//------------------------------// // Outside // Story: The Park Bench // by abandoned2123 //------------------------------// If there is one thing that I could advise a prospective taster, anyone that feels inclined to take on the task of nibbling at every morsel that the world has to offer, I would tell them that dog fur is the absolute worst possible thing to latch onto for an extended period of time. It truly is wretched, and it only took a moment for me to realize that as I held onto Sister Winona's tail for dear life, whipping back and forth as she races down the trampled pathways amongst the hollow stones. As always, I close my eyes as to not be disorientated by all the fleeting lights and spinning surroundings, all the while resisting the urge to gag. Sister Winona's fur tastes much more akin to grease and dirty sweat than the flossy sweetness of my Mistress' fur. It's apparent that she hadn't bathed in a rather long time, though I suppose I could put the blame on The Orange Mistress for that. "Almost there, Brother!" Sister Winona yips triumphantly, her loping gallop accelerating to a chaotic sprint. I can feel tears dotting at the corners of my eyes from the vertigo and whiplash, though I do my best to keep my mind on other matters. It doesn't work. I almost want to open my eyes and see where we are, but the risk of losing my grip is far too great to make it worth it. Even so, what harm would there be in just a peek? I've got nothing to lose apart from my pride, and I've already taken a rather large beating from the cliffs. Against my better judgement, I allow for my eyes to pry open, only to be assaulted by a mishmash of sporadic scenery as it whizzes by. It's sickening to watch, though hypnotizing all the same as my grip on my Sister's tail slowly weakens. The next thing I know I'm in the air, and time has slowed. It's an interesting thing, adrenaline, making everything slow to a crawl as you're forced to watch and make bets on how painful the consequences will be. I feel my body going limp as I do somersaults in the night breeze, with Luna's stars waving about as if they were performing for my eyes alone. In the distance, I can hear the soft pitter patter of Sister Winona's paws against the ground slowly fade away. Figures she wouldn't notice my absence. My eyes squeeze shut as I fall in a gentle arch, unable to face the impending ground. I can only hope that I'll land on a soft carpet of grass or freshly dug soil, though with my luck I'll no doubt find myself splattered against a hard, flat sort of rock that Masters and Mistresses often walk upon. Suddenly, I feel a cold rush of liquid surround me, as well as the accompanying cacophony of splashing water. Puzzled, I open my eyes and find myself in a shallow pool of sorts, with a hard, granite-like base tickling my toes at the bottom. Intrigued, I allow for myself to tuck in my limbs and swim forwards along a narrow, circular corridor flanked by stone walls both left and right. I crane my neck up and can see Luna's stars shimmering through the water above, their features slightly distorted from the rippling surface. Seeing as how swimming probably won't get me an idea of where I am, I paddle upwards and let my head breach the surface, my nostrils snorting away bothersome liquid to make way for air. There's a long pathway placed about the curious pool that I'm in, along with several unnatural lights dotting their sides to provide for a clear way back to the village of hollow stones. I can see a few large oak trees as well, their overlapping branches obscuring the view of the night sky. Next to one of them is a strange wooden object that I've often seen Masters or Mistresses resting on, the name of which remains to be a mystery to me. I let myself turn around only to be met by a large obstruction, what appears to be a stone likeness of Celestia placed in the middle of the pool. I've never understood why Masters and Mistresses build such things, but I can at least be grateful for the cushion of water that the monument provides, small as it is. "Sister Winona?!" I call out, sputtering slightly from the water lodged in my throat. There's no answer, and I sigh at the thought of the long, long trek home that I'll no doubt face. I swim to the artificial ledge and climb atop of it, my scales glistening as rivulets of moisture trickle down in a little puddle. I attempt to shake myself in order to get dry, but my clunky anatomy doesn't allow for it. With the knowledge that I'll likely attract more dirt and grime in my damp state, I reluctantly slither down the stone siding to the ground below. The feeling of soft, damp clay against my worn paws is more than enough to comfort me, and I'm nearly smiling as I waddle forwards back onto the tramped path. Which way should I go? Left? Or right? To go left would likely lead me to Sister Winona, and to go right would take me back the way I had already come. I glance over at the curious wooden contraption in front of me, the thing that seems more catered to a Master than it does a Sibling. What harm would there be in trying it out? I certainly wouldn't run the risk of looking foolish, on account of me being perfectly alone, and such opportunities truly are once in a lifetime. With my mind set, I walk over to the object and crouch down to leap onto its peculiar platform. Being so accustomed to opening doors and the like, it's quite easy to get up onto without hurting myself. The wooden boards creak uneasily under my paws, though this doesn't deter me from laying down and curling my tail about my torso, much in the style of how most Masters and Mistresses sit. It feels... odd, to say the least. How can anyone sit on such a thing and consider it comfortable? Perhaps my scaly body just isn't built for the style in which the platform was made. The harsh, rhythmic chirping of crickets drone on and on, deafening even the most acute of whomever might be lurking. Occasionally I can see a bare silhouette of Master or Mistress galloping past in the distance, though I'm not worried. The area around me is secluded enough so that if I'm spotted I can simply flee behind a tree or bush. I look down at the neatened boards between my paws, slick with moisture from the previous rain. They're perfectly clean otherwise, with not one hint of dirt or bruising tainting their straightened forms. Before I know it, my tongue is resting against the platform, analyzing every inch and bit of its taste. What can I say? I like to pride myself in the sheer number of things that I've tasted. It's a rough texture, though smooth in terms of its taste, like pine and crusted sap. I close my eyes as I relish the taste and vanquish all thought of Sister Winona's matted fur from my mind, leaving myself to bask in ecstasy. "Thinking of getting a splinter, are we?" I gasp, my head jolting upwards as a calm, familiar voice purrs out into the night. "S-Sister Opalescence?!" I sputter. "Where are you?" "Up here, sweetie." There's a faint rustling of branches as I look upwards towards the gnarled oak tree at the platform's side. Staring back at me are two shiny, emerald tinted eyes. "I didn't know that you were one for climbing at night, Sister," I remark casually, if only to cast away any lingering awkwardness between us. Sister Opalescence isn't exactly known for her social tact, which is quite odd considering her feline lineage. Cats usually pride themselves on being poised and proper individuals, but Sister Opal herself is simply too temperamental and opinionated to really have a proper conversation with. Her illuminated eyes narrow at my comment, and she jumps from her perch onto the platform at my side, her legs buckling to break her fall. "I didn't know that you were one for licking benches, Brother Gummy," she retorts, gracefully easing back to sit and coil her tail about her legs. "Benches?" I cock my head to the side. "You mean this thing we're sitting on?" "Correct." She delicately raises her paw and licks at it, a low rumble resonating from her throat. "Either way, I haven't seen you in a long while. What are you doing out of your stone?" she questions, though in a rather callous tone. "I went out on my own accord," I answer simply, knowing that she likely wouldn't care for a lengthy explanation. "And you?" "Hiding." Her purring deepens, distorting itself into a low, bitter growl. "Perhaps a certain Sister could have told you that..." "You mean Sister Winona? She had mentioned 'chasing', but..." My heart sinks at the thought of my lovable canine friend putting such a regal creature on the run. Then again, dogs and cats are known for their rivalry between one another. It's quite sad, really. "It isn't important. Not much right now is," Sister Opal murmurs. Her voice, like most cats, is slightly gravelly, rumbling from deep within her chest with every word that pours from her maw. I notice that her fur as is clean as ever, sleek and shiny no doubt from a recent bath of wet saliva. As I ponder over her statement, I notice her eyes scrutinizing me carefully, watching my every move. “And your Mistress? What of her?” “Irksome as always,” she mutters in reply, her teeth bared in distaste. “I can’t get a moments peace with her running about, her and that Little Miss of hers.” She pauses to grate her bristled tongue against her dainty paw, her feral eyes closed to mere slits. I know Sister Opal rather well, so such a blasphemous statement coming from her is of no surprise to me. However, I cannot help but shrink back in discomfort from her words. Siblings are not supposed to harbor such negativity towards their Master or Mistress. “Surely you don’t mean such words, Sister Opalescence,” I murmur quietly, my voice low against the shrill breeze of the night air. “You don’t want a rumor to spread, do you?” She sneers in annoyance, though sighs in defeat all the same. “I suppose you’re right, for once, but I’m still frustrated,” she remarks, leaning forward to sit herself more comfortably on her belly. “It’s silly for me to complain to the likes of you, of course.” “What’s that supposed to mean, Sister?” I speak calmly, though am unable to hide the annoyed bite to my voice. “Is that a passive insult?” “Oh, not to you, Brother. Never.” She giggles huskily, her small fangs glittering against the pale moonlight. “I meant your Mistress, you know? The one who never bothers to shut her mouth?” Sighing, she raised a paw and places it upon one of the wooden boards, her claws extending to gently scratch at it. Her comment doesn’t surprise me. “She’s my Mistress. I’m used to her... antics,” I murmur, my eyes locked to that one paw, clawing away at the dampened wood. “Is it not the same for you?” I ask. “Mm, perhaps.” She carelessly shrugs her shoulders and looks upwards towards the sky. “I don’t really mean any of what I say, you know. I’m just a bit cross at the moment.” “You mean you aren’t always?” I laugh, silenced only by her inevitable harsh glare. “Sorry, sorry... I just wanted to get back at you.” I can feel a broad smile creeping up along my jaw, though I make sure not to show it on account of my embarrassing gums. “Figures, you alligators are all the same. Cheeky.” She stands up and hops off the bench, landing easily on all fours. She opens her mouth and yawns loudly. “Do you even know any other alligators?” “No, but that’s besides the point,” she retorts, her fluffy tail swishing back and forth. It takes all of my willpower not to just jump down and take it in my mouth. I’m better than that though, being the gentleman that I like to consider myself to be. “Are you going back to your stone?” I ask, trying my best not to sound hurt. In truth, I don’t desire to be alone here, especially when I lack the proper legs to get back to my home on my own. “Where else is there to go these days?” she mutters, rolling her eyes distastefully before offering me a half-hearted smirk. “I guess I should be grateful, right? Whatever. I’ll see you around, okay?” Without even waiting for a reply Sister Opal starts down the pathway, her tail gently lifted so it won’t trail along behind her in the dirt. She steps on the tips of her toes, as if fearing that her paws might become permanently stained with filth. “Wait, Sister!” I call out, to which she stops and cranes her neck around to look at me expectantly. She says nothing, though even from our distance I can see the annoyed frown etched onto her features. I take a deep breath, and force my eyes to look into her own. “I know that The White Mistress may sometimes be a tad eccentric, but you shouldn’t forget that your roots are most important. She raised you, after all. Why resent her?” She doesn’t reply, and instead walks off at an even quicker pace than before. It isn’t long before I lose sight of her in the darkness, leaving me all alone upon the wooden planks, the ‘bench’, as she called it. I suppose I’ll just wait here until I’m found. “Gummy?! Gummy!” A bright pink mare races along the streets of Ponyville, her eyes dotted with tears as she runs to and fro every known alleyway and turn. She seems frantic, desperate as her puffy pink tail bounces along behind her. “I’m really sorry, Gum Gums! I didn’t mean to forget to feed you!” she cries sadly, much to the chagrin of the ponies already snug in their beds. On and on she runs, crying out that one name as much as her lungs are able. Finally, with nowhere else to go, her search leads her to the Ponyville Park. Her constant sprint slows to an exhausted but determined walk. Her head droops downwards, unable to support the weight of her skull as she stumbles on, weakly calling out her beloved pet’s name over and over again. She stops at the fountain, her chest burning from exertion and her cheeks ruddy with drying tears. In a fit of thirst she stretches out her neck and takes a guilty drink from the fountain’s clear, clean water. Swallowing, she savors the cool, comforting sensation of liquid trickling down her parched throat. “G-Gummy...?” she whimpers, a vain attempt to call out. For a long while there is only the reply of dead silence, save for the endless chirping of cicadas and the occasional hoot of an owl. And then, a low, distinct gurgle. “Gummy!?” The mare flinches sharply and looks about her, freezing in shock when she finally notices a lone bench sitting next to a tall, old oak tree. Sitting on that bench is a little alligator. She gasps, and the mare runs up to take her pet in her forelegs, a happy giggle bubbling up from her lips. “Oh, Gummy! I’m so sorry!” Oh course the reptile doesn't reply. How can it? Beasts can’t talk, after all. “Come on, let’s go home, okay?” The Mare sets the alligator down and leans her head forward. As if taking a cue, the alligator slowly tilts his head up and snaps up her mane in his jaws.