You jolt awake in bed, panting heavily in the darkness. Sweat drips down your forehead, and you feel the familiar metallic, viscous taste of blood in your mouth. Your tongue feels dry and sticky, your throat stuffy and constricted. Your hands feel sore and tense as you try to open them. Your toes cramp up. Your mind, however, feels clear; like a weight has been lifted.
You look around you and find that it’s not actually dark, and upon opening the blinds light pours into the room. Quite a large amount of it too. Your watch reads 3:00. You chuck on a pair of pants and a shirt and walk to the kitchen. The front door’s been unlocked, and you find a note sitting on the kitchen counter.
Will be out for a while, no need to panic.
You swish some tap water around in your mouth, spitting out the bloodied mix of saliva and water. Rinsing your face, you feel slightly more awake, and fix yourself some food. Placing bread, lettuce, ham and tomatoes on a plate, you sit down on the kitchen table.
Crunching on the sandwich slowly, you consider all that you learnt last night. It takes you a while. For the first time, you come to terms with your death; and for the second, the death of your family. You feel odd, not unaffected but not quite mourning them either.
Of course you feel some sense of sadness. But for the most part, it’s just pins and needles. Numbness. It was all so weird; you were so detached from the situation. They were memories, but it was more like watching someone else's life. Like waiting for the resolution in a mystery movie. And now that it is resolved, you feel a sense of emptiness, in the true meaning of the word. Nothing you feel is explicable.
But you’re sure you’ll feel something sooner or later. It always works like that.
Finishing up with your meal, you head outside to take a look around town. Grab some groceries, check out the stores; just general wandering about. And of course, while you’re out, may as well try and find Lyra.
Brown leaves scatter in the breeze, falling from trees and sweeping along the streets. They snap audibly as Ponies walk among the piles, crunching the delicate objects under boots and heels. You watch as a leaf is carried through the air, floating back and forth in the wind.
Arriving in the centre of town, you take a look around you; at all the stores and people, at the sculptures and decorations. Studying them. Acknowledging them. Accepting them. This is my life now, this is my home. The words comfort you, reminding you that all is not lost. Yes, you’re living in a rather strange world, but it’s recognisable. The structure of life is relatively similar, the inhabitants aren’t entirely dissimilar. It’s not home, but it could very well be.
And it might very well be. Passing the numerous shops, you head into the market and straight for the food stands. Stocking up on mangoes, apples, cherries and grapes. Platters of meat and fish, arrangements of cheese, baskets of bread. General foodstuff.
The streets are thick with ponies; the usual assortment of vibrant colours, bushy tails, outstretched wings, and vivid auras floating around. Your ears fill with the noises of shop-owners bellowing out advertisements, beckoning those around them to visit their stalls. Finally cutting through the crowds, you have some space to move.
With the groceries in one hand and an apple in the other, you continue on your little journey. Rounding a corner and through an alleyway, you navigate the streets; getting accustomed to the layout of the town. And as you emerge from a side-street, you bump right into some familiar faces.
Derpy reels back in surprise, grabbing Trixie for support. The blue mare shakes her off, irritated at the clumsiness of her friend.
You nod your head to the pair. “Trixie. Derpy.”
“Hello dear. What brings you out of your little cave?” She teases.
You roll your eyes, grinning at the little dig. “Getting used to the town I guess.”
“But why?”
“Dunno, personal stuff. Just a little revelation, that’s all.”
“Did that revelation happen to be about an empty fridge?”
“Well what’s the best way of getting used to a place if it isn’t eating everything there?”
Derpy takes a step forwards, shoving her face into the slit of the bag. “Where’s the baking ingredients?”
Trixie tuts at the cross eyed mare. “He probably doesn’t need any you moron. Now come on, get your face out of his groceries. It’s not polite.”
“I ain’t gonna eat anything, I was just looking!”
“I know that dear, but it’s still a weird thing to do.” She mutters the next bit to herself. “Then again, you don’t do normal do you.”
Derpy continues to defend herself. “No it’s not! I’m just checking what he has.”
“And then asking him why he isn’t planning making muffins. Not everyone is a baker Derpy.”
“But that’s not important! Maybe he was stocking up on whatever he didn’t have, and no one’s made me muffins in a while!”
“Because you don’t ask for them, and you make plenty yourself.”
You cut them off before the argument gets any worse. “Any idea where Lyra is? She said she’d be out for a while, but not much else.”
“I’m afraid not. If I were to guess I’d say with Colgate or Cheerilee, but both of them are working today. Other than that, Lyra doesn’t really have any personal spots that I know of so… I’m out of ideas.”
Derpy shrugs. “You live with her, so you’d have a better idea of where she’d run off to. If you don’t know, how should we?”
Trixie rests her hand on her chest, her mouth and eyes widening in mock surprise. “Ditzy Doo, did you just say something intelligent?”
“Trixie! We talked about this, I don’t like you teasing me!” She whines. Her friend grins, which only serves to annoy her even more. The grey mare spins on her heels and storms off, huffing and sighing noisily.
Trixie calls after her. “Derpy come on! It’s just a joke sweetie, don’t take it personally.” But she doesn’t stop. Trixie turns to you and rolls her eyes. “Well, looks like I fluffed that. Anyways, I’ll see you later. Oh, and do let me know when you find Lyra.”
You smile back. “Sure thing.” The blue mare jogs off after her friend, still calling out. You watch her go for a while longer, then start walking again yourself. Ideas ping around your head about where Lyra could be, but none of them seem plausible.
You just don’t understand why the note was so vague, why she didn’t actually tell you anything. She’s been a lot better with communicating recently, except for the odd day or so. But nothing comes to mind, so you give up for now. I mean she did say don’t worry. She knows the town, I’m sure she’s fine.
Humming to yourself, you stroll along the roads and streets of Ponyville. Now that you’re aware that it’s your world, you begin to appreciate it a lot more. The structure of houses and buildings are well built and appealing to the eye. Nature and civilisation are perfectly balanced, creating a peaceful setting for even more peaceful lives.
The people who you’ve met are, for the most part, pretty nice. Of course they’re unsure about you, but that’s entirely understandable. And the towns are all beautifully decorated, displaying something about the area or the people there. The intricate designs that seem to carry a sense of pride for their culture. You don’t know a lot about it, but you know it is something to be proud of.
Generally, it seems a lot easier to relax in. To be happy in.
Earth was a place where everything was busy, and if you weren’t working hard then you risked losing everything. There was too much to worry about for anyone to remain calm for more than a short time. If you wanted a comfortable life, you either worked your ass off for it or you got lucky. Everything went too fast. Here, you can finally slow down. You can finally focus on just being happy.
Meandering past children playing in the numerous parks and ponds that make up the borders of Ponyville, you catch some of them staring at you in awe. Jaws slack, eyes wide and fingers extended. It doesn’t hurt that they’re staring. But it reminds you that you’re not part of this world. Not yet.
That stings a bit.
Shrugging it off, you decide it’s about time to head back home. You watch the sun float along the sky, the flaming ball gradually lowering to its resting place for the night. In your mind you plan out a route, weaving through the streets and back to the centre of town. Although you didn’t manage to find Lyra, you’re sure she’ll be home by now.
And this time, you truly feel that it’s your home too. Opening the door to the dimly lit kitchen, you place the grocery bags gently on the table. The quiet hum of a running sink echoes through the house, and you turn it off. Gentle sobbing replaces the silence.
You raise your eyebrow at the noise. And as you follow it, you realise it’s coming from Lyra’s room. You knock on the door a couple of times, and the sobbing stops. You hold your breath, awaiting a response, but none comes.
“Lyra? Lyra open up please.”
“Go away.”
“Lyra I just need to make sure you’re okay. Can you tell me that much?”
Her voice croaks through the door. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You slowly turn away, but something stops you. A small echo, a trace of her voice, something muttered under her breath that makes you freeze. “I guess.”
”Yeah, I’m fine. I guess.”
The same thing you told your father when you last saw him. Some of the last words you said to him, before you took your own life. You turn back to the door and knock one last time. “Lyra I know this may sound weird but I really need to see you right now. Open up.” She ignores you.
You reach for the door handle and turn it slowly, but it jerks back halfway through the motion. Locked. You try frantically to turn it again, but of course the knob wont move past that one point. Swearing under your breath, you search in the kitchen for the keys to her room, but are unable to find them. Shit, they’re probably in there with her.
You come to the realisation that Lyra’s not going to open up, and you can’t unlock it from out here. Taking a step back from the door, you lift your leg and slam it into the door. The frame shakes, but other than that your foot rebounds harmlessly off it. You place another kick by the handle, grunting as it connects.
The wood cracks slightly, splinters poking out of the otherwise still standing object. Three more rapid kicks open the crack wider, and one big one knocks the doorknob right off. You push the door open, the handle fractured and broken on the floor.
Lyra’s sat on the floor at the other end of the room, her shoulders slumped and her hair covering her face. Her shirt’s stained with tears, her chest rising and falling erratically, and her arms shake. A gleaming object is held limply in her right hand, the blade of a knife unmistakeable even in the darkened space.
“Lyra?” Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, the sound reverberating in your eardrums. Making your way around the bed, you crouch down a metre or so away from her. You slowly reach out your hand to her.
She shuffles back quickly, keeping the knife out in front of her. You jerk your hand back just in case, but the mare stays still. “Hey, hey Lyra it’s me. It’s all right, it’s just me.”
“Stay there. You stay right there!”
You take a step closer, but she shuffles further away. You splay your hands, letting her see they’re empty in the hopes that it’ll calm her down somewhat. “Lyra come on. You don’t want to do this, alright? Just take a moment to think about this all.” “What if I do want to do this. What if it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past year? I have nothing to live for anymore, so why bother?” Tears stream down her face, her throat constricting as she struggles to breath through her crying. It breaks your heart seeing her like this.
“Because it’s not what Bon would have wanted.”
“How do you know what she wanted!?”
“Because she told me! In the hospital, a couple of days after we first heard about the, the news. She asked me to take care of you? She told me to not let anything happen to you, said to help you recover. So how do you think she’d feel seeing you like this? Lyra, for her sake, don’t do this.”
Her own breathing slows with yours. She moves the knife back, but keeps her grip firm on it. “Let’s talk for a bit. Put the knife down okay? Here, give it to me.” Lyra reluctantly complies, moving her arm to bring the knife closer to you. Still cautious, you take the knife out of her hands, sliding it across the floor and to the other side of the room.
You turn back to Lyra, sighing as you see she’s returned to her fetal position on the floor. As you pick her up, she remains limp in your arms, not bothering to stand up. You place her upright on the bed, but she still avoids your eyes.
“You broke the door.” Her voice is constricted, her nose clearly blocked from crying.
“Yeah well I figured your life is worth a bit more than a handle and some wood. Lyra come on, talk to me. You can’t bottle your emotions like this.”
She whips her head round to face you, her mouth pulled into a deep scowl. You take a step back out of shock. “You don’t understand what it’s like, okay? You don’t know how I feel! I lost her. She was my everything and now she’s fucking gone! Everyone just sort of expects me to “move on” and act as if life is okay now, as if nothing’s any different. No one had what we had, no one gets what I’m going through!”
You frown as memories of your old family come back, but try to keep your voice calm so as to not startle her anymore. “Lyra, just think about what you’re saying for a second. Of course I get what you’re going through-”
“No! No you fucking don’t! How could you have any idea! Everyone says that, “Oh Lyra I get what you’re going through, I understand, I can relate”, no you fucking can’t! You don’t understand!”
“Yes I do! How can you sit there and genuinely tell me I don’t know what it’s like? I’ve been living in an entirely unknown world where everyone stares at me like I’m a monster, like I’m an alien. Everyone’s got fucking wings and horns and magic and it’s part of their lives. It’s not my world, yet it’s the only one I have. Because I lost my last one!
How do you think I got here, huh? What do you think I left behind? My kids, my wife, my parents, my friends and all my other family, they’re all gone! All of them! Do you know what happened to my wife? To my kids?
Dead! They died in a car crash, and they were my everything, and I lived and worked so that they could live and enjoy themselves! And I never got to say goodbye to them. I never got to tell them how much I loved them, because they were snatched away from me without any warning.”
Lyra opens her mouth to retaliate, but closes it. Sighing, you sit down on the edge of the bed. You’re tired, physically and emotionally, the full weight of what happened finally bearing down on you. A tear drops from your eye, leaving a cool trail as it rolls down your cheek.
The bed sinks slightly as Lyra shifts around, and you feel her hand rest against your shoulder. You take a ragged breath, your throat dry and constricted. Taking a moment to steady yourself, you think out the best way to approach the situation. The best way to tell her.
“Do you know how I got here?”
She exhales. “No. Do you?”
“I kept almost entirely to myself after their deaths. I didn’t see anyone or speak to anyone, because I just felt so devastated. I had just lost everything, why would I want to be with other people? So I kept all my emotions to myself, and in the end, when it all came spilling out, it was too much. I put a gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger.”
“You… killed yourself?”
You nod solemnly. “Yeah. Shot myself. And I have no idea how or why, but I didn’t die; I got sent here. I got given a second chance. And I didn’t deserve it. I kept to myself and didn’t tell anyone how I felt. I had so many people around me that I could have turned to for support, yet I neglected them and focused only on what I had lost; Not what I still had.” You turn around, looking Lyra straight in the eyes. “And now I’ve lost almost everything. I don’t want to lose you too.”
She dips her head, and you wrap one arm around her, pulling her closer. You rest your face on the top of her head, the hair tickling your nose. You feel a tear drop onto your arm, and in response you squeeze Lyra ever so slightly. Planting a gentle kiss on her scalp, you move to stand up.
“I’m gonna head off to bed now. Try and get some sleep, I think we’ve both had a long day.”
Lyra reaches out for your hand, clasping it gently before you’re out of reach. She smiles, and although it seems slightly forced, you can tell it’s genuine. “Thank you."
You shake your head. “No problem.” Letting go of her hand, you move to go back to your room. Picking up the knife as you go, just in case. As you reach the door, you sweep the knob to one side, and begin to close the damaged frame. “I’ll uh, I’ll get this fixed soon. Good night.”
Lyra wraps herself in her blanket, sighing audibly before settling. She half mumbles her response. “Sleep well.” You swing the door completely closed, and walk the short distance back to your room. Flopping onto the bed, you breath out a heavy sigh of relief, mixed with a tinge of sorrow. Your eyelids begin to droop, and you do nothing to stop them.
Some rest is well deserved.