, holding his hoof to his head; rubbing his hoofs in circles hoping it would in least allure the headache. Remedies that he took a hour ago began to wear off by the time he made it to a park; few blocks away from his now former home. Silent simply wanted to take a nap under stars or sun or to think about things over or simply to get away from things. Sitting down on usual bench near the fountain, Silent pushed his bag against the armrest of the bench. Laying down his head on saddlebag gently, ensuring to not aggravate his hungover any further and began to sleep it off, his horn glowing in green briefly before fading away as snoring rang out in the park. Slowly waking up, first sight that greeted him was twinkling stars and huge moon hanging up there in vast black canvas. Good work with night sky, Princess Luna He always preferred night over daytime. It is somehow difficult to explain, but he quite liked it. It is cold and dark but it allures you with its beauty. Silent sometimes thought that it was saying everything may seem cold and dark to you and many others are like you, you are alone yet you aren't alone; and moon seems to symbolize that someday there will be somepony that will be like moon- watching over you, loving you no matter who you are and big part of your life. He once read a quote which he loves to recite to himself once in awhile. “No illusion is safe when bathed in the pure light of the moon.” Groggy, and yawning loudly as he took out a long bottle out of his bag and began to drink. Absolut Vodka, ah...my old friend Silent stashed it back into his saddlebag after imbuing some of it, before reminding himself that he couldn't go home anymore. Then, the flash of a train came into his mind in an instant; reminding him of what he wanted to do. Neatly packing up his bag, he floated it over his head and strapped it down around his neck and chest. Under the guide of moonlight, he discovered some signs pointing to train station and he followed it, spending about an hour figuring out and nearly getting lost twice due to sign being missing or painted over with graffiti. With small pride swelling inside him when he made it to the train station, and noticing the lights was still on in the booth with some grey mare with odd cap on. The train was stopped, still running with steam coming out of lead car. Silent took out a notebook, wrote on it then handed it over to the pony that was tending to the booth. “Hello there, I want to buy a ticket to town that is furthest from here. Anywhere will do.” The grey mare, looks up at Silent and ponders for minute before pulling out a train schedule on the counter and began to speak. Of course, he didn't hear a thing. Sighing inward to himself- annoyed at the fact that, once again, he would have to explain. Gently waving his hoof to get her attention before proceeding to write: “I apologize, but I'm deaf and I didn't understand anything what you said. Could you write down what you've said?” The mare stammered for second or two, probably her first dealing with a deaf pony, and this mare decides to shoot him a look of pity. Pity! Silent's eye twitched for second, although it wasn't noticeable to that mare. If there anything in the world that he hated more than anything else and it was ponies pitying upon on him. However, he had half of a decent mind to understand where normal ponies were coming from when they said that. She turned the notebook around with an answer. I'm sorry to hear about it. In regards to your question, there is two places that is “furthermost” from here. One is Trottingham and another is Ponyville. I could sell you a ticket that goes to Ponyville since it is bit further than Trottingham of by 40 minutes ride. You can choose to get off at either station. It will be 45 bits for the ticket please Silent gave her a curt nod as he placed the right amount of bits into her hoofs, while she handed over a bronze ticket which was decorated with mini schedule of train, packing up his notebook with magic. Slowly glancing his eyes over city of Baltimare, it was home for Silent since his foalhood. It was time to move on. Turning his head away, tears threatening to break out when he began to probe upon on recent memory of his last moments at home. Slowly he placed his white hoof into one of passenger car, ready for whatever comes next. Thanks to MrMinimii for being awesome editor.