The Lovely Pony

by BlueBrony13

Rectilinear Hoofsteps

"Cyan?" I whispered, awestruck at the notion of the dead filly being with me. "Is it really you?"
Before she could answer, I quickly and passionately wrapped my forelegs around her, squeezing hard, tears flowing. The tone of the young unicorn in front of me changed from cheery to despondent. "No," she said- voice grave. "I'm just a part of your heaven. I'll never actually be here."

I pulled away, hooves still grasping her shoulder, and stared into her magnificent crystalline eyes. She couldn't be serious. Why would she not be a part of my heaven? She was an equine being, wasn't she!? She could be a part of anypony's heaven?
Wrong. My heart sank, processing this with dread. Cyan Skies, one of my favorite fillies, wasn't going to be with me after death. Even though she herself, was dead. This faux-Cyan didn't make the burden of truth any lighter.

"So...Cyan?" I asked with hesitance. "If you aren't here, and you're dead... what actual heaven is there?"

"Look around you," she responded, voice brightening once again.

I looked around, analyzing each detail of my heaven, savoring the delectable taste of each and every speck. Soccer fields and playgrounds lined the huge, open plains, and glorious, magenta mountains, snow caps glistening atop, jutted out of the horizon. To the far west, I saw a spectacular turquoise ocean, seals occasionally popping up out of the water, snatching up crabs or just basking in the sunlight over the rocks they lay upon. When I turned back, Cyan had disappeared. Staring at the spot where the filly had stood, my mind drifted. Suddenly, I thought hard on what was happening. I was dead; murdered by a pedopony living amongst the ponies that I loved.

Each second that the thought twirled around in my mind like fancy pasta, tears grew more and more large and frontward in my eyes. What I had known, or ever would know, was no longer- no marriage, children, job, graduation, or retirement. The thought of my siblings, who'd lived with me all of their lives, being without me, was another consideration. I could only imagine the mental paroxysms undergone by the young filly and colt- practically foals, both of them. My mother and father, who'd been with me through so much; my mother had helped me through school, (some) puberty aspects, and helped me prepare a wonderful Bat Mitzvah for myself. My father had taught me what the equine character is like, and what the true meaning of "pony", while also showing me perseverance, love, my cutie mark, and how I should treat others. I then thought of what my parents had probably wanted me to experience: meeting Pinkie and co., getting good grades, my first kiss, senior prom, and the thrill of travel. All things I was denied by George Harvey.

Sitting now, I peered about my "heaven", and saw a blue oasis, surrounded by small, painted rocks.

***

"Is there any luck?" inquired a worried, white unicorn as she trotted into the Ponyville Police Station from a pristine cab. Rarity's hair was slightly askew, her fake eyelashes also falling out of place, and her coat had a coffee stain; nonetheless, she looked stunning.
"I'm afraid not," answered Twilight. "Authorities from all over the Equestrian States of Amareica have been notified- or at least in Cloudsdale, Canterlot, and such. You might want to see Mac- Flutters is a mess. He's talking with the Sheriff."

Following Twilight's instructions, Rarity galloped to a small, beige corner near a dull cubicle, where two stallions were talking. One of the stallions had a ruffled mane, freckles, and a stern expression; the other had spiky, styled hair, a fez, and a bowtie with a small sheriff's badge. Rarity grinned slight, recognizing these ponies, but then remembered why she was approaching them. This wasn't for an attempt at seducing married stallions (believe, she'd done it before), it was to discuss the chances at finding a filly that she loved like her own.
"I'm telling you, Macintosh, I've alerted all of the authorities; and there are search parties- authorities, all over the town, each searching for your daughter and questioning residents about her whereabouts."

"Please, you gotta let me search to, that's my daughter and I-"
"Macintosh, please. This is police work, we will find your daughter. There are search parties out there, what more would you like me to do?"

"I dunno, maybe SEND OUT AN AMBER ALERT TO THE RADIOS OR SOMETHIN'!?"
"Yoo-hoo," interjected Rarity. "Is there any progress on finding Lilac?"
"I'm very glad to see ya, Rare. Fluttershy, Twilight, the sheriff, and I have been discussing efficient ways to look for Lilac. Clearly," Macintosh now used gritted teeth, "we have different ideas. I, for one, find the idea of a dead filly to be terrible, much more that it's my daughter. This $2 "detective", here, has decided to be casual about it."
"Macintosh!" yelled Sheriff Whooves.
"For God's sake, you know it's true!"
"Mac," plead Rarity. "Please, I understand your stress and anger, but you need to realize: this is what police work is. Won't you try to understand that?"

The conversation was interrupted by the scream of a pegasus. Macintosh galloped at full speed, trying to reach Fluttershy's side before she fainted.

George Harvey stood silently outside the police station, staring wistfully at the pegasus inside. He felt wetness on his cheek, still. The filly's tears mixed with her blood were still faintly stained on his cheek. Harvey thanked luck for his being absent when the police came questioning. He didn't know if he would be able to create a good alibi for the filly's disappearance.
When the winged stallion had reached his apple cellar again, he turned the light on when trotting down the stairs. He analyzed the drawings on his wall, some of kids, some Harvey had drawn himself, and some of a wife Harvey knew he could never have. He looked down. Last time, he thought. I swear.

Author's Note:

Sorry for the wait (if you've been waiting)- I've been wrongfully neglecting this story; this may happen from time to time.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Once again, I would like to give credit to Alice Sebold, who wrote "The Lovely Bones", and is the foundation of this story. Of course, I'm not totally copying off of her story and just substituting with ponies, there will be more genuine stuff in the future, my own stuff. But, yes, Sebold is a magnificent writer who inspired this story, and if you seek a better perspective of what may happen later, feel free to read her book.
Todah!