The Alley Outside of 7/11: An Anthology

by The Red Parade

Static

“Check it out!” Sweetie Belle declared, dragging a cardboard box to the ground with a thud.

Apple Bloom tilted her head to the side. “What on earth is that?”

“I don’t know,” Sweetie Said, popping the sides open. “But Rarity says it’s some sort of radio!”

“A radio, huh?” Scootaloo asked, peeking into the side. “Wow. That thing looks pretty old!”

“Yeah, I think she said it was a… corn radio? Something like that. I wonder if it still works?” Sweetie blew some dust off of the microphone, setting it on the table.

Apple Bloom fiddled with the dials, turning them around absently. “I doubt it. This thing’s ancient.”

Scootaloo floated over to Sweetie’s left. “Yeah, that’s older than Miss Cherilee is, probably.”

“She ain’t that old.”

Sweetie reached over and flicked a switch. The three fillies flinched as a thick, crackling static filled the air.

“That’s loud,” Sweetie whined. “Turn it down!”

Scootaloo began turning some dials on the radio, trying to find the one for volume.

“Hello?”

The three froze as a voice came from within.

“Did… did you hear that?” Apple Bloom whispered.

“Hello? Is… is anyone out there?”

Scootaloo reacted first. “Someone’s talking! How do we talk back to them?”

“Please…. Is anyone out there?”

Sweetie grabbed the microphone and held it up to her face. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Who… who are you?” the voice whimpered.

“I… My name is Sweetie Belle! Who are you?” she asked.

“I… I need help,” the voice said, their tone dropping to a whisper. “Please. It’s so cold…”

Scootaloo glanced at Sweetie nervously. “It sounds like they’re in trouble. Should we… should we tell somebody?”

“We can help you, where are you?” Sweetie asked, her heart pounding in her chest

“I… I don’t know. My parents said… they said they’d be back, but they never came… it’s so cold. It’s so cold…” The voice was drowned out by another burst of static.

“I’m gonna go find Rarity,” Apple Bloom said, galloping out of the room.

Scootaloo practically threw herself at the radio, spinning the dials rapidly. “We’re losing them!”

“Please, wait!” Sweetie cried. “Where are you? We can’t help you if we don’t know where you are!”

“...I’m so cold, I’m so cold, I’m so cold,” the voice repeated, growing lower and lower as static weaved in and out of the speaker.

Suddenly there was a high pitch whine, forcing Scootaloo and Sweetie to cover their ears and cower below the table. And in a second it was over.

“Oh! You found my radio,” Rarity said as she trotted into the room. “I say, I haven’t touched that old thing in years!”

Sweetie and Scootaloo scrambled to their hooves. “Sis, someone needs--”

“--there was this voice that started talking--”

“What happened y’all? Did you break it?”

Rarity ignored their panicked cries and picked up the radio in her magic, turning it over and inspecting it with a chuckle. “Oh, nonsense. I’m afraid this machine hasn’t been functional for a few years now.” She popped open the back panel to reveal that insides of the machine were indeed broken and fried, with a few wires missing and the paint chipped and worn.

The three fillies gaped at the broken radio in a stunned silence.

“I remember I used to talk with a delightful pony over the winters, when we were both foals,” Rarity said as she set the radio back down. “He would go out with his parents to a cabin in the woods. What was it he said the last time we spoke? Oh, yes. His parents went off to find firewood, leaving him alone for a few minutes. He was so excited!” Her nostalgic smile faded to a thoughtful frown. “I do wonder how he’s doing now…”

As she stood, lost in thought, a broken whisper trailed out of the radio. “I’m so cold. I’m so cold. I’m so cold…”