The Apple Of Her Dreams

by Plonq

Of Things Lost

The room was awash with the soothing, orange cast of a pre-sunrise dawn, but the warm light did nothing to tame the autumn chill that had seeped into it during the night. Applejack rolled over onto her back, pulling the covers up under her chin while she looked around at her surroundings. Something wasn’t right, but she could not put a hoof on it. The pony could hear the murmur of talk and clank of dishes filtering up from the kitchen, and realized that everypony else was already up in spite of the early hour. A whiff of baked pastry and apples from the kitchen triggered a sympathetic rumble in Applejack's stomach.

The smell of food overcame the pony's reluctance to brave the cold in her room, and she quickly pushed back the covers and rolled out of bed. The moment her hooves touched the floor, the same feeling of wrongness swept over her. The rough-hewn beams felt much too close, and the bed was taller than seemed right. Hunger was stronger than her misgivings though, and Applejack quickly cantered out the door into the hall. As she approached the stairs to the kitchen, the voices from downstairs became clearer, and the orange pony noticed there appeared to be more folks down there than normal.

"Do we have guests?" she thought as she clopped down the stairs toward the rich warmth and smell wafting up from below. It was curiosity that pulled Applejack down the hall to the kitchen door, but it was the shock of what she saw when she pushed it open that froze her as surely as a the gaze of a basilisk.

Granny Smith sat to one side of the kitchen, resting on her haunches atop a chair and rocking a crib with her left hoof. A tiny Apple Bloom lay in the bassinet, swaddled to the neck and lightly dozing with a forgotten pacifier hanging loosely from the corner of her drooling mouth. Gangly teenaged Big Mac sat at the table, giving his best effort to make short work of a hot apple fritter that had obviously just come from the stove.

It was the mare who was working the stove that stopped Applejack in her tracks. The pony was the colour of an orange creamsicle, with a curly carrot mane tied back by a green band. She turned at the sound of the door opening and beamed when her eyes fell on Applejack. "Well now, there's our little sleepyhead," she said. "You'd better get to the table quick before your brother eats all the fritters."

"Eyup," agreed Big Mac as he reached for another. The two syllable answer was about a hundred fewer than usual from the chatterbox of a pony sitting at the table, but the relish with which he shoved another fritter into his mouth explained his reticence.

Applejack felt her knees grow weak, and the two faltering steps she took into the kitchen required all of her effort. The filly struggled to speak over the lump that had moved up into her throat. "M ... Ma?"

The mare by the stove started, "Somepony's not awake yet, ah see." She grinned and patted her mane. "Is it the new hair band? Yer pa picked it up for me in town yesterday. He thinks green is ma colour."

"It is yer colour," said Bright Mac with a grin and wink at his wife. "As soon as ah saw it yesterday, my first thought was, 'this thing will really bring out her beautiful eyes.'"

"Stop makin' me blush," said Pear Butter as a rosy tinge swept across her cheeks. She shyly pushed back a strand of mane out of her eyes and smiled at her husband.

"Yuck," said Big Mac. The lanky teenager hunkered down in his chair and tried to tune out his amorous parents by doubling down on his fritter.

"Pa?" Applejack's voice squeaked when she spoke. She'd forgotten how she'd done that when she got emotional as a filly, and she remembered now how much she'd hated it at the time. Any irritation she felt over it, though, was overwhelmed by the other flood of emotions. "Pa!" wailed the little orange pony as she launched herself across the kitchen, scrabbling on the tiles as fast as her short legs allowed. Her tears flowed freely and unashamedly as she threw herself at the yellow stallion and wrapped herself around his right foreleg. "Oh Pa, I've missed you so much," she sobbed.

"There now, AJ," said the bigger pony. He patted the filly gently on the back with his other hoof. "Ah missed you too." He wore a slightly perplexed expression and exchanged a glance with Pear Butter, who returned his look with a bemused grin. "Did somepony have a long night?" He lifted up the clingy filly and plopped her on the kitchen chair at the end of the table.

"N - no," said Applejack, wiping a tear from her eye with a little hoof. "You and Ma - y'all have been gone for years!"

"You're a mite confused little J," said Bright Mac with a chuckle, using a nickname that Applejack hadn't heard in many years. He gave the little orange pony's mane a gentle tussle with his hoof. "We ain't left here yet. We ain't goin' for a bit." The larger pony reached over the filly's head and snagged a fresh fritter from the pile on the table. "Ah think what somepony needs is some of her ma's delicious vittles."

Applejack opened her mouth to protest, but the only sound she managed was "umph" as the big pony jammed a fritter into her maw. She sniffled back more tears, but the fritter was every bit as delicious as she remembered, and it did make her feel a little better. The filly held the fritter up with two hooves and slowly nibbled on it while she drank in the kitchen with her eyes.

Granny Smith's mouth was twisted into a frown of disapproval while she rocked the crib and looked back and forth between her daughter-in-law and her son. "Still ain't sure why y'all are wastin' yer time going' all the way up to Appleloosa."

"We're headin' up to the apple auction, Ma," replied Bright Mac. "We've been through this already; we're takin' some cider with us. There ain't no harm in explorin' a new market, is there?"

Granny Smith's frown deepened and she shook her head. "We're already at full capacity for cider," she said sourly. "There ain't any point in goin' after new markets when we can barely keep up with the one we've already got. We can only press so many apples - at least until Applejack is old enough to start pressin' them too."

Applejack sat motionless in her chair, still holding the fritter in her mouth and occasionally chewing when she remembered to do so. Her gaze wandered back and forth between Granny Smith and her dad as the conversation played out. She could not put her hoof on it, but the whole scene had an eerie feeling of familiarity to it. She noticed that Pear Butter had stopped fussing over the stove and was also watching the exchange.

The two parent ponies exchanged a knowing glance, and Pear Butter took a step away from the stove. "One of the sellers up there is gonna be showing off an automatic apple press, Granny Smith..." she said tentatively.

"Ah knew it!" thundered the elder pony triumphantly, but before she could continue, Apple Bloom woke from the shout and began to fuss. "There, there. Shush, now, it's all right sweetie," said Granny Smith as she urgently rocked the basinet until the foal settled down again and gave a soft snore.

"Ah knew it," said Granny Smith in a hoarse, stage whisper. "Y'all know my feelings on them infernal contraptions. That ain't the way we Apples make our cider." She started to make a spitting motion, but cast an aside glance at the sleeping foal and aborted the move.

"We wouldn't be changin' our family recipe," said Bright Mac quickly. "But we could make more cider if we could squeeze the apples a bit faster is all."

Granny Smith was not the least bit placated by his words. "Them things is dangerous," she said darkly. "I saw one take a pony's leg clean off when I was a filly."

"The machines have changed..." began Pear Butter, but her husband covertly waggled a hoof at her and jumped in quickly.

"We're just lookin', Ma," he said in a soothing tone. "There ain't no harm in that. You know we wouldn't buy something like this without yer say-so."

"Well, you kids look all ye want," she replied, "but y'all know mah feelins' on them things."

Applejack finally swallowed the mouthful of fritter she'd been working on and spoke up. "Pa," she said, "If y'all ain't buyin' nothin', then why do y'all have to go up there?"

Bright Mac laughed, and jostled the filly's cheeks gently with his hooves. "Ah swear, AJ, you sure do sound like yer Granny some days." He gave the little orange pony a reassuring smile. "Ponies from all over Equestria come to the big apple auction up in Appleloosa, and there are some of them that have probably never tried our cider." He ruffled her mane again. "Someday you'll be old enough to start pressin' apples, and we'll need a hoof in a bigger market."

Applejack took another reluctant bite of the fritter and let her expression broadcast the disapproval she felt.

"Aw, little darlin'," he said with a placating half-grin. "We'll only be gone a couple of days." Bright Mac removed his hat and gently placed it on the filly's head. It hung up briefly on her mane before it slid right down over her much smaller skull, encasing her entire noggin along with both her hooves and the fritter she was holding. "You get to be the hat of the house while we're gone."

"Hey, what about me," said Big Mac petulantly.

"You'll be too busy bein' the man of the house," said Pear Butter soothingly. "Somepony's got to make sure AJ gets to school and back home again." She walked up behind Big Mac and deposited a final platter of fresh fritters on the table. As the teenager reached for them, his mother kissed him on the cheek.

Bright Mac laughed as the colt frowned and frantically rubbed the offended cheek. "You just wait, boy," he chuckled. "It won't be too long and you'll be reactin' pretty different to the kiss of a pretty gal." He walked around the table to his son's side and held up a high-hoof which his son returned with a solid "clop". The bigger pony grinned, and then his expression turned more serious and he gave his son a light hoof-punch on the shoulder. "Yer ma is right, though. A hat's just a hat; we'll be countin' on you when we're gone. Take care of both yer sisters, and help Granny Smith keep the farm runnin'."

Applejack was holding up the aforementioned hat with both front hooves under its brim while she watched the exchange across the table. Big Mac glanced her way and stuck out his tongue at his little sister when he caught her gaze.

"All right, Pa," said Big Mac, who appeared to be feeling somewhat mollified by his father's pep talk. "When are y'all comin' back?"

"Well," said Pear Butter, who was shrugging into her travel tack, "the wagon's all loaded, so if we get on the road right away, the plan is to be back in four days."

"I'll be hoppin' mad if you come home with one of them infernal contraptions in your cart," said Granny Smith in a tone that left no doubt about the potentially dire consequences.

Bright Mac laughed. "Ma, I promise you won't see us comin' back up the drive with any surprises in the cart." He looped around the table to Applejack while Pear Butter came around to her other side. Both parents lifted the hat and kissed her simultaneously on each cheek before dropping the lid back in place. "Same thing applies to you as yer brother, sweetie," said the stallion. "You do whatever Granny Smith tells ya."

"Darned tootin'," agreed the old mare.

"Pa," said Applejack, "I love you, Pa. You too, Ma."

"Aw shucks, AJ, we both know that," said Bright Mac, but both of her parents beamed anyway. The stallion turned and bowed to his wife. "And now, my dear, the road calls to us." He clopped over to the front door and tossed it wide, stopping just inside the sill to fling his travel pack over his shoulder. As he stepped out into the early dawn, Applejack felt a knot form in her stomach.

"Pa, wait," she called. "Ya forgot to say, 'Chill me a cider 'cuz I'll be back in five bushels of bucks.'"

Pear Butter paused at the threshold of the doorway and looked back at the filly. Her expression wavered and then turned sad. "Oh Applejack," she said softly with a sad smile. "Ya know we won't be back." Before the filly could respond, her mother stepped out the door and kicked it shut behind herself.

"Wait!" Applejack jumped down from her seat and galloped blindly toward the door as quickly as her short legs could bear her without tripping over the enormous hat. She stood on her hind legs and fumbled with the handle, tugging it once and flinging the door wide. The orange mare stepped out into the front walk to find it empty. Behind her, she felt the kitchen grow empty and cold. Applejack tugged the brim on both sides of her hat down hard and hiccoughed once. "...not again," she whimpered. No tears escaped the mare - she had cried herself out of them years before - but she slowly removed the hat and clutched it to her chest with one hoof. "Not again."

The orange pony slapped the hat back on her head before slowly drawing and releasing a long, shuddering breath. When she had her composure back, she shook a hoof at the sky.

"This ain't fair, and it ain't right!" she yelled. "Princess, this wasn't the least bit funny!"

No answer came, save the rustle of a breeze through the groves surrounding the house. Applejack stamped a hoof angrily and yelled. "LUNA!"

This time there was a response. The sunrise rippled, and a jagged dark line split the world from horizon to zenith. The scene before Applejack distorted and tore as if reality itself was coming apart like a curtain, and when the mare squinted she could see the twinkling of small lights in the darkness. The flickers were momentarily occluded by a deeper darkness before the princess of the night stepped daintily through the rift and into the wan glow of dawn. Although the breeze had stopped at the same moment as the dark tear appeared, her black mane and tail tossed and weaved under their own power, merging into the blackness behind her.

"I came when I heard your call, Applejack. What troubles you?"

"This dream troubles me a lot," replied the other mare angrily. "That was downright dirty, princess."

A frown teased Luna's face, and her eyes glowed briefly. "Oh dear," she said as the glow faded again. "I am sorry, Applejack, but that dream was not of my making."

"What?" demanded the flabbergasted pony, "are ya sayin' that was a product of my own mind?"

Luna nodded. "I fear so. I was called away for something important, so I returned control of your dreams to you. If I had been paying attention, I could have intervened earlier." The princess regarded the orange mare for a moment and then continued. "Your dream did not present itself to me as a nightmare."

Applejack thought about that in silence for several long moments. "Well, it wasn't really a nightmare, ah guess..." she said slowly, "but it ain't a dream ah'd care to repeat either."

The princess's gaze turned distant as if she was considering a plan. "Come with me," she said. "The urgent matter is still ongoing, and I cannot promise that I will be able to intervene if this dream continues, or another like it begins." The dark mare turned and took a step back toward the darkness.

"Follow you in ... there?" said Applejack hesitantly as she eyed the black portal dubiously.

"If you follow me," said Luna, looking back at the other pony with a mischievous grin, "then in there is where we will be going."

Applejack swallowed down another lump that had formed in her throat. The mare took a last look around her at the familiar setting of her dreamscape, and then after a first hesitant step, she followed the tall princess into the darkness.

Author's Note:

As wise Pumbaa once said, "You got to put your behind in your past."

Leaving your behind in the past is a good way to let the past give it a good kick.

Comments

[Ri2]

As wise Pumbaa once said, "You got to put your behind in your past."

Leaving your behind in the past is a good way to let the past give it a good kick.

Which is when you pass gas in the past's face and it runs off screaming.

[Plonq]

10038578

Ah, so you're saying that one must move on forward to pass past the past's passed ass-gas.

Or, in the more colloquial terms of the Apple family, "Ya smelt it, ya dealt it."