I Want to Live My Way
My vision fizzled when I first opened my eyes. A harsh light blinded me, hindering my senses, and caused me to question my location. I immediately wiped some bothersome perspiration off of my face. Running another hand through my coarse, orange hair, I felt moisture build up in between each finger. I took a quick glance at my sweaty hands, but turned away, sour-faced.
As the blinding flash continued to fade away, I took in the surrounding area. Dusty furniture, cobwebs and the dull, grey bed were my entire world. Lying partially still, I turned my head to the right and looked into the corner of the ceiling; the color was faded and the walls peeled at every corner. An uncomfortable, itchy feeling suddenly overtook my attention. I tried tossing the scratchy sheets off of my bed, but failed, forcing me to sit up and kick them away in a futile effort to preserve my laziness.
After successfully ridding my overheated body of the uncomfortable cloth, I threw my head back into my hot sponge of a pillow and began counting the bumps in the ceiling. I can’t wait to see Pinkie again, I thought. But my excited day-dream, or morning-dream, went as soon as it came. I remembered that Applejack needed me to work some extra hours in the orchard. I needed some time to make up for the apples I had lost the day before.
I craned my head up until I could see outside from my little, circular window. The sky was a deep purple and I could hardly make out the clouds or their shape. I reached up for the windowsill to get a better view, but jerked my hand back immediately. I touched my index finger with my thumb and disconnected them several times, finding an exceptionally annoying stickiness between them. Fantastic, just what I wanted at five o’clock in the morning…
I placed an elbow into the hard mattress and perched myself up. I swiftly rubbed my sticky hand on the blanket to remove the substance from my skin. With eyes half lidded, I looked out into the orchard again. This time I could see the sun begin to slowly creep up over the horizon and light up parts of the room.
* * *
Today’s work is going to be the hardest to date; my legs are still sore and my arms ache from yesterday. I’d never been hired for any kind of physical labor before my job at Apple Acres, my body wasn’t fully prepared for that kind of work-out. Aw, man, today is gonna suck, I can’t handle any more abuse.
“Hey, Orange, time for breakfast!” Applejack called. I looked over to my left to where her voice came from and I noticed some clothes on an old wooden chair. I stretched across the bed over to the clothing, and I grabbed a pair of tattered jeans and a button up, red flannel shirt. I stumbled out of bed and tried to put on the clothes, but something seemed off to me when both of my legs could fit through one hole.
“What the—” was all I could muster before I fell face first into the door. It opened upon impact, and I proceeded to flail my arms in an attempt to get balance. Unfortunately, all I managed to do was make my fall even more embarrassing, flying all the way downstairs and landing on the bottom floor. The sound of my head hitting the hard ground did not fall upon deaf ears, however, as all members of the Apple family had their eyes firmly placed on me.
I imagine seeing me with no shirt, both legs in one pant leg and a fairly noticeable nosebleed would’ve been quite the sight, but I wouldn’t have understood the feeling, considering I’d been unconscious far before hitting the bottom of the steps.
* * *
While I was knocked out, apparently Big Mac had to carry me outside and sit me in his grandmother’s rocking chair. When I came to, it felt a lot like when I woke up that same morning; a bothersome light and the scratchy feeling of uncomfortable fabric, only this time I was outside and bothered by a throbbing headache. I touched my scalp with my fingertips gently, resulting in shocking pain that made me tear my hand away. I looked at the tip of my fingers and saw specks of blood, which alarmed me greatly.
“Relax, you’ll be okay” said a strong yet careful voice. I turned my head over to find the source and was surprised when all I saw was a grown man’s midriff. Jerking my upper body away slightly, I looked farther up past his enormous overalls and caught sight of his face underneath the shade of the house.
“Mac?” I asked, a bit confused. I wiped away the small amount of dust on my jeans and noticed I had clothes on that actually fit me. I was wearing a grey flannel shirt, dark blue jeans and some fancy cowboy boots. “Um, whats with the, uh-”
“Sis’s clothes.” He chuckled. I grimaced in response and began to grow increasingly red. Does that mean Mac… dressed me? I turned my head away from Mac, while he finished bandaging my head, and saw Applejack and her sister walk up toward me.
“Oh good, more company,” I sarcastically remarked. I don’t suppose there’s any chance I get zero crap from this, is there?
After Mac patched me up, he and his sister decided on giving me the day off, all the while Applebloom was having a giggle fit at my expense. Nope.
“Glad to hear you care about my well-being, Applebloom,” I said.
“Well what do you expect, you fell down the stairs!” she said, still laughing heartily. “—with no pants on!”
“I-I had pants on, just n-not all the way…” I tried to defend.
“Orange, just give up,” Applejack said. She was right, too; I wasn’t doing myself any favors with my pitiful performance. I sighed, I was both
embarrassed from my injuries, and from being nursed back to health by Big Mac.
“Thanks.” I got up out of the chair and took small, awkward steps toward the barn house. The building was tattered from years of wear-down, and the grey, elderly wood was probably in worse shape than Granny Apple’s hip. The Apples always did barn raisings, which makes you wonder why they wouldn’t just raise a new home? Maybe the house had some sort of sentiment to it that I just didn’t see at the time?
I walked up the old staircase, noting the destruction I had caused. It felt like each step creaked louder and rung longer than the last. With the pressure building up in both of my feet, I stepped deep into the wood; it was surprisingly soft. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like the staircase was about to collapse beneath me. Fortunately, I reached the top before any incidents occurred. I wiped the sweat from my forehead anxiously. Man, with today’s luck I thought those stairs were— and without noticing, I caught the rug at the tip of my foot and fell flat on my face for the second time that day.
“Oooow…” I grumbled. My nose felt heavy and I could feel the blood rush to my head. I placed both hands on the rough surface of the floor to make the room stop spinning. I could feel a warmth spread through my sinuses and slowly seep up my nostrils.
“Dang it, not again.” I whispered nasally. My blood began to drip frantically onto the floor, working in-between each of the wooden boards. I quickly placed a hand over my bloodied nose and slowly reached for the wall, gaining some stability.
I drifted into the bathroom downstairs and leaned directly over the sink. I turned the knob a bit too far at first, causing the water to splatter on my clothes and sprinkle my eyes, but after some quick adjustment, I gained a steady stream and gave the blood somewhere to go.
Through the mirror of the medicine cabinet, I saw a trio of towels on a rack next to what seemed like a rotted old tub and a hose. Granted, it was a bit difficult to grab onto every detail with my nose running almost as steadily as the faucet.
After I cleaned myself up for what seemed like the third time that day, I crept up to the attic as slowly and carefully as possible. In the first few seconds of entering the room, I unbuttoned my shirt and threw it onto the rickety splinter of a chair where had I found the giant pair of jeans from earlier. Now that I think about it, those were probably Big Mac’s.
I looked over to my bed and skimmed for any sign of my phone. I looked under the blanket on the floor, but only found a used napkin. Ew, gross! I tossed the napkin away. I then proceeded to retract my phone from the nether-regions of the bed, digging deep between the mattress and the wall.
Every inch my hand went through was slimy and disgusting, like someone had poured some old milk in there, while the mattress soaked it all up like an old, stale sponge. However, I really wanted my phone, so digging through some grimy old mattress and some pointy springs wasn’t going to stop me.
Eventually I reached the bottom of the dank pit. I felt around the slush for something hard and slim, or any major difference from what I was currently feeling. My thumb struck something with a consistent texture, identical to the item I’d been scanning for. I wrapped my fingers around my phone and released myself from the horrible concoction of liquids. Who lived here before me? I wondered. Probably some slob.
I shoved my phone deep into my pocket and began to rummage through my bag for a shirt. The button-up Mac gave me was fine, but I didn’t want to wear nothing underneath it, that would’ve been really weird!
I found a plain white shirt which was a bit crinkled up, but a functioning top nonetheless. I put my nose into the fabric and inspected it’s scent, making sure it wasn’t harmful to others. After taking only a light whiff, I began to gag repeatedly. I’d have thrown up my liver if I had smelled any longer.
Nope, I deduced. I took the source of the offensive odor and tossed it to the corner of the room, just to the right of the door. I found another shirt in my bag, this one much more satisfactory in comparison to the other. It was my old Black Colts Two tee-shirt I had when I was
younger. Why haven’t I thrown this out yet? Meh, who cares, it’s a shirt.
While I struggled to put it on, it stuck very tightly to the light perspiration on my skin, though I assume it would have stuck even if I hadn’t been sweating. This shirt was at least an entire size smaller than I was, but since I was gonna wear something over it anyways, I doubted anyone would notice. I grabbed the red flannel from earlier off of the chair next to my mattress and buttoned all but the two near my collarbone. I
really don’t want to wear Applejack’s shirt, who knows what people might say?
Looking in the reflection of the circular window, I noted how poorly the red matched up with my distractingly orange hair. To be honest, it made me feel pretty sick. I sat on the old moldy chair near the bed and pouted slightly.
Why did I have to be born with such a ridiculous hair color? I try not to think about these kinds of things too often, but sometimes I just can’t… I shook my head quickly to ditch my depressing thoughts. Come on, Orange, don’t start being pathetic right now, there are people out there who've got it way worse than me.
I pushed myself upright, catching my foot on the chair absently. The wood beneath my feet creaked with every step I took toward the door. My hand ascended to the rusted, metal doorknob and made me feel a slight discomfort. I pushed the old door open without turning the doorknob. The tumblers were useless long before I got to Sweet Apple Acres. Each step I took down the stairs was placed as gently as possible. I fell down the stairs pretty hard earlier today, and I didn’t feel like taking another plunge. Once reached the bottom, I worked around the kitchen table, and entered the carpeted floor of the living room.
Outside, I caught a glimpse of Granny Smith snoring the day away in her chair, while her three diligent grandchildren worked their butts off, providing themselves with what I would call an intense workout. I silently walked up next to Granny and gave her a couple taps on the shoulder. This rewarded me with no response; I gave her arm a gentle nudge, and I took note of how muscular she felt, even for an old woman. I could tell just from that that she and Applejack must’ve been very similar when Granny was young.
This time she stirred awake with discontent in her eyes.
“What’re ya doin’ there, youngin, I was havin’ a good dream...’” she grumbled.
“Granny Smith, can you do me a favor?” I asked.
“What is it, dearie?”
“Tell those two I’m gonna work extra hard tomorrow,” I began. “but until then, I’m gonna go find a better place to stay. I know I haven’t caused any real trouble yet, but I don’t want to impose further on your hospitality.”
“If you really need to, I’m not stopping you, dear,” her focus lingered on her grandkids. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
I smiled at Granny Smith, as she turned and met me with a kind gaze.
I turned on my heels, and returned to the attic in a swift motion. I ran up the rickety stairs and pushed through the door in less than a couple of seconds. Rainbow Dash would have been proud, I must have broken the world record for running up stairs.
I packed my things as quick as possible, I wanted to make for the train station before noon.
During this internal panic, many people would have wondered what I was thinking. Why the sudden revelation, why ruin a good thing and leave the farm? To be frank, I didn’t have a good reason. At the time, all I remember was thinking about how stupid my hair was, and how I inexplicitly had so much affection toward Pinkie. I would have seemed insane if I told someone my reasoning. The reason for getting out of Apple Acres, the reason for liking Pinkie, and the reason why I felt the need to make something of myself. That must have been it, the sudden realisation of what my life was heading toward. I saw my future, stuck in the attic of someone else’s house working the same job for the rest of my days, while I continued to do nothing but dream about the girl I liked.
But what made me attracted to her, exactly? Was it because she was beautiful, funny, or simply because she came across as a friendly person? At the time, there was no way for me to know for certain, but I think it was because she was living her life the way she planned, the exact way I wanted to live. I still want to live that way, of my own accord and no one else’s.