Apple Boom

by BlazzingInferno

Bloom

The cellar’s door creaked open and morning sunlight pierced through the musty air within. Apple Bloom stifled a sneeze as Applejack waved some dust away. “Sure smells down there.”

Applejack walked past her and descended the cellar steps. “It ain’t so bad, Apple Bloom. Now if we left it shut up all season with pony-knows-what-inside, then it’d be mighty ripe.”

Leaving the cellar alone for all eternity sounded just fine to Apple Bloom. Her forelegs still ached from the freshly-concluded Zap apple season. The prestige of heading up jam preparation had almost been too much for her hooves to handle, and in retrospect felt suspiciously like that time Granny Smith had sold her on how fun painting a fence could be.

She cautiously set her hooves on the first step, and then the next. They didn’t creak or cave in like she secretly feared. Each step only released another cloud of dust and finally brought on the sneeze she’d held back before. “What’s down there, anyway?”

A large barrel rolled into the column of light at the base of the stairs. Applejack nosed it into position and stepped back into the darkness. “Just a couple ‘a these and some empty jars. We’ll have the whole cellar ready for cider season before lunchtime.”

The peeling label on the barrel’s upright side was adorned with a small lightning bolt. Apple Bloom smoothed out the label and promptly sneezed again. “Zap apples? I thought we turned ‘em all into jam.”

“I guess we missed a couple barrels. Too bad; we’ll just have to throw ‘em out.”

Apple Bloom scuffed her hoof against the wood. “It’s only been a week. You sure they’re not good anymore? I mean, Zap apples are magic and everything. Maybe they keep longer.”

A second barrel rolled out of the cellar’s dark reaches and knocked against the first one. Applejack finally succumbed to the dust and uttered a sneeze of her own. “That’d be mighty nice, AB, but that’s not how Granny Smith tells it. She’s always said Zap apples are the finickiest fruit she’s ever picked.”

“But she put me in charge of the Zap Apple Jam this year, and it all turned out just fine. Can’t I just try and see if they’re good for anything?”

Applejack looked up at the brim of her hat, the surest sign Apple Bloom knew that her sister was reconsidering. “Tell you what: I figured we’d be stuck cleaning the cellar all day, so why don’t you take these barrels and get ‘em cleaned out. Just don’t get too disappointed if they’re just full of Zap apple mush.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Thanks, Applejack! I’ll have the barrels back faster than you can say—”

The padded chair in Twilight’s study might as well have been covered in spikes. Apple Bloom shifted back and forth in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Considering how much walking she’d done today, having a moment off her hooves should’ve felt wonderful. Instead she had the feeling that nothing would ever feel good again, much less wonderful. Even the special scent of Twilight’s study, that of old books and hot tea, offered no comfort.

Thunder boomed outside. A year ago, that sound would’ve had Apple Bloom crawling under her bed covers with a flashlight. A week ago, she would’ve hidden that desire behind her well-practiced ‘big pony’ smile. Tonight, thunder didn’t even startle her. Nothing as peaceful and mild as a thunderclap could raise her pulse. She finally had the fearlessness she’d often dreamed about, albeit at a cost that she, and everypony she knew, was still paying.

The floor-to-ceiling bookcases seemed to lean in towards her, staring her down with their fancy titles, not to mention their famous authors who had definitely never screwed up as badly as she had today. Nothing could bring relief to the deep pit in her stomach, especially not the Princess sitting across the table from her.

Twilight hadn’t said anything yet, aside from the obligatory “hello” and “have a seat.” For minutes, Apple Bloom had just sat there watching Twilight straighten the encyclopedia-sized stack of papers on the table separating them.

Apple Bloom had seen Twilight get upset before. She’d even seen her get downright furious once. All the same, there was something profoundly unsettling in the way Twilight kept silently prodding that paper stack, as if doing that pointless task was the only thing keeping her from literally exploding. Speaking, or even breathing too loudly, might end all life in Equestria. As long as Apple Bloom was the first to go, that would’ve been fine with her. She let out a deep sigh and repeated the same two words she’d been saying to ponies all over town from noon until the present evening hour: “I’m sorry.”

Twilight gave her a pained smile and nodded. “Me too. See this?” She nodded to the monstrous stack of papers before them. “Want to know the worst part about being a Princess? It’s the paperwork. I just pulled two all-nighters going through Mayor Mare’s itemized list of financial assistance requests. This evening I was going to have Spike send it to the royal treasury for disbursement, but now…”

Twilight lifted the top page from the stack with her magic and crumpled it up. “Ponyville obviously doesn’t need frivolous things like a new water fountain—” she crumpled up another page “—or brighter street lights—” and another “—or structural reinforcements for town hall’s roof. Nope. There’s no budget for any of that anymore.”

A wastebasket floated across the room and settled at the table’s edge. Twilight placed a hoof against the paper stack and, very slowly, slid it off the table and into the trash.

Apple Bloom stared at the heap of discarded paper. Being crushed into a ball and thrown away didn’t sound so bad compared to how her day had shaped up. No matter how awful she felt, some part of her found this scene amusingly strange: she’d seen plenty of trash cans today, but this was the first one filled with something as mundane as paper.

Twilight returned the trashcan to its normal spot by the door and regarded Apple Bloom with bloodshot eyes. “Ponyville only needs one thing… Ponyville can only afford one thing.”

Apple Bloom looked down at her hooves and nodded. “Glass.”

“A lot of glass.”