//------------------------------// // Wake Up Time // Story: It Dwells in Darkness // by MisterNick //------------------------------// The ebony shades of night had given way to the deep violets of the early morning. Soon the lonely blues would creep in followed by oranges and greens as the sun slowly crept over the horizon. The last hoots of the owls had slowly subsided to the chirps of the early morning sparrows, even in this period of semi-darkness. In the early morning hours Zipporwhill snoozed quietly in her soft comfy bed, her dog Panchito curled up next to her. The cream colored pegasus snored quietly lost in her dream world, unaware of her bedroom door opening as her father slowly made his way to her bed. “Zips, come on Zips. Time to get up,” he said in a quietly as he gently shook her. Zipporwhill slowly stirred making the unintelligible groaning that most children do when roused early in the morning. If left to her own devices she would drift back to sleep again so her father persisted, “Come on now, up and Adam. The bird catches the worm at this time you know.” “Five more minutes papa,” murmured the groggy pegasus. “Nope. You have school and it is a long flight,” said her papa as he opened the curtains and watched her to make sure she started getting up. Zipporwhill yawned, her eyes at half-mast as she roused Panchito, who also stretched, before hopping to the floor. The young filly followed the dogs lead, stretching her wings as she continued to yawn and slowly amble toward the bathroom. “Today we are having banana pancakes,” said her papa as he walked out of her bedroom and down the hall toward the kitchen. Zipporwhill’s eyes widened, “Banana pancakes,” she shouted excitedly and raced into the bathroom to scrub her teeth and brush her light brown mane before zipping to the table. She watched her father flip the pancakes as he hummed. “Are they done,” she asked eying him from the table. Her papa chuckled as he put one on the plate, “That depends on how many you want and if you want them to be cooked all the way through.” “Three and yes!” “Three,” said her papa as he poured the batter on to the pan, “You must be really hungry.” “For banana pancakes I am,” replied Zipporwhill as she rushed to his side. Her wings fluttered as she hovered next to the large white pegasus. “You get the juice and syrup,” he said flipping the second pancake, “And then get your glasses so you can see what you are eating okay?” Zipporwhill nodded enthusiastically zipping from the fridge for the juice, then the pantry for the syrup before placing them on the table. She then whizzed up to her room and after a brief search found her glasses behind the nightstand and immediately put them on. In a flash she was back at the table and found the pancakes waiting for her as her father sipped some coffee and read the newspaper across from where she would be sitting. Zipporwhill’s father was a large white pegasus with black neatly combed hair and a short dark tail. He had a well-kept beard that stretched from ear to ear and wore black rimmed glasses, similar to hers. In fact they even shared the same green eyes. She’d heard her mom, their band and the other adults at the box store where he currently worked part time call him Django, but to Zipporwhill he was papa. She took her seat and dug into her pancakes and observed her papa as he read. The little pegasus began to grin, a mouthful of pancake puffing out her cheeks, as she hummed. She watched, as her father’s ears turned in her direction followed by him lowering his paper as the familiar tune registered. Django smiled happily across from her, “Minor Swing eh? Is that your favorite song of mine?” The little pegasus nodded. She loved her father’s music and the way he plucked the strings on his guitar. She loved it when her mother sang and the rest of their band played along. Their music was full of light, life and even on the gloomiest of days could bring at least a smirk to anypony’s face. Zipporwhill continued to hum the tune to herself as she poured some more syrup on her pancakes not noticing that her father had produced his guitar from under the table. Without a word he began playing his part of the song, strumming along with his humming daughter, whose eyes lit up. Zipporwhill bounced in her seat humming the violin parts and tapped on the table for whatever other parts she could remember. Their eyes locked from across the table as the song neared its conclusion after a couple of minutes. When they reached the last few notes Django stuck out his tongue and made a silly face that caused the young pegasus to start giggling. “It is a fun song,” said Django with a smirk, placing his guitar back down before returning to his coffee. “It is,” giggled Zipporwhill as she resumed eating her pancakes. “Mom comes home in two weeks right? That’s when the tour ends?” “Yes. When your mama comes home and she will tell you all about the tour. That will be fun, yes?” Zipporwhill nodded and finished off the second pancake. “It will be,” she said with a mouthful of food, “Hey papa how come you didn’t go with her?” Django looked up from his coffee, “Well, it is not summer yet and you have school. I cannot leave you hear all alone now can I?” “I could go with you!” “Aye no. School is important,” replied Django, “You have to learn the maths, writing, history and science. You said you wanted to be a veterinarian so you have to go to school.” “I know papa,” said Zipporwhill having heard this before. “Plus, you never know who you are going to meet. Sometimes you find out that someone in your class has a similar goal and you can help each other out and be good friends.” “I know. “ There was a short pause in the conversation as Django took another sip of coffee. He cleared his throat, “Speaking of school, your teacher called yesterday and said you were late again. Why is this,” asked her father, his voice tinged with disappointment. Zipporwhill looked down as the blush rose in her cheeks. She slowly scratched her foreleg as she sighed, “I dunno. I guess I got caught up with playing with Panchito that I lost track of time.” Her father sighed quietly and finished his coffee, “If I was late for band practice or at the box store I would be in trouble. I could get lose my position. They see it as a sign of disrespect you know. You do not want to be disrespectful to your teacher do you?” “No papa.” “Okay then,” he said matter-of-factly, “Once you finish eating, you head straight to school. Do not worry about the mess or Panchito I will take care of them before I head to work.” Zipporwhill nodded quietly and finished her final pancake. The young pegasus knew that it wasn’t a good thing to be tardy but, like most foals her age, if there was one destination she wasn’t too keen on going, it was school. Yet, as much as she hated going to school, she hated disappointing her father more. Today, whether she wanted to go there or not would be different. She would be on time.