Chapter Five
Cozy and Warm
I sighed.
It seemed like sleeping was once again not part of this night’s agenda.
Over the few intervening years, sleep gradually came easier and easier until most every night I slept undisturbed by any nightmares. Slowly, my turbulent thoughts had died down, allowing me peace and quiet. My last nightmares had been well over two months ago.
But there were still nights where my mind refused to rest. Nights like this, where moonlight cast flickering shadows across my cracked ceiling. Eerily familiar faces and shapes leered at me from the darkness. And despite myself, I could never seem to fall asleep in my unfriendly and secluded bed. My mind created horrifying monsters and creatures hanging just out of my sight.
I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to block out the visions, but it was no use. My imaginative fears had begun to worm their way into my mind, filling it with a sense of dread. I knew that these late night terrors were nothing more than a product of hyperactive imagination, but that didn't stop them from being so terrifying.
Silently, I threw my covers off, hurling them to the floor. I sat up and scooted to the edge of my bed. My heart was racing, imagining each shadow to be another fear. Another Sir. My father’s untimely death.
I teetered on the edge of my bed, deciding whether or not to go downstairs. Then, an unearthly moan came from my bedroom walls. I stopped breathing, my heart beating faster. It was…just the pipes in the walls…right?
Finally, the sound faded away, and with it, I jumped up and flung open my door. Whether creaky pipes or not, I couldn’t stand to be in my room any longer. Briskly, I trotted down the hall and stepped gingerly onto the stairs. They squeaked in protest. I flinched, and continued on with lighter hoofsteps.
After twenty-two steps, I reached the bottom. Tentatively, I leapt off the second step, landing with a soft whump on the floorboards below. Immediately, I scurried forward to the safety of mother’s room. The one place where I knew nothing could harm me.
Approaching her door, I slowed my breathing. It was no use waking her up. Quietly, I nudged her door open and peered in. A thin beam of moonlight illuminated mother’s snoring face. I smiled. She always looked so peaceful while sleeping.
Confident she was asleep, I opened the door all the way and crept inside. I turned and pushed the door almost all the way closed, leaving it partway open.
I trotted up to her bed and moved the covers aside. Grinning softly to myself, I slipped into mother’s bed and pulled the covers back up. I wiggled closer to mother and snuggled into her embrace.
I closed my eyes, my mind finally at rest. Mother’s presence kept away my dark thoughts, leaving my imaginative mind at rest. I loved her, and she loved me, and nothing would change that, even as I grew older. Right?
With a sigh, I gradually drifted off to sleep, leaving the waking world with mother by my side.
~-~-~-~-~-~
I sang for her.
I had worked for weeks on this new song. All of my heart and soul was poured into, with the hope it would become something comparable to my spur of the moment song after the school riot. I had hopes, dreams, that one of my songs would propel me forward to stardom. This song would do it. This song would make me famous. But first, I wanted to get mother’s opinion.
Since the riot at school, I realized what was missing from my poems. Music. Melody. Fame. The emptiness I had felt slowly filled up with the passion I developed for my music. Though, occasionally, I still felt empty…
Mother spoke up. “Oh…sunshine…” She smiled warmly, in attempt to alleviate her reproachful words. “It…I… I’m not sure that it’s good enough, Pink.”
“So…” I trailed off, slightly disappointed. “You... You don’t think they’ll like the song?”
Her smile wavered. “Oh, no Pink…it’s not that… It’s just…” She broke off, and took a deep breath.
“Pink, I… I don’t want you to do this anymore.”
I gaped at her in disbelief. My mouth hung loose in shock. “Wha… W-Why not?” I managed to ask.
She looked at me sternly. I shrunk back from her gaze. “Because, Pink, it’s just not a good lifestyle. Musicians aren’t… respectable.” She finished, nodding her head with authority, as if that explanation was enough.
I wilted. Not respectable? But… It was so much fun…
I responded. “But-“
“No buts, mister.” She cut in. “I don’t want you getting hurt out there. The world is a horrible, horrible place. I don’t want my baby to have a life like that… ” She sighed and moved over to me and laid a forehoof across my back. “I mean… It’s not your special talent, Pink…”
I nodded silently and twisted around to stare at my still blank flank. Despite my love of songwriting, I still hadn’t found my cutie mark. My flank was still a pristine pink.
I whined and turned back to mother. “Y- yes mother… I’ll stop… writing.” My eyes began to water as I realized that her ruling would mean the end of what I loved to do. But mother knew best, right?
She patted my head, seemingly satisfied. “Alright, sunshine. I know you will.” She hugged me again and walked into the kitchen, humming to herself. “Love you!” she called back to me as she left.
I, however, collapsed to the floor, suddenly light-headed. Give up my love of music? Give up songwriting? Even give up poetry? I couldn’t do that. I brought me so much joy, despite whatever shortcomings mother thought it would bring with it. I needed it. I needed the sense of fulfillment it brought.
I didn’t care about the respectability of musicians. So what if the music world was the seedy underbelly of society? This gave me something to strive for. It gave me something to live for. I yearned to be famous and have my songs heard all around Equestria. Sure, there have been snags along the way, with my age and inexperience, but that was all trivial as long as mother was there to support me.
And now she refused me the one freedom I had left? To crush my one desire? Never before in my life had mother refused me something I wanted so much. To prevent me from climbing into fame and possibly discovering my purpose in life.
True, my songwriting had never gotten me my cutie mark, but why should our lives be commandeered by a mere insignia on our flanks? What right did that have to control what you do in your life? It was demoralizing, really.
Mother was scared, I realized. Scared to let me go and live a life without her. Scared for my safety and health out in the world beyond. But I was scared as well. I was terrified to leave mother behind and aim for my dreams. I knew next to nothing about how to survive in the real world.
Her little colt was growing up, and it was all she could do to drag me down back to the foal she missed so much. And was it bad that I almost wanted that as well?
But to stamp out my songwriting? To kill off my dreams? That was the one thing her and I ever disagreed on during my brief life. I knew right then and there, that I could not simply stop composing. It was the one thing in all of Equestria that I truthfully loved to do. Despite her fears that I would get trampled in the music industry, I knew I had to do it anyways.
I would take small, hesitant steps first. Just testing out the water before leaping in. I would be careful, not to let myself be swallowed up, as mother feared. But, by Celestia, I would live.
I would soar, with or without mother’s consent.
~-~-~-~-~-~
“No, dearie. Pink isn’t here right now, I’m afraid.” A pause. “In fact, he told me to tell you he never wanted to see you again.” The sweet, sugary voice of mother permeated the thin floor of my room. “I’d assume he means that he’s breaking up with you. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, dearie.”
I flopped over, and pressed a pillow over my ears, trying to block out the conversation downstairs. Rêves had decided to come over this afternoon for the second time in over a month. Since the riot, we had not seen very much of each other; both of us going to different schools. But we had tried to meet up occasionally, at the park, or anywhere outside our houses. Away from mother.
That was, until she came over a few nights ago before I took her out to dinner. When I hesitantly introduced the two of them, my fears about mother’s reaction were confirmed. Instantly, mother took an instant dislike to the green filly, and though she seemed cordial enough when we left, she waited up all night until I gotten home to confront me. The moment I walked in our front door after dropping Rêves off at her house, mother leapt from the shadows and berated my choice in mares, calling her ‘dirty,’ ‘corrupting’ and ‘evil.’
Basing her assumptions on nothing but pure first-impressions and looks, mother forbade me to ever see the filly of my dreams ever again. And I begrudgingly agreed. Because, after all, mother said so. Despite our brief disagreement over my songwriting, which secretly ended well for me, I still trusted mother. And mother most likely knew better than I could.
And now a few days later, this is where we were. With Rêves coming over, mother locked me upstairs and took to action, spinning lies about how I wanted to break up. I cringed at mother’s deceit as the two mares downstairs talked to each other.
Well, more of a one sided conversation. The moment mother told the green unicorn how ‘I wanted to break up with her’, a lengthy, pregnant silence followed. Then, a small sniffle drifted upstairs, followed by a choked reply. “A- Alright, Miss… Than-nk you…”
“I’m sorry, dearie. Really am.” Another lie.
Then, I heard the door click shut. I pressed the pillows closer to my ears, attempting to block out Rêves’ distressed yelps I could hear from outside. Curse these thin walls! If things like this were to happen more often, I might just have to build a better, thicker wall so I would not have to hear any more pain.
With a groan, I rolled off my bed and peeked out my window. My ‘former’ marefriend was standing just outside my door, a stream of tears running down her face. Every few seconds, she hiccupped, bring forth a fresh wave of tears.
I cursed under my breath. This wasn’t right. I never wanted to hurt Rêves like this. I watched her as she continued to sob on our doorstep. A few pedestrians shot her questioning glances as they trotted by, but said nothing. My eyes narrowed in determination. Coming to a conclusion, I clumsily began to undo the latch on my window. She didn’t deserve this pain. I needed to talk to her, to tell her mother was lying.
But before I could lift the window up, my doorknob rattled. Alarmed, I twirled around, hiding the undone window latch behind my back. With a creak, the door swung open and mother walked into the room, smiling sadly, barely hiding her triumphant smirk.
“Pink,” she said, “Pink. Are you alright?” She shuffled over to me and guided me over to my bed, driving me to sit down on the edge.
I looked up to her, my lower lip quivering. Things were not alright. My own mother forced me apart from my marefriend on a whim. Nothing about this should be right. I trusted mother’s judgment, but I still could not agree with her.
But I did not voice these thoughts. In fact, I barely reacted to mother’s questioning. I merely stared at her, unblinking and wild eyed. No doubt she could see the confusion I felt mulling around inside me. No doubt she knew how I felt.
“Oh sunshine…” She crooned. “Don’t be sad. I’m only doing what’s best for you… For us.” A rather wet sounding cough racked her body. After a moment, her tremor subdued and she grinned and put a hoof under my chin. “I’m just afraid that she’ll rip my little colt apart. I just don’t think you should see her anymore. She’ll only taint you with her vile ways. Trust me, Pink.”
I looked back up at her, my heart aflame. “Mother… What, you don’t think she’s good enough..?” I accused, irritably. “Good enough for me?”
“Oh, Pink, baby… It’s not that.” She cooed in a tone that implied the exact opposite. She stroked my mane as she had done so many times before. “She’ll break your heart, trust me, dear. She’s a temptress, a piece of foreign trash. No doubt she’ll grow up to be a harlot. She’s probably already turning tricks for some of the foals in her school”
I scowled at her words and shifted her hoof off of me. “No, she’s not…” I whispered, barely audible. I looked up at the pink mare’s face. Her eyes were filled only with concern and fear. She truly believed Rêves would bring nothing but trouble. Mother truly believed that Rêves would break my heart.
“What was that, Pink?” Mother’s voice was laden with false cheerfulness. Her eyes contracted as she watched me. She knew what I had said.
I met her gaze, my soul steeled against her normally debilitating stare. “I said, mother,” I spat with venom. “That you’re wrong…”
Mother began to respond to my complaints, but I cut her off first, exploding. I leapt off the bed from her grasp and shouted with a ferocity I hadn’t felt in a long while.
“JUST BECAUSE FATHER DIED, DOESN’T MEAN EVERY LOVE WILL BE HEARTAC…” I trailed off as mother’s face distorted in sadness. Tears welled up in her eyes. She lifted her hoof off of me and stood up, despondently. My anger washed away as I realized what I had said.
“Mother, I- I didn't mean…” The apology died in my mouth.
She stood there, watching the floor. She shot one more forlorn glance at me and silently walked out of my room. Her hoofsteps fell heavily on each step as she trudged downstairs.
I fell backwards on to my bed, and grabbed a pillow, squeezing it tightly. I felt horrible now. Not only did I remind mother of the loss of her husband, I also remembered him. It had been such a long time since either of us had thought about him. I gasped as the day’s events began to hit me. My eyes began to water, but I fought the tears back.
The sound of a mare desperately trying to stifle her cries floated upstairs to my ears. I squeezed my pillow even tighter, hoping for some resolve. This day had not turned out well.
Desperate for some relief, my eyes drifted about the room before settling on a shelf just to the right of my door. My foalhood memorabilia were arranged orderly on the slightly unstable wooden shelf. A few photos of mother and I, an old hat, and a few stuffed animals. My eyes connected with one plaything in particular: Ace, the last gift my father had given me.
The years had taken its toll on the formerly blue pegasus doll. No longer were its wings sewed on, leaving it a simple earth pony, like me. Some unknown chemical process bleached its blue coat a faint pink, leaving an eerily reminiscent imitation of me. Its dark coal button eyes watched me from the shelf. The damaged doll had a slight smile on his face, as if amused by what he had seen.
Suddenly angry at the doll, I chucked my pillow at it as best I could. It flew through the air and landed with a soft thwump on the wall below, missing the doll completely. I blinked. I had just thrown a pillow at an inanimate doll. Was I going crazy? I shut my eyes and tried to fall asleep.
I heard another quiet sob, though if it came from downstairs, outside, or my room, I did not know.
~-~-~-~-~-~
A loud bang shattered the silence. Startled, I looked towards the window, only to find nothing different than normal. Whatever the sound was, it was gone now. Probably just the wind. Shrugging, I went back to writing my new song. It was a true masterpiece and I knew this one was a winner. They would like this one for sure.
I stuck my tongue out in concentration. Now, what was a word to rhyme with raise…? Maze? Lays? No. Those were too simple. I knew, for my work to truly stand out from the others, it would need innovation and pizzazz. Raise…raise…rise…surprise. Yes. That was it. Raise, pronounced rise, and surprise. Ingenious. That would show those bastards…
Another sharp crack from my window. I flicked my ears in exasperation. Why me? Then, another series of small clacks against my window sounded. I wailed in aggravation. How was I to get anything done with these interruptions!
Angrily, I stomped over to the window and looked for the source of my frustration. At first, all I could see was the house across the street. A young mare inside was staring out at the outside world, looking as bored as I was furious.
I tore my eyes away from her and glanced down to the sidewalk below me. To my surprise, Short and Ox were standing just outside my house. Another collection of small stones smacked into my window pane, thrown by the tan pegasus below.
Quietly, I crept to my door and peered down the hall. I couldn’t see mother anywhere. I glanced at my clock. 1:46. She was probably napping, tired after her night shift at work.
Deciding it was safe, I silently slinked my over to my window and inched it open. I stuck my head out, then hastily drew it back in as another round of pebbles whizzed past my head.
I leaned back out. “Hey!” I hissed. “What’s the big deal, huh?”
Even from the second story window, I could see Short’s face light up as I appeared in the window. “He-ey, Pinky!” he shouted loudly.
Ox spoke up from beside him. “’Ello, guvnor! Just thought we’d check up in on ya!”
I smiled and called down to them. “We all know you two never just ‘check up in on me!’ What’s with all those rocks and my window? Glass isn’t indestructible, you know.”
My tawny pegasus friend grabbed hold of Ox suddenly and shot off from the ground, flapping gently to my window level. “Well, Pinky, we’d though’ we’d see if’in you’d like ta come with us down to the train tracks with us. We- Stop struggling, Entwistle! Don’ wan’ me ta drop ya, now do ya?” The red unicorn grinned sheepishly and hung off of Short’s back hooves, limp. “Now, we found some firecrackers a few days ago. We were gonna go put them on the tracks and let the train run over them. Be a hell of a show, Pinky. Explosions and all tha’.” Short finished, excitedly.
I chuckled at the thought. That would seem like a thing these two would do. But… I glanced back to my desk, and my song. My ears drooped. I looked back at the two colts hanging outside my window.
I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. “Err… I don’t know, you two. I’m doing stuff, and-”
Ox cut me off. “Ooh! What kinda stuff?” He swung wildly from Short’s hooves. “Songs? I love your songs, Pinky. Can we see it?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Ox and Short were already clambering inside my window.
“Guys,” I hissed. “You can’t be in here! Mother’s sleeping! If she catches you…”
Short waved a hoof dismissively. ‘Ah, you worry too much, Pinky! You should stop stayin’ cooped up in here with your ma. Can’t be good for ya.”
“Oi, is this the song you workin’ on?” Ox snatched my papers off my desk, floating them close to his face. “Money?” He asked, a tinge of doubt creeping into his voice. “You writin’ a song ‘bout money?”
“Le’ me se tha’.” Short fluttered over and tugged the lyrics from Ox’s magical grasp. “Wow, Pinky, ya are. Runnin’ outta subjects are we?”
“Seriously, Short. You two can’t be here. Give me back my work.”
Short stuck his tongue out and floated closer to the ceiling. “And wha’ if we don’ wanna, hmm, Pinky?”
I leapt up, clambering for a hold on Short’s backhooves. “By Celestia, Short!" I shouted, "I’ll kill you if you don’t get back down here right now!”
I prepared to jump again, but Ox’s red hoof stopped me. “Gee, Pink. He’s only joking. Right Short?” His eyes were filled with confused sympathy, but I was in no mood for his empathy.
Short folded his wings and landed on my bed. He held my composition out to me. “Yea, Pinky. I’s jus’ kiddin’. What’s eatin’ at you?”
I ground my teeth. “Nothing. Just trying to get some work done, but I-”
“But what, Pink?”
“Shh Ox!” I hissed. I held my hoof up to my mouth motioning them to be quiet. I thought I had heard a cough from downstairs. Mother…
“Pinky, what-”
“Shush, Short!”
“Pink!” Came a call from downstairs. “Are you talking up in your room? I hear voices.” The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Yes, definitely mother.
I looked at Short and Ox, who had similar expressions of fear on their faces. “Quick!” I shouted, pushing them towards the window. “You two can’t be in here!”
We reached the window and flung it open. Outside my door, I could hear the heavy steps of mother coming up the stairs. My heart fluttered. If they were caught in my room without her permission…
Sort scrambled through the window first, holding out his forehooves to carry Ox down. I heard the first step of the staircase squeak as mother trod on it. The red unicorn leapt through the window into Short’s waiting arms. The pegasus’ wings beat furiously to support the added weight.
The two colts slowly drifted out of sight. “A- Alright, Pin- oomph! Ugh, Ox, for such a small colt, you weight a ton…” The tawny pegasus and his red payload gradually sunk out of sight, their voices fading out of earshot. With one last glance to make sure they were gone, I gently closed the window.
The window clicked shut just and the latch on my door opened. I twirled around, covering the window from mother’s gaze as Short and Ox got away.
“Heard some noises, sunshine. You talking to yourself?” She smirked, at what I suspect was a vain attempt at humor.
My eyes danced nervously around the room. “No- Nope, mother. Just…I’m not sure what you would’ve heard. Just me and my, err… schoolwork…”
“Ah.” She smiled at me, once again. “And how’s that going?” Without waiting for my reply, she turned to face the desk. Oh Celestia…
Mother froze. “What’s this, Pink?”
I followed her gaze to the papers on my desk. To my song in progress, still lying open to the world. I chuckled nervously.
“It’s- It’s nothing, mother. I was just…” I trailed off as she strode over to the song and snatched it up. Her eyes scanned the page, absorbing every word of it.
“Pink…” She set down the paper and looked at me. “I thought I told you I didn’t want you to compose any longer.”
“I- I know mother, I just…”
“Just what, Pink?”
I scuffed my hoof on the ground. “Nothing, mother. I’ll stop…”
“Good boy.” She scooped my work up again and held it in her hooves. “I don’t want that kind of lifestyle for my little boy. It’s not healthy.”
Her hooves came together, crushing the fragile paper between them. Slowly, watching my reaction intently, she wadded up the music and threw it in the rubbish bin. “Now, I don’t want to see anymore composing from you, you hear? Try and find a more proper profession, like… a mail courier or dry cleaning.” She offered a hoof to me. I looked at it, but then pushed it away.
“Just promise me, Pink. Promise you’ll look to find a different special talent that won’t steer you down the wrong paths.”
I faked a smile and nodded in what I hoped was understanding. “Yes. Of course, mother. I- I’ll try…”
“Alright. I trust you, sunshine.” She turned to leave and got one hoof on the doorknob. “I love you, Pink.”
When I did not respond, she shut my door and left the room, leaving it slightly ajar. Silently, I got up and pressed the door closed. Of course, I had no intention of giving up my career as a musician. This was twice now that mother had tried to stomp it out of me, with little success. My music was the one thing I could truly find stability in. It helped me forget about my life. Forget how my home had become almost as oppressing as my school.
I sighed and trotted over to the wastebasket and fished my composition out. I smoothed it out on the edge of my desk and winced at what I saw. Mother had done a number on it. Most of it was too wrinkled to be comprehensible. But, with a little love, it could be saved. I chuckled to myself. I would just have to be more careful from now on.
I spun around to face my bed, intending to relax after my exhausting afternoon, but instead found the grim expressions of Short and Ox just outside my window. Gently, they pushed the window open and begun to climb inside. I winced. They must have heard everything.
~-~-~-~-~-~
I was sitting at my desk doing some homework for my new school. Papers, crumpled and marked with scribbled writings were scattered across my desk. Two textbooks; one algebra, and the other anatomy were lying open, turned to a random page. Truthfully, I just wanted to seem busy for mother. My studies held no interest for me.
Since the unfortunate ‘demolition’ of my old school, I was transferred to a private, more uptight one. It was expensive, I was sure, but mother said it was worth it that I was safe, than mixed in with the normal riff-raff of public schools. I hated it. Almost marginally less than my old school.
I looked down at my paper. It was blank, save for a few doodles and beginnings of songs of floating around in my head. I had been using this paper for weeks now, not even bothering to get a fresh sheet, not even to pretend I was actually doing work. One, rather old drawing caught my attention.
I had been doodling a crude drawing of Rêves, whom I’d sparingly seen around town, since our rather climatic ‘break-up’. I never found the courage to tell her what had happened. The time passed grew too long for it to be any sort of meaningful. I still loved Rêves, but ever since mother’s warning, I had grown wary of the green unicorn. What if mother was right? What if Rêves would only ruin me?
I trusted mother, though someday I hoped that I would explain things to my former marefriend. For my sake.
I glanced up on a whim, looking out my window. The sun was rapidly setting, bringing the twilight along with it. I turned and looked at my clock. It was almost six. Mother shouldn’t be home for another hour, and the mare that lived just across the street should be getting home anytime now…
The upstairs light in the neighboring house flicked on, revealing the bedroom within. My ears perked in excitement. With one last glance towards my door, I bent over and fished my father’s old pipe from underneath my desk. I had found it one night in his closet one night, hidden in a shelf. I had quickly hidden it in my room, with the prospect of smoking it occasionally. With a practiced motion, I scraped its bottom across my desk, lighting it and placed it in my mouth, puffing out a smoke ring. It was an easy-light pipe, for non-unicorn use.
Gradually, the orange mare in the house across came into view of the window. She paused and bent down to slip off what I assumed were her shoes.
I smiled to myself, puffed on the pipe once more and extinguished it. Best not to overindulge, especially with mother snooping about. Smoke could fill up a room surprisingly fast. I stowed it back in its hiding place and drew out a pair of binoculars also hidden there. I brought them to my eyes and concentrated on the mare across the street.
This mare had caught my attention several months ago because of her striking figure. I suppose it was a deeply engrained longing for Rêves that made me notice her. The two were very similar in body, except the orange mare across the street was well into adulthood.
I eventually figured out her schedule, though not by trying on my part. It was rather a happy mistake that her schedule was so exact that I began to notice she came home every day at generally the same time. She came home every evening, tired after working the whole day. She would tromp upstairs and flick on her light, which because of the darkness outside, allowed any outside observers to look in. And occasionally, she would undress in front of the window…
…And I simply admired her from afar. Nothing more, and nothing less. She was certainly beautiful, but the only mare I had attentions for was Rêves, even though I wasn’t too sure whether to trust her or not. Mother seemed sure of her evil nature, but I still loved the green unicorn despite mother’s beliefs.
I watched at the peach mare slid out of her ornate green dress, leaving only her tight undershirt still on. I grinned at the sight, taking in the view. The mare laid her dress carefully across her bed and went to pull off her undershirt, which already left nothing to the imagination.
Her hoof slipped under the shirt and began to tug, causing me to quiver in anticipation. Just then, my door latch clicked, and unfastened. Alarmed, I threw the binoculars under the desk and scooped up my pencil, pretending to look busy with schoolwork.
Seconds later, the door opened to reveal the pink coat of mother. I looked at her, eyes wide, struggling to not look guilty. She strode into the room, as if noticing nothing. She must not have seen. I breathed a small sigh of relief.
“Hi, Pink. I’m home earl-” She cut off, stopping dead in her tracks, her eyes staring at the floor. Fearfully, I followed her gaze to my binoculars that were lying just in sight.
“What were you…?” One could see the wheels sluggishly turning in her head as she pieced together the situation. Slowly, her eyes lit up in comprehension. Her gaze moved upwards to my window and what was just across the street.
This wasn’t going to be good…
~-~-~-~-~-~
I sifted through the box’s contents. It had been a good few years since I had truly looked at my father’s former possessions, and before I had been too young to fully appreciate them. But now…
I grabbed my father’s uniform, complete with blood and grime. Cautiously, I put a hoof through its sleeve, flung the other sleeve around my back and shrugged it on. I looked at the mirror. What looked back at me was laughable at best. A small, scrawny foal playing dress up with his father’s clothes. It was pathetic, but yet I did not take off the shirt. It reminded me of father.
I glanced back down at the box. Its contents had not changed over the years, but I felt like the items in it spoke differently to me then they had before. Each item had a different story to tell than they did when I was young. My understanding of each item in the box, however small, changed as I grew up.
It was a qualm of growing older. You faced greater and greater difficulties as time went on, eventually leaving the sweet innocence of childhood behind. And each experience, large or small, changed your outlook on life, leaving you different each and every day. And so your view and opinion on things changed as time went on. Especially in such troubled times such as this war that was steadily going into its fourteenth year. Fourteen years of death and destruction. Fourteen years with foals left fatherless.
This was all that was left of my father. Clothes, a meaningless purple medal and an unmarked grave somewhere in a blast zone. It was despicable. The government could care less about us. Our wise and honorable princess focused only on the warfront, leaving our homeland to fall into ruins in the same rate as the war destroyed other countries. How I wished something, anything would change and this damn war would end!
I looked back at the mirror. And my reflection looked back at me. But no longer did I see myself swaddled in a uniform much too big for me.
What stared back at me through the mirror was something altogether more terrifying.
A corpse stared back out at me. The very embodiment of Death himself. I could see father watching me from the mirror, regarding me with a blank expression. I saw every soldier whose life had ever ended early watching me from that mirror. I saw all the pain and suffering.
I turned my head to the side, averting my eyes. The figure in the mirror did the same, revealing the left side of his face. The hair was scorched and stripped away, leaving the flesh a raw pink. The jaw had shattered and was swinging loose, the mirror pony’s tongue lolling out. Blood seeped out from a mashed eye socket, the eye within nearly unrecognizable. I cringed and shut my eyes, hoping to block out the hallucination.
Sometimes I felt envious of those colts and stallions slain in the war. For the ones that returned came back to a place just as shattered as the battle itself. I could see the disgust in the eyes of the ponies sent home, too injured to continue fighting. I could see the confusion they felt. Was this the land they were fighting for? What happened to the world of color and laughs they left behind in the beginning? And the civilians’ reactions to their efforts did not help their already broken psyches. Anger and blame over the rapidly failing war effort.
No, death was the only way to truly escape the war.
I opened my eyes again and looked back at the mirror only to see my normal pink coat once more. I shuddered and slipped the coat off my shoulders, holding its sleeve in my hooves. I brushed some soot off of the brass buttons. Bright red blood stained left side of the coat. Father’s blood.
I threw the coat down on the dresser and hurriedly ripped off the other adornments I put on. A strong wave of nausea rolled through my stomach, churning its contents. What had possessed me to wear the uniform my father lived his final moments in?
As the garments fell to the ground, I looked at my ordinarily pink coat. The charred parts of the uniform that had touched my fur left large, black splotches of ash that looked to be a pain to wash out. My gaze travelled further down to my hooves, which were tinged red from handling the bloodstained cloth. Flecks of dried blood had rubbed off into my fur, darkening its normal pink color.
I felt this morning’s breakfast stir in my stomach. Hurriedly, I shoved a hoof in front of my mouth and hobbled lop-sided to a nearby trashcan. I retched, sickened by the death that I had been wearing.
After my half-digested food sat at the bottom of the trashcan, I groggily sat up. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hoof and glanced back at the pile of clothes on the floor. That, bar none, was the most revolting thing I had ever done.
I groaned and stood up unsteadily. I strode from the room, skirting the tattered outfit and grabbed the door handle. Without as much as a backwards glance, I exited and shut the door behind me, eager to leave the room behind.
I knew I would certainly never let the Equestrian Military draft me into their ranks. Not now. The mere thought of risking my life made my stomach squirm once again.
Nopony would put me in the firing line. Nopony would send me to an untimely death. I wouldn’t follow father’s hoofsteps.
No, I had much greater ambitions. Ambitions that involved me keeping my entrails and organs firmly inside my body.
~-~-~-~-~-~
The air raid siren blasted through the peaceful night. I awoke with a start, tumbling to the floor, caught up in my sheets. It was a situation I’d grown accustomed to finding myself in, though the alarm was a change. Still half asleep, my mind rushed to catch up. That sound… It was…
Air raid!
Quickly, I sat up and scrambled up to my window. Outside, the sun was just beginning to peak the horizon. The sky was tinged a light pink. I could see the dawn unexpectedly come alive as families woke up to the sound of the siren. Faintly, I could hear screams and shouts from the houses around me through the window’s glass.
Oh, Celestia! The city was under attack!
I sat there, momentarily, transfixed by the warbling siren and its shrill song. My mind was in turmoil. Nopony had ever thought the war would find its way here, but it seemed it had. And now the repercussions of the war were no longer distant bits of news. Death had finally reached our doorstep, and nopony had prepared for it.
I heard hooffalls outside my door as mother pounded up the stairs to my room. I snapped out of my trance and turned to look just as she smashed the door open. In the blink of an eye, she crossed the distance from the door to me, yanked me up from off the floor and shoved me towards the door, eager to get to the safety of downstairs.
As we turned the corner, I glanced back at the window. The distinct silhouette of a mortar shell crossed over the sun’s rising light, temporarily blotting it out. Then it disappeared from sight as the window moved out of sight. All went quiet for a moment as mother and I hurried downstairs. Then, an ear shattering roar filled the air. Our windows shattered inwards, showering the downstairs with glass. As we bounded off the stairwell, one particularly jagged shard embedded itself in the space just previously occupied by my back hooves.
As we moved towards the closet, our designated safe area, I looked outside through our wrecked windows. All I could see was the large, still smoking crater just a few hundred meters away. Crushed brick pavers and dirt littered the normally pristine road. If the bomb was just a bit closer to us… I gulped as the events of my old nightmare began to play out in my mind.
We leapt into the closet, and slammed the door closed. The room was shrouded in darkness, with the only light streaming in under the door. The space in the closet was cramped. There was just barely enough space for the two of us because of the shelving that took up most of the room.
Loud, shuddering blasts shook the house. Dust rose up in clouds from the floor, disturbed by the bombs. Plaster, already fragile from age began shaking loose from the walls and ceilings, coating us in its flakes. Long, sinewy cracks ran up from the floors, dividing the wall into sections.
I looked up at mother in the dim light. Her pink coat as streaked with dirt and blood. Thin cuts marred her normally unspoiled coat. Drips of blood ran down her muzzle and forehooves, cut from the explosion of glass from before. I looked at my hooves, only to see the same dark red staining my coat.
Bombs were falling on our city. It seemed, as I would not go to the war, the war came to me. Even within mere moments, blood already stained my hooves.
Fleeting visions of my foalhood dreams entered my head. I saw, as I had for so many nights, as my father woke from his slumber only to realize his camp was under attack. Then, a dark, monstrous shape filled my vision and the first bomb hurdled toward the blue pegasus.
Blackness.
I whinnied in fright and clutched at mother, nuzzling into her, trying to block out my thoughts. If the first bomb landed just a few feet closer to our house…
She squeezed me back, holding me tight. I sobbed into her chest. “Shh, Pink… It’s alright…” she murmured.
Another thud shook the house, this time less powerfully. The bombing was moving away as the raid swept across the city. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe we would live through this relatively unscathed
Mother gripped me tighter. I felt wetness splash on top of my muzzle as she began to weep along with me. Another thundering explosion landed far off in the distance. “Shh…baby…” She stroked my mane, trying to calm me down, as well as herself.
“Don’t worry, Pink…Momma’s gonna keep you cozy and warm.”
I sniffled and wiped my eyes. I looked up at her and smiled. I burrowed into her embrace again.
“I know, mother… I know…”
We stayed like that for a few hours, twisted in the small closet. Shouts of battle trickled in from the outside through the thin wall of the house. Occasionally we heard a few explosions followed by the compulsory shouts of pain. We heard the electric zap of unicorn magic as it connected with soft tissue of ponies, though whose side it hit was unknown.
And the entire time, the air raid siren continued to whistle its monotone tune, unbroken by even the sounds of war.
But then, what seemed like days later, but could as well have been mere minutes, the outside world went quiet. The screams died down. The fighting rolled to a halt. And our crying subsided.
It was the sound of silence. The absence of noise.
All was safe, but why did I still feel so alone and terrified?