Life after Death

by Short-tale

Chapter 1

I watched as Trixie left. I didn’t think she would actually leave. The guilt ate me almost immediately. I didn’t know if this was my fault, or something that was going to happen anyway. Starlight said it wasn’t.

“Oh, Maud,” Starlight cried as she leaned weakly against my body, “this isn’t your fault.”

See? She’s been telling me that all week.

Trixie had been slowly collecting her things and packing her old caravan. I thought that meant she wasn’t serious. That she was just waiting for some sign or apology that didn’t come.

But she left. And a part of Starlight went with her.

There had been months of fighting. I’d moved in with them at Starlight’s insistence after Mud Briar died. It was supposed to help me get over my grief. It did. Somewhat. The pain was still there, but I don’t want to dwell on it anymore. Not with the constant fighting of my castle-mates.

It began as soon as I moved in, though Starlight insisted that it was before that. Starlight would go out of her way to make sure I was comfortable, and Trixie would get jealous. Starlight was just trying to get me back on my hooves, but Trixie said she was trying to woo me. Then Starlight would call her possessive and insensitive.

I had no idea my friends were suffering like that. There were times when I would catch them snuggling together. In those times I felt the most alone.

Now Starlight was bawling, soaking my hair with her tears, and I was helpless to stop it. I couldn’t bring Trixie back. Even if I could, it would just cause more pain. For whatever reason, Trixie was done. The only thing left for my magician friend was to disappear.

Part of me wished I felt much worse than I did. I wanted to be the type of friend that would feel awful when things like this happen. But I wasn’t. I was just glad the ordeal was over. Now Starlight could be free. She could be happy.

“Maud,” she sobbed. I looked into her tear-stained eyes. “I just feel so…numb. So dead inside. What should I do?”

I knew that feeling. It was all too familiar to me. It was the same way I felt when Mud Briar died. He left me too. He might not have chosen to leave like Trixie did, but all the same, he was never coming back. I wondered which was worse.

“Come inside,” I eventually answered. I knew she was asking a bigger question, but this was the time for small answers. “I’ll make you some tea.”

The distraught unicorn nodded. I put a forehoof on her shoulders and ushered her inside. She shivered even though it wasn’t cold. Was I that cold?

I helped her into her favorite couch and left to find a teapot. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

I tried to think of how Pinkie would handle this. She would probably say something like,”It’ll be okay. Trixie will get over it. She’ll feel bad and come back. Then you two will be stronger than ever.”

But I couldn’t say something I didn’t believe. I couldn’t get Starlight’s hopes up like that. I wasn’t Pinkie.

I didn’t want Trixie to come back. I didn’t want my friends to hurt each other anymore. It hurt. And, selfishly, I just wanted them to stop.

The tea kettle whistled. Its loud shrill sound echoed through the empty castle. I heard reverberations of it long after I turned it off. It reminded me of my cave at home. Could I ever really return there?

I found a nice lavender tea. Starlight was a fan of teas for the right occasions. I think she learned it from Fluttershy. I had heard that lavender calmed the body and mind. I smelled it to make sure. I don’t think I felt any calmer. The smell of feldspar was much calmer. But I didn’t have any and feldspar doesn’t make tea you can drink.

When I returned, Starlight was staring into a lit fire. The early spring mists always brought a chill to the castle that didn’t seem to leave. The look on Starlight’s face made me feel colder. Her eyes were far away from the fire she stared at. They had sunken into her face.

I slowly offered the teacup. I hoped it wasn’t one of the many Trixie made. Starlight didn’t even look. She took it from me with her magic. I still feel odd when unicorns do that—it’s like a science I can’t figure out. I hate when I don’t understand.

I stared at my good friend, hoping words would come from her. They normally did. I needed something I could begin to work with. But she simply stared, and so did I.

I sat next to her on her couch. Two morose ponies, still and solemn. Friends that had fought their share of battle and had their scars. I didn’t touch her. She knew I wouldn’t. If I thought it would help, I might have hugged her, but I guessed it might just remind her of what she had lost.

This was mourning. This was grief. I knew the signs. But I didn’t know what would work for her.

I’d been cocooned in my own grief for months, but it didn’t help. Being around friends made it better. I’d started to talk to somepony who knew what it was like. That helped a lot.

Now, I had to be that pony. I was now in the same position for Starlight that Applejack was for me. I had to help her through it. But I wasn’t an emotional pony. I didn’t have an “up and at them” attitude like my ‘cousin’ does.

But I had to try.

With great effort and trepidation, I slowly placed my foreleg around the depressed shell of my friend. She was so warm, like some of those lava stones I had found in Shoal Springs.

A shiver ran through her, but she wordlessly leaned in. A large sigh escaped her. Then the tears flowed again. I knew this wouldn’t be the last time. I brought my other leg forward and cradled her.

It was… strange. This was a pony I had always looked up to. She was so free with her thoughts and feelings. I never knew how to do that. But here she was, just as vulnerable as I had been. It seemed grief affected us all the same. The pain felt exactly the same.

I sat there holding the bawling unicorn. I was as still as a stone. I was her rock now, like the immense boulder we had back on the farm. If Starlight needed something solid, I could be that boulder.

Comments

[Bicyclette]

But I couldn’t say something I didn’t believe. I couldn’t get Starlight’s hopes up like that. I wasn’t Pinkie.

very relatable! i could definitely see myself as Maud here

The smell of feldspar was much calmer. But I didn’t have any and feldspar doesn’t make tea you can drink.

that is too bad! feldspar sounds nice

If Starlight needed something solid, I could be that boulder.

a nice, straightforward setup. could definitely see Trixie unable to handle this kind of jealousy in particular, and Maud's muted reactions feel very in line with the overly detached and formal narration. let's see where this goes