//------------------------------// // Gloom // Story: Apple Boom // by BlazzingInferno //------------------------------// - Sunday, 9 AM - - (3 Hours Before) - While Scootaloo stowed her helmet and scooter by the barn’s entrance, Sweetie Belle gave the place a long, uneasy look. Small tufts of grass grew at random on the ground, presumably wherever enough sunlight and rainwater leaked through the roof. The bare earth was marred by depressions from wagon wheels and barrels, although there wasn’t any farm equipment in here anymore. The only thing stored in this dark, cavernous expanse was whatever Apple Bloom had been working on in the back corner. “Why are we here again?” Apple Bloom moved the remnants of her work table off to the side. This time yesterday, she’d considered her makeshift table to be a stroke of genius. With her friends present, it just looked like a barrel lid balanced on some buckets. “It’s over here, under this tarp.” Scootaloo walked over and sniffed the table. “This thing smells like apples… and it’s got all these knife marks on it. Why’d you cut up apples out here instead of in the kitchen?” “ ‘cause it’d ruin the surprise!” Apple Bloom yanked the tarp off and beamed. “Take a look at the first ever batch of—” the smell made her eyes water and her throat go dry “—what the hay?” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo converged on the spot and then backed off as soon as the smell hit them. Scootaloo covered her nose. “Eww, what is that?” Sweetie Belle ventured a few steps closer. On the ground sat a large metal wash basin, the kind that she’d seen Applejack and Big Mac bathing pigs in, although not even pigs smelled as bad as this. The rainbow-streaked liquid inside the basin was bubbling softly as if it was being cooked over a low heat. Apple Bloom joined her at the edge of the basin and took a deeper sniff. “Did I get the spices wrong?” Sweetie Belle couldn’t take the smell anymore. She retreated to a safer distance alongside Scootaloo. “You made that?” “Yeah! It’s… well it’s supposed to be cider. I don’t know why it stinks so much…” Scootaloo took a few more steps away and fanned the air. “Maybe because it’s got pig water in it.” “Hey! I washed the tub out an’ everything. I couldn’t sneak out any jars or pots, so this is the best I could do.” “But why do all that out here?” Apple Bloom stamped her front hooves. “It’s supposed to be a surprise! Granny Smith put me in charge of the Zap Apple Jam this year, and then Applejack said I could use these two extra barrels of Zap apples we found… I figured they make such good jam, they’ve gotta make great cider. Maybe it tastes better than it smells…” Despite her friend’s loud and gasping protests, Apple Bloom took a wooden serving spoon to the bubbling liquid and retrieved enough for a taste test. The rainbow colors swirled and danced on the spoon, not unlike Zap Apple Jam cooking on the stove. Magic or no, Zap apples were just apples. Mashing, straining, and seasoning them couldn’t possibly produce a taste as bad as the smell suggested. Maybe it’d be like Granny’s pickled apple preserves, a smell that just took some getting used to. The spoon clattered to the ground as she realized just how wrong she was. Using the runoff from washing the pigs would’ve been an improvement. The cider defied explanation; somehow it was hot, cold, bitter, and sweet all at once. The only constant was the feeling of utter revulsion that it brought on, the feeling that she needed to wash off her tongue with scalding water and sandpaper, that tasting nothing ever again would be a sweet mercy. Colorful dots swam across her vision, gale-force winds buffeted her ears, and for a moment she felt as if the world itself was moving beneath her. That last part turned out to be true. When she came to her senses a minute later, she realized that her friends had dragged her halfway across the barn, towards the door. Sweetie Belle pried one of Apple Bloom’s eyes wide open. “Apple Bloom! Say something! Please be okay!” Scootaloo already had her helmet on. “Do I get Applejack, or Big Mac, or Twilight, or—” Apple Bloom rolled onto her stomach and stood up. “I’m… fine. I’m fine. Nothing to it.” Sweetie Belle pointed an accusatory hoof at the wash basin. “That isn’t cider, Apple Bloom! You’ve gotta get rid of it!” Apple Bloom held back a sniffle. “I know… I guess Applejack was right, week-old Zap apples aren’t good for anything. I should’ve just thrown ’em away like she said.” “The important thing is you’re okay. You really scared us!” “Sorry y’all. Sorry I brought ya out here for nothin’. I figured right now we’d be drinking mugs of the new cider with Applejack and everything.” Scootaloo stowed her helmet again. “Is she gonna be mad that you did all this?” “I don’t think so. She said I could take the apples and everything… but I still don’t want to let her find out that I messed this up.” “She’s gonna have a hard time missing that smell.” Apple Bloom glanced back at her failed experiment. “How about we cover it up with that tarp again, nice and tight so the smell doesn’t get out. I’ll dump the whole tub right before bed tonight, that way it’ll all soak into the dirt overnight and be gone forever.” Sweetie Belle nodded. “Okay… Are you sure covering it up with a tarp is gonna help?” Apple Bloom shrugged. “It might. I mean, what’s the worst that could—” --- - Sunday, 1 PM - - (1 Hour After) - Apple Bloom never realized how nice the Carousel Boutique always smelled, how all of Rarity’s exotic fabrics and overdone hair treatments blended together so sweetly, until the scent was gone. Cold, damp air wafted through the now pane-less windows. It was raining hard outside, and the building around her had become little more than a fancy, dress-filled gazebo. She’d never spent this much time in Rarity’s ‘inspiration room’ before, largely on Sweetie Belle’s advice. Usually she and the other crusaders would’ve been shooed out anyway, lest they interrupt the ‘organized chaos.’ Apple Bloom never understood how having a bunch of fabric on the floor counted as organized, at least until she’d walked in today. The room was definitely just chaos now. Fabric, mannequins, paper, gems, spools of thread, and countless other odds and ends lay on the floor, intermixed with glass shards. Most of the mess probably came from the empty shelves near the windows, thanks to the wind. Why did Rarity’s house have to have so many windows, anyway? Rarity cleared her throat. “Is that the entirety of the story, Apple Bloom?” Apple Bloom’s attention snapped back to the pony standing in front of her. “Yes… That’s what happened to your windows… I’m so sorry, Rarity!” She didn’t know what to expect next. Sweetie Belle always talked about her big sister’s ‘freakouts’ like they were national emergencies. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here first. She needed to visit every shop and house in town, why had she started at the boutique? Rarity’s sullen frown deepened. She turned away and stared at the remains of her workshop. “I’m grateful that nopony was hurt.” Apple Bloom’s spirits rose. Maybe apologizing to everypony in town wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Does that mean you’re not mad?” Rarity shivered and stomped her hoof. “I’m furious! Cleaning and reorganizing the whole of my shop will take days, days during which I won’t sew a stitch or sell a single dress!” “Oh.” “Be that as it may… the situation could most certainly be worse.” Spike trudged through the open door with a broom in one hand and a dust pan in the other. His tail was wrapped around the handle of a sizable garbage can whose glass contents tinkled as he dragged it across the floor. “Just eight more rooms… Just eight more rooms…” Apple Bloom gave him a cautious smile and waved. “Hi, Spike. Are you helpin’ Rarity clean up? That’s awful nice.” His whole body sagged under an invisible weight. “Yeah… Nice.” “Spike?” Spike didn’t answer. He walked to the edge of the mess and started sweeping. “Eight more rooms… Eight more rooms…” “Is that why things ain’t so bad, Rarity, ‘cause you’ve got Spike helping out?” Rarity sighed. “Spikey is a tremendous help, but I was actually referring to the massive order that I just completed before your… incident. In fact, I’d just sealed the dresses in a box and accepted Spike’s generous offer to go out for lunch in celebration of my birthday when—” Spike attempted to hold back a sob and failed miserably.