Lost of thoughts

by CraftAids

Scorched

The fair had gone down the road to Horsetown. That road was on the side of town generally to his left. The sword rested in the cart. The cart squeaked and the wheels wobbled. The metal strap was wrapped around his barrel. He was headed for the lake.

He had just left the market. There hadn’t been any stands there today. He had asked a pony where they were and the pony had told him. “There’s only a market on saturdays.”

His only money source wasn’t available. He needed to get a new one.

He asked the pony where the fair was headed. He would be on his way to Horsetown already, but he had one more thing to pick up.

So, he walked through the village. He heard their chatter. He saw them playing and laughing. He smelled food. He saw businesses, like a club or a bakery. He felt the ground shake a little, kind of like a pulse. It was a bright day, like most of the others. He felt like jogging. He was still in town, so he settled for trotting just a bit faster. Some town crier was yelling. He didn’t listen. He just trotted on.

He reached the base of the first grassy hill. He looked back at the town. The streets were swiftly emptying. Ponies were running into houses. Blinds and doors were closing. It was still mid-day.

He left them alone with whatever they were doing and continued up a grassy hill. Once at the top, he could see the lake a few hills over and he walked until he reached the top of the hill overlooking the lake. He took a deep breath and stood up and unlatched the metal belt. It dropped and he noticed, only now, that the one strap connecting his saddlebags over his back was stuck to him like velcro.

He walked a few feet down the hill and stopped. He stood on the side of a grassy hill. He fell onto his back and looked up at the clouds.

They weren’t puffy, abstract blobs. He didn’t see stars and dragons or bunnies and flowers, but, somehow, they were nice to look at, anyway.

The clouds drifted slowly across the sky. He just watched.

Slowly, the world dimmed. He realized that that was unusual and looked around rapidly. In every direction, there were thin patches of drifting smoke-like dark. The smoke was rapidly getting thinner. It surrounded him and drew towards him. The grass around him was browned and darkened in wavy lines. The thin smoke thinned more. He could suddenly feel the ground again. The smoke disappeared.

He stood back up. Whatever had happened, it was time to go.

He returned to the top of the hill and re-latched his wagon. He returned to his soap, at the base of the hill, and took a bath.

He walked around the edge of town, looking for the road to Horsetown.

Soon, he stood on a gravel road, next to an orange dumpster. There was a forest, a town, and a road. It was hot. He had a cart, six bits, six stalks of lavender, a bag, a sword, and something resembling a plan.

He stepped forward.

Something in town was roaring a low, loud, long, rumbly roar. He looked toward it.

Over the houses, a column of purple fire rose from the middle of town and into the sky, fading as it approached a huge, six-pointed purple gem. Everything was blanketed in a flickering purple tint. The clouds closest to town were coated in purple flame. The column of flame fell and the star faded into nothing. The clouds remained, purple torches in the sky.

They just floated and burned.

He walked down the gravel road.