Tinkering of the soul

by Dragonlover77

Completion

The toilet flushed slowly, the plumbing and water pressure were horrible in Manehattan. Timestop could never figure out why, it wasn’t as if they were close to Equestria’s water supply and plumbing town, Vanhoover. Or maybe it was because they were so far away, close to the cold and dangerous Crystal Mountains. Maybe the pipes were frozen again, and wouldn’t thaw, or at least work properly until the middle of March. Timestop shuddered at the idea of the months going by so quickly, and heading towards the center of March. That is when the climate started to change, and everything would get humid and achingly hot. Being a Pony with lots of hair, this proposed an issue. Timestop glanced down to her large and fluffy pink tail. It was wide and full of thick waves of soft blush hair, and it was untameable. She had a hard time taking care of it, for her flanks appendage dragged on the ground wherever she walked. Almost as unmanageable though, was her long and riveting turquoise mane. Her mane fell all around her face and most of her pudgy body, streaming down and almost to the ground like her tail. Timestop was thankful for that though. She wasn’t a terribly fat pony, but she did have extra weight and was glad to hide it by her abundance of hair. The young mare poked her belly, and then her sides, noticing a light jiggle. She frowned, and pulled a generous amount of her mane across her chest and stomach. Words couldn’t describe her lack of confidence, but she could see herself coyly in the mirror.

Timestop had a few mannerisms that had others tilting their heads from the side time to time. When talking she would occasionally tussle her bangs over her face, covering her mouth and nose, only peering at others through her eyes. Most of the time ponies would ask her if something smelt bad, and she’d forcibly release her cyan bangs and say “Sorry, force of habit.” She hated when she did it in Canterlot the most though, those snooty ponies were rude and would scoff at her. They’d walk away midsentence, look at her through their uptight noses, or just simple say “Child, whatever ARE you doing?!” in shock and disgust. She really disliked the Canterlot ponies, and was glad that she didn’t live there. She could visit, and leave as she pleased. Another thing that the early aged pony did was talk with her hooves. A lot. The conversation could range anywhere from the weather all the way to the cupcakes from Ponyville, and Timestops hooves would follow her every word. She’d raise her right hoof, and it would go with her words, and play a game of sharrades while she spoke. When her right hoof got tired, she’d lower it, and raise her left foot, and continue with her conversation. If someone were to video tape her and hit the fast forward button a few times, it’d look as if she was a horrible dancer. Timestop always measured it up to being a sign of intelligence, not a sign of strange animation on her part.

After hiding behind her mane in front of the mirror and loathing at her awkwardness, Timestop released her hair, and reached forward for her faucet. It was at that time that she saw the tooth paste scum gathering on her sink, forming in the cracks and crevices. It was as if they were a part of the sink since they had been there so long. She cranked the cold water knob to the right, and with great strain the water slowly dripped, and then streamed. The water was frothy and full of chemicals from being so far away from Vanhoover. They had the purest water, since it passed to them so quickly. The farther away towns were not so lucky. In Manehattan, they didn’t have the luxury of ‘soft water’. Their water was hard, not quite clear, and you could always taste something other than water if you were foolish enough to drink it. Timestop then pumped a rather generous amount of soap into her hooves, being wasteful as always. She loved glopping the thick and gooey liquid into her palms. Trifling as it was, she found it fun to rub her hooves together as fast as she could, and watch the bubbles pile up on one another. The bubbles and soap film gathered a little over 3 inches high until Timestop decided to run water over her hooves. The bubbles dissipated quickly under the running water, disappearing down to the pipes below. Timestop shook her hooves free of any water, and mourned for a clean towel. Timestop unfortunately didn’t have a washer and dryer, so whenever she needed fresh towels, stockings, or other cloth like material, she had to travel to the local laundry mat and do it there. Lately she had so much though, and didn’t want to make several long winded trips. Secretly, she didn’t want anypony to know how messy she had gotten. The thought of her possibly coming up at dinner one night between a family of ponies made her shudder. Late at night she’d play these scenes in her head, when she was most vulnerable. “Oh dear, I saw this pony make over 6 trips to the laundry mat, and she couldn’t have been a day over 20! It’s not like she could have had fillies to take care of, what a walking calamity!” Frowning, Timestop left the bathroom, and stood in the eve of her bedroom. She forced the thoughts out of her mind, but they still lingered, sitting at the back row of a darkened movie theatre, eyes glowing and waiting.

Timestop walked forward, tripping over a few stockings. Disgruntled, she pushed them to the side and out of her way, as she headed towards her desk. Pulling her rolling chair out, she pushed her bottom right into it with a soft “oomph”. The chair was old and made of leather, and was missing several of its pieces due to natural wear and tear. She had had it quite a long time, and bought it at a pony sale at the local thrift store. It was inexpensive and worth the price, for it fit her rump nicely. 12 bits for a chair was nothing, even if it had been used, and probably owned by many other ponies. At one time in desperate need and munchies, Timestop had payed 8 bits for a basket of strawberries. Timestop couldn’t afford to pass up a good bargain now though, for they were far and few between. The towns that surrounded Canterlot did fairly well. There were jobs for everypony that could afford to live there. Capitalism was at its finest, everypony was into the latest fashion, and always had scrumptious dinners at around 5:30pm. They lived the ‘equestrian dream’ as most called it. The outer cities weren’t as lucky though. Money was tight between most ponies, for jobs weren’t as plentiful. Resources from other areas are expensive, and not very cost efficient for those that decide to make the trip.

Timestop snuggled her backside in for comfort, and reached for the bottle of Wishful thinking. She took a few moments to look at it with fear and wonder. The last experience was less than enjoyable, and was secretly one of the reasons why she hadn’t finished the project. She remembered everything, and by remembering everything, she meant even since she was born. Timestop could remember the crying, the rejoicing, and her mother’s warm embrace upon her muzzle. She remembered the first time she had ice cream, it was delicious! It was creamy as it ran down her throat, cold against her teeth, and caught in her fur. Her first flavor was chocolate, she couldn’t describe such ecstasy other than to remember it, and keep it safe in her memory. She could also recall when she got her cutie mark. It was late at night, and very cold outside. Her mother had been complaining to her that she’d get sick if she didn’t wear something, but she ignored her. She had better things to do than listen at the time. The icy wind from the outdoors stung her cheeks and made her nose cold and drippy. She loved that feeling. Timestop giddily ran closer to the Crystal Mountains, happy that she lived so close to them. They were practically in her backyard while she grew up. She then reached her destination, a small hill clear of trees, with dancing grass up to her chest. She sat down, rooting around the green for a comfortable spot. This was something she did often in the winter, but only at night. The skies were always clear for the Pegasus of Cloudsdale always stole them for their convenience. Timestop looked up, and began staring at the stars. She was a filly lost in thought and wonder. The young one began to understand the beauty of the universe, and wanted to unlock all of its secrets. Timestop knew that she was in 1 galaxy of another billion more, and that there was more past their star system. She was amazed, and felt enormously insignificant. Although this would be depressing to most, it delighted Timestop to know that there was so much more out there to be understood. That somehow, someday, she might dance on the dust of one million years ago. She knew what she stood on was the same thing born a few times over, but she wanted to feel time for itself, and what it was. Timestop reached a hoof up, and in her cluttered emotion, let a single tear drop rain from her eye. She was overwhelmed with the beauty of creation, and smothered by the thought that she was once a part of something greater than what she knew. If one were to ever to see their soul take form, Timestop knew hers was above her hoof, light years away. It was at that moment her flank began to sparkle, and in came her cutie mark. Somehow this bottle had brought back both significant and delightful memories. At the same time though, it was dark and horrifying.

Timestop knew that everypony had skeletons in their closet, but seeing all of hers dancing before her eyes was intense, revealing, and demented. She could remember all the times she cheated in pony middle school, and got caught. She recalled the embarrassment of her teacher taking her paper from her in front of all her class mates and ripping it up, eveypony looking at her silently and knowing. Timestop feared shame and judgment above death. She could see right in front of her the time that she blackmailed a neighbor over something as trifling as forgetting to return a pair of pliers, and the time she broke all of those wine glasses at the local beverage stop. She hadn’t returned since. There was also that one time she ran into RedWinter, the head Librarian for the Canterlot library. If Timestop didn’t enjoy going to the Grand Galloping Gala for the vendors, she adored going to the library. It smelt wonderful, and it was quiet. When she had first graduated pony school, she would head to the Canterlot library frequently, borrowing books left and right. She remembered two years ago, when she trotted up to the librarian’s desk, and eagerly scooted 2 books towards Redwinter. She had only seen him a few times in passing, and was hoping to impress him by picking two books that were for only the most advanced of readers. She knew she probably wouldn’t be able to read them when she got home, but there was no harm in trying. Redwinter peeked at her over his small reading glasses, and with lack of emotion said, “Library card?” “Oh, yes, hold on just a moment.” Timestop clumsily searched the satchel that hung over her back, prodding and moving everything around in hunt of the slim card. After what seemed 2 full minutes, Redwinter sighed and said “If you don’t have your library card with you, than I can’t let you borrow these books.” Timestop then lowered her head, and closed her satchel slowly. “I’m….sorry, I don’t have it, I must have left it back in Manehattan…” she looked up at him with pleading eyes and was met with the same bored expression that he had when he asked her for her library card. “That’s a shame. Don’t feel bad though, the theory in this book was disproven, and this one is filled with empty hypothesis.” Redwinter then focused his attention elsewhere, dismissing her with his lack of attention. She cowered for a moment, and hurried herself out of the building. She hadn’t returned there since. She had always admired the Red and Silver pony, and had a small pony crush on him. She found him handsome, intelligent, and chivalrous. She had read many things about him in the ‘Canterlot daily’, and just wanted the opportunity to meet him face to face, and try to impress him. Her plan failed miserably. Her worst memories though, as tame as they may be to others, were the ones that coveted her currently. She was ashamed with herself that she hadn’t done anything with her life after pony school. She made excuses for herself constantly, such as “What’s an earth pony to do? I can’t fly or do magic. I hate getting my hooves dirty, so farming just isn’t for me. I can create, but what I make isn’t in high demand. I’m so pitiful.” It was at that time that she looked at her cutie mark. Glancing down she would admit that it was cool, but she still didn’t understand it. Her special talent was another thing that she felt ashamed of, it felt more like a decoration than a sense of self.

Timestops cutie mark was the infinity symbol surrounded by 4 roman numerals of the number 13. Forcing its way north west was a large arrow, and sliding to the southeast was a smaller arrow. The roman numerals were put on her flank to match a clock’s 1, 3, 6, and 9 slots. The coloring was also a mixture of neon green and turquoise. Timestop understood that she was better than most with machinery, especially clocks. The thing she didn’t understand, or want to accept, was that her talent was messing with metal. Why couldn’t she get something cool? Timestop knew of ponies that could write, draw, sing, dance, and even do a combination of the 4. She remembered that night again, staring at the beginning, the big black gateway to her soul. Why did she get stuck with staying in a dirty house, covered in oil, messing around with clocks? Especially after that night, she truly felt gifted, and not with her hooves. “Fate is so cruel.” Timestop muttered as she shook her head, reaching for an eyedropper. She didn’t want to think of those things, she had already spent too much negative energy wishing for things she couldn’t change, and sulking on the past. She also didn’t want to remember that 1 second, that 1 moment of truth and eternity.

Eye droppers were perfect for gathering small amounts of liquid and fantastic for reaching into smaller necked bottles. She fit the eye dropper then into the bottle of wishful thinking after popping the quark, and squeezed in no more than 3 tiny droplets. Instantly her nose was filled with all of her favorite scents. This time, she could smell chocolate ice cream, iced root beer, cold metal, and fresh laundry. Last time where the bottle had been a soft petal rose, it had changed to a sickly forbidden green. The colors were gone though, just as the scent had vanished. “Now where did I put that silly vial…” Timestops speech slurred off as she glanced from left to right, and then right to left. A tiny glass perfume bottle was what she sought after, and was upset that she had misplaced it. She knew that her room was a disaster and that she’d lose the vintage perfume bottle, but was arrogant and confident that she wouldn’t move it from her work area. She had done just that though, as she glanced up where the bottle of Wishful Thinking had been, and noticed a tiny gleam. It was at that moment that she remembered about a week ago, that she had been crafting something else, and moved the bottle out of her way and someplace safe from harm. She hadn’t finished her other creation, nor any of them for that matter. This would be the first thing she’d finished since Christmas.

Timestop reached up for the bottle, and clutched it carefully in her hoof. Next she grabbed her glowing trinket, and once more checked to see if the bottle would fit inside. Snuggly the glass vial slipped in, unscathed. Smiling, she brought it back out, and popped the black rubber lid off of the top. Inserting the eyedropper, she released the wishful thinking liquid into the vial, and quickly sealed the rubber top back on. She hesitated, afraid of what happened last time this amount of time went by from her last experience with the strange and eluding magic. As smart as she found herself to be, she knew one of her greatest faults was how trusting and naïve she could be. She didn’t once think to ask the Zebra until now what exactly Wishful thinking was. She had heard the riddled metaphor, and was sold on candy coated words. She waited in what was pure silence, not a sound was made. She even held her breathe, and the cicadas that had plagued the town for weeks had seemingly moved off to another city. Timestop waited for anything, curious and a little bit apprehensive of what was to come.

And again, just like last time, nothing happened. Her waiting turned into boredom after 15 or so minutes. She snatched up her soldering tool, and began finishing what she had meant to finish 3 weeks ago. Slipping the tiny vintage bottle into the back of her pendant, she began her work. She pushed the trinket under a magnifying glass, and started melting the front and back together, correcting her ending mistake from the last time she had soldered. Within minutes she was finished, and badly wanted to let her prized work rest in her palms. It needed to cool for she didn’t want to burn herself. She had burned herself many times before, each time more painful than the first. She began to blow on the cooling metal, hoping to hasten the amount of time it would take to cool. The soft cyan energy emitting from the trinket followed the new pattern across the bottom half, aiding in its completion. Timestop poked her augment, and it was ready to be handled. It was still warm around the edges, but the bottle inside was safe and snug. Holding it in the palm of her hooves, she shook it lightly, to see if the bottle inside was truly snug. Nothing clanked or jingled, she couldn’t even hear the liquid inside the bottle rattle of splash.

“A job well done.” The pony gleamed in triumph, feeling quite accomplished. It had been the first thing she had finished in over a month, and although a small success, it was still success. Timestop wanted oh so badly to fasten a clamp on the top and run a silver chain through it and wear the pendant as a necklace, but something inside her told her not too. That something was probably fear of it breaking or getting lost, but all the same she decided against it. She looked around her room, searching for a good spot to display it. Most of her room had been cluttered with unfinished work and junk, so finding a special spot was going to be difficult. She didn’t want it masked by clutter, but she didn’t want it to be the main attraction of her room. Her goal one day was to finish everything, and scatter it amongst her wall randomly, so not one single piece of artwork was the centerpiece. She wanted everything to have its own place and title, and to be special. “This will be the first.” She smiled in her state of fatigue. She hadn’t realized that it was nearing her bed time. Timestop groggily walked over to her windowsill, and cleared the area just atop her bedframe. She set it off to the side artistically, and stood back staring at it's completion. She felt immense joy in her accomplishment, so much so that her tail gave a wag. Humbly she turned around, and walked once more to the eve of her doorway. “Remember that promise pillow? Get ready for some love, because I’m comin’ and I’m ready for some deep, deep sleep.” Timestop flicked the light out, and readied herself for bed with one long stretch.

Only the lights didn’t go out, and everything went white.

Comments

[Dragonlover77]

Yay! Up and ready.
I listened to this for inspiration while I was writing, so you might enjoy it too!
Sorry about the Cliff hanger, but what happens next needs it's own chapter.
I love drawing.
Timestop looks like she wants a cookie.
Or maybe I want a cookie.
Possibly both.