Previous Chapters Next
Close
1: The Night in Lonesome October1,185 words
2: The Misty Mid-Region1,366 words
3: The Most Immemorial Year1,220 words
4: The Withering Leaves1,071 words
5: The Ghoul-Haunted Woodland1,111 words
6: The Ashen and Sober Sky1,247 words
7: The Dark Tarn1,054 words
8: The Boreal Pole1,228 words
9: The Alley Titanic1,064 words
10: The Volcanic Heart1,192 words
11: The Sulphurous Current1,122 words
12: The Ultimate Clime1,200 words
13: The Star-Dials1,234 words
14: The Nebulous Lustre1,195 words
15: The Duplicate Horn1,433 words
16: The Liquescent Path385 words
17: The Miraculous Crescent1,531 words

11: The Sulphurous Current

Thank you for the letter. Don’t worry, I didn’t find it too awkward. In fact, I think you’re right. However, if it isn’t too much trouble to you, I would not like to discuss that. You know how hard everything has been lately...

After whatever disaster of the week wrecked Ponyville, Fluttershy was there for the cleanup efforts. Every single time.

She knew she wasn’t the bravest, or the strongest, or really the most helpful. So she tried to make herself useful by dealing with the aftermath.

She swept the streets of rubble, painted rebuilt homes, hosted a therapy group, anything just to help. Just to be kind.

So when Pinkie died, there was still aftermath to deal with. So she helped.

Her family had come down to Ponyville as soon as word reached them, so Fluttershy met them at Sugarcube Corner to at least provide some comfort.

And once they asked her, she was very willing to help them clean out her bedroom.

And she pretended not to notice the empty bottle on the night stand.

But when she went to empty the wastebasket, something stopped her.

So she reached in and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper that was sitting on top.

And she carefully unfolded it.

And she was the one who suggested they cancel the funeral.

Time seemed to snowball, to the point where she barely noticed as the days turned into weeks, months, but not years quite yet. Normally, she’d be acutely aware of time as it passed, taking daily observations of the shifting seasons as she walked through the forest. But she couldn’t remember the last time she’d stopped and smelled the roses, as they say.

Well, she could, but Pinkie was alive then.

In fact, the time she spent indoors had gradually been getting larger, as she spent most of her time in near-darkness, the only light coming from the gap between her curtains, dusty and drawn. But other than that, she was rarely ever aware of what time it was.

You see, she didn’t need to know what time, or what day, or what season it was. She had her memories.

“That’s an awful lot you’re buying.”

“I’m stocking up.”

With the sun this bright and the sky this cloudless, it was a little hard to believe that Ponyville’s open-air market only had a few weeks left before it closed down for the winter.

But there definitely was a crisp note with each breath in, and the ground felt noticeably under one's hooves, but it only felt like late Autumn if you let those things get to you.

In just a couple weeks, ponies would arrive to the town hall in hats and scarves, and promptly shed them as they browsed the stockpiled fruits and fresh kale, housed indoors. Which made Fluttershy’s response only slightly out of the ordinary. Who would need to stock up when the market was year-round?

She smoothed over the situation with a soft smile, and began dragging her purchases back towards her cottage. A unicorn offered to help her, but she pretended not to hear him. She’d be able to avoid an interaction guaranteed to be awkward that way.

She tried her hardest to ignore the stares of the ponies around her as she began to sweat from the sun and the physical exertion.

It was the last time she’d visit the market.

Fluttershy had been doing the same job for winter wrap up since she first came to Ponyville. Her very first year, her eyes sparkled as she was handed a brand new tan vest, even though the material was stiff and it was far too large for her.

She briefly found comfort in this memory as she spread her wings and glided over the snow, sparkling in the bright sun the weather pegasi had arranged to melt everything down. As she swooped down and landed, the bell she was holding in her mouth softly tinkled.

All winter, she’d tried to go outside as little as possible. If anyone had asked, not that they did, she would’ve said that the cold had been making her sick. Something like that, anyway.

Near the end of that unremarkable winter, a letter was shoved through the slot in her door.

She cautiously opened it and read the letter, taking her time on each word.

She wanted to say no. She wanted not to reply, actually. Just let them assume it had never been delivered.

She reread it, skimming through this time. Her eyes caught on we need you and helpless animals and the best in Ponyville.

But still, when she landed, in front of the rest of the team, she could see the surprise on their faces.

Maybe they knew they wouldn’t see her again.

Her only memories of the nights were a blurry darkness, repressed or just merely forgotten.

The nightmares had began shortly after Pinkie had left, and so, for a while, she’d pray to Luna not to make her live through it all again.

But still, every time she closed her eyes, she was greeted with invisible auras of magic pulling razors across her throat, her nose being plugged as vials of poison float towards her, her neck in a noose as her wings struggle to keep her from dropping the thirty feet below her.

Except sometimes, she’d already be dead. She’d feel the shovels of dirt hitting her chest hard as she struggled to scream out. But nopony would hear her and she’d hear them walk off as worms and other bugs slowly crawl towards her, and the days would pass until she’d look at her arms and see maggots weaving their way through the patchwork of flesh still left on her bones, her fur matted with dried blood.

That was the worst. So she stopped sleeping, terrified of what would greet her at the other end of her consciousness.

Besides, it was far too quiet to relax. Usually, as she drifted off, she was comforted by the sounds of her animals snoring, stirring, et cetera. But lately, as her eyes stayed firmly open, bloodshot and dilated, the only sounds she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears and her own breathing, reassuring her that she was still alive.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to sleep, whether or not the nightmares were there. She wasn’t entirely sure what was real.

But it was okay. She had her memories. And they could replace anything.

Author's Note:

Long time no see, eh? To be honest, I was inspired to finish this chapter by someone adding this story to a bookshelf of ones that were good but hadn't updated in forever.

I actually started this chapter back in August, but life and other things have gotten in the way. Also, Fluttershy is not an easy character for me to write in general. Anyway, hopefully I'll update slightly more frequently in the future.

611 views