//------------------------------// // The Streets of Manehattan // Story: She Fell From the Sky // by Twi-Fi //------------------------------// My hooves thundered on the ground. The cold air burned in my chest as I ran with an intensity that caused my hind hooves to nearly slide out from under me; my forelegs could hardly keep pace and threatened to send me rolling end over end. One left then another... I turned at random from one narrow street to another with only the goal of putting as much distance between me and the orphanage as possible. In the back of my mind, I knew I was safe once I stepped out the front door, but I needed to be sure. Many sleepless nights taught me that the neighborhood wasn’t safe after dark; the thick metal deadbolts on the orphanage door was another indicator. It was rumored a stallion was stabbed right down the street—it was all hush-hush, but we weren’t taken to the park for two whole weeks, so something bad did happen…. It was always scary when the front door was suddenly locked, and we were told to keep quiet and stay in our dorms. Even Miss Weaver looked alarmed sometimes, which really scared us—especially Lilly and I. My legs burned, but I pressed on, ignoring the numb rubberiness that I felt in them. Heaving and coughing, I turned a hard right onto a busy road that seemed to go on forever. I wasn’t sure how far I had gone or how long I had been running, but I didn’t stop. I weaved in and out of the ponies walking and dense taxi traffic, ignoring the angry shouts. “Hey, watch where you’re going, kid!” A cab driver shouted, as he skidded to a halt. The ponies inside glared at their driver for throwing them off of their seats. In the distance, the stark skyline of Manehattan rose into view. Tall, dark buildings stood silhouetted against the rust-red sky of twilight. How long have I been running? I slowed to a stop as I took in a view I had only seen pictures of. I nearly collapsed on the spot. I wheezed and panted; my legs trembled and wobbled as if they could no longer support my weight. Yet, despite all of that, I kept my sight set on the skyline, until something collided with me, and sent me stumbling backwards. Instinctively I shuffled my hind legs as I tried to regain control; my legs felt too heavy to move, and my hoofing was sloppy as if I had just learned to walk. I collapsed rump-first, and then I found myself face-first on the concrete. “Woah, sorry there, little filly,” a middle-aged brown stallion said. “I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?” He offered a hoof to me. “I-I’m fine.” I pulled myself back to my feet. “Where’re your parents?” he asked. “They’re at home; I’m headed there now,” I lied. “You look a little shook up—how about I walk you home? It’s getting dark out.” My heart was pounding as I prepared to bolt; however, I changed my mind at the last second as my eyes laid on something enticing. I couldn’t help smirking as I quickly rethought my plan. “I’m alright. I live just up the road.” “Are you sure?” he asked. “Yeah, you just caught me by surprise is all. It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking.” I stepped past him and stumbled, falling into his side. “Hey, easy there.” He grabbed me and set me upright. “Sorry, it’s my fetlock—injured it playing hoofball a few days ago.” I held my foreleg to my chest. “I’ll be alright.” I smiled at him. “Okay, get home safe,” he smiled and walked off. As soon as I was certain he wasn’t going to look over his shoulder, I pulled my foreleg away from my chest, uncurled my fetlock and counted four thick coins wedged between my fetlock and hoof. I grinned and quickly stored the newly acquired currency in my bag. There was probably more money in his bag, but he was quick to react to my fake fall and would probably have noticed if I'd tried to snatch the whole thing. Taking in the cool air, I continued on. My legs and everything else still ached from running, but I was at least able to walk without staggering like a drunk. A street sign said I was on 52nd Street, and a tourist info sign said I was headed for the West Side Art Museum and the Celestia College of the Arts. The skyline twinkled against the darkening sky as 52nd Street stretched on for as far as I could see. In the distance I could see a massive body of water surrounding the tall buildings. It reminded me of a moat around a castle. On the other side of the street was a huge park full of rides and happy foals playing. I folded my ears over, muffling high-pitched joyful cheers, and the sight of a smiling colt jumping about made my stomach turn. I tore my eyes away after a few seconds, and resumed gazing at the pretty skyline. Ponies have always said Manehattan was a big city, but for the first time, I was beginning to see what they meant; the city wasn’t just big, no, it was impossible huge, a vast never ending sprawl of concrete and buildings. There was a beauty to the twinkling buildings in the distance. It truly was the City of the Stars…. I finally turned off of 52nd to an unnamed street. It was narrow and lined with tall apartment-like buildings on each side; it reminded me of the streets near the orphanage. The road sloped downward, and for a brief moment I caught a glimpse of water off in the distance, far below. I took a few more turns, aimlessly walking the streets. The buildings were dirty, covered in graffiti and posters advertising nightclubs. Trash lined the streets, and I could feel ponies watching me from behind boarded-up windows. As the sun set, I finally realized I was hopelessly lost in a bad neighborhood with absolutely nowhere to go. I spun around, peering down the road, and then I spun back looking forward again; everything looked the same: trash, dingy apartments, and stares from behind barred or boaded windows. Deciding I should try and retrace my steps, I turned about. However, it proved useless when I reached an intersection and couldn’t remember if I had turned there…. The lack of ponies walking the streets was more unnerving than the constant feeling of being watched. It was as if only fools and ponies not to be messed with walked these parts at night. Little fillies especially didn’t wander in such places after dark. At last I spotted someone walking the street. It was an older pony by looks of it, but it was hard to tell from the back. I increased my stride. As I got closed I could tell it was an elderly mare, limping along. “Not lost are you, my dear?” she asked in a shrill voice that made the fur on my back prickle. “C-could you tell me how to get back to 52nd Street, ma’am?” I asked in the most polite voice I could. The mare stopped and looked me in the eyes. Her face was tired, but something in her eyes made me want to scream and run for my life, and that smile was more sinister than anything I had ever seen, including any of Miss Weaver’s evil grins. She simply stared and smiled…. “I-I’ll just be…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to backtrack and risk becoming more lost than I already was, so I picked up my step to a brisk pace. “What a sweet filly. Why don’t you come over for tea? Such a long walk for such a sweetie… Oh, how I would love to have a little filly in my house…” Her shrill voice faded under my hurried steps, but I still caught words like ‘cute’ and ‘perfect’ and something about a collection. Casting a quick look over my shoulder, I saw her still limping along, up the road. Her eyes were still locked onto me. “Where are you going?” she called out. Overcome with fear, I broke into a canter. I took more random turns before I was sure it was safe and stopped to catch my breath. Bracing myself against the wall of a dirty corner store, the smell of dirt and filth assaulted my nose. I coughed and hacked as fine particles tickled my throat. The shop had a light on inside, and I could make out movement from within. I pushed on the thick glass door, and it slid open. Inside were two narrow aisles loaded with various foods and a small refrigerated section in the back. A gruffy looking stallion eyed me from behind the counter. He looked as if someone had dumped a bottle of cooking oil over his head with his sleek-greasy mane and fur. Maybe he’ll jump over the counter and slide down the aisle if he sees me stealing. A quick glance at the floor and I doubted it. The floor didn’t look like it had been swept or mopped… ever. I made my way through the aisles, doing my best to ignore the sticky floor and that sound it made after every step. I picked out a can of carrots and a bottle of water. As I wandered the aisles aimlessly, I contemplated where I was going to sleep. 52nd Street probably had plenty of hotels; none I could afford, but with a little luck, that wouldn’t be a problem. But before I could worry about that, I needed to get a map. I sat my two items on the counter. The clerk merely grunted, rang the items up the items and nodded at the numbers on the register’s display. “Do you sell maps?” I asked politely. I gulped as his dark, vacant eyes gazed through me as if I were part of the store. I suppressed a tremble and put on a fake smile. “W-well, can you tell me how to get to 52nd Street?” “Dunno,” he mumbled. “Four bits.” He pointed to register screen. I slid the money across the counter and stuffed my dinner in my bag. “Well there must some way back to that place... “ I racked my brains. “Oh, there was a nice park with some rides and there was water, like lots of it, and tall buildings, but they were kinda far away. I think the road will take me to them though.” His expression, if possible, became more blank. His eyes seemed to glaze over as I spoke. “Look, kid, what do I look like to you, huh? Get lost.” He sounded distant, like he wasn’t sure I was real or something. His eyes went in and out of focus. His gaze clumsily shifting from the back of the store to me. Slowly, I backed out the door. I put a little distance between myself and the store before taking a sip of water. It was so refreshing. The canned carrots were possibly the worst thing I’d eaten, but at least it was something. While I ate I thought about where I was going to sleep. It didn’t look like I was getting out of the bad neighborhood anytime soon. I contemplated sleeping behind a dumpster or behind one of the buildings in an alleyway. Some of the apartment foyers looked promising. I could easily sleep under the mailboxes or in the janitor’s closet, but there was always the chance of being found and hauled away. I decided to search around more after eating, and I if became desperate enough, I’d just sleep in an alley. The risk of being caught and sent to another orphanage was too high…. After eating, I casually tossed the can into a pile trash on the sidewalk, and resumed my journey to nowhere. The street curved on, growing darker and darker. Soon all of the streetlamps disappeared; only the light cast from nearby windows allowed me to see. Ahead, the street opened, and I spotted a park. It looked dirty and abandoned—similar to the one we always visited from the orphanage. Perfect! Relief washed over me as I entered the park. Everything was broken and vandalized, but I didn’t care about that. The park had exactly what I wanted: hedges and shrubs. I took refuge inside a particular thick hedge. The prickly bushes didn’t bother me, I simply pushed them out of my way and cleared a spot. I pulled my blanket out of my saddlebags and wrapped myself in it. Using my saddlebags as a pillow, I curled up—concealed inside a hedge in a nameless park, lost in a big city—and let sleep take me.