• Published 29th Oct 2012
  • 3,773 Views, 83 Comments

Finding Faith - CoolBreeze



Haunted by the past, John finds his place in life, helping an orange pegasus mare...

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Past Demons

My Little Pony: Finding Faith
Chapter 7 “Past Demons


Bon Bon is... interesting to say the least. She seems to run hot and cold in terms of temperament and how she will react to a given situation. She very nearly ran me out of the back of her shop, if not for Lyra putting herself between us. After that little spat, she visibly paid me very little attention, though I got the feeling she was watching me from the corners of her eyes.

At least I got to watch as she boiled the ingredients that needed boiling and what not, and prepare the rest. In the end she had decided to use all the apples to get a mixed flavour, which I didn’t disagree with. Though I have a feeling that had I disagreed, she just might have stuck that spatula someplace I’d rather not dwell upon.

Her beige coat seems both to go and not go with her blue and pink mane or tail, but I’m not one to be able to judge that considering how utterly unoriginal my own is - white and black, or at least so dark brown that my mane appears black.

That sets me off in a rather... odd direction of thought. I kind of wish that like many of the ponies here, I had an extra colour, a highlight like Lyra’s white streak or Bon Bon’s pink, it would add so much character to my incredibly bland appearance. I shake my head clear of the thought when I hear Lyra asking a question.

“Uh... sorry what was that? I was kinda zoned out for a sec there.” I say honestly, no point in pretending I wasn’t anyway.

“I said, Bon Bon is nearly done, do you want to taste one?” Lyra asks, though I’m not sure if she’s asking for Bon Bon or asking because she doesn’t care if Bon Bon wants to share or not. Part of me wonders if Applejack was right and Bon Bon is just this rude and mean pony that Lyra hangs around for no particularly obvious reason.

“Oh uh, sure. That was quick,” I say, turning to see what is happening in the back room. Bon Bon’s bent over some sort of boiling pot, poking the contents with a metal instrument.

Lyra bounces beside me and calls out, “How’re they Bon Bon? I’m sure they’ll be brilliant as usual!” she’s brimming with confidence in her friend’s skill, well if it's their talent I guess one would be rather willing to trust that you can do it right.

I trail off into my thoughts again, wondering if I could possibly earn my cutie mark here? What is my talent? My special gift that makes me unique? I mean I’m already unique, a magicless alien in the guise of a pony is pretty unique I’d say.

I focus enough on the conversation to pick out Bon Bon’s less than impressed tone, “-Won’t be ready for another thirty minutes!”

Well thirty minutes? I guess I can find something to while that time away, “Say Lyra, since Bon Bon is busy out there, why don’t you do me a favour?” I begin.

She turns to look at me, “A favour? What kind?” her ears are turned directly to me, it occurs to me that I can joke “I see you’re all ears.” but manage to hold that thought, tying it down inside my mind and instead reply, “See, since you’re a unicorn and you’re pretty good at levitation, I was wondering if you could give me a few pointers on how to do it myself.”

That curious look turns to one of mild concern until her eyes widen in realisation. “Oh... ohhhhh, I... I was just kidding earlier you know!”

I begin to laugh and wave her off with a hoof. “Well I’m not joking around, I’ve never done magic before in my life! I’d appreciate any help I can get you know.”

She lifts a hoof to her jaw and rubs it idly in thought for a few moments, likely contemplating what to say in response, or even how to instruct me at all. I hope she considers it seriously, I’d really like to not be at a disadvantage after all.

“Well...” She begins thoughtfully before glancing around the store, “I suppose we could, I mean... there’s plenty of space here to try.”

I let out a boyish cry of joy and stop, right foreleg raised halfway between the ground and my head. Did... I... make that noise? I look down slowly, past the raised leg to my chest. That came from me? I feel a little dizzy, something doesn’t... fit, like putting gloves on the wrong...

Shaking my head I stop thinking, I just will it to stop and stand there stock still completely cut off from stimuli I hide inside my own head. What the heck is going on with me? Something flits by, a memory... something important. I reach out for it, but its a slippery little fish in a strong current and I quickly lose my grip on it, a wave of despair washes over me and I fall back into the recesses of my mind, lost within myself.

I can see... aquamarine, concerned amber eyes peering at me... Lyra, Lyra is there, whatever the memory is, I can mope later, magic now, mope after. I find myself putting on a grin, false as it may be I try and portray the emotion associated with it.

“Are you okay?” the unicorn mare asks me, her tone that of concern. She’s looking me up and down now, but I continue to grin.

“I’m fine, just uh, got overexcited is all. Come on let’s get this show on the road!” I say, forcing myself to sound the opposite of how I really feel. I just missed something vital to uncovering who I am, what I am... I want to scream in anger and despair but I have to be strong, I need to do the task at hand.

Lyra puts on a smile, it’s as false as my grin and tone, “Okay... if you say so John. Well...” she pauses and puts a hoof to my chest before continuing, “There’s a well inside you, filled with energy, magical essence, all ponies have it I guess, but us unicorns can tap into it and use it outside of the natural order... at least that’s what they said at magic school. Anyway, you... uh, okay your little bag around your neck?”

I lower my gaze to the small pouch of bits tied around my neck, “Yeah?” I ask uncertainly.

“Just focus on it, but not too hard, observe it and get a feel for it understand what it is.” she says something else but I miss it as I find my focus slipping, staring at the pouch. It’s tan, and the pattern reminds me of burlap, but it’s nowhere near as rough and it’s definitely not leather. I remember the weight of it in my hoof and feel the weight of it dangling around my neck now. The tied off section reminds me of something... a dumpling, some food from where I’m from. Lyra’s voice cuts back in at this point, distracting me slightly.

“And you just kind of... picture it moving, and focus on it. You should feel-” I lose track of her voice again, the pouch consuming my concentration. The pouch is everything right now, I don’t just see it there... I can feel it.

I become acutely aware of something else, something inside me that I hadn’t been aware of until now. Like... a pot of honey boiling on the stove, the thick sticky substance being carbonised. I... this sounds absurd but I pull at the sensation and clutch at it. Eyes still glued to the pouch I feel something else, though this is external.

Focusing on the pouch I will it ever so gently to lift closer, so I can observe it at a better angle. What surprises me is that it suddenly becomes shrouded in a red amorphous glow before ever so gently rising and twisting to its side.

I stare at the pouch for several moments, partially in shock that it actually moved when I willed it to. I then consider it turning to the other side, and it quickly does so. I feel weird, like I can feel the contours, the shape of the pouch in a grip I’m not accustomed to, trying to better understand it, I explore this new sense and watch as the red glow intensifies around the neck of the pouch and I focus on untying the clumsy knot I’d made with my mouth. The string effortlessly pulls away and I watch, a genuine grin growing as I levitate the pouch a little higher, the neck opening wide to reveal the money inside.

“Magic! I’m doing magic!” I finally say, like it’s the most absolutely amazing thing to ever have happened to me in my eighteen and a half years of existence.

I freeze, the pouch drops to the ground as the magical grip explodes under the force of my shock. Agonisingly slow, the pouch hits the ground with a heavy thud, several coins spill out and rattle on the floorboards beneath our hooves.

I hear a faint voice, “John?” but I lose it to a torrent of confusion. My age... it came to me without me even trying to remember it, like a natural reflex. “John.” Eighteen... sounds significant, a special number? Maybe a special age? I feel... proud of being eighteen, why? What’s special about it? I can remember the number, I’ve lived that many years, but still it doesn’t tell me who I am. Who I was.

John!” My ears are filled with ringing but the shout cuts through it like a knife and I look up through blurry vision the edges warped so badly that I begin to feel a bit sick. Through the blur I see a blob of minty aquamarine and gold. Who’s this? What’s this? Where... Where am I? I feel so turned around... why... why am I on all fours? Another blob, this one beige and blue, wanders into my distorted view.

This all feels wrong so horribly perverse. I lift up, struggling to align my spine vertically, perpendicular to the ground. But it feels wrong to be up like this too, it hurts my hip joints and I grunt in pain. My balance is feeble... almost like my center of gravity is off... wait it’s off, why? I flail my limbs to try and maintain balance but even those feel wrong... the joints are reversed and... fingers? Where are my fingers!? I try and take a step, throwing my head around and trying to make sense of the unfocused world around me. I fail to maintain my balance however and I let out a cry of shock when all of my balance is thrown out from underneath me and I begin falling backwards.

“John!?” the voice again... wait who? It’s... I know... that... I...

“Lyra!?” I cry out, but I don’t get a chance to hear the response, if any is forthcoming as I feel a sharp pain in the back of my skull and everything goes black.

* * *

I find myself in a strange yet familiar hallway, the walls are painted white as is the ceiling, but beneath my white hooves is a plush green carpet. I feel like I know this place, or rather should know this place. Maybe I’ve been here before?

I set a slow pace, my hooves pressing into the carpet, the familiar clip clop of hooves on hard surfaces is vacant thanks to the cushioning effect the carpet has on them. As I move further down the hall I see a doorway to the left and make my way over to it, the door is slightly ajar and I press at it with my left hoof, it swings open unyielding and I peer into the darkness of the room beyond.

The gloom gently yields to the light from the hallway and I can make out a bed in the corner, it’s far too large for a pony, that much I can deduce instantly, the rest of the room is rather sparse except for a rug in the center and a chest of drawers opposite the bed, again... proportions are all wrong for a pony, like they were built for something twice as large as I am.

Stepping past the doorway, I find myself glancing around nervously, it all feels so familiar, I should know this! The bed is covered with a doona, the cover proudly displaying hunks of metal... race cars, that’s it, racing cars. The shades of blue and red in the room indicate that the owner is male, I don’t know how I deduce that but I just arrive at that conclusion with ease, it seems sensible and right.

Suddenly I sniff, there’s a sharp odor in the air... acrid... smoke! But smoke... I turn around to the doorway and balk at the sight of thick plumes of black, acrid smoke dancing down the hallway.

“Back!” I hear someone shout from down the hallway, their voice desperate. I trot out of the room, my head just below the layer of smoke above as my ears swivel towards the voice’s origin.

“Come on honey! Get back!” I hear the voice again and pick up my pace down the hall, it seems to go on forever.

“I-I can’t!” another answers from the same place, a she, the voice is feminine and scared. The voices... I know them, I know them from somewhere...

There’s a loud crash and a shrill scream, I suddenly find words in my throat and cry out, “I’M COMING MOTHER!” my lungs ache... so much smoke, when did it start to sink?

I find a door finally, the end of the hallway, smoke doesn’t matter, gotta open the door. I look at it, the knob is bright red, I can see heat waves around it. Can’t touch that... instead I turn instinctively and coil the muscles in my hind legs before bucking the door as hard as I can. There’s a crash of splintering wood and debris scattering and I turn to see my handiwork. A hole in the lower half of the door permits me a view of the room.

Something... is standing across the other side of the room, a tall creature, easily twice my height. I can see a small mop of a mane on its scalp, but it’s mostly covered in clothes. The bipedal creature turns, face lit by the sharp lights of the fires all around it, I can make out a triangular nose, small oval eyes and pursed lips. There’s no muzzle, the ears are in the wrong place, and they only have a light dusting of fur around their cheeks. It looks between the doorway I’m occupying and the corner of the room. Suddenly it locks eyes with me and I see desperation in those eyes, pleading.

“Son! Run!” I turn and begin to gallop as fast as my uncoordinated legs allow me, I gallop down this endless hallway as the paint boils and peels off the plaster, chunks of the ceiling crack and fall, the carpet behind me burning in deadly flames.

I trip over a chunk of burning timber from a wall support and tumbled several metres before coming to a stop, I manage to push myself up on a foreleg and look up to the door that now stands before me, it’s ajar and a dark figure in the night extends a hoof to me, I can see the orange light of the fire on the hoof, it’s familiar.

I reach out and lock grip with the hoof and am hauled through the doorway and to salvation, free of the inferno that is the hallway I had occupied.

The ground beneath me is rough, but I cough the smoke out of my lungs, heaving heavy breaths to get it all out. I feel my throat and mouth are dry as a desert but still I find my voice, weak as it is and thank the stranger.

I get no response, looking up I find I’m alone, alone in the darkness all around me. I am completely alone and there’s not a soul in sight, not even an insect chirp to signify life. I fold my forelegs beneath me, laying prone and peer around. The feeling is overwhelming and I find tears are forming in my eyes, I sniff when the first drop runs down the side of my muzzle and I accept the truth. I am completely and utterly alone and not a thing is around to understand me.

Hopeless, it’s all hopeless anyway. I lower my head before turning onto my side to curl up around myself, my tail laying draped over my face. Alone.

Author's Note:

B-B-B-BOMBSHELL!

Well this was great to get out, been wanting to fix this chapter up and release for some time... (yes I wrote it before the some of the earlier ones)

Poor John... he associates himself with a species his mind can't remember, yet when he's confronted with said species in the dreamscape he simply doesn't recognise them and again disassociates with them. I hope he doesn't get awfully confused as to what he is... poor guy. I don't like to mindfuck my characters at any rate.

But clearly I'm cruel enough to torment them.

And yes... no Scoots action here :( makes me sad too, but don't worry, John is the main character here and I have to develop our little unicorn friend.

On another note I am trying, and failing miserably, to find someone willing to do a proper cover art for Finding Faith... everyone I contact either seems to ignore me or is far more busy than they make themselves out to be. I'm willing to pay $40 dollars for this cover art, if anyone knows of an artist in need of cash for some pony cover art, please let me know, or if you read this and would like to try, definitely get in touch with me.

Finally, I'm excited! This fic is actionally progressing and people like it! Almost 1000 views and 100 favorites! Thank you all so much!