white and blue
The room is white.
The oceans outside are blue.
He can hear the waves crashing outside against the rocks. Even if he can’t see them.
He can almost imagine the cool morning breeze as he spreads his wings, standing on a rock over the waters.
The room is white.
He knows this because he’s been here before. It’s a small little room in the corner of the hospital. There’s probably a bouquet of flowers in a vase next to him. He doesn’t know for sure, but he can make a guess.
The oceans outside are blue.
He knows this because he’s swam in them before. The ocean can calm him in a way that almost nothing else can. He can’t explain it. Nopony’s ever asked him to anyways. He can hear the waves crashing on the rocks.
Hey. You awake?
Her voice is soft, but he knows it’s her.
Yeah.
She shuffles on her hooves. How are you feeling?
Okay. He shifts in his bedsheets, grasping for the blankets and pulling them up higher to his chin. I still can’t see.
Oh. The doctors say it’ll get better, you know.
He smiles. I know.
She walks closer. He knows because he can hear her hoofsteps on the floor. The others miss you. We all signed a card. I know you can’t see it, but it’s got your name on it. And it’s got a lot of blue and white. And your cutie mark.
She pulls a chair up to the side of the bed. He knows because he can hear it dragging across the floor. She doesn’t say anything for awhile. Are the doctors treating you okay?
Yeah, he answers. It’s fine. The food isn’t that great, but it’s better than nothing.
The room is white.
The ocean outside is blue.
He knows this because he loves it here. When he retires, he wants to buy a nice house on the oceanfront, where he can go for long walks on the beach every morning and see the ponies walking their dogs, and see the boats in the distance, and see the kites that foals fly in the sky.
You’re going to get better, she says. Trust me. The doctors said that the surgery is working. It was a long shot, but the odds are in your favor.
He nods. Or, he thinks he does. He can’t really tell. All he sees is white and blue.
I know. How are the others?
They’re doing okay. It’s a lot to take in, you know? You scared us good back there. It took Fleetfoot three days to stop crying.
He laughs. It’s hoarse and scratchy, but it’s real. It's truthful, as much as the room is white and the ocean blue. I miss them.
They’ll try and visit. He hears her shift slightly in the chair. We’re all getting an award. From the Princesses. For saving Cloudsdale.
Who would have thought that a Weather Factory accident was capable of doing so much damage?
I don’t know.
Is anyone else hurt?
She doesn’t answer for a little bit. Yeah. Misty Fly’s gone deaf in one ear. I don’t know if she can stay on the team. I have to talk to her about it later.
Oh.
The room is white. The ocean outside is blue. He wants to believe this. He wants to believe this so desperately, because if he believes it, he just might believe that it’s true.
Hey, you’re going to get better, she says. This is just temporary. You’ll be back in the air in no time.
He doesn’t answer. How long has he been here? He can’t tell. Is he awake, or asleep? It’s hard to tell. Am I going to die?
It catches her off guard. He knows this because he can hear her feathers rustling in surprise.
No! You’re going to be okay! Soarin’, don’t say that!
Why not?
She doesn’t say anything and the room grows ten times bigger. It’s still white, though. But it’s empty. It’s full of things that might be there or things that might not. Furniture that could be there, but could also be elsewhere. It is full of possibilities, but there is no truth.
The ocean outside is farther away than it was yesterday. He knows this because he can feel it inside his body. He can feel the scarring all over his body and the pain inside his joints. He can still hear the waves, though. But they aren’t the same.
But the room is white. But the ocean is blue. It just isn’t right.
He played cards with her once, in a white room just like this one. Training accident. Hit the ground hard. It was her lying in the bed that time, and him sitting in the chair. They played blackjack and poker and other games.
The doctors told him it was complicated. They used big words and concepts that went over his head. They pointed at charts he didn’t understand and made promises he wasn’t sure that they could keep.
So he went into her room and played cards with her. Told her she was perfectly fine. Told her that she was strong. And that she’d survive a whole lot worse.
She wanted something very different than he did. She wanted to go back to the country. Maybe own a nice ranch somewhere and grow some crops. Somewhere where the press couldn’t find her.
He grunts and tries to sit up. Are you still there?
Yes.
Okay. Are you going to stay long?
As long as it takes.
The room is white. He hates it. The white used to blind him because it was everywhere. It was just empty.
The ocean is blue. He hates it. The blue is everywhere, and it suffocates and drowns him. He can’t breathe. He tries, he tries to make it to the surface. But he can’t.
He’s trapped. Trapped between a sea of blue and a sky of white. Torn between truth and lies. He wants to ask a question but he thinks he knows the answer already.
Did anyone die?
What?
Anyone. Did anyone die?
No. We saved everyone. No casualties. They say we were lucky.
Were we?
I don’t know.
He knows everything he needs to know now. The words she says don’t mean anything to him. It’s how she says it that tells him. He sinks his head back into the pillow. It’s probably white like everything else.
He takes a deep breath and counts to ten. Then he laughs. This laugh is soft and rounded. Because he knows now.
The room isn’t the same one. He knows because he can hear the voices outside, whispering his name, and he can feel the eyes lingering on him through the open door. He knows because the faint beeps coming from his bedside are softer, quieter than they usually are. He knows because he knows.
The ocean outside is fake. He knows because the sound of the waves is monotonous, not free and relaxing. He knows because every hour it starts over. He knows because he owns this record at home.
She’s lying.
He knows this because of the tiny tremors in her voice, and the hesitation and doubt that lurks in every word she speaks. He knows this because she’s acting differently. Scared. For him? He doesn’t know.
She’s trying to be strong. She’s trying to be brave. He knows this because it’s who she is.
Hey, Spitfire?
Yeah, Soarin’?
I know you’re lying.
The blue is getting lighter now. The ocean is farther away than ever. The white is growing in intensity. Soon it will be all he can see. Soon it will be all he knows. It will be all he is.
Spitfire. I know you’re lying, but… keep talking. Tell me everything is going to be okay. If you say it enough times, it just might come true.
She cries.
He does too.
The room is blue.
The ocean outside is white.
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This is a good story.
:)
10185255
Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it!
...
Are you just nabbing all the first places now?
10185325
?
10185350
I don't know lol, people apparently like it enough to vote it in first place. There are so many great entries though, it stuns me I've gotten this many wins so far!
10185361
Well, keep up the good work!
10185375
Thank you!
10185360
I had to go watch something funny.
10185499
Ah. Sorry to hear that then!
10185519
Why? I enjoyed it! Both of it. It of them. Them of both. Both deez nuts..... sorry
10185546
Ah ok, happy to hear that!
DANG IT, MY HEART *keels over, ded*
10186130
Haha, glad to hear you enjoyed it!
I love this story! I'm pretty sure I get what's going on, but a little explanation to make sure I understand the story would be nice :).
10186897
Thank you, glad you enjoyed it!
well, honestly I wrote this during a speed write, so most of the stuff was just conceptualized in the fly. The premise is that Soarin is at a hospital after getting blinded during a Weather Factory accident. He’s told that he’s at his hometown hospital to recover (by the oceanfront) and hears the waves outside...
But he quickly recognizes the waves are just a recording. He isn’t at his hometown hospital because he’s going to die. He quickly figures this out during his conversation with Spitfire but asks her to keep lying anyways.
10186928
Ahh, this makes a lot of sense now that I finished the story. I really like this story :)
10187008
Thank you!
10186928
Oh, my interpretation was much simpler! Thank you for the explanation, it gave the story even more depth. I'm going to re-read it now with this in mind.
10187555
I see, thanks for reading!
So this story was an interesting one, a story that towards the end turned from interesting to outright impressive. At first, I interpreted him to be covered in bandages, unable to move from where he was sat. That him seeing white was simply him looking within a cast. However, your comments above glean that he was blinded. I particularly loved the line of "The room growing ten times larger". It provided the auditory sensation that Spitfire put distance between him and herself. It was beautiful.
The reveal that she's lying turned this story on its head. To the extent that she's lying is unknown to Soarin, but it really doesn't matter. Were ponies killed? Did everyone turn out ok if they weren't killed? Is Soarin going to be ok? All of them don't matter. The ocean tape was a perfect metaphor for Soarin. The tape was contained, replaying the same tune every hour. Soarin was contained in a room, hearing the same words and reassurance from both Spitfire and the doctors. And when Soarin stops, so does the tape.
I loved this!
10213436
Yeah, you hit it on the head! Glad you enjoyed!
Short, simple, and oh so good
10298208
Thanks glad you liked it! :)
Your story has been reviewed here!
Howdy, hi!
Ooooh, really liked this one. Super subtle and I love how you broke the formatting to really hammer in this neat vibe. I like the characterization you do here, and the dialogue is just peak.
Excellent, read, thank you~!