• Published 1st Nov 2018
  • 735 Views, 13 Comments

This Town Will Never Let You Go - RB_



Sometimes, leaving your home of twenty years isn't quite as simple as getting on a train.

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And Know That

They held the funeral in the barn. It’d seemed appropriate.

Apple Bloom stood off to the side and watched as ponies approached the casket to pay their respects. Big Macintosh had made the casket himself, from one of their trees in the west field. It was tradition.

Its lid remained firmly shut. They’d placed a picture of Granny Smith on top of it, from when she’d been much younger. Better than the withered thing that had occupied her bed, Apple Bloom supposed, but it still felt wrong, somehow, to mourn the image of a pony she barely even recognized.

But, well, anything was better than the alternative. The image of the body on the cow-catcher forced its way past her mind’s eye. She forced it back down again, along with the bile. She’d been getting good at that.

Big Macintosh stood to her right, Applejack to her left, close enough that Apple Bloom could feel the warmth off her body. Every so often, a group of ponies would break off to give them their condolences. Apple Bloom would nod her head and grunt along, but she’d stopped actually listening to their words after the third time or so. They’d all started to sound the same, anyway.

Now, standing here, Apple Bloom could feel some of the numbness of a few days ago returning. Eventually, after the line of mourners had thinned, Applejack nudged her in the ribs.

“C’mon,” she said, nodding towards the coffin. “Let’s get this done.”

Apple Bloom had never been to an earth pony funeral—not one she could remember, anyway—but she knew what came next. And they certainly weren’t going to bury Granny in the barn.

“Alright, everypony,” Applejack said, stepping forward. “Thanks for comin’ out today, all of you. Feels like we’ve got half the town in here. Granny would’ve liked that.”

A murmur of almost-laughter passed through the crowd.

Applejack swallowed. “We’re… We’re gonna be taking her out to the cemetery, now. Any of y’all who want to see her off, jus’ follow along behind.”

The crowd cleared a path for them through the middle of the barn. Wooden slats were slid underneath the coffin, and slowly, gently, Apple-Bloom and the other coffin-bearers slid under them. Together, they lifted the box into the air on their backs, her and her siblings and Caramel, who had volunteered to be their fourth.

“Alright,” said Big Mac, from the front. “Steady.”

Their first steps with the load were slow, uncomfortable, but the box remained in the air, and quickly they got the hang of it. Slowly and steadily they walked, ponies bowing their heads they passed.

The light nearly blinded her as they stepped out through the barn’s doors. That was wrong, too, she thought. It was supposed to rain at funerals, wasn’t it? Instead, the dry spell had continued, and the midsummer sun was just as strong as ever.

Onwards they marched. Apple Bloom could hear ponies falling into step behind them, but she couldn’t turn to look, not without fear of jogging the load on her shoulders. She was on the back left corner of the box; Applejack had taken the position in front of her, and she kept her eyes fixed on her elder sister’s braid. She felt the weight on her back shift, just slightly, so she adjusted her position to account for it.

They marched across the dirt yard, took the path that lead to the east orchard. The sun was high; her shadow and that of the box intermingled under her hooves.

The weight shifted again. Wood creaked. A foul, musty smell passed Apple Bloom’s nostrils.

“Are you okay?” Applejack whispered.

Apple Bloom swallowed.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.”


Thunk went the box as it hit the bottom of the grave. The ropes it had been lowered on slid easily out from under it, leaving it alone in the hole. From up here, looking down, it seemed so small.

The crowd, assembled behind them, didn’t make a sound.

Applejack stepped forwards. She pulled her hat off her head and held it against her chest.

“Granny Smith,” she said, “Was a tough old hoot.”

More almost-laughter.

“Now, I don’t rightly know how old she was,” Applejack continued. “Never thought to ask. Never needed to ask. She always said she was around for the town’s foundin’. Dunno if that’s true or not—I was always a mite suspicious of that story, myself—but if she was, then I think most of us were expectin’ her to still be kickin’ when it died, too. She was stubborn like that.”

She paused, took a breath.

“Well, now she’s gone—but the town’s still here. An’ I reckon it feels like a part of it’s gone, now, too.”

“But to me, an’ to my brother an’ my sister, she was more than just another piece of Ponyville’s history. Some of you might remember the last time we had a burial, out here in the east orchard. I certainly do.”

She gestured off to the side, to a pair of headstones so close together that they were almost touching.

“I was standin’ right there, with my brother, an’ little Apple Bloom in my hooves—an’ we were alone. All alone. More alone than we’d ever felt in our lives.”

“And Granny—” a tremble crept into her voice “—Granny took one look at us, an’ she wrapped her hooves around us, and she told us, ‘It’s gonna be hard, you three, an’ this time I can’t make it all better. But you just hold on to me, an’ we’ll be alright. We’ll be alright.’”

She sniffed, swallowed, but came up smiling.

“’Cause that’s just the kind of mare ol’ Granny was,” she said. “Strong an’ dependable, even as she got older. Like a rock in a river.”

“To some of us, she was family. To others, she was a friend. To some of you, she might have just been that crazy old mare who lived on the apple farm. But even still, I think every pony standin’ here understands just how much we’ve all lost.”

Nodding, in the crowd.

Applejack let out a long sigh. “So… I guess what I’ve been tryin’ to say this whole time is… Goodbye, Granny. We ain’t gonna forget you, an’ I don’t think anyone in this town could if they tried.”

She turned to the side, where Apple Bloom and her brother were standing.

“Apple Bloom? Big Mac? D’ either of you want to say a few words?”

Big Mac shook his head. Apple Bloom bit her lip.

“I… I have somethin’ I’d like to say, yeah.”

Applejack stepped back from the grave and gestured Apple Bloom forwards.

She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Let it out. Opened them.

“I… never really knew my parents,” Apple Bloom said. “I was too young when they… when they passed. Applejack told that story about what happened at their funeral, but the truth is, I don’t remember that either.”

She swallowed.

“What I do remember is Granny Smith. She looked after us after… after mom and dad passed, but she pretty much raised me. And… heh…” She half-smiled. “I can’t say I was the easiest kid to raise, neither.”

Some of the ponies in the crowd nodded at that, too.

“But she did,” Apple Bloom continued. “An’ I might be biased, but I think she did a good enough job of it. So… thanks, Granny. Thanks for lookin’ out for me. You have no idea how much I’m gonna miss you.”

The words weren’t enough—but they’d have to do. She glanced back at Applejack. Applejack nodded.

Saying nothing, betraying nothing, Apple Bloom picked up the shovel and threw the first of the dirt back into the grave.


“If you need anything—and I mean anything,” Mrs. Cake said, “just come calling.”

“We will,” Applejack said. “But don’t worry about us. We can take care of ourselves.”

While Applejack and Big Macintosh had stayed to deal with the well-wishers, Apple Bloom had excused herself. There was an old apple tree off to the side of the cemetery, the only one that hadn’t been cleared from the field years ago. It was too old to bear fruit, and had grown wide and gnarled, but it provided her shade and a view of the tombstones that littered the place. Every Ponyville Apple who had ever worked the orchards had a stone here. Granny’s was just the newest.

Here lies Granny Smith

Mother, grandmother, and caretaker of this land for three generations

May she rest in peace.

Apple Bloom let out a long breath through her nostrils. The light flickered and danced through the canopy overhead. The rough bark pressed into her back. She didn’t mind.

A set of hoofsteps approached her. They stopped to her right.

“Hey,” Sweetie Belle said.

“Hey.”

Silence for a few moments.

“You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Apple Bloom mumbled.

“Well, I’m melting,” Sweetie Belle said, wiping her brow. “I thought it was supposed to rain at funerals?”

Apple Bloom snorted. “Prissy pony.”

Sweetie smiled. “Now there’s the Apple Bloom I know.”