//------------------------------//
// Memory Lane 
// Story: Wind Chimes 
// by flutterspin 
//------------------------------//

A collective calm accumulated around me after I left Sweet Apple Acres. With Rainbow Dash clearing out all the clouds in the sky, the sun brightened the path ahead of me. Measuring the height of the sun over Ponyville and the fact that my shadow vanished beneath me, I had deduced the time to be officially twelve o'clock. My entire morning vanished before my eyes.
I ventured back down the main road and passed by the school on my way back to the Golden Oak Library. The cheerful laughter of children enjoying their youthful energy in the playground could be heard just shy of the school's outer wall. Making sure not to be seen, I watched the small ponies happily sway on the swing sets and build sandcastles in the sandbox. Diamond Tiara and Silverspoon hid behind a brick wall and contemplated their next scheme to boost their popularity. Sweetie Belle, Applebloom, and Scootaloo were all huddled together eating at the picnic table.
My curiosity peaked when all the fillies pointed upwards towards the sky. A bright and beautiful rainbow formed behind a couple pegasi overhead. From my vantage point, the rainbow stretched over the entire town. One pegasus waved at the children below before returning back to Cloudsdale.
Reminiscing from what I read in the book earlier today, I pondered a little more about the mighty city in the sky. My mind was just filled with questions. What sort of material did they use to make the rainbow? How exactly does a rainbow stay up in the sky? Is Cloudsdale really formed from only a cluster of clouds? Can the city be moved? Have they ever tried moving it?
With the sound of the bell, I awoke from my daydream. The children ran back into the classroom. With my momentary distraction escaping through the confines of the school, I decided to head back to the heart of Ponyville. There, by the many vendors, I passed by Roseluck selling her sweet-smelling flowers. I also spotted Junebug with a couple of baskets filled with different kinds of flower arrangements. Although she never turned around to face me, I recognized the distinctive orange style of her mane from anywhere. She sat down on a white bench in front of the central water fountain. "Hey, Junebug."
"Hey, Moonlight. How are you doing?" Junebug quickly tucked away her baskets.
"Fine. Have you seen Rainbow Dash? She was here earlier."
"I haven't, sorry."
"Ok thanks."
Without knowing where to find Rainbow Dash, I decided to pay a visit to the local town hall. Inside the barren hallway hung a large bulletin board on the wall. A variety of weekly activities were pinned on the left side of the board. On the other side hung a wide-range of wanted ads.
Most of the listed jobs would keep you preoccupied for most of the day. There were various delivery jobs, from Sugarcube Corner to Quills & Sofas. Tucked behind a cashier ad for an ice cream job rested a cherry-stained sheet requesting services over in Dodge Junction. The remains of a vigorously shredded sheet of paper in the top right corner of the board listed Lotus Blossom and Aloe as contacts for the glamorous Day Spa.
Nervous about committing to any specific job, I petered out of the main hall and scanned the nearby rooms. One specific area had rows of file cabinets. Another section consisted of miscellaneous stacks of work papers; they were scattered on top of tables and all over the floor. The only thing inside Mayor Mare's office was a vacant desk. My search came up empty. There were no ponies around. The sound coming from my stomach directed me towards my next destination. 
After strolling back into the main chamber, I heard a small chime sounding from somewhere high. Near the upper deck hung an ordinary clock. I squinched my eyes and noticed the time. Another wasted hour with no success.
But the slim possibility of Twilight finishing her assignment early lightened my step. Knowing how distracted she can be when diving into a good book, Twilight might not have gotten around to filling her stomach. If both cases were true, a picnic over the meadows would be a lovely idea to further explore together. 
Eager to tell Twilight about my plan, I rushed through the marketplace and around the fountain. I arrived at the doorstep from whence I came this morning. There, my hoof made contact with the door. With my enthusiasm under control and with one deep breath, I softly knocked three times on the wooden surface. "Twilight."
The front door remained closed. There was no response from the library. Not even a sound from the creaky floorboard could be heard. With my ear close to the door, I turned the knob and gently pushed it open. "Twilight?"
Twilight Sparkle was nowhere to be found. The book she read this morning laid dormant beside her bed. Her purple bookmark hung over the corner of the library's window pane. A couple books were stacked on the table in the middle of the room. One of them contained the magenta bookmark she used earlier this morning. The rest of the room appeared unchanged since she forced me out of her domain. "Hmm, I guess she isn't here." 
As I peered around the room's center table, my hooves trampled over something small and dainty. I looked down and picked up a forgotten heirloom I abandoned long ago. It was the book that followed me through space and time. I recognized the torn pages slipping out of the book's spine and the strawberry stain that splattered from dropping one of my mother's cupcakes. 
As I brushed my hoof over the top of the book, old memories of when we lived in Ponyville together flowed through my mind. I recalled how timid and lonely I was before moving, and how difficult it was for me to talk to other ponies. The agonizing fear of facing a live crowd by myself used to drive me insane.
That all changed when my life unfurled. Ordain tricked the fellowship into releasing him from his prison. The pressure from seeing Equestria rearranged by that villainous creature tore down my spirit. But as I stroke the engraving with the title of the book, The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide, I realized those times can no longer harm me. I endured and gained the courage to confront those terrifying emotions. Because of my contribution, my friends lived. I'd do anything to keep those feelings intact, to have other ponies care about my needs. 
I fully embraced the book to thank it for its charity. Ponies didn't need my help anymore. There were no more training regimens with Princess Luna. Twilight Sparkle's assistance to Princess Celestia tightened our schedules for practice duels and lectures. Princess Cadance and Shining Armor watched after the Crystal Empire. Ponyville would be fine, even if a nature disaster struck through the town. Most of Equestria's ancient enemies have been stopped. Nothing is preventing me from starting an adventure all on my own.
My subconscious must have been listening to my thought patterns for I paced myself in front of Twilight's mirror. I carefully leaned the memorable book against the baseboard and observed my own reflection. The mirror once revealed a truth about myself that changed my whole world. Some ponies have the ability to make good apple fritters, grow beautiful roses, or gracefully toss a bowling ball at a stack of pins. My special talent emulated a unicorn's horn on top of my head. My gift of adapting to unusual situations proved to be quite different than what I was expecting in life. 
The way I touched the mirror's golden frame was identical to the way I caressed the top of the book. Could it be that I don't feel at home in Ponyville anymore? Could it be that I miss my old home? A sound from below temporarily broke my concentration. The book slipped from the wall and fell flat onto the floor.
With my focus back onto the book, I realized my feelings of emptiness resonated with the memory of my mother. Despite all the problems and sorrow I experienced in my early years, she cared for me to the best of her ability. Why did I refuse to go back? How could I forget about her loving care, even after spending so much time with my newfound friends? I stated my intentions to return one day in that heartfelt scroll I wrote on the bench. Does a mother still have love for their colt after they have moved on?
As I contemplated my dear mother, a scientific nerve in my brain decided to enter the fray. It reminded me of the possibility the space tear I broke through was really the boundaries to a parallel universe - a world in which my life and that of my mother's never existed. I thought of a handsome stallion taking care of her in another world. I thought about a part of me still resonating in her heart. It's possible a duplicate of myself entered that world and could be watching over her this very moment. "Now I'm thinking like Dr. Whooves," I told myself with a slight grin. There was no telling what really happened to me when I passed through that portal. "Perhaps, it is time to take hold of that second chance."
I picked up my trusty old book off the clean floor and meandered over to the entryway. Magic of Equestria was still leaning against the wooden horse statue at a sixty degree angle. Its current page a little further along than where I stopped reading this morning. I carefully placed my book down next to the others. I trekked to the door and anxiously grabbed hold of the handle. While turning the knob, a small glimmer of light caught my attention. Somehow the light emitting from the window refracted from the book's engraving to the corner of my eye. It was as if the book snatched away whatever it could in order to say one last thing before I left - "Remember".
I nudged open the oak door and gently closed it behind me. I had resolved in my heart to spend the rest of my time today trying to find my old place. Though, I don't remember much from the days of my youth. I could reference certain landmarks and ascertain which direction they were from Town Hall. Learning that much would at least point me the right way.
Traveling to the starting point was the easy part of my search. Finding the route back to my old residence proved far more difficult once reaching the marketplace. Though my mind drew me closer to my destination, the amount of ponies shopping and the placements of the stands impeded my progress. I knew Mr. Breezy's Fan Shop was not exactly a place my mother would take me to visit. Yet, the mushroom tables outside Café Hay and the three-leaf clovers on its sign reminded me of an old time sitting down and having lunch.
I closed my eyes and concentrated. The busy sounds of ponies blurred together. A swift breeze curled my mane upward. The smell of flowers encompassed my senses. An image of spinning blades from a windmill entered into the picture with a small white bench sitting outside the main road. There emerged a soft sound, not of ponies or of birds, but of a gentle reflection from a body of water. I had to travel south to discover the source. 
Following the path over the hill led me to a small oak tree shadowing over a metal bench. I would have been joyous to find the one bench taken from my memory if they all weren't so identical to each other throughout the whole town. To make matters worse, the road veered out in two completely opposite directions. Neither direction seemed familiar to me. My magic wasn't helping me foresee the right path. My recollection wasn't miraculously pointing me in the right direction this time either. So instead, I chose to use an old reliable way of retracing my steps - random selection.
The road only grew longer the more I traveled on it. How much longer would it take to reach my destination? Fifteen minutes had passed by since I made my decision at the crossroads. Would another fifteen minutes be sufficient? A small bit of regret seeped into my instincts. The more I distanced myself from town, the faster my heart pounded. Panic halted my steps. Did I choose wrong? Should I return and try the other direction? What if I get lost out here?
Calm slowly settled in when I properly addressed my situation. The sun's position indicated there was still quite a few more hours of daylight. The road had yet to split again. No pony around to ridicule or mock my actions. There was nothing to fear.
It wasn't much longer traveling down the road until I recognized something firmly placed in the ground. An old rickety sign you swore would collapse if you breathed on it showed the remains of a freshly plucked red tomato drawn onto its side. The mare that used to live across from us would sell leftover produce from her garden for one bit each. She lived in a house much older than all the other places I've ever visited as a colt. It was sometimes easier on my mother to visit than walking all the way into town for some weekly vegetables. However, there doesn't seem to be any evidence her house ever stood here other than a very large imprint in the ground where the grass should be growing. What used to host her large garden was now a large field of sunflowers.
My curiosity swung outward en route to where the sunflowers flourished beyond the paved road. A dirt pathway, slightly covered by tall-growing grass, stretched further down the reaches. My legs brushed against the felted leaf tips as I followed the path around the pasture. In that moment, a bit of excitement overcame me. The lush green grass extended beyond the country and over a hill. Unlike the blistering trees that enveloped the Everfree Forest or the thick barks of apple trees by Sweet Apple Acres, these areas were comprised of only a few large oak trees that overshadowed certain spots down the valley. It was if the entire landscape encapsulated a beautiful painting for all to see.
My anxious legs hastened my step as I admired the view of it all. The idea of frolicking through a meadow has always been a dream of mine. Watching a strong breeze brush against the grass and the trees, it filled my heart with joy as it cooled the sweat from my face. I closed my eyes and listened to the rustling of branches as the invisible force passed over me. I felt oddly in peace.
However, that peace was short-lived. My memory betrayed me. Something felt wrong. Something smelt wrong. What should have comforted my senses only brought anguish and disgust. The wind unveiled the smell of ash, soot, and embers. Though there was no visible sign of smoke or fire, there was no use denying the aroma. The more I traveled along the path towards the ravine, the stronger the smell of burning wood.
What I experienced next devastated me. At the end of the path rested the remains of three small houses slowly smouldering down by the side of the cliff. The roofs were nonexistent, completely disintegrated. Much of the leftover woodwork holding up the crumbling walls were now broken up in pieces and blackened as onyx stone. The only visible thing left standing in among the rubble were white stone pieces that originally held up the chimneys. Tears welled up in my eyes, though not due to the smoke irritating my eyes. For one of the three spots at the bottom of the hill was the location of my old house where it used to stand.
"No!" I instinctively shouted before running down the path. I nearly tripped over some pebbles that riddled the front yard. Once examining the damage, I realized my shout was in vain. The place was in shambles. The entire kitchen area vanished without a trace. A splint tore through the outer section of the bedroom walls. The furniture was completely burned. The black residue of the singed walls crumbled against the wind, leaving giant piles of charcoal in its trail. I was filled with disbelief. No pony could have survived such a fire.
As I shifted through the rubble, something unusual stood out to me. There was no evidence of anything actually living in this house. The cupboards didn't contain any food. There were no pictures or personal objects underneath the piles of wood. There were no burnt clothing or trash among the debris. 
Though, I cannot refute the fact that this used to be my home. Near the entrance where the door would be, a thin piece of string held tight to a few bars of iron. These wind chimes once hung from a hook on the porch. This triggered a memory of my mother when she assured me I would be safe. The sound of the wind against the hollow bars would bring me back home if I ever got lost. 
Another piece of evidence rested on top of a drawer next to the crumbling bed. There were tiny shards of glass and sand spilling over. Lifting up a few wooden boards revealed a small cracked hourglass laying on the floor. I slammed my shoulder against the beams and held them up to get a closer look. The intricate designs of the metallic overlaying were specifically designed and forged by my father. It was, perhaps, the last thing my mother had to remember him by.
My senses betrayed me once again. As I held up the remnants of the hourglass in my hooves, one of the support beams knocked loose the siding near the chimney. The resulting collision pinned the back half of me to the ground. For a few seconds, my grip on the hourglass relaxed, my body buckled under the stress, and my peripheral vision grew dark. I was going unconscious, and there was nothing that I could do to stop it.