Life and Death

by Mossy Mare

Chapter 1

Some sicknesses are a mystery. Sometimes the symptoms are simply too vague to pin down a direct cause, or are exacerbated by confounding afflictions like malnutrition. A few present symptoms that are too bizarre to classify.

This time it was not the case, however. A single glance told the story as clearly as the poor filly's stammering explanation. She came in the early morning, even before my birds had woken up, when I was still engaged in watering the garden and peacefully meditating in the hushed stillness of predawn. She turned her back to me, the pleading in her magenta eyes matching the blood dripping down the plastic garbage bag.

Blunt force trauma to the head. DOA. Still, I gently removed the still-warm corpse from the child's back, cradling it in my forelegs as I held myself aloft with my wings. I half listened as the filly told me the tale I already knew. Train tracks. Still warm. Didn't think she was alive, but wanted to be sure...

I confirmed as gently as I could that this little kitty was gone. I asked her where she'd found it, then reassured her I'd do my best to find her owner and let her know.

As the filly walked back towards town, I turned the other way, weightlessly coasting through familiar woods in the direction of my secret place. The burbling stream heralded my arrival, and the gentle sway of the willows nearly obscured the taller spruces. I touched down in the wildflower meadow, taking care not to jostle my passenger.

The creek made a wide, deep pool here, and regular flooding (and a little help from me) kept the underbrush sparse. The willows shaded it, and the spruces protected it, along with the blackberry brambles that circled the area and kept even the most determined hiker at the edge. Flying was the only way in, and only then if you were perceptive enough to tell willows from the other foliage, and gentle enough to descend without getting tangled in branches or falling and hurting yourself.

In fact, the only reason I found this place is because a goose had done... just... that...

I shook my head to clear away the image of two geese, one floating lifelessly in a pool tinged pink, the other keening on the shore.

The kitty's blood had started to congeal. I gently cupped her head in my hoof and looked at her. Cracked skull, nasty injury that, bitten tongue, scraped side of the face...

As gently as I could, I unstuck her tongue from her upper fang and pushed it back into her mouth. I wiped away as much blood as I could with my foreleg, then rinsed myself off in the stream.

I took an oath, when I received my medical license. Most of my classmates took the more general Veterinarian's Oath, but because of my cutie mark and my ability to communicate with my patients, I decided to take the more involved Hippocratic Oath. The words I spoke were modern, and yet... it is an old oath. Some versions I have heard swear to Celestia, some older to Celestia and Luna. For a short time all four alicorns were invoked, but Twilight wrote such a scathing report on it they discontinued the practice.

The oldest versions swear to names not spoken by ponykind for untold generations. Names of powerful, capricious beings, creatures with the strength of Tirek and the mind of Discord, or the wisdom of Star Swirl and the malice of the Nightmare.

When I was young, I pretended I didn't believe in such things. Of course everyone knows they're real now, after all the legends that have awakened recently, but I have a secret - before I knew any of the other Elements, I knew they were real.

I was bullied as a child. I know when everyone pictures the cruelties of children, they hear mean names and see spitballs, or think of swirlies. My tormentors were not like that. They turned everything they knew about me against me. Said there was no way parents such as mine could have a child so feeble, that I was adopted, that my mom had cheated on my dad, that my mom slept with many other guys, that my parents didn't love me and no one else ever would. By the end of third grade they knew exactly how hard to hit me to make the bruise come out the yellow of my coat. By the end of fourth grade they didn't need to. They taunted me openly, and no one stopped them. Teachers didn't intervene because they thought it would toughen me up. My parents didn't intervene because they listened to my teachers.

I wanted to die. And here's the kicker - I tried. I walked to the edge of one of those ridiculous cloud bridges they have all over Cloudsdale, and I was going to jump. I knew I couldn't fly. I wasn't going to try to fly. I was going to fall, and break something vital, and die, and everyone whose life was made worse because of me would be better off. My parents could try again to get the strong flier they always wanted. The bullies wouldn't have to see me anymore. The teachers wouldn't have to have any more talks with my parents...

But something stopped me. SomeOne stopped me. He told me that it wasn't time for me to enter His realm. He told me that He had plans for me. He said that I would save a lot of lives before He let me join Him.

I told Him that He had too high hopes for me. That I was just a little nobody that no one cared about, that I couldn't save anybody, that I couldn't even save myself.

He laughed, and said that I was in luck, because He was in the habit of saving people.

Then He said that He cared.

About me.

I told him I didn't know what I was doing. I begged him to make it better. I told Him I'd do anything for Him, anything at all, if He promised to take care of me.

So He did. And so I did.

As he was leaving, I asked Him His name.

There was a long pause while He thought about it.

Finally, He answered, "I am who I am."

Then He was gone.

The next day I met Rainbow Dash, who kept the bullies from hurting me openly.

Two weeks later I got my cutie mark.

Three weeks later, one of the bullies came to me with this poor, ragged little puppy. I don't know where he got it, since the puppy was pretty lost and couldn't tell me, but the three of us somehow managed to nurse it back to health without his parents finding out. We found it a good home with a family on the ground.

I asked I Am if this is what He meant when He said I would save lives.

He said yes.

So as I sat there, in my little grotto, I laid a hoof on the body of this poor kitty whose time was cut short, and I prayed.

"I am," I began, "Please, take care of this little kitty, wherever you are. Gently scratch her in that spot on her neck that all cats like, and make sure she's happy wherever she is now. I couldn't do anything to help this one, but you can. Please, take care of her the way I would if I could."

Then I gently shut the kitty's eyes, and walked to the trunk of the biggest willow in the grove. I pulled out a shovel, picked a nice spot, and buried her.

I went back to the willow, stowed the shovel, and took out a little white cross. I placed it reverently on the latest addition to my little garden.

I sat before her grave for some time. How strange that there is such a tenuous line between life and death. Then, as it always did, the flashes came - in my mind's eye, this kitty morphed into an older, battle-scarred tabby, ether mask in place while I and Angel, my nurse, frantically attempted to finish a surgery that he would never survive, refusing to give up even as he flatlined; a young, mother bunny, a birth complication I was too late to catch, labor coming too early, knowing it was too late for the mother and, in my haste, desecrating the body to try to save kits too premature to live; an old dog, faithful till the end, comforting Applejack until her last breath, Applejack's hat hiding her face but not the tears dripping on the limp body in her lap; a squirrel with a mysterious illness, eyes glazing over after weeks of failed treatments; a young bird, a simple, easy broken leg, a bad reaction to an anesthetic assumed to be safe, a stopped heart before I could react; uncountable creatures caught in the unstoppable path of a train; a Breezy, miles off course and half dead from exposure, despairing of ever seeing home again and passing in the night; the stillborn younger sister I never got to meet; the day I learned what a carnivore truly was, the desiccated corpse of a deer surrounded by wolves.

I sat there crying for some time, mourning all of those I could not save, allowing them to blend into a nameless pain that encompassed all and nothing. Eventually I cried myself out, and a gentle peace came over me.

Slowly, cautiously, I began to remember again - a bag fished out of the river, impossible to survive, and yet, a slight movement; a beaver mother with a difficult labor, but a successful litter; a turtle with a chipped shell, not good as new, but grown back enough to be protected once more; removing the cast of no less than a dozen animal's legs; sicknesses treated, surgeries completed, healing accomplished.

I allowed the memory of all my successes to exist in harmony with all of my failures, and accepted them as the lot of a doctor. Opening my tear-stained eyes, I looked around my clearing, at peace with the results of my work, even this.

Finally, I flew up and away from my secret place, hundreds of little white crosses peeking out like mushrooms from the damp ground.

I believe in the Old Ones. I am a follower of the Oldest One.

I know I would offend others, if I were to say Whom I serve, so I keep it a secret. I keep my secret place hidden, away from prying, judging eyes. But I have given myself to Him, and He has claimed me as his own, so I will follow wherever He may lead. '

I will do His bidding in all things, and my life has been blessed.

Author's Note:

Today I stopped because there was a dead cat in the middle of the road. When I picked it up to bring it to the side, at least, I realized it was still warm, and I was shaking so much I couldn't tell if it was breathing or not. My university has a veterinary hospital, and not knowing where else to go, I took it there. It was pronounced Dead On Arrival.

This, ah, this came pouring out. This is the secret side of Fluttershy, the one that she keeps hidden.

Please don't flame war. I'm, I'm still kinda shaken up, and it didn't feel right to have a story about this without Him in it, I'm not that good an author yet, to keep my personal feelings out of it. Sorry if this offends anyone.

Comments

[MerlosTheMad]

Oohhh, this was profound and very well written. All of my praise on a sad and oft mishandled subject around these parts. I'm sorry to hear such creativity was spurned by real life, though. My condolences.

[Bluegrass Brooke]

Beautifully written piece. It's such a treat to stumble upon a fic with well written Christian themes. You've earned my like, good lass.

[Red and Black Alicorn OC]

This is amazing, mysterious and emotional in so many different ways which I cannot begin to start to explain. Well done mate, I'm sorry about the incident.

[CowgirlVK]

Beautiful. I love how you worked God in, without subtracting from the MLP world. Very well done.

[SingABrightSong]

Mors stupebit et natura
Cum resurget creatura
Judicanti responsura

[Astral Soul]

This is a great story, I can see how "I Am" (God) might cause a flame war. A of yet this is one of the most comforting stories I've read in a while.

[Mossy Mare]

5472874 Oh my. That's a very long post, dear. I did make it a point to read all of it, though I can't claim to have followed or understood it all.

Thank you for not digressing into the Arian debate.

You demonstrated awareness that Christianity successfully sold this claim based on the horribly harsh and arbitrary way the Elim treated humans. (Though you presented this a bit fuzzily. I'm not sure someone not familiar with theology would have seen that from what you wrote.)

As I am unfamiliar with theology myself, and my initial response was, "Elim? What's that?" I hope you'll forgive any vagueness on my part.

As you likely guessed, I've studied world religions a lot. I understand a lot of contemporary Christians are very ignorant of or indifferent to the details of their sacred story. You might question why it's so important to have conformity between the fundamentals of Christianity and how it's presented in the story. If I have convinced you I know the subject well, let me know and I'll make a post answering that (and what I think it implies for Christian story design).(And I'll incidentally end up explaining why a non Christian cares about christian storytellers getting better at their craft.)

I am very impressed, you have demonstrated a level of Biblical knowledge I have seen only in Catholic apologists. I'm not sure all that theology necessarily belongs in the comment section of a small one-shot that theorizes how Fluttershy copes with the death of her patients offscreen, but I see no reason it can't be here either.

A little bit of exposition about the author: I grew up in a non-denominational church. Sermons focused very lightly on Bible verses and very heavily on emotional appeals, and much emphasis was placed on having a, "personal relationship," with Christ. The Bible was generally trusted as absolute truth, though no point was ever made of proving it.
Then I went off to college, began to actually read my Bible on my own, and, understandably, had some questions. When presented with a few of the many, many logical fallacies in the Old Testament that shook my faith in the Bible as Absolute Truth, my dad urged me not to think about it so much and, "just have faith."
I couldn't. I couldn't sacrifice my logic for my religion, it was too central to my identity as a person. So I started looking into things you've brought up. I watched this ridiculously long documentary on the history of the church, looked at the ideas of the Protestant Reformation, and, to gain a better historical perspective, started attending a Catholic mass.
I should have done that years ago. I'm in an RCIA program now, not necessarily to become Catholic, but just to learn about the 2,000 years of Christian ideas the church of my childhood didn't feel like bringing up.

So just keep in mind, a few months ago I had never heard the term Original Sin, and wouldn't be able to tell you what it meant. I'm not an apologist; I can't even properly explain to my own parents my personal decision to attend a Catholic church, much less speak on any point of doctrine.

My story doesn't have any grand plan of, "spreading Christianity and supporting the faithful." It's more along the lines of, "Hey, I wrote a thing. Do you want to see it?" There's no agenda. There's no purpose. There's just an idea, an idea that became a story.

You went off on a huge tangent about how can a Christ figure exist in a world with Celestia, and I got the feeling you weren't speaking to me, not really. Celestia isn't in my story, except as a figure to swear to as an oath, and people swear to lots of things in oaths. (My favorite is Gorlog's beard. )

So, um, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't think a lot of this applies to my story in particular, but I don't mind talking about it if you really want to.

[Mossy Mare]

5473786 I think the only reason this story hasn't gotten more hate is because it's relatively unknown. I posted it at a weird hour when not a lot of people are on, and I've only posted it to trusted Christian groups, nowhere else.

I'll be honest, I got a lot of hate on the Christian Bronies page. I posted a forum thread asking for help, and it dissolved into an argument about core Christian beliefs. I didn't want that at all, I just wanted to talk about life with fellow Christians, not put myself on trial for atheists to examine. Not being a theologian, I didn't handle it as well as I should have.

Then an atheist admin named Proper Noun decided to "cleanse" my presence from the forums, deleting all of my posts and locking me out of commenting on the forum. I was still able to comment on the front page, though, so I apologized for any offense given, (because yes, I sinned, I was nowhere near as kind as I should have been) explained why I was leaving the group, and, as is commanded in Mark 12:31, publicly forgave Proper Noun. Someone calling themselves The Brony Gamer directed me to a new Christian group, and Proper Noun went ballistic, and deleted all of the comments on the front page.

It's made me scared of talking about my beliefs at all, to be honest. I fully expected to take this story down within a day due to hate, and have been very pleasantly surprised at the positive reaction I've gotten so far.

(Or suppose the story that takes place after God and Jesus are established (as yours does). In that case, there should be at least fleeting references to the roots of that reverence. Explain how God and Jesus came to be preferred to the Elim who came before.

I feel the need to explain myself a little bit. There isn't any of that in my story because the way I envision it, there isn't anything like it in Equestria. There's no reverence beyond that of personal experience, and there is no preference to God and Jesus in comparison to the Elim.

Part of that is because of things you touched on; Christianity in the real world is very dependent on the historical narrative, and hinges on understanding the fall of the First Covenant and the implementation of the Second Covenant.

I see it as comparable to a tale set in a land that has never heard the Good News, and is thus entirely ignorant of it. They have their own religion, their own spirituality, their own perspective on the universe, and any missionaries who would try to explain would be subjected to widespread ridicule. The Elim are revered because the Elim are all that the ponies know. I don't see that the Elim necessarily have to be evil. Humans get up to all sorts of nonsense without being explicitly evil, after all.

God still exists, however, regardless of whether or not we acknowledge Him. Is it possible for nonbelievers to call on Him? I've seen Christians argue back and forth about this, but my perspective is that anything can happen with His will. He's the one who decided to open up His blessings to the masses beyond Judaism, after all, and it seems in His character to take pity on us when we earnestly call out for help.

I also borrow a little bit from the Creationist narrative, Genesis 1:1, in assuming that God came before everything, including Equestria.

So from Fluttershy's perspective, she may not have any idea at all who her Patron is, and probably sees Him as just an exceptionally powerful Elim that has taken her under His wing. She is largely ignorant of the main tenets of Christianity, and yet she is faithful in a way very few real Christians are. She has the, "personal relationship," that my childhood church thought important above all else. If this were more than a one-shot, I'd introduce other common Christian story things into it, like her needing to defend her beliefs to others, or her learning more about what it means to be a follower of Christ. This is just a one-shot, though, so I can leave heavy themes like that implied at best.

I was surprised to get such a vociferous response, but as you can see, I'm no stranger to the Wall of Text comment. So long as we keep this polite, I don't mind talking with you about this at all.

[Mossy Mare]

5699031 According to Bucking Nonsense's story, "Who is this Lord Tirek you speak of?" if you say, "Hastur" three times in Equestria, he will appear, and is more than happy to judge your rock-off.

If you feel the need to reply, please refrain from using his name, as saying it a third time may summon him and none of us have the capacity to deal with that.

[Mossy Mare]

5701113 No, no, you misunderstand. We are ants to him. Less than ants. We are microbes. His treatment of us is entirely dependent on his whims, not ours. If you nudge a crumb towards an ant so it can pick it up, it is because you are feeling charitable, not because the ant is especially good. If you burn an ant with a magnifying glass, it is not because that ant is particularly loathsome, but because it is a sunny day and you are bored.

All you can do is hope that, when you summon him, he feels charitable, and not bored.

This is why I serve the (insert many names and titles here) Jehova Ro'eh. He makes a point of doing the kind thing as often as possible, to try and teach us to do the same.

[Jalaras]

This was very nice little story. Thanks for writing it. :)

[Fireheart 1945]

Well written, well meant... Well done.

[Teikan]

bad