Into the Mind of a Simpler Mare

by harrytheneat

next time, I'm going to kiss him goodnight

Into the Mind of a Simpler Mare
Story based on Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
Edit by me
next time,
I'm going to kiss him goodnight

April 27 - I've made friends with some girls at the Campus Bowl. They were arguing about whether or not Shakehorn really wrote Shakehorn's plays. One of the girls-the thin with freckles one said that Marelowe wrote all of Shakehorn's plays. But Leanna, the short one with the glasses, didn't believe that business about Marelowe, and she said that everypony knew that Sir Francis Haybacon wrote the plays because Shakehorn had never been to college and never had the education that shows up in those plays.
That's when the one with the freshmares Bean Sprout said she had heard a couple of guys in the men's room talking about how Shakehorn's plays were really written by a lady. And they talked about politics and art and Celestia.
I never before heard anyone say that Celestia might have no special powers, but rather a rare genetic deformity where a unicorn has wings. That frightened me, because for the first time I began to think about what Celestia means. Now I understand one of the important reasons for going to college and getting an education is to learn that the things you've believed in all your life aren't true, and that nothing is what it appears to be.
All the time they talked and argued, I felt the excitement bubble up inside me. This was what I wanted to do- go to college and hear ponies, unicorns, and pegasi talk about important things. I spend most of my free time at the library now, reading and soaking up what I can from books.
I'm not concentrating on anything in particular, just reading a lot of fiction now- Ponevski, Flaubert, Dickenmare, Hoofingway, Faulkneigh - everything I can get my hooves on is feeding a hunger that can't be satisfied.

---

April 28 - In a dream last night that I heard Mom screaming at Dad and the teacher at the elementary school P.S. 13 (my first school before they transferred me to P.S. 222)... "She's normal! She's normal! She'll grow up just like other ponies. Better than others!"
She was trying to scratch the teacher, but Dad was holding her back with his magic. "She'll go to college someday. She'll be somepony." She kept screaming it, clawing at Dad so he'd let go of her.
"She'll go to college someday and she'll be somepony." We were in the principal's office and there were a lot of ponies looking embarrassed, but the assistant principal was smiling and turning his head so nopony would see it.
The principal in my dream had a long beard, and was trotting around the room and pointing at me. "She'll have to go to a special school. Put her into the Warren State Home and Training School. We can't have her here. As it is the opinion of the entire staff that she is mentally challenged. "
Dad was pulling Mom out of the principal's office, and she was shouting and crying too. I didn't see her face, but her big red teardrops kept splashing down on me...
This morning I could recall the dream, but now there's more than that-I can remember through the blur, back to when I was six years old and it all happened. Just before Dinky was born.
I see Mom, a thin, dark-haired pegasus who talks too fast and uses her hooves too much. As always her face is blurred. Her hair is up in a bun, and her hoof goes to touch it, pat it smooth, as if she has to make sure it's still there. I remember that she was always fluttering like a big, white bird-around my father, and he too heavy and tired to escape her pecking. I see Ditzy, standing in the center of the kitchen, playing with her spinner, bright colored beads and rings threaded on a string. She holds the string up in one hoof turns the rings so they wind and unwind in bright spinning flashes.
She spends long hours watching her spinner. I don't know who made it for her, or what became of it, but I see her standing there fascinated as the string untwists and sets the rings spinning... Her mother is screaming at her. no, she's screaming at her father. "I'm not going to take her. There's nothing wrong with her!" "Rose, it won't do any good pretending any longer that nothing is wrong. Just look at her eyes. She’s Six years old, and-" "She's not a dummy. She's normal. She'll be just like everypony else." He looks sadly at his daughter with the spinner and Ditzy smiles and holds it up to show him how pretty it is when it goes around and around.
"Put that thing away!" Mom shrieks and suddenly she knocks the spinner from Ditzy's hand, and it crashes across the kitchen floor. "Go play with your alphabet blocks." She stands there, frightened by the sudden outburst. She cowers, not knowing what the woman will do. Her body begins to shake. They're arguing, and the voices back and forth make a squeezing pressure inside her and a sense of panic. "Ditzy, go to the bathroom. Don't you dare do it on the floor!" She wants to obey her, but her legs are too soft to move. Her arms go up automatically to ward off blows.
"For Celestia's sake, Rose. Leave her alone. You've got her terrified. You always do this, and the poor kid" "Then why don't you help me? I have to do it all by myself. Every day I try to teach her - to help her catch up to the others. She's just slow, that's all. But she can learn like everypony else." "You're foaling yourself, Rose. It's not fair to us or to her. Pretending she's normal. Driving her as if she were an animal that could learn to do tricks. Why don't you leave her alone?" "Because I want her to be like everypony else."
As they argue, the feeling that grips Ditzy's insides becomes greater. Her bowels feel as if they will burst and she knows she should go to the bathroom as her mother has told her so often. But she can't walk. She feels like sitting down right there in the kitchen, but it is wrong and her mother will slap her. She wants her spinner. If she has her spinner and she watches it going around and around, she will be able to control herself and not go on the floor. But the spinner is all apart with some of the rings under the table and some under the sink, and the cord is near the stove.
It is very strange that although I can recall the voices clearly their faces are still blurred, and I can see only general outlines. Dad massive and slumped. Mom thin and quick. Hearing them now, arguing with each other across the years, I have the impulse to shout at them: "Look at her. There, down there! Look at Ditzy. She has to go to the toilet!"
Ditzy stands clutching and pulling at her gray coat as they argue over her. The words are angry sparks between them- an anger and a guilt she can't identify. "Next September she's going to go back to P.S. 13 and do the term's work over again." "Why can't you let yourself see the truth? The teacher says she's not capable of doing the work in a regular class."
"That bitch! a teacher? Oh, I've got better names for her. Let her start with me again and I'll do more than just write to the board of education. I'll buck that dirty slut's head off! Ditzy, why are you twisting like that? Go to the bathroom. Go by yourself. You know how to go." "Can't you see she wants you to take her? She's frightened." "Keep out of this. She's perfectly capable of going to the bathroom herself. The book says it gives her confidence and a feeling of achievement."
The terror that waits in that cold tile room overwhelms her. She is afraid to go there alone. She reaches out for her hoof and sobs out: "Toi- toi..." and she slaps her hoof away.
"No more," she says sternly. "You're a big girl now. You can go by yourself. Now march right into that bathroom. I warn you, if you go on the floor you'll get spanked." I can almost feel it now, the stretching and knotting in her intestines as the two of them stand over her waiting to see what she will do. Her whimper becomes a soft crying as suddenly she can control no longer, and she sobs and covers her face with her hooves as he dirties herself and the linoleum floor. It is soft and warm and she feels the confusion of relief and fear. Her mother will spank her.
She comes toward her, screaming that she is a bad filly, and Ditzy runs to her father for help. Suddenly, I remember that her name is Rose Petal and his name is Danny Hooves. It's odd to have forgotten your parents' names. And what about Dinky?
Strange I haven't thought about them for a long time. I wish I could see Danny's face now, to know what he was thinking at that moment. All I remember is that as she began to spank me, Danny Hooves turned and walked out of the apartment. I wish I could see their faces more clearly.

---

PROGRESS REPORT 11
May 1 - Why haven't I ever noticed how handsome Dr. Whooves is? He has pigeon-soft brown eyes and feathery brown hair down to the hollow of his hooves. When he smiles, his full lips look both triumphant and gentle.
We went to a movie and then to dinner. I didn't see much of the first picture because I was too conscious of him sitting next to me. Twice his bare arm touched mine on the felt bench, and both times the fear that he would become annoyed made me pull back. All I could think about was his soft coat just inches away.
Then I saw, two rows ahead of us, a young fillyfoaler with her arm around her mare. She was the peculiar one sitting upright. I wanted to put my arm around Dr. Whooves. it was terrifying. But if I did it slowly... first resting my arm on the back of the seat... moving up... inch by inch... to rest near his shoulders and the back of his neck... casually... I didn't dare.
The best I could do was rest my elbow on the back of his seat, but by the time I got there I had to shift position to wipe the perspiration off my face and neck. Once more, his leg accidentally brushed against mine. It became such an ordeal -- so painful-that I forced myself to take my mind off him. The first picture had been a war film about the Great Griffon War, and all I caught was the ending where the G.I. goes back to The Griffon Republic to marry the woman who saved his life.
The second picture interested me. A psychological film about a mare and stallion apparently in love but actually destroying each other. Everything suggests that the stallion is going to kill his wife but at the last moment, something she screams out in a nightmare makes him recall something that happened to him during his childhood. The sudden memory shows him that his hatred is really directed at a depraved governess who had terrified him with frightening stories and left a flaw in his personality.
Excited at discovering this, he cries out with joy so that his wife awakens. He takes her in his arms and the implication is that all his problems have been solved.
It was pat and cheap, and I must have shown my anger because the doctor asked me what was wrong. "It's a lie," I explained, as we walked out into the lobby. "Things just don't happen that way." "Of course not." he laughed. "It's a world of makebelieve." "Oh, no! That's no answer." I insisted. "Even in the world of make-believe there have to be rules. The parts have to be consistent and belong together. This kind of movie is a lie.
Things are forced to fit because the writer or the director or somepony wanted something in that didn't belong. And it just doesn't feel right." he looked at me thoughtfully as we walked out past the bright dazzling lamps of the Ponyville square.
"You're coming along fast." "I'm confused. I don't know what I know any more." "Never mind that," he insisted. "You're beginning to see and understand things." he waved his hoof to take in all of the lights and stars around us as we crossed over to Apple Avenue.
"You're beginning to see what's behind the surface of things. What you say about the parts having to belong together-that was a pretty good insight." "Oh, come on now. I don't feel as if I'm accomplishing anything. I don't understand about myself or my past. I don't even know where my parents are, or what they look like. Do you know that when I see them in a flash of memory or in a dream the faces are a blank blur? It’s like that Slenderpony foal story. I just want to see their expressions. I can't understand what's going on unless I can see their faces-" "Ditzy, calm down."
a few ponies were turning to stare. he slipped his arm through mine and pulled me close to restrain me. "Be patient. Don't forget you're accomplishing in weeks what takes others a lifetime. You're a giant sponge soaking in knowledge. Soon you'll begin to connect things up, and you'll see how all the different worlds of learning are related. All the levels, Ditzy, like steps on a giant ladder. And you'll climb higher and higher to see more and more of the world around you."
As we entered Sugarcube Corner to buy a few muffins, he spoke animatedly. "Ordinary ponies," he said, "can see only a little bit. They can't change much or go any higher than they are, but you're a genius. You'll keep going up and up, and see more and more. And each step will reveal worlds you never even knew existed."
Ponies in the line who heard them turned to stare at me, and only when I nudged him to stop did he lower his voice. "I just hope to Celestia," he whispered, "that you don't get hurt." For a little while after that I didn't know what to say. We ordered our muffins at the counter and carried them to our table and ate without talking. The silence made me nervous. I knew what he meant about his fear, so I joked about it.
"Why should I get hurt? I couldn't be any worse off than I was before. Even Angel is still smart, isn't he? As long as he's up there I'm in good shape." he toyed with his knife making circular depressions in a pat of butter and the movement hypnotized me. "And besides," I told him, "I overheard something- Twilight and Spike were arguing, and Twilight said she's positive that nothing can go wrong." "I hope so," he said. "You have no idea how afraid I've been that something might go wrong. I feel partly responsible."
He saw me staring at the knife and he put it down carefully beside his plate. "I never would have done it but for you," I said. He laughed and it made me tremble. That's when I saw that his eyes were soft brown. He looked down at the tablecloth quickly and blushed. "Thank you, Ditzy," he said, and took my hoof. It was the first time anypony had ever done that, and it made me bolder. I leaned forward, holding on to his hoof, and the words came out. "I like you very much." After I said it, I was afraid he'd laugh, but he nodded and smiled. "I like you too, Ditzy." "But it's more than liking. What I mean is ...oh, hell! I don't know what I mean."
I knew I was blushing, and I didn't know where to look or what to do with my hooves. I dropped a fork, and when I tried to retrieve it, I knocked over a glass of water and it spilled on the table. Suddenly, I had become clumsy and awkward again, and when I tried to apologize I found my tongue had become too large for my mouth. "That's alright, Ditzy," he tried to reassure me. "It's only water. Don't let it upset you this way."
On the way home, we were silent for a long time, and then he straightened his tie and puffed up his formal collar. "You were very upset tonight, Ditzy." "I feel ridiculous." "I upset you by talking about it. I made you self-conscious." "It's not that. What bothers me is that I can't put into words the way I feel." "These feelings are new to you. Not everything has to... be put into words." I moved closer to him, but he pulled away. "No, Ditzy. I don't think this is good for you. I've upset you, and it might have a negative effect."
When he put me off, I felt awkward and ridiculous at the same time. It made me angry with myself and I stared at the trees as we walked by. I hated him as I had never hated anypony before-with his easy answers and maternal fussing. I wanted to slap his face, to make him crawl, and then to hold him in my arms and kiss him. "Ditzy, I'm sorry if I've upset you." "Forget it." "But you've got to understand what's happening." "I understand," I said, "and I'd rather not talk about it."
By the time we reached his house, I was thoroughly miserable. "Look," he said, "this is my fault I shouldn't have gone out with you tonight." "Yes, I see that now." "What I mean is, we have no right to put this on a personal... emotional level. You have so much to do. I have no right to come into your life at this time." "That's my worry, isn't it?" "Is it? This isn't your private affair any more, Ditzy. You've got obligations now-not only to Twilight and Spike, but to the millions who may follow in your footsteps." The more he talked that way, the worse I felt. He highlighted my awkwardness, my lack of knowledge about the right things to say and do. I was a blundering adolescent in his eyes, and he was trying to let me down easy.
As we stood at the door to his home, he turned and smiled at me and for a moment I thought he was going to invite me in, but he just whispered: "Good night, Ditzy. Thank you for a wonderful evening." I wanted to kiss him good night. I had worried about it earlier. Shouldn’t I expect him to kiss me?
In the novels I'd read and the movies I'd seen, the man makes the advances. I had decided last night that I would kiss him. But I kept thinking: what if he turns me down? I moved closer and reached for his shoulders, but he was too quick for me. He stopped me and took my hoof in his. "We'd better just say good night this way, Ditzy. We can't let this get personal. Not yet."
And before I could protest, or ask what he meant by not yet, he started inside. "Good night, Ditzy, and thank you again for a lovely... lovely time." And he closed the door.
I was furious at him, myself, and the world, but by the time I got home, I realized he was right. Now, I don't know whether he cares for me or if he was just being kind. What could he possibly see in me?
What makes it so awkward is that I've never experienced anything like this before. How does a pegasus go about learning how to act toward another pony? How does a mare learn how to behave toward a Stallion? The books don't help much. Next time, I'm going to kiss him good night.

Comments

[harrytheneat]

Some of you read the "pre-release" yesterday and may have noticed that I didn't update it at noon when I said I would. In fact, I'm 12 hours late. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter or even my many silly mistakes I noticed while formatting and checking for general credentials (noBODY knows what credentials means but it makes me sound like some kind of writing major).
In case you didn't read it, here is what I posted at the beginning of the unformatted chapter yesterday

It’s 11:15, I’m tired, and I already posted a chapter today anyway. Well I think I want another and I’m almost done with this but I don’t feel like I should publish it. What I am going to do is keep it published until maybe 12:00 pm to 1:00. Whenever I get up I will take this chapter down and put it back up when I’m finished. As always, have fun reading this.

I’m actually starting to see why people are classifying this as shipping...

[Flutter-Shy]

1553465
GOOD JOB my friend... the pr-release was brilliant, this on the other hand

IS ABSOLUTELY THE BEST ONE YET!!!!!!

[Pinkie13Pie]

I hope you write more soon, because this was amazing!