Dust

by Future Regret

Flicker

If the rolling hills of dead wood beyond the decrepit dust-filled house she used to live at was akin to a cemetery, then what she saw now was an above ground mass grave that stretched across the entire horizon. The pale, lifeless husks wove themselves into an impenetrable darkness, their trunks forming a picket fence of gigantic proportions, the tops of which blended in perfectly with the monochromatic sky.

It vindicated her. She had not even been to this place since the town had begun to bleed out its inhabitants. This was just nature, and the fact that it mirrored the truth she had come to know through hours of agony made it seem all the more precious, even if all it was was that lifelessness is the common denominator in all things. It is what the world is when dissolved into its most honest form.

She had not even realized that she stopped to gaze at the twisted wooden bones. Not that it mattered. Time was one thing she could spare. She had quickly passed through the town, this time unencumbered by the wagon. This trip was being made only with a weathered saddle bag that contained a sloshing can of bliss and the only type of book that held even an ounce of truth - a book of matches.

The town would be hers soon, safe from those things that evoked the sickness from her. This was the final stronghold. She looked down at the cracked dirt road and once again started putting one hoof in front of the other, grim determination pushing her forward like a steady river that had spent the last eon cutting into bedrock.

Sure enough, an outlet appeared from around a bend. It was only distinguishable from the rest of the earth by its slightly lighter shade and how it had been pounded into the ground by the comings and goings of a long time ago. She turned herself onto the path without hesitation.

A few steps in and the path began to incline, twisting and turning as if it were trying to go anywhere else but to where it was taking her. Tiny houses hung from the dead wood alongside her, swaying to some inaudible music, dangling by decaying string.

The sickness seemed to hear it too, and wanted to dance along. Its rousing made her lurch, but she carried on. The weight on her side was her confidence and it escorted her through the forgotten corridor of kindling and into a clearing.

Under what little light the steel sky could muster, the path wound up a bridge over a ditch and into a hollow cottage. A loose window banged endlessly from the wind, the former home’s death rattle. Even in the ditch there was not a drop of moisture. A few embers could easily blow from here to the fallen legion of trees behind her, bringing a radiance to the land that had been absent for years. This time, however, it would illuminate the truth.

Her daydream was cut short by the sickness bursting from whatever corner it had hidden itself in. A tidal wave of weakness rocked every part of her body. She wavered but stopped herself by slamming her teeth together and swallowing the nausea down. She was expecting this. The magnitude of the grotesque feeling spreading throughout her provided a sense of vindication. This was it, proof that she might finally find peace from this agony. Just a few more steps. If she could just sever herself from this feeling then maybe she could be-

“UNGH!” She stumbled. Cursing under the wind, she straightened herself out with a shaky, slow inhale. She felt everything in her that was not already consumed by frailty fill with boiling rage. Her legs began to wobble out of adrenaline pumping through them, and her eyes narrowed. This was the end of something. No matter what it was, the thought gave her the strength to creep forwards.

The sickness and the fury blended together within her. The cocktail almost seemed to be pulling her forward. Drops of moisture fell into the ditch as she passed it, absorbing so fast it practically fell through the dusty clay. The world blurred around her despite her each step seeming to last a lifetime. She pressed her eyes shut.

The darkness was worse. It was filled by ghosts. By hollow feelings and echoes of the past. Smudged faces. To her horror, her hooves clumsily knew where to fall even in the absence of the stale light that fell around her. They knew. She knew. She remembered. She had walked here before but not alone. Even encased in darkness she was still petrified to turn her head down and to the side. She could almost hear a filly’s hooves falling onto the dirt beside her.

The mixture of rage and sickness poured into her mind like a mold. Ethereal figures and sounds raced around in her skull, too fast to be trapped by her understanding. Wherever the sickness had come from, it never stopped pouring in, but despite that she came closer and closer to the door.

She stopped. She knew what she would see when she opened her eyes, and when she finally did the spiteful blend began to pour out of them, and what it left within her was a nothingness. Her eyelids raised more and there was a cracked, wooden door, with a faded tinge of red. The purveying numbness made her wonder if the sickness was gone or if it had finally killed her.

She slid off the saddle bags and pulled out the can. She drenched the door. She drenched the window sills. She splashed what she could up against the walls, covering the entire outside of the cottage. She fished out a match and held it in her mouth and gazed ahead with unfeeling eyes.

She had finally become the embodiment of what she had learned over the last few years. There was not anything beneath her skin, and behind her eyes was a mirror of the wasteland that was all around her. Inside her was the same thing that was under the white crate, under all the things she had used to build her monument, under everything. She leaned down to strike the match against the rock hard path.

Four hooves touched the ground behind her.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading! Again! I love feedback so let me know what you think. Stay safe, everyone. Final chapter SHOULD be out by the end of next week... ehheheheh

Comments

[TwilightSparkle484]

This story really goes deep. Applejack's thoughts, pain, and suffering are very realistic. Keep up the good work. 👍

[Future Regret]

10222696
Thanks for reading. The story definitely tries to be introspective-honestly that was the hardest part about it. Warms my heart when this old fic gets love. In a few more stories maybe I’ll try something longer than a dumb one shot. Stamina is hard though.