Going Home

by -Mazer

5: Returning Home

The ride back home was a lonely, quiet one indeed. I don’t honestly remember the last time I took a trip without my friends. I tried to make small talk with the ponies pulling the carriage but they were both too busy concentrating on their work. That meant that I had to entertain myself for the duration of the trip – something I was not really looking forward too. I, uh, don’t do well by myself and it was something that I really didn’t want to slip back into.

So, instead, I dug out my notepad and pencil from my luggage and began to make some notes for the party that I had been planning before receiving my letter. I still had so many things to go over that it should be enough to keep my mind occupied.

It wasn’t. Half an hour into my note-taking, I found my mind began to wander. I tried to focus but it was impossible. Soon the memories from my childhood began to come into focus. It was as if I had travelled back in time (how cool would that be?!) to rewatch the events that had already taken place.

“What exactly are you doing?” my younger sister looked at me with a very serious expression upon her face.

“Trying to figure out what color to paint my side of the room,” I chirped while climbing up onto my bed. “I bet you we could do something very cool with how our room is split up – what with your beds on either side of mine. We could make the room three separate colors.”

“It’s fine the way it is,” my older sister said. She was staring at me from under her bangs which covered the left side of her face. I’ve always admired that look (as compared to my other sister who kept her main brushed back) and so I copied it. However, it didn’t look as pretty on me as it did her.

“But wouldn’t you want to try something different? “I asked, my bed bouncing coming to a stop as they glared at me. “Aren’t either of you tired of looking at plain, gray walls every day?”

“No,” my eldest shook her head.

“Nope.” Said the other.

“But we could get really creative. I know you like classical music so we could cover your side of the wall with music notes and…”

“I said no,” she said, a bit firmer this time. “And even if we wanted to change the color, how could we convince Father to give us permission? We don’t have the bits to go out and buy paint.”

“Oh…” I sat back on my haunches. “I guess that makes sense…”

“We cannot waste our time on such nonsense,” she continued. “Father needs our help to move the rocks from the south side to the north side. If we don’t meet the quota, he’ll lose money. You know this, Pinkamena. We just don’t have time to play around like this.”

“Not even for a little bit?” I whimpered. My mane had fallen over my left eye as I lowered my head in disappointment.

“I’m sorry, but no.” She nosed my cheek affectionately. “I know you want to explore and do crazy things, Pinkamena, but one day you’ll understand just how much we need your help.”

“I guess.” I nuzzled her back. “Where is Father anyways?”

“Working the fields. He is looking for another vien of granite to dig out. We have a customer in Ponyville who wants some for some home remodeling.”

“Do you think he needs my help?”

“I doubt it,” she replied. “But I am sure mother could use a hoof or two in the kitchen. However, if I hear any word from Father that he needs our assistance, I will come get you right away.”

“Alright…” I said, a bit disappointed. I really wanted to prove to Father that I had what it took to work the fields but time and time again I let him down. I wasn’t the strongest daughter out of the three but I tried! At the very least, I tried!

The carriage hit a stone in the road. The resulting jerking motion snapped me out of my memories and back into reality. I looked out the window, saddened at the sight that lay before me. Whereas Ponyville was bright and cheery, Rockton was grey and dreary. The trees were either dead or dying, there was no grass to be seen for miles, and even the sky had taken a rather depressing monotone hue.

I sighed.

I was home.

The carriage dropped me off on the outskirts of my parents’ farm. For a moment I was tempted to offer them a couple of bits extra to drive me all the way to their front door but I figured that would be too much of an inconvenience.

I could see their house from here which, to be honest, wasn’t that incredible a feat once you considered the fact that there were no trees or bushes for miles around. The only thing that came out of this infertile soil were rocks.

Oh, there were rocks. Thousands of them. As far as the eyes could see. I recalled all the afternoons I spent moving the rocks from one end of the field to the other. What fond memories indeed.

I traveled down the road that lead to their two-story ranch house. I stared at my feet as they slid across the dirt. I cannot remember the last time I hadn’t skipped anywhere. It just didn’t seem appropriate for me to be hopping and bouncing all the way to my former home with what my father being sick and all.

About halfway down the road, I could make out two figures standing in front of the house. The shorter, more hunched over pony was non other than my Mother. She was looking as rugged as I remember. She was the type of pony who could chew metal and spit nails. However, she had a kind heart deep down inside. It was at her insistence that Father allow me to leave the farm to live in Ponyville.

The other figure was my older sister. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw how much she had changed since we last saw each other. Back before I had left, she had her mane brushed straight with short bangs just above her eyes, and her coat was was dull and limp but now…now she looked as if she had just stepped out of one of Rarity’s make-over parties.

Her mane was very stylized and her coat was practically shining. She had two suit cases with her, one looking rather plain and traditional, the other looked like it contained a musical instrument. A cello? Was she a musician now?

“How many times,” I heard her voice, much softer than it used to be, “Do I need to remind you, Mother? My name is no longer Concretia Isabella Pie. It’s,” She threw her mane back over her shoulder. “Octavia.”

Mother gave her a cool, patient stare. “As long as you are under this roof, young lady, you will be referred to by your proper name. None of this outlandish behavior here, missy.”

“Yes Mother,” she sighed, exasperated.

“Hi…” I said with a cautious smile. “Mother, Concretia.”

“Ah,” Mother exclaimed with a slight smile. “Pinkamena Diana Pie.” She stepped forward to give me a hug – an action that I hadn’t expected from her. I could count on my hooves how many times she hugged me as a filly. I hugged back. “You came.”

“Of course I came, Mother,” I said while smiling. “Why wouldn’t I have?”

“Well, to be honest, I was a bit worried that none of you would care to return to Rockton after seeing the wonders of the world.”

Concertia shook her head. “We’d never ditch you or Father in your time of need.”

“Where’s Granita?” I asked while looking around.

“Your little sister will be here tomorrow,” Mother replied. “As for today, I have cleaned out your bedroom. Do not worry, I made sure that there is still plenty of room for all three of you.” Again she smiled ever so faintly. “But, just in case privacy is needed, I also cleaned out the guest rooms as well.”

Concretia, no, Octavia, bumped her shoulder against me. “I think we’ll do just fine in our old room. Right, Pinkie?”

“Right!” I nodded my head enthusiastically.

“I’m glad to see that you two are still getting along after all these years.” Mother replied. “Now, please, both of you go on and unpack your belongings and clean up. Dinner shall be ready within the hour.”

“Yes Ma’am,” We replied. I followed Octavia into the old farm house. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. What a transformation – I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. She was no longer the oh-so-serious filly I remember from my childhood. She walked with a bounce in her step. Her eyes were sparkling from an inner fire that I had not known existed in my older sister. It was as if she had become a completely different pony!

“So when did this happen?” I chirped as we entered our old bedroom. It was as gray and as dull as I remembered it but that didn’t bother me in the least bit. This was where I spent a majority of my childhood and despite some of the bad memories associated with it, it was still my home.

“Hm?” She looked over her shoulder to me.

“Don’t be a coy boy,” I giggled. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

She tossed her beautiful mane over her shoulders as she turned around to face me. “Well, after Father gave you permission to live with the Cake family, I asked him for permission to leave as well.” Her mouth became a thin line. “He wasn’t too pleased with the request.

‘I expected better from you,’ he said. ‘You want to abandon your family, your duties, just so you can go out and play music? Your life is here, on the farm, not standing on the street with a banjo and begging for change.’

He didn’t speak to me for a week after that but finally Mother convinced him to let me go. She explained to him that, just like you, I wasn’t meant for this life. You and I were two of a kind, Pinkie, I just never accepted the fact until after you left. I was not meant to live on a rock farm. My calling was something far better than pushing rocks around.”

I felt my heart sink to the deepest, darkest parts of my stomach. “He…didn’t say anything like that about me when I left, did he?”

“No, sweetie, he didn’t. You were always his favorite and Mother explained that since the day you were born, you were something special. You weren’t like your sister and I. We were – at the time – content with the life Father had given us. You on the other hand were miserable. He knew that the only thing you wanted was to make friends and that kind of life was impossible for as long as you stayed here.” She sighed. “I will not lie to you, though. Things did get pretty rough without your hooves here to help us out.”

“I’m sorry…” I whispered while staring at the ground.

She hugged me. “Don’t be.” She took a step back to give me a once-over. “You’ve certainly grown, now haven’t you?” She grinned. “Although you still have that crazy mane that I remember.”

I ran a hoof through my poofy pink hair. “No matter what I do to it, it just floofs up like this.” I giggled again. “I like it! It’s like my mane has a mind of its own!” I waved my hooves in front of me. “OooOooOooo!”

Octavia smirked. “I can see that. Anyways, after I left the farm, I got a job working in Canterlot. I found a music academy and was able to get hired to help clean the place up after practice. It was a fantastic opportunity for me because I was now able to practice my music whenever I wanted. Once the school closed, I could always sneak in. I met a few other girls who had the same idea and within a year, we were playing just as well as those who took the class professionally.

It didn’t take the owner long to discover what exactly we were doing but luckily she saw our antics not as vandalism but as an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. She tutored us after class. After our first recital, I received my cutie mark,” She showed me her flank which was decorated with musical notes. “After that, I realized that my special talent was to create the most beautiful music imaginable. I’ve been practicing and performing ever since.”

“That’s super duper!” I bounced up and down in excitement. “I mean, going through all that work and having it pay off exactly as you had hoped? Talk about dreams coming true,” I paused while blinking. “I’m glad your dreams came true. If mine did, the world would look pretty crazy, you know what I mean? One time, I had a dream that Ponyville had turned into a giant pumpkin cake. We had to eat our way free! It was rather fattening, but delicious!”

Octavia rolled her eyes at my excitement and ruffled her hoof through my mane. “Still the same, random Pinkie I remember and love.” She smiled. “C’mon. We need to unpack and get ready for dinner. We’ll continue catching up afterwards, I promise.”