It’ll be ok

by homer simpson

In Apathy

Dear Braeburn,

Maybe Applejack has spoken to you about it, or maybe she thought it best left unsaid. I know you’d prefer to know anyway. I did tell her about everything; I’m sure you trust her as much as I do not to tell anypony else, but I also have no doubt it makes you uncomfortable; she knows, and for that, I’m sorry. I’ll try and recall approximately how it went for you.

It was a bitter day; not the kind of cold that stares you in the face and back downs when you stare back, but the sly and infiltrating kind, the kind that starts off soft but slowly works its way deep within your body until you’re shivering and miserable without recourse. The clouds also conspired against hope, spreading themselves evenly across the sky; no sun could be seen, and the light was dim and pathetic. On the afternoon of this day, I decided to walk back home from work, shivering and miserable, though the latter wasn’t a consequence of the cold.

I didn’t really want to go home and warm up, and I found myself wandering towards Sweet Apple Acres. Before I knew it, I was walking through the orchard itself. More disconcerting than the cold was the drear lifelessness of the sleeping trees. Their empty branches stretched upwards as if begging for some reprieve, and the roots wrapped themselves helplessly around frozen mud and dry soil. A couple of times I almost slipped, and my limbs were pretty much completely numb by this point. Still, I trudged on, wanting to at least get to the train tracks I now saw in the distance. I don’t know why; I suppose even in apathy, we can’t avoid a desire for goals.

But before I could reach the halfway point in my walk around this distorted memory, I stumbled across Applejack and Big Mac, both wrapped up in scarves, valiantly fighting against the sharp weather to prune another one of a thousand apple trees. It looked like the fight was being won; rows and rows ahead of me were carefully clipped and shaped. I guess I looked pretty pathetic, shivering there, just staring at them without saying anything, like a lost foal. Suddenly, confronted with the eyes of others, I remembered my body. I felt the piercing pain in my lungs, the weakness in my legs, and the total numbness in my wings. I’m still not sure how long I was walking for.

Applejack immediately offered to take me inside without a question about why I was there. As you said: you can always count on the Apple family. It was a bit of a walk back to the farmhouse; when she did finally ask me why I was there, I simply answered that I got lost, and she pried no further; little else was said. When we got there, I must have practically collapsed onto the nearest chair. She offered to make me a hot chocolate, and I thanked her. As I started to warm up, the biting cold was threatened to be replaced by an even more biting awkwardness. Sitting there as a guest in what was practically a stranger’s home, without a word I wanted to speak. Though it surprisingly quickly dissipated as I thought about how little reason I had to care about such a thing.

So she precariously brought the steaming hot mug over to the table in front of me and then sat opposite me. I instantly sipped, burning my tongue terribly. I took another sip.

“Careful with that,” she warned, a look of concern still pervading her face.

“I’m fine,” I finally bothered to look around at the setting: a sickeningly homey place. Family photos, quaint home-built furniture, and, of course, apple theming wherever possible. You’ve been there before, so I’m sure you will agree that it is very reminiscent of your house.

“This about Braeburn?” I was actually kind of surprised she mentioned you. I mean, I’m long past my prejudice against country ponies, but she still didn’t strike me as the kind of pony who would put the dots together.

I probably looked a little embarrassed, “I think so.”

From my experience, Apple family members aren’t ones to bother beating around the bush, so it was notably odd to see her contemplate and hold her tongue for a second before speaking with an innocent curiosity, “So you two were together? Like together together?”

I nodded.

To my surprise, there was little hint of judgement in her eyes, “What happened between you?”

You didn’t want to hear the full story at the time, but I’ll tell it now, like I told her, in case you want to now.

I remember taking note of the sky, an infinite expanse of blue with not a single white spec to ruin the spectacle. It was one of those days where I was tasked with patrolling the castle. Most of the time I was guarding the princesses; this at least meant I sometimes got to leave the city or meet interesting ponies. But I suppose they wanted to give every pony a chance at standing still and waiting for something to happen.

I was especially bored; hence, my mind was filled with thoughts of you. As time dragged on, not just on that day but in general, I started to feel an itch to tell Somepony about us. Like a foal that had spent time on a drawing and couldn’t resist the urge to interrupt a parent doing something important. Of course, I couldn’t tell my parents; I actually don’t think they hated the concept of it like yours might. They were just horrendously disappointed that I didn’t fit in; I could have at least hid it for the sake of my job and reputation.

My Dad actually sent me a letter recently; I won’t go into details, but he confessed that he and my mother hoped that making me leave would ‘teach me a lesson’. He told me he missed me, though, and when I’d finished reading, I looked down to see my tears on the paper. All this time, I've been mourning the loss of you, and I’ve barely thought about how much I actually miss my parents.

But I digress; it had reached midday, and I dived off the battlements. The wind slammed into my face with a dragon’s vigour, and the ground threw itself at me with lightning speeds. I left it just a second longer than usual to spread out my wings, and my face almost scraped the ground as I veered upwards and proceeded to soar above the streets and the ponies occupying them. The urgent destination: lunch at Cinnamon Chai’s cafe. Nowhere made tea quite like she did, and it had become routine for me to go there every day on my break. It was also the occasional destination of a few other royal guards on their break; giving me and whoever else the chance to complain about the lack of royal guards or perhaps about how they seem to be letting anypony in nowadays.

On this specific occasion, I would be talking to Silver. An old friend from training; a silver unicorn who I had barely spoken to since we got out of training:

“Flash! It’s been too long; how’s Mr. ‘Top of the Academy’ doing?”

I sat down across from him, “I’m doing alright thanks. Still with Violet?”

“Yeah, impressive, ey? You wouldn’t have expected me to eke it out this long, would you?”

I spoke with a playful tone, “I would never judge a book by its cover.”

“Course. Well? You had any luck?”

“Well, there is this out of city Stallion; I never thought I would fall for some country pony,” I couldn’t tell you if this is exactly what I said, but I remember vividly his face souring at the word ‘Stallion’, like poison had exited my lips and he had to recoil to survive. He didn’t even ask for clarification on what I said; he simply nodded. The rest of our conversation was dry and off. I just felt confused, I think; I barely even processed the disgust in his face until much later. It didn’t even cross my mind that Silver would tell anypony.

So when I was called to the captain of the royal guard after my shift ended, the thought of my conversation with Silver had already left my mind, and I even wondered if I had earned a promotion. I stood eagerly in front of him, awaiting some sort of praise. A pat on the back for hard work. It was strange how sad he looked; perhaps he was retiring, perhaps I would be the next captain.

But you already know that’s not what happened; instead, he told me that I was relieved of duty. I was stunned for a second before I instinctively asked him why.

“I’m sorry, Flash; I truly am, but we can’t have someone like you serving.”

I guess I was still in shock because, without thinking, I went straight home to my parents and told them, you know, how that went. It all happened so quickly; the next minute I was in Appleloosa talking to you, and then it was over, and now I’m here.

After I had finished telling Applejack, it was like I was back there again, numb and in shock, unable to process anything that just happened. She looked at me sympathetically and told me she was sorry, that she wished she’d known sooner. And then next thing I know, I’m out of my seat and walking out the door, thanking her for the drink. She said I could speak to her anytime and then I was gone, back out into the cold.

When I got home, it reminded me so vividly of another time. Your house, just like hers.

The way you looked at me ran a knife across my heart, “You know what could have happened?! This ain’t a game anymore, Flash.”

“I didn’t know–“

“Didn’t know it could tear apart my family?! Didn’t know it could ruin my life?!”

I looked and sounded hurt, “Your family? Your life?”

“Yep, I actually care about my family. I actually care about my life, Flash.”

In that moment, I wish I could have broken down and cried; I wish I could have shouted at you at the top of my lungs; I wish I could have hated you with all my heart. But instead, something much worse happened: that dreadful cold washed over me, a void in my soul, utter apathy. Bitter for just one sweet moment before your face looked dull and tasteless.

“So it’s over then?”

“What?” You looked so confused.

“We’re done, right?”

I have no idea what you were feeling because, as I said it I was already walking out the door. And before I knew it, I was on a train to here.

I haven’t said it before because I’ve been scared, but I hope you’re doing well, Braeburn. I really do.

Yours sincerely,

Flash

Comments

[AltruistArtist]

You've captured a remarkably mournful tone in this piece for your first endeavor into fiction writing; I'm impressed! I feel that your choice of using an epistolary framing really supported where your narrative voice feels comfortable, settling in a place that's very sincere and pensive, as far as I'm able to glean from this sole example of your prose. You've got a great handle on some strong choices of description and figurative language, too. I'll highlight a few lines I really liked:

What does a pony do when bars spring up where they once thought sky, when drab and hideous claws spring from the earth and hold them down and stars turn out to be painted on? Close their eyes and dream of course; and in my case, it was of spending time with you.

Their empty branches stretched upwards as if begging for some reprieve, and the roots wrapped themselves helplessly around frozen mud and dry soil.

As time dragged on, not just on that day but in general, I started to feel an itch to tell Somepony about us. Like a foal that had spent time on a drawing and couldn’t resist the urge to interrupt a parent doing something important.

Lovely stuff.

I also really enjoyed how each chapter diverted into those short passages of dialogue. It evoked the dreamy feeling of a memory, almost as if the reader was present in Flash's head as he was writing, no longer merely following the words he wrote on paper, but present in the state of consciousness he occupied as he composed these letters.

The vagueness of what occurred to bring about the end of his relationship with Braeburn led me to be completely blindsided by the reveal. Your allusion to the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy hit me like a truck. The way you wrote that passage was devastating. And for a subject that reflects deeply painful real-world prejudices, I feel like you addressed it with care. Flash's expectations leading up to his admittance and his reaction to his superior's response were very authentically emotional and human (I say without irony in spite of them being ponies).

I usually don't like to muddy up comment sections with editing suggestions, but since you've openly asked for feedback, my primary bit of advice is in regard to brushing up your technical skills in grammar and punctuation. There were a few passages where you used a comma, rather than a period, to join a line of description with a line of dialogue. Here's an example:

I sat down across from him, “I’m doing alright thanks. Still with Violet?”

This line should be:

I sat down across from him. "I'm doing alright, thanks. Still with Violet?"

If an action proceeds or follows a line of dialogue, it ends in a period. If a speech word proceeds or follows a line of dialogue, then you can use a comma. Here's where a comma would fit in this example:

I sat down across from him and said, "I'm doing alright, thanks. Still with Violet?"

And here, for example, is where you utilized this grammar correctly:

“Careful with that,” she warned, a look of concern still pervading her face.

It's really a habit that develops over time and I'm confident you'll get the hang of it as you continue writing! Which, I hope you do. If it brings you any amount of joy to be creative, keep at it. I can tell you've got a natural style that is well deserving of some nurturing.

[Bicyclette]

But before I could reach the halfway point in my walk around this distorted memory, I stumbled across Applejack and Big Mac, both wrapped up in scarves, valiantly fighting against the sharp weather to prune another one of a thousand apple trees. It looked like the fight was being won; rows and rows ahead of me were carefully clipped and shaped. I guess I looked pretty pathetic, shivering there, just staring at them without saying anything, like a lost foal. Suddenly, confronted with the eyes of others, I remembered my body. I felt the piercing pain in my lungs, the weakness in my legs, and the total numbness in my wings. I’m still not sure how long I was walking for.

ooh, love the imagery here

“I’m fine,” I finally bothered to look around at the setting: a sickeningly homey place. Family photos, quaint home-built furniture, and, of course, apple theming wherever possible. You’ve been there before, so I’m sure you will agree that it is very reminiscent of your house.

those ponies sure do love apple theming wherever possible!

“This about Braeburn?” I was actually kind of surprised she mentioned you. I mean, I’m long past my prejudice against country ponies, but she still didn’t strike me as the kind of pony who would put the dots together.

love this hint that Flash isn’t as past his prejudice against country ponies as he might have thought

To my surprise, there was little hint of judgement in her eyes, “What happened between you?”

i would be very disappointed in Applejack if there were!

“I’m sorry, Flash; I truly am, but we can’t have someone like you serving.”

oof, very sad to see such homophobia in Equestria :(

In that moment, I wish I could have broken down and cried; I wish I could have shouted at you at the top of my lungs; I wish I could have hated you with all my heart. But instead, something much worse happened: that dreadful cold washed over me, a void in my soul, utter apathy. Bitter for just one sweet moment before your face looked dull and tasteless.

and augh, one more beautifully rendered emotion before the end. with all the apple stuff the taste metaphor fits really well

I have no idea what you were feeling because, as I said it I was already walking out the door. And before I knew it, I was on a train to here.

and of course their story together must end with a train away just like it began with a train to! i mean i know that’s just logic but i like it

---

really loved this! i enjoyed this quite a lot, and there were many beautiful bits that i pointed out earlier. Flash and Braeburn’s contrasting characterizations and backgrounds were also really well-rendered here, and i’m especially impressed by how complete Flash feels as a pony fleshed out from the little canon details that we have.

as for criticism, one thing that took me out of it was the logic of the format. i enjoyed the story that the letters told, but it really didn’t feel like how the in-universe Flash would write to in-universe Braeburn, recounting bits of conversation they had as if one were writing prose and all. but you have a really great talent for prose, and i am honored that you chose your first story here to be an entry into this contest. thank you for writing, and i hope that you keep writing!

[PseudoBob Delightus]

This story meanders, but does it right - on a second reading all the little random details come together to make so much sense - the desperation of love; the deadening of heartbreak; and the letters with no reply. I'm sure it doesn't take everyone a second reading, though, hehehe.

It particularly sticks the landing in the final chapter. Others have said this, but the reveal of how Flash lost his position in the Royal Guard was a gut punch. That, coupled with the cold realization that there was nothing left between Flash and Braeburn to break off, certainly earned the Sad tag.

An engaging, emotional story. Thanks for writing it!