Third First Steps
Chapter 2
Third First Steps
It was cold.
The air was frigid. The cool winds, gentle as they were, might as well have been razors slicing through her dress. The graveyard itself was… not warmer. No, it would be more accurate to say that it was a little less cold. But at least Old Flint’s company beside her (and his scarf around her neck) was warm. His voice, though rough, was soothing. Comfortable. An audible presence to focus on. A reminder that, at that moment, she wasn’t alone. That she left.
All he did was sit down beside her and talk. But he helped her think.
As her situation stood, Sunset was content to bask in the older man’s atmosphere, the eye of the cruel, chaotic storm, while she accepted that her heart had feebly quivered less than three times in the past fifteen minutes since she had laid her hand upon it.
‘My name is Sunset Shimmer, and I am dead.’ She lightly smacked the grass. She was actually dead. Deceased. A corpse. Or… maybe she was not dead. Dead hearts don’t beat, right?
The lump of meat beneath her hand gave a single, pathetic twitch. Such a feeble shudder would barely displace air, let alone blood.
‘…Well, I can still breathe.' Yes. Right. Dead people don’t breathe, and Sunset was breathing one-hundred percent more often than a corpse does. Perhaps there was hope yet.
“…But you’re probably tired of me talking, anyway.”
Sunset opened her mouth to speak, but realized that for the twenty minutes that Old Flint had been talking, she had forgotten to breathe. ‘…Crud.’ She inhaled. “Nnno, not at alll,” she slurred, “I l… like your v-voice. Please. Keep t... talking.” An awkward pause ensued. “Please.”
“Ah jeez, you kids just say anything these days. That’s good though, being able to speak your mind like that. My grandson’s like that, too. Heck, I remember this one time at his sixteenth birthday…”
Okay, she was dead. What point was there in denying it? She died. 'My name is Sunset Shimmer and I am dead. The only differences between me and a normal corpse is that I move and I’m not in a box.’ Sunset blinked. Possibly for the first time, she idly noted. Neat. ‘So... how did I get out of that box?' Indeed, to her knowledge, this whole situation is pretty impossible, beyond just being an animated corpse. Sunset felt the frosty blades of grass rise between her fingers. The ground looked pristine, if littered—no, that would be rude—cluttered with tributes and mementos. The only way she could have left is if she teleported—.
Sunset’s thoughts froze for a brief moment as she was barraged with information. Formulae, quantum mechanics, energy projections and thaumic algorithms; all manner of information flooded her mind, before settling itself into what her mind could only tell her was its rightful place. Yet, somehow, it felt as though so many things were hopelessly missing—gone with no trace, like a large puzzle piece with its edges cut off, resting alone on an empty table. To an extent, it made sense, but…
‘Yeah, it really is impossible. There’s no way I could cast anything without a focus. The damage would be catastrophic...’ She touched her forehead, around where she figured the magical buildup would occur.
“What’s wrong? Headaches again?”
Ah. “Nno. Just checking if m-mmy face is s-still here.”
At that, he chuckled heartily. “Yeah, but it’s really just the breeze that's doin' it today. Otherwise, it'd be perfect. Either way," He grunted as he got to his feet, "you need to get warmed up.” She sluggishly bobbed her head in wholehearted agreement. “Need help getting home?”
Home? Home. Home... a place with emotional significance. A place where you can rest. A place you can feel safe. Most people have them. ‘But I...' “I s… s-should be fine...”
“Alright. You’re not thinking of driving, are you? Don’t know when, how much, or what in the heck you drank or whatever, but you’re clearly not passed it.”
Drinking? Drinking what? Oh. That. “No… don’t have my bi...” A pause. “...bike,” she finished quietly, registering her words as she finished saying them.
“Good. Need help getting up?”
“Nno.” She shuffled her body, trying to get her legs under her, tilting dangerously in many directions in the process. Finally, she found herself kneeling on the frosted ground. ‘Okay, stand. Four—no, two legs on the ground, body upright. C’mon…’ She stuck one leg out.
She fell.
“Uh, are you sure you don’t—?”
“No.” She oriented herself once more. Another painful to watch minute later found Sunset squatting on the ground. ‘C’mon, balance, darn it!’ She pushed herself upwards with her legs. Propelled herself, more accurately. Once she found herself in a straight legged standing position, though a hair too airborne, she felt her balance leave her. Soon, she found herself embracing the earth with her face.
Old Flint didn’t know what to make of this.
“…”
“…Yesh,” she sighed and sagged into the grass.
“Okay.”
While embarrassing, the help was necessary, it seemed. While really embarrassing, the same applied for walking. Her very first step was a stumble, and her second was technically a step, but in the wrong direction. With careful thought and a shoulder to lean on, her next attempt was a great success. Not that it felt like it, as her walk was more of a drunken stagger. After only minor setbacks, they were walking upon the stone path of the cemetery.
“Welp, I guess you’re not walking home either,” Old Flint sighed. “You got anyone you can call to give you a ride?”
Now that she thought about it, she didn’t know anyone. Actually, she didn't know anyone. Sure, those girls in the photograph felt familiar, but all she had about them was that feeling: familiarity. Inhale. “Nnope.”
“No one at all?”
“Yesh. No, that is.”
“Lan’ sakes, girl… You need to be more careful; you’ll catch your death at this rate!”
“D-done did. Heh.” Again she stumbled, but Old Flint kept her from falling.
“Oh, now she jokes… How did you get here then?”
“I dunno…” she answered honestly, earnestly. “F-figure I died.”
“Ugh, stop that! Can’t ya see I’m tryin’ ta be stern an’ angry, here?”
‘Jeez, how the heck does this guy walk and breathe and talk at the same time? It takes all of my focus just to do two of those things.’ She quietly observed as the man grumbled under his breath and began rooting around in his pocket with his off hand. Sunset didn’t mind the slight decrease in support this caused, as she was preoccupied with her own shock at his godlike mastery over his own body. A few seconds later, he withdrew his hand, revealing a thin metal pane. ‘But what is that?’ He touched the face of if it and it lit up with pictures, numbers, and other symbols. Not unlike some kind of magical—oh, it’s a smartphone. Neat.
He noticed her staring at his phone strangely. He raised a brow at this behavior, before his expression took a turn towards the unamused. “What were you expecting, a pager?”
‘What—? Oh.’ Had she had air in her lungs at that moment, she would have been snickering. Hopefully, her shakes and smirk conveyed that well enough. “Mnah. I w-was thinking carrier pigeon. Or dragonffire. Ha. Heh.”
“Oh har, har. Cheeky little…” After tapping a couple more virtual buttons, he held the phone to his ear. “…Hello? Yes… No, an hour. Yup… Canter City Gardens. Yeah, that’s the one… Thanks. Bye.” He deftly slipped his phone back into his pocket. “There, that’s that.”
“W... waht’s that?”
“Well, we’ve got about an hour to get you warm and somewhat sober before your taxi gets here.”
“’Tack-shi?' What—?” That's a service that needs money. “Oh. Uh. Cancel? Pleashe?”
“What, why?”
“I. Uh. Don’t have m… money.”
The elder breathed an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, I figured. That’s why I’m paying for it.”
In her shock, Sunset had forgotten what breathing was and the finer details behind the function of walking, As such, Old Flint was caught off guard when the girl he was supporting suddenly became dead weight, even more so than before. Looking down at the girl revealed her staring wide-eyed up at him—something that was unnerving for a reason he couldn’t quite place—and opening and closing her mouth like a landed fish. Eventually, she breathed deeply.
“W-what? No... Don’t—.”
“Don’t even start,” the man grunted. “I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I left you to fend for yourself when you can barely even walk.”
“But... s-still...”
He sighed. “C’mon, don’t make such a big deal out of this. It’s not even that expensive. Ah, see that up there?” he quickly changed the subject, pointing at the stone block shelter. It didn’t look too different from the dreary, monolithic tombs in the field, save for the lack of name and the 'Authorized Personnel Only' sign. “That’s the shed. We touched it up a bit to be our little oasis in the summer, heater in the winter, and refuge any other time of the year. It’s still just a shed—ain't got no running water, but... it’s something.”
“I... b... but...” Eventually, defeat robbed Sunset of the will to keep her head upright. “Y-yeah... it’s... nice.” Old Flint chuckled at his apparent victory.
With one hand, he pulled open the deceptively light door, before quickly pulling himself and his charge inside. Organized by function, a number of tools lined the walls, with a couple of machines and a steel box tucked into a corner. A soft looking rug was laid out in the center of the “shed,” and upon it stood a table and three chairs. Flint eased the girl into a seat, earning a satisfyingly relieved sigh.
“I’ve been talking about myself this whole time, and I never asked before,” the old man said as he passed the girl a thick, warm blanket. The woolen, green cloth was worn and suffered an occasional stain, but it wrapped comfortably around her shoulders. He began arranging various items on the table before him: a spoon, a napkin, a disposable cup steaming with liquid from a nearby thermos. “So, little miss, what’s your name?”
Pause, a sharp breath. “Uh…” Uh oh. Fortunately, there was only one wrong answer to this question.
“M-my nname's Sun—“ ’Nonononono—!’ “—nnuh… nny… Sunny. Sunny Song. Y-yeah…”
Mentally, she tore into herself with embarrassed fury. Honestly, what was she thinking? Dead people don’t come back, fool! She pulled the blanket tightly around her before sinking bonelessly into the chair. Honestly, the one thing that you shouldn’t say. You can’t let people know that you're dead—!
Wait. Wait a minute. And the minute passed with Sunset completely missing Old Flint’s response and allowing an awkward silence to settle. The only sound in the shed came from the older man as he sipped from his thermos.
‘Why?' Her brow furrowed in thought. 'Why shouldn’t I tell people that I’m dead?’ Sunset seriously pondered. ‘What would happen? Perhaps not something good, but perhaps not something bad, no? Just because things don’t happen, that doesn’t mean that it’s wrong when it does…’
Inhale.
“…Old Flint?”
A startled cough. “Yes, Miss Song?”
Wrong. Distracted immediately. “Sunny is fine.” It feels better that way. Familiar.
After a moment, the old man smiled warmly, “You got it, Sunny.”
She smiled back, before letting her eyes roll aimlessly around the room, simply being for a minute more. ‘It feels much better in here.’ And she was starting to sound less like sentient gravel. So that's nice.
Inhale. “Old Flint?”
“Yes, Sunny?” There was laughter in his eyes.
“Do you…. ever get s-scared…” Inhale. “…that a dead person would… uh… w-wake up?”
“Wake up? What, you mean like a zombie or something?”
“Zom—?" Zombie: a corpse reanimated. They might eat brains? But probably not. "Uh. Yeah.”
“… Keep a secret?”
She leaned in too far, her torso laying upon the table, strands of hair falling into her murky cup. She nodded eagerly.
“Every day.” He shivered intensely. “Everytime I go to sleep, I fear that, one day, while doing my rounds, one of them is going to pop out of the ground, graaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” he suddenly roared in an extra gurgle-ly and phlegmy impression of a something, clawing at the air madly. “And it’ll steal my shovel and say, ‘Now let’s see how you like it!’ and it’ll throw me in a hole and I’ll say ‘Noooooooo!’” he cried in a dramatically pathetic voice. “And then he’d bury me.”
Since part-way through the sudden outburst, Sunny’s body was shaking with unheard but obvious laughter. Eventually she breathed in. “…Burrry you?”
“Yup.” Flint sat back down.
“You—Haha heh hm…” Inhale. “You’re a-afraid a z-zombie would… steal your job?”
“Mhm and I’d be his first customer.” Flint sipped his drink.
“Ahaha—hm heheh. Hm." In. "Old F-flint?"
"Sunny?"
"K-keep a ssecret?"
"Sure."
Sharp inhale. "I’mm a zommbie.”
“Really?”
“M-Mhmm.”
“Well then, you’re the prettiest, cutest, and nicest zombie I have ever seen. However, I must be leaving and I must take all of my tools with me and you may help yourself to my coffee good day, madam.”
“Ha! Haha! Ha. Aha. N-neverrmind. I’m not a z-zombie.”
“Really?”
“M-heh heh. Mhm. Hm.”
“Ah, that’s good. I’ll take back some of my coffee then.” He reclined in his chair. "Though I'm curious, why did you ask?"
Sunset shrugged, not really knowing how to respond. She thought to make something up before she caught sight on the true problem that had been bothering her, focusing in on it, grasping it through the haze. Her face fell suddenly. Inhale.
"...Old Flint?" Sunset whispered lowly, barely audible in the tiny room.
The man's smile faded. "Yes, Sunny?"
Sunset opened her mouth, shaping words, but then stopped. She fidgeted, adjusting the blanket on her shoulders, carefully picking up the untouched cup before easing it back down. Finally, she inhaled deeply.
"What if..." How to word this? "If I were... I just wanted, uh." Inhale. Steady. "Is being dead... bad?"
His brows pressed together, his mouth tightened into a stern frown. The soft thud of the thermos being set upon the table echoed in her ears, and she wanted to take it back. She wanted to go back to laughing and cheering, and smiling, and being confused but happy. She wanted him to be happy but now he's not and he's going to leave her alone and it's all her fault, 'all my fault—!'
"That's..." he stroked his hair, "...a complicated question. To me, being dead isn't good." She closed her eyes. "Yet, at the same time, it's not bad either—not really. It just... is. Being dead is just another part of being alive, really. Okay, well, not really but... hm..."
Sunset opened her eyes and searched his face. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back and arms crossed in quiet contemplation. He was taking her question seriously. It was nice.
"Well, life isn't good or bad either, really," he attempted to continue. "It has its high points and its low points. There are times when nothing is happening and when too much is happening. But that's what makes us better, I think. And death—well, not dying, but knowing you'll die eventually—is one of those things that makes us better."
Inhale. "B-buut..." But what if you're already dead? If knowing you'll die makes you betting in life, what about after? What is left to do if I have nothing left? 'What do I do?!'
"Ugh, my wife was always better at this..." he groaned in frustration. “Okay, well, how about this: the world consists of individuals, like you and me. Right here, right now, the shed is our world. Because we're in it, you see. Follow?" She nodded. "Good. Okay, so we're here. I don't know about you, but I think this world looks pretty good with you in it. You like having me in your world?" She nodded. "Oh that's good, because I was starting to sound like a creep. Okay, so with you here and with me here, our world is pretty good.
"And that right there is it, really. Dead, alive—both could be alright or both could kick rocks in the future. But what's important is that we cherish each other now. Do you cherish my company? Be honest."
She nodded.
He scoffed overly hard, insulted to the highest degree. "C'mon, kid, I said to be honest. Do you really?"
She smiled. "Yes!" she croaked.
"There! Well I cherish you, too. Our world is better because we're both in it. Take away either one of us and it'll suck, but we're here right now. Us being here and able to laugh and talk with each other is our gift to each other. You are a gift to the world, Sunny. You're a gift to everyone's world. And I'll gladly offer myself as a gift to yours, whenever you need it. So in the spirit of fair trade, please don't ever think to take your gift away. Okay?"
But Sunset was distracted. 'It doesn't matter if you're dead or alive'? What a novel concept! But it makes sense. People don't walk and talk and laugh when they're dead, but that doesn't apply to her. No, she is an exception to the rule. Most people are alive, but she can still enjoy their company—and theoretically, vice versa.
Dead or alive, ha! Such a trivial thing didn't even matter to her in the end—okay wrong selection of words, but still! The worst part about being dead is leaving the world behind. If she was still here, doing what living do... She was dead, but living. She was dead, but different.
Yes, that's it. She's different.
"Sunny? Please, answer me."
Oh right, he wanted a response.
In. "Okay," she nods.
"Really?"
"Mmhm," Sunny affirms with a smile.
"Sunny, I'm serious. Don't go dying on me."
"Ha. ha." In. "Can't die t-twice."
"What the heck does that even mean, kid."
"I'mm a zombie."
Old Flint stared. He simply stared into her unblinking eyes, shoving off the feeling of discomfort they instilled. Eventually, his eyes softened as his smile grew to match her grin. He broke eye contact with relief (for more than one reason).
"You said you weren't a zombie!"
Inhale! "I lied!"
"You're terrible..." He chuckled, before going quiet. "Hey, Sunny?"
"Yesh, Flint?"
"You're really gonna stick around this world right? Leaving early doesn't do anybody any favors." A beat passed, before a look of realization crossed his face. "Oh hell—uh heck, um—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I know that your—."
"Don't worrry." Sunny met his eyes with confidence. "Y-you're shtuck with me."
"...heh, thanks for the warning," he smiled and drank deeply of his drink.
The girl haltingly hummed in amusement and acknowledgement. As she sipped the deliciously bitter brew in her flimsy cup, she decided that maybe, with some humor and an open mind, this whole living dead thing wouldn't be too bad. But still, she didn't even know where to start... Probably somewhere around Sunset Shimmer.
'My name is Sunset Shimmer, and I was dead.
'Now, I'm just different.'
Thank you for your kind words and patience. Know that, while I may not respond, I do read the messages that you leave me.
This image came to me, so I drew this during my breaks this week. I thought I would share it with you. 
Stats
Page generated in 0.019 seconds
Total duration
899 users online
1,280,402 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Really no idea what the heck is going?!
Another wonderful and enticing chapter. This story is so amazingly unique and I can't wait to see where it goes next!
Ok... So something "killed" her, maybe for real, maybe just a nasty coma that her magiced up body fooled the hospital into thinking she was dead.
However their was no autopsy, or she would be in much worse shape, nor was she embalmed. And whomever payed for her funeral and headstone didn't send her body home.
So, either she is a self powering undead, using her own magic and will, she is not really dead after all, but was in the ground for a bit as she has a headstone, or she had her apotheosis while dead and buried.
Or, and this is my favorite, this is Human Sunset, and she was dead, but something Pony Sunset did, or had happen to her, caused this. Would explain why things seem to be missing.
I like it make more piz
Wtf
Man, I really can't wait to find out what happened. I also wonder if Sunset will get her memories back.
You have sinned
This....
This is really good.
You've got a gift. And I really look forward to seeing more of it
I really like Old Flint. I hope that he stays Sunset's friend :)
gorlog's beard* that art is so good its better than anything i could ever do right now in this stage of my life because a) i dont have the skill b) i'm trash at anatomy and finally c) i'm trash at perspective though i'm getting better at everything listed above and-
*gasp*
I'm done.
I like drunk-on-revival Sunset. I think she's cuter than drunk-on-sleep-(or lack thereof) Sunset.
*I swore by a fictional deity so as not to offend anyone. Also, this is a reference! If you guess correctly where it's from, you get an emoticon of your choice. :)
Shouldn't be surprised he didn't believe her, and yet... that stung. :/ Still, Flint's a good guy, looking out for the zombie who wants to steal his job by getting her a taxi ride and some coffee. And good company, too.
So much of what Flint says here, in between the zombie jokes and his kindness, is immensely quotable. For such a humble man, he has some wise words to share. My favorite is probably:
People like Flint are a gift. People like Sunset too. I hope she finds a way to realize that, somehow, even in the state she's in now.
Also, I didn't know you were an artist! Great drawing in the Author's Note. You really captured the weariness and confusion on her face.
Old Flint: "Sheesh, kids these days with their weird drugs. Glad she's okay, though."
Loving this so far! Sunset's zombie diction is really good, what with the breathless laugh and occasional gasps and groans when she forgets to breathe or runs out of air, but not distracting at all.
Now let's see where this thing is going to go!