Mareci mon Ami

by ping111

3: Memories Pt. 1

Hi! It's time for another juicy update! Sorry for the wait, school and life's been a bugger. Anyway, slap on your thinking caps, kick back, don your brony shirts (I know I am), and...
Enjoy the show!

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The familiar mallet of wakefulness smacking upon Apple Bloom's head lifted her spirit from dormancy as the busy shuffle of a hospital room dripped into her tender ears. Her mind reeled as she attempted to grasp at the dregs of memory her half-awake being could muster. Not only did yesterday's events drip into the curvaceous matrix of her brain, they all did. They only appeared as coin-sized chunks at first, running the past backwards, but they slowly came to a stop and beckoned for their contents to be read like a book. Despite her eyes being closed tightly as light was rudely denied access, the filly could feel her face begin to camouflage with her frizzy mane, whose braid has long been undone. Attempts to writhe to point furthest away from the blasted window were futile, as thick bands of a slick material seemed to hold each appendage down. Unless she wasn't actually in a hospital, but instead of an evil lair, she would have every reason to believe she had been tied up. Dejected, Apple Bloom's struggle ended prematurely against her fabric assailants as she expanded on the cloudy fragments of forgotten history that had finally drifted back to their owner. The images began to play like a tape, and the projection began...

The sweet taste of apples is best complimented with the bitter kick of careful fermentation, thought Frenchy Bloom as another wave of the fruity elixir washed down her throat, leaving a spicy aftertaste that only the finest cheese from choice cows could sate. She tipsily rose from her personal tasting convention, swaggered to the other end of the compact yet spacey room, and shoved the creaky door open. Stumbling, she snatched a package of creamy Apple-brand bleu cheese with her anxious teeth from the cooler and dashed for no discernible reason to back her beloved cider bottle. Expert hooves deftly unwrapped the cellophane chamber of the cheese, and then shoved the cylinder forcefully into the filly's mouth without consent. The creaminess instantly cooled the delightful burn with an even more wonderful sensation of coolness and smoothness - possibly even completeness, ecstasy. However, the desire for hydration and sweetness rose and blossomed once again, and the glass bottle was swiftly lifted away from the linoleum floor and swigged from repeatedly, followed by satisfied "ah"s. The process continued for hours on end, and the purity and silence of privacy in Applejack's cellar was only perforated by the occasional drunken giggle at that oh-so-hilarious refrigerator (Where did you learn to be so funny, monsieur Refrigimare?), or choice French phrase when a drop of the apple-y gold or two (or ten, or twenty) dribbled onto the filly's butter-yellow fur and veined through it. The disappointment of soiling her well-kempt body was only matched by the loss of such a precious (and delicious) commodity. One particular guffaw rang out against the walls for too long, and seeped through the iron trap-door. Meanwhile, the noise issued from her own mouth rang back into her ears, and hit her upside the head like a frying pan. As her vision faded to black and her muscles betrayed her, the last thing she heard was the muffled grinding of metal, hidden behind the ringing in her ears.

The sound waves floated and dissipated through the crisp morning air, and floated to the bedroom. Orange ears pricked up to attention, and soloed out the laugh. The high-pitchedness was unmistakeable, and came from an improbable source. Could it be? Anyhow, there was plenty of time to affirm suspicions, and the mare was full of energy from a good night's rest. Applejack's legs swivelled off the soft mattress and rear hooves gently touched down on polished hardwood. She gingerly trotted down the stairs, slapped on her trusty cap, and was out the door, to that bush. She rotated the adjacent plastic flowerbed away to reveal the grate beneath. The ever-closed lock was open, which was strange... It appeared to be finessed open, and wasn't even broken. The rusty ponyhole pivoted open and Applejack slipped in, landing unceremoniously with a loud clop.

The laughter had died down now, but the stench of alcohol reeked around the room and wafted into suspicious nostrils. The luxurious canter had evolved into a gallop. Her Stetson hat stopped just short of the final locked vault door and dropped even lower onto her blonde mane, blocking the mare's eyesight. This didn't stop Applejack from cracking the code that locked the door shut, taught to her by Granny Smith on her twenty-first birthday. The door groaned heartily as it brushed open. What Applejack saw in there betrayed her eyes, except they didn't lie one bit, just as honest as she is.

Puddles of an oddly familiar amber mingled with those of white saliva, sourcing from a clump of flesh that was her sister. Her face was easily spotted, being red like a target. A wheel of cheese lay half-eaten and dejected several feet away, covered in dust. If Applejack hadn't been sympathetic, caring, or just dog-gone confused about the whole situation, she would be her fair share of angry at the waste of money that was.

As the logical story began to piece itself together in Applejack's eyes as slowly as if Tank and a sloth had a child, and her thoughtful conscious was busy solving the puzzle, her on-the-spot, cannibalistic being did the only logical thing.
It laughed.

It snorted and heaved and rolled around on the floor. And it didn't care one bit that it was laughing at its most valuable possession. It just cared that the moment was funny. And it wanted to keep it that way. It heated up the irons of grief and branded the farmer's brain painfully and permanently with the image. It would never leave.
And it didn't now.

Applejack visibly shuddered, drawing concerned glances by her fellow Holders of the Elements. However, another shocking event ripped their attention away from the minor wince, and for good reason. Apple Bloom, though still in yet another quasi-coma, was writhing and screaming, apparently trying to escape some monster that had invaded her subconscious existence, even harder than she had on her first day of school. Despite her family's best wishes, her nerves overcame her and clouded the images of their sympathetic words, and she positively refused to go anywhere near that wretched bus. She had bucked and squirmed and even left Big Mac with an embarrassing black eye. But even that violent episode paled in comparison to this.

Apple Bloom wasn't used to nightmares. She lived in such happiness and serenity that there were no need for them. That one time, when she had that near-death experience at the claws of the cockatrice when rooming at Fluttershy's abode, she did have some unpleasant dreams for some time after, though she's too ashamed to say it. They would often end with two ovals of red glaring at her even harder than the doctor does now, and the filly would awaken wailing, drowned in sweat and sitting erect. Her blanket suddenly became a life-or-death possession, and would not have been removable from her cold, dead hooves. Her family would rush in, and comfort her, which was nice enough, but much to her chagrin, they would often coddle her a bit too much for just a little nightmare. Besides, they were just dreams, right? They could never happen, she told herself. They can't hurt her...

But what if they were not dreams, but memories? What if they were projection of what has verily happened, rather than paintings of overactive imaginations, blended with merely a subtle hint of reality? Then she was in trouble. There is no escaping from the weavings of time, no matter how much you attempt to fray and snap the threads. This bed was too hot; the mess of noises were too loud; and worst of all, she was being held back, restrained. This was too much for Apple Bloom to bear. And when fear and stress fail you, you often resort to anger and wrath. And that's just what she did.

Forget Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. Forget everypony who has ever had the audacity to vex Apple Bloom. Right now, the thin bands of this lustrous, flexible substance are her worst nemeses. They will meet their end, if it means spending hours on end quickening their demise, even if it means acting like a total lunatic. Come to think of it, she was certainly being treated like one. Nurses, visitors, even her loyal friends gaping on her wide-eyed, as if she were some zoo exhibit. Being tied back as if she were dangerous. A little filly who couldn't hurt a fly! Well, it was time for this pony to fit the label. It was time to get crazy and dangerous. Even if it meant losing everypony and everything she held dear; water under the bridge, those betraying imbeciles. It was time to break free.

And all it takes to light the spark is a single buck.

A teeny twang of guilt coursed its way through Apple Bloom's adrenaline-pumped veins as she saw a lone sparkle descend along her beloved sister's shapely face. She could tell it was for her, but to what exactly what, that was anypony's guess. However, rage is like a cloud that only grows stronger as it sucks away at all other emotions, and it had already penetrated sympathy's barriers. The moment was lost and only added passion to her escapade. She could hear metal buckling - this must be it! The quarantine would soon fall, and she would be free! And it was growing louder, too, even drowning out the cries issuing from her throat! Wow, she knew she was strong from all that apple-bucking, but she never expected to smash the connectors this fast! The noise reached its peak, but as it did, a hazel hoof steadied the swinging stethoscope clacking endlessly against his clipboard, and the racket died instantly - almost as fast as his last patient. The red ovals of horror that haunted Apple Bloom's dormancy was replaced by an even more horrifying shade of brown. Hot breath sailed down her sore neck, flowing forth from the flared nostrils soaring above. He again was birthed out of a wall with no doors, as if he were brethren with the metallic apparatuses that covered the room. The doctor was back, and he was angry.

"You'd better explain yourself, Ms. Bloom!" He grunted through gritted teeth.
"Je-I-er, I'm s-so sorry, monsieur!" Apple Bloom warbled, skitting by the boulder that had moved into her throat all of a sudden. "It's just that.."
"I don't want to hear it!" The stallion snapped, mentally shoving the filly even deeper into the fluffy pillows. "After your - let's just say - episode yesterday, I decided that it would be best for all of us if I restrained you. And I see that doesn't suffice." He added that last sentence with a cruel flair. He disappeared yet again, as the others crowded in, trying to extract an alibi from Apple Bloom. However, only mortified whimpers replied to their pleas, along with the shoos of the ever-calm nurses, claiming that "she needs her peace". That was most certainly untrue; the only way for her to calm down is to share her dreams with understanding ponies, of which now there seems to be an odd lack. She just wanted to explain her tale, but the doctor soon returned, this time through an actual door. In his magical grip was a tiny, strap-laden ball, seemingly just the perfect size for little ponies' mouths. Before she could protest, a foreign pair of hooves ripped her aching jaw wide open like an evil dentist, jamming the gag in, and slamming the filly's mouths closed like a crocodile. As soon as she attempted to voice her concerns to anypony who would listen, the rubbery sphere suddenly expanded in her mouth and hardly a whisper issued out. She tried to charade her desires to remove the blasted thing, but nopony dared disobey the physician's orders.

Turning around at last to face the visitors, the doctor boomed: "Nopony will dare to even attempt to remove this! This is for your - and her - own good. Understand?" A wave of nods affirmed it, and the hazel pony swaggered out of the room, snuffing like a wild bull. Gazing around helplessly, Apple Bloom's amber peepers met a violet haze, which suddenly flew out of its common symmetry to flash a wink.

This gesture would have made her smile, if only she could move her mouth.

Comments

[CoastalSarv]

...that's a way to treat a disease...

[ping111]

571463 Err... Is that a good thing?

[CoastalSarv]

572199
Let's hope for Applebloom's sake it's a good thing!

[Weldbrony]

I will kill that doc.

[ping111]

574700 Yeah, I envision him as a shady, schadenfreude-loving kinda guy.
Anyone up to make a sketch of him that follows the descriptions? You'll be acknowledged, and I have a soft spot for gratitude. Wanna morph the story? I just might consider it.

[ping111]

617442 Wow... Just - wow. I'll be sure to research this and edit it according to your wishes.
Thanks a ton, but the comedy comes in on the later chapters!
Shit gets REAL then!

EDIT: Flank=butt, butt=ass. Ergo, half-flanked=half-assed.
EDIT 2: Read it now, if you will. I hope it's at least a bit better!

[danail24]

Dude, this is getting out of hand quite quickly! Really wish you'd recontinue the story since its been 3 months and a half since you did

[ping111]

1192103 I know, I know, I'm evil. I'm trying as hard as I can to stay conscious long enough to get half a chapter down.

[danail24]

1192746 Oh, that's actually good to know! At least you're working on it and you're planning to post once you're done

[zsewqthewolf]

ok. now i feel like biting the shit out of hem now

[Feurisson]

I really wish this storz could be continued. Albeit I'd prefer it to be more lighthearted, like the first two chapters. The third one was rather dark in comparison...

[ping111]

3217849 Heh, I know, it gets kinda creepy. However, hopefully before my beard grows too long (it is currently non-existent), I am gutting this story and starting again, and making it damn funny.

[Feurisson]

3221317 I'm hoping to see more of this story soon, then!
(Also, how could I not see that typo in that comment... I'm going to leave it now as it is.)

[CanadianFluttershy]

Ton histoire, a attiré mon intérêt. Je vais peut être la lire...

Yeah just gonna read it after Christmas.

[ping111]

3678763 S'il vous plaît, la lisez! Mais, pas de l'aimer si si trop, parce que je vais biffer la tout Pourquoi? Car que j'ai écrit ça il ya un gros temps, donc je n'avais pas l'expérience en anglais (et français, bien sûr) que j'ai maintenant. Bien sûr, donnez-moi vos critiques - j'ai eux besoin pour le version prochain!

Merci pour votre attention,
~ping111

(Encore, pardon s'il y a beaucoup d'erreurs. Je suis fatigué.)

[Chicago Ted]

Came for the French, stayed for the story. Nice job!