• Published 27th Apr 2014
  • 838 Views, 25 Comments

Friendship Harder: Collected Microfiction - KwirkyJ



Collection of stories too short to publish individually. There is ostensibly no consistent underlying theme.

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Happy Birthday, Thought Raindrops [Sad(?), Thriller(?)]

For the past two nights at the foot of my bed there has sat a colorful box. The paper is glossy, reflective in the sunrise glow, bright blue with gold filigree. The ribbon is wide and yellow, like my coat, and tied in a simple bow.

Brother said the mailmare left it, with the card, after I left for work and before he went to school. The card sits with the box, tucked safely under the ribbon. I wish he would have asked who sent it.

The box mocks me. It watches me as I sleep, and greets me in the morning. I have to carefully tuck my bed covers around it when I get up, and try not to read the card as I slide it back into place before I go about my day. I touch either as little as possible.

The box waits for me. When I get home and make supper for Brother and make sure he does his homework and when I come back from the clearing, it doesn't seem to mind at all. I can lay in bed as late as I want to and I'm sure it wouldn't care, perfectly content to just sit there. That doesn't mean I like it.

For the past two nights, I stare at it before I set my head against the pillow.

The box, at least, has not found me in my dreams.

The card is not so kind.

Sometimes it is the Pink One, sometimes it is the mailmare. Once, it was Mom and Dad. I woke up crying when it was Rainbow, and I don't know if Brother knows. It's not enough that they read the card—they sing it. She sings it to me.

'Hey. It's your birthday. Get happy. Happy when you're young, happy when you're grown, happy when you're old and gray. It's your birthday! Love you lots. Happy birthday to Raindrops.'

For the past two nights, the colorful box has sat at the foot of my bed.

I don't dare open it.

Author's Note:

Originally written for the Thirty Minute Ponies prompt, "It's Too Late".

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