//------------------------------// // Chapter 7 // Story: John Honeycrisp Apple // by Robo Bro //------------------------------// Applejack was stepping off the front porch just as John arrived back home after getting lost twice on his way back and being forced to ask the local mail mare for directions. “Where’re ya goin’?” He asked. She stared at him a moment before she answered. “Ah’m goin’ out with my friends.” “Oh...well, have fun.” “Ah’ll try.” She forced a smile and then trotted off. John idly wondered when she would be back. He wanted to come clean about not being Honeycrisp to the entire family at once rather than having to go through a confession multiple times. Since he already had to wait for Apple Bloom to get back from school, he figured it probably would be fine if he had to wait for Applejack’s return too. He made his way into the house, glad to see his pain meds doing their job when he didn’t feel any more pain than normal walking up the front steps. As he gazed into the picture laden living room, he realized just how much time he had to kill before his family was reunited for the day. His walk to the school and back, not to mention through half the town while lost, had tired him out considerably. He could have sworn he was in better shape than that. Maybe the medication had the side effect of drowsiness. Whether that was true or not, he didn’t think he was in any condition right now to go doing anything overly physical while he waited. Perhaps it would be a good time to speak with Granny Smith about Apple Bloom’s overly dangerous hobbies. It didn’t take long to find her. She was inside the kitchen, working away at the stove and with several jars lining the counter tops alongside several spices and a large pile of apples. “Hey there, Ma. Can ah talk to ya?” She looked away from her work. “Hmm? Sure can. Ah’m jus’ makin’ some apple butter to sell at the market later. What can ah do fer ya?” “Well...ah was talkin’ to Apple Bloom on the way to her school, an’ she told me ‘bout the things she an’ her friends have been gettin’ up to.” Granny chuckled as she cut up an apple and tossed it into the pot. “Yeah, those three are quite the hoof full. Reminds me of when ah was a little filly.” “Right...uhh...so ya know the kind of things they get up to?” “Sure do.” Granny confirmed. “Don’t they seem a mite bit too dangerous fer kids to be doin’?” The old mare snorted. “Nope.” John blinked in surprise. How could she possibly think these things weren’t dangerous? She told him that they had gone hang gliding, probably with hang gliders they themselves had made! They were setting up fireworks displays! That kind of stuff causes people to lose limbs! “But...they’re doin’ some real dangerous stuff! They could get hurt!” He tried to argue. Granny looked away from the pot of slowly cooking apples and raised an eyebrow. “That’s jus’ like parents nowadays. They’re all far too worried ‘bout their foals an’ end up smotherin’ em. Back in my day ah got up to far worse than anythin’ those three could ever think of and ah turned out jus’ fine. Better than fine, even!” “But, they’re doin’ things like bull fightin’!” “A bull can tell em to stop an’ has the brains not to hurt little fillies. When ah was their age, ah tried teachin’ a timber wolf to do tricks fer a talent show, an’ let me tell you, there ain’t no teachin’ a timber wolf to do nothin’ other than tryin’ to eat ya!” John’s jaw dropped. His family seemed to be filled with a bunch of crazy people! "Why would ya go do a fool thing like that?" "Ah told ya, to win a talent show." “That's crazy!" "Sure was." Granny hummed to herself happily as she reminisced on her youth. John paused as he scraped his brain for how to respond to that. "What happened?” “Ah lost.” Granny answered simply. That wasn’t what he had meant, but he really didn’t want to keep this conversation going as it was giving him a headache. He was too tired to deal with this, but he wasn’t going to give up, he was just going to go for a tactical retreat. Once he was feeling better and had time to rearm himself, he would be going in for another attack. That is, he would if he wasn’t turned out by his ‘family’ once he revealed that he wasn’t really one of them. “Fine. Ah’m gonna go lie down fer a bit.” "Ah’ll talk to ya later, then.” Granny waved him off as she continued with her cooking. John wandered back into the living room. He was glad he had taken the couch in there as his new bed as something about being watched by the countless eyes on the wall comforted him. Some might find such an environment to be unsettling, but for him it gave the warm sensation of not being alone. He didn’t think he could spend the entire time he needed to wait for the others to get home simply browsing the photos on the walls, though. His eyes wandered until they landed on a bookshelf tucked away in the corner of the room. The books on the shelf were lined with dust, evidently having not been used very often. He surmised that if the others did much reading, they probably kept their own books somewhere else. He had never been too big on reading himself. The stories just all seemed too unrealistic to him and rarely could hold his interest. Regardless, he didn’t have anything better to do that his back wouldn’t stop him from doing, so he picked one at random and lied down on his couch to read it. It was a story of a pirate, it seemed, and the adventures he went on, or at least that's what the blurb on the back told him. It was an incredibly romanticized version of piracy that portrayed the character of Black Mane and his entire crew as noble, honourable ponies instead of violent criminals. To be honest, it bored him. Like with most books, he just couldn’t get invested in it. As he kept forcing himself to drudge through it, his eyelids, heavy from having been up since the middle of the night, began to droop. It wasn’t long before he nodded off to sleep. He awoke with a start at a vigorous rapping on the front door. He noted that someone had drawn the blanket on his couch over him while he slept, probably his mother, as the door opened and Cheerilee and Apple Bloom entered. “We don’t really need to knock, ah live here.” Apple Bloom complained. “Even so, I do not and it’s only polite to do so.” Cheerilee patiently explained to the annoyed filly. “Hello, Mister Honeycrisp, I apologize if I woke you.” “Nah, it’s fine. Ah was jus’...readin’.” He noted that the book he had attempted to get through had slipped to the floor, so he scooped it up and waved it about to support his claim. “A commendable hobby. Apple Bloom would do well to learn from your example.” Apple Bloom rolled her eyes at her teacher’s words. “Who’s that at the door?” The arrival of Granny Smith was preceded by her voice. Upon seeing the answer to her question, she hobbled on over to her guest to give her a friendly hug. “Why if it ain’t Cheerilee! What brings ya to our neck o’ the woods?” Cheerilee returned the old mare’s hug with warmth to spare. “Actually, Big Mac is the reason for my visit.” “Is he now?” Granny gave a sly wink to Honeycrisp, not making any effort to hide it from Cheerilee. “Well, he’s in the barn doin’ some chores. Ah’m sure he’d be right pleased to see ya. Ah’ll be sure to let you young uns have a little alone time together.” “That won’t be necessary,” she quickly cut in, “my business affects all of the Apple family and as such, you should come with me.” “An’ what could that possibly be? Perhaps ya’ve got an announcement to make? Should ah be callin’ on Pinkie Pie fer her services?” Granny’s lips curled into a teasing smile. “Whatever you’re assuming is between me and him, I assure you, you are incorrect. He and I are just good friends.” She stated with exasperation and a slight blush. “Yeah...real good friends.” Apple Bloom muttered under her breath, something which Cheerilee chose to ignore. “Alright, alright, if ya wanna keep yer feelin’s hidden then ah guess it’s none o’ my business. Jus’ keep in mind, Big Mac is a handsome young stallion. If ya don’t act sometime soon, some other mare is like to swoop in an‘ take him from ya.” Cheerilee opened her mouth to object but was cut off by Granny’s continued speech. “Now if it ain’t bout that, what’s all this fuss about?” “Big Mac’s been keepin’ somethin’ ‘bout Dad’s disappearance from us, somethin’ that he told Miss Cheerilee.” Apple Bloom answered. “Is that so?” “Yes. Had I known he hadn’t told you what he told me, I would have made him do so sooner. Is Applejack around? She should hear this too.” Granny shook her head. “She went out with her friends awhile ago an’ probably won’t be back fer awhile yet.” “Then you’ll just have to tell her later. I don’t have time to wait for her to return as I have school work to grade.” The four of them made their way out to the barn. Big Macintosh stopped what he was doing to watch them come in, greeting them with a nervous smile. As John’s eyes adjusted to the dim light of the building, he spied a conspicuous looking pile of hay that was not quite fully covering a crate of bottles in the corner. Apple Bloom was right, they were terrible at hiding things. “Big Macintosh Apple!” Cheerilee scolded him as if he were one of her students that she had just caught cheating on a test. Big Mac let out an audible gulp, not sure what he had done to earn her wrath but no less uncomfortable for that lack of knowledge. “Hello, Cheerilee.” “Is it true? You never told your own family what you told me about your father?” She asked, her brow and eyes knit into an accusing stare. Big Mac’s eyes widened with panic as he looked between the angry and curious faces before him. “Is. It. True?” Cheerilee asked again, punctuating each word for emphasis. Big Mac finally nodded his head meekly, eliciting a disappointed sigh from the mare accusing him. “When you said you hadn’t told anypony but me, I thought you just meant anypony outside of your family. Why didn’t you tell them?” Big Mac hung his head with shame. “Ah...ah was scared. At first ah thought they’d hate me fer what ah did, and then later ah thought they’d hate me fer not tellin’ em sooner too.” Granny Smith walked up to her grandson as he sat there, a pitiable wreck on the verge of tears, and put a comforting hoof upon his shoulder. “Yer family, we couldn’t possibly hate ya, no matter what ya did.” “That’s right!” John added his own support of his mother’s words. “Ah don’t know what ya did, but it don’t matter none. A father ain’t gonna stop lovin’ his son just cause ya made some mistakes.” “Uh...yeah, what they said!” Apple Bloom piped in, clearly feeling the need to not be the only Apple to not comfort her brother. “Do you think you could tell them what happened now?” Cheerilee asked quietly. Big Macintosh looked up from the floor at her and nodded. ________________________________ It had been nearly a week since Rosewood had died and the entire Apple family was still reeling from their loss. Macintosh, who had yet to grow large enough to earn the title of ‘Big’, had thought he was done crying over his mother’s death. He had promised himself he wouldn’t do it anymore. Big boys weren’t supposed to cry. He had stayed home from school for the past several days as he mourned. He thought he had gotten all his crying out during that time. Then he went back to school. The other foals didn’t mean him any harm, mostly, but they had still swarmed him out of curiosity and buried him under a barrage of questions. He was forced to relive everything, but had been able to keep in stern control of his tears until near the end. Just as their teacher, old Mr Chalk Dust, put a stop to their questions, one last little filly pointed out something in stark contrast to what his family had kept on telling him this past week. “Doesn’t that mean it’s your fault that your mom is dead?” The dam holding back his tears crumbled in an instant, and they flowed down his face like tiny rivers. His head sagged so that he stared at the floor and his entire body quivered violently. “She didn’t mean that, don't take her words to heart.” Chalk Dust tried to reassure the crying colt, but Macintosh backed away from him as he approached. Before the old stallion could do anything else, Mac turned tail and fled the school house, ignoring the worried shouts of his teacher. He ran all the way back home, that filly’s words cycling through his head along with the image of his mother telling him to run as she placed herself between him and a monstrous chimera, it was the final memory he had of her. That filly was right. It was entirely his fault that his mother was dead. Had he not been born, she would still be alive right now. He barrelled through the familiar front door of his family farmhouse home, ignored the sudden outcry of his father inside and charged straight for his room, where he threw himself onto his bed and cried ceaselessly into his pillow. The sound of his bedroom door creaking open announced the entrance of another pony. Based on the heavy hoofsteps, it was clearly his father, Honeycrisp Apple. Macintosh flinched as a large hoof was placed on his back, but relaxed when it began to rub him in a comforting manner. He looked up with trembling lips to the large red stallion with the slightly greying mane. “It’s all my fault!” Mac wailed. “If it weren’t fer me, Mum....” An outpouring of fresh tears streamed down the colt’s face as his voice caught in his throat. He buried his face back into his pillow, too ashamed of himself to look his father in the eye anymore. “Shhh. It ain’t yer fault. We know ya didn’t mean fer it to happen.” Honeycrisp comforted him with a soothing voice. “Ain’t nopony blames ya.” Macintosh didn’t respond, he just kept weeping into his pillow while his father kept on rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him. Eventually, the distraught child’s sobs faded as he cried himself to sleep. When Macintosh awoke, he groggily crawled from beneath the covers. His father, currently nowhere to be seen, must have tucked him in while he slept. The late afternoon sun peeked through his window, indicating that he had missed school today. It didn’t matter, though. He didn’t care what his father had told him. His mother’s death was all his fault. Had he not been around, she’d be fine right now and he was certain that his family knew it too. His presence only caused pain and he was determined to fix that. He couldn’t cause any more pain if he was no longer around. He made his way into the kitchen and placed a piece of cloth onto the floor. He piled food from the fridge onto its centre and tied the corners together, forming a makeshift bag. He lifted it with his teeth and exited the front door, careful to avoid running into any of his family. He went to the wood shed where they kept the branches from their trees that they had trimmed or had simply fallen of their own accord and picked out a suitable one to tie his supplies to. The end was a little sharp, but as long as he was careful it shouldn’t be a problem. With his bindle properly assembled and filled with food, he was ready to leave. Where would he go, though? He had to go somewhere where his family wouldn’t find him so that he wouldn’t be forced to go back home where he could only hurt them. They’d surely find him if he went anywhere in Ponyville and even if they didn’t, surely those in town would recognize him and bring him back themselves. Canterlot was possible, but he didn’t have any money for the train, so he’d have to walk. It probably wouldn’t be the best choice, either, as any royal guards that saw a lone colt wandering about would undoubtedly apprehend him and try to find his parents. It had to be a place that nopony went, and the only one that came to mind was the Everfree Forest. Ponies kept saying that it was a dangerous place, but it was just a bunch of trees, right? He’d spent his entire life surrounded by trees, how bad could it be? With a proper destination in mind, he set off, skirting the edge of town as he didn’t want to be caught before he could get away. Looking at the forest from its edge didn’t reveal anything about why everypony seemed so scared of the place. It seemed to have a calm, relaxing atmosphere. Cheery birds filled the air with their song, it hardly seemed a place of foreboding. Reassuring himself once again that they were just trees to ward off the warnings that permeated his mind, he delved into the Everfree Forest. Before long, the songbirds that had been brightening the atmosphere disappeared, leaving an eerie silence only broken by the sound of him forcing his way through the underbrush, which scratched his legs and left assorted bits of plant matter stuck in his fur. A more literal brightness had also faded, as the canopy above had thickened to the point of blocking out much of the sunlight. Macintosh began to question his decision, though not so much as to turn around just yet. Regardless of his nervousness, the fact still remained that he was a curse upon his family and needed to get away from them, for their sake if not his own. As he continued, the silence was further broken by other noises of the forest, most of which he couldn’t recognize. His ears swivelled towards every movement he convinced himself he had seen in the brush surrounding him, and he flinched every time he heard something moving about nearby. He could have sworn that he had heard the forest calling out his name and trembled in fear over what manner of monster was doing so. It was as he was looking off to his side towards an ominously swaying branch that he walked face first into something big and hard. With a yelp, he nearly dropped his bindle and gazed in horror at what he had hit. It had a long snout filled with razor sharp fangs, was a little taller than he was, looked to be made of wood and was staring right at him. Had the lighting been better, or had he been brave enough to take a second look, he may have noticed that it had been frozen in stone and couldn’t harm anything anymore, but he was terrified and could barely control himself. He screamed at the top of his lungs and ran in a direction away from the monster that scared him so. Something howled out his name and crashed through the forest behind him loudly enough for him to hear over his own noisy flight. He could only imagine that predator as the source of both noises, which spurred him on even faster. Macintosh spotted a light ahead and rushed straight for it, hoping to find an exit from this forsaken forest. He burst into the bright light only to be faced with a cliff, barely managing to stop before going hurtling over the edge. The thing that chased after him drew closer, there was no time to find a safe way down. He set himself beside the opening he had created and gripped the handle of his bindle, prepared to strike at the creature once it showed its terrifying face. At the precise moment he detected something bursting through the opening, he swung as hard as his little body could manage. He noticed only too late that the figure that had come from the trees was that of his father. Honeycrisp raised a hoof to shield himself from the blow and grunted in pain as the end of the stick struck him. The strike was enough to knock the stallion off balance and caused him to stumble towards the edge of the cliff. “Dad!” Mac shouted in terror as he watched his father tumble over the edge. His chest tightened as the older pony struck the branch of a sizeable tree on his way down with a sickening crunch. Moments later, he was on the ground far below. A group of small, purple, glowing winged creatures buzzed about in irritation at the sudden intrusion into their grove beneath him. Macintosh began to hyperventilate. His father couldn’t be dead. He had to have survived that fall. There was no way that he could have killed both of his parents! He hastily searched for a safe way down to reach him. Hidden into the side of the cliff several meters away was a pathway leading down. It wasn’t a very big path, nor was it the easiest to traverse, but it allowed him to get down. He lost sight of his father as he descended but, as long as he could reach him, he didn’t care. As he neared the bottom, he was startled by a sudden flash of purple light which caused him to lose his footing and fall the rest of the way down. It wasn’t a great distance at that point, but it was still enough to knock the wind from his lungs and disorient him a few moments, and he’d likely suffer a few bruises for his troubles later too. He staggered back to his hooves and rushed to the place he had last seen his father. Macintosh froze as he turned the corner. Honeycrisp Apple was nowhere to be seen. All that was there were a few fluttering, purple creatures and a small pool of blood.