Generosity

by Richie Richter

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

"And they all lived happily ever after," Rarity whispered. She perked her ears and listened for any foals that might still be awake. Any sharp intakes of breath or turning underneath the covers. Any creaking bed frames or murmuring between them. But she didn't hear anything other than their gentle breathing, the occasional snore, and the wind cracking against the walls of the orphanage. She nodded to herself and flicked off the light and quietly set the lamp back down against the wall. She took a moment for herself in the darkness. The softest glow of orange light was filtering through western curtains, painting everything dull bronze. She sighed and rose from her chair, tip-toeing across the wooden floor to the stairway.

"Rarity?" said a small voice from behind. "Are you leaving?" Rarity turned to it. There was Silver Streak, standing on three legs in the darkness rubbing her eyes. A small stuffed bear was nestled beneath one of them. And here I was thinking you couldn't get any cuter. The light coming up from the stairway radiated a halo around Rarity and silhouetted her form. She took a few steps toward Silver Streak and stood over the filly with worry all over her face.

"What are you still doing up Streaks?" Rarity asked.

Silver Streak hid her face from Rarity. "I just...I, I wanted to say goodbye. And thanks...again." The filly shivered. Rarity tweaked her head. "It's nothing. It just...gets a little cold sometimes." Rarity looked up from the filly. Her bed was the farthest away from the fire. Rarity suddenly felt cold. Lying in bed, shivering under mounds of tattered blankets. Rarity looked down at her again.

"Come here, you." She scooped her up and walked over to the chair balancing on her hind legs. She sat down and let the filly nestle into her chest. It all felt very natural to Rarity for some reason, the filly clinging to her, snuggled up with that stuffed bear. "Now tell me," she said softly as to not wake the others in the darkness of the room. "Why are you still up. Aren't you tired?"

"I am tired. Very tired. Very very tired." The filly met Rarity's eyes. "So tired but I can't sleep." She paused to think. "It's like, I'm tired, but there's something else too. Something that I don't know, don't understand, Rarity. I'm just tired...of everything, you know. Just...tired. So tired." Rarity pulled the filly in tighter, trying to squeeze out all of her tiredness.

"It's okay Streaks." Rarity started to run a hoof through the filly's mane. It was soft and silky, and smelled just a little bit fruity. She felt Streaks's heart slow as she brought the filly in a little closer. Streaks nuzzled into her coat, and Rarity sat like this for awhile, with a hoof combing over the filly's mane. In the dark, her eyes caught the spiraling white ribbon in her hair. It was tied in a little bow at the back of her head. "I like your ribbon, Streaks, it's nice."

Streaks's head popped up out of the crook of Rarity's arm. "You think so?" Rarity cringed and ducked her head.

"Shh, a little softer, dear, the others are asleep."

"Oh, right...you think so?" she whispered.

"I do. I think it looks lovely. It brings out that white streak in your mane and compliments the rest of your colors. Where did you get it?"

"It was my mom's. She used to wear it around everywhere she went. She gave it to me right before she died."

"Oh, I see." Rarity tried to change the subject, but Streaks persisted.

"It was cancer... Got them both. Got my daddy first, got my mommy a few years later." The little unicorn was looking up at Rarity. She said these things without emotion, like she had done it all a hundred times and was just going through the motions one more tired time. Rarity didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. "Said if I kept this ribbon close to me, that she would always be there if I needed her." She paused. "When she was in the hospital, she also bought me this bear from the shop there." She held the animal up in front of Rarity so that she could see.

"It's cute. What's its name?" Rarity asked.

"His name is Teddy."

"That's a strange name. Don't you think?"

"No, I don't think he has a strange name," she said defensively. She took the bear back under her arm and nosed back into Rarity's coat, but then she came out again, smiling. "I have a picture of them, do you want to see?"

"No, I'm-" The filly had already hopped out of her lap and was sneaking across the floor to her bed. Rarity frowned as she reached her bed. The filly removed a small photo frame from underneath her pillowcase and then slithered back across the floor to Rarity.

"The one on the left is my dad, mom is on the right, I'm in the middle." She pointed out the obvious with her hoof. Rarity held the photo up to her face. She squinted in the dark to see it and glowed her horn just a little to help her. It was a picture of the family. They must have been at some sort of carnival or amusement park. Silver Streak's mom looked exactly like her. Same colors, figure, eyes, ears, nose, everything. They shared the same hairstyle, and the same ribbon that now ran through Silver Streak's hair. One of her hooves was wrapped around her daughter. Her mother was like Silver Streak plus twenty or so years. In the picture she was still very young. She looks an awful lot like...like me. Rarity pushed those thoughts away and moved her eyes onto the stallion in the picture. His coat was steel grey with an icy mane, kind, relaxed eyes. His shoulders were relaxed too, and his head was slightly tilted. One of his hooves was wrapped around his wife, and he looked as gentle as could be. Silver Streak was below them, hooves full of various treats, prizes, and trinkets. She was smiling. The whole family was smiling. Rarity was smiling.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Streaks." The filly nodded and took the picture back from Rarity. She slid it under the pillow and moved back over to Rarity. Silver Streak hoisted herself back into the elder's lap. Rarity wrapped her up again and they sat like that for a while with Rarity rocking the chair gently back and forth, listening to the wind against the orphanage.

"But the cancer got them. They're gone now," the filly mumbled. Rarity nuzzled the filly's little head back into her arm.

"I'm sorry." She looked for something to say. Something better. But nothing came to her. What could she possibly say? "I'm so sorry," she repeated. They sat in silence again for awhile before the filly's head came up out of her arm again.

"I never really knew daddy. I was too young. But my mom would always talk about how great he was, and how nice and kind he was, and how hard he worked, and how he had been everything a mare could ask for." She paused. "And how unfair it was, and how unfair everything was, and how there was never enough money anymore, and how everything was breaking and falling apart, and how expensive these damn hospital bills were, and how much she missed him, and how much she wanted him back, and how she couldn't live without him, and how sad she was, and how much she loved me, and how she was going to get better, and how in just a few more weeks––just you wait––everything was going to be alright." There was silence again.

"I would hear her crying at night," she continued, "when we were still at home and she thought I couldn't hear. And after she got moved into the hospital when she thought the nurses had taken me away. She cried and cried. She cried almost every night and when I finally asked her why she was crying, she said she hadn't been. And her eyes were still all red and puffy like she had been crying, but she acted like I wouldn't notice. She wouldn't tell me why she was crying. She would only say, 'just you wait, Silver, in a few more weeks I'll be better and we can go home.' She was connected to so many wires. Wires to her arms and legs and all over. So many wires that she would get tangled up in all of them. There were machines around her too. The wires connected to the machines. All of them beeping and whining and buzzing. The doctors would shoo me out when all those machines started to beep too much. I didn't know why, I would say goodbye to her but she wouldn't say anything back like she couldn't hear me. But on the days she was feeling better, I would climb up onto her bed, and she would hold me with those weak little arms and whisper in my ear with her weak little voice how everything was going to be all right. And then she would cry." There was more silence before she went on.

"But mommy was lying. She had been crying. Everything wasn't all right, and she didn't get better. She only got worse. And worse and worse until finally I came in one day and her bed was empty. So I asked the nurse out in the hall where they moved her to––they had moved her bed before so it was nothing I wasn't used to––so she checks her little clipboard, and then she looks back at me with a funny look on her face, and she starts crying. So another nurse walks up to me with a ribbon in her hooves––mommy's ribbon––gives it to me, and then she starts crying. And then a few other nurses and doctors around me start crying. So everypony around me is crying but me, and I don't know why everypony is crying, cause nopony told me why I should be crying. But another pony walks up to me, one who isn't crying but they've got that sad look in their eyes like they're about to cry, and they tell me to follow them so I do, and they hold my hoof and lead me here and tell me to wait, and that somepony''ll be by soon to pick me up and bring me home. And then they start crying too. And they just turn their back and walk out and leave me.

"They were lying too," she went on, "Nopony ever came to pick me up and I never got to go back home. I've been here ever since with Checker and Tenderhoof. They're nice and loving and all that, but they're nothing like mom and dad." She paused. "Sometimes I wish I was a pegasus. Then I could fly away from here and never come back. Find someplace better to live. I wish I could go to sleep and wake up somewhere else. I wish...I wish I could see them again. Mom and dad. I wish I could see them just one more time. I would give anything for that." The filly paused for a long time before continuing.

"I guess there's some kinda money waiting for me when I'm eighteen, but I don't believe them. I don't trust them. Adults. Besides Checker and Tenderhoof, they don’t lie very much, Just a little. And the ponies who always cry. Them too. It was Ponies like them who told me there was money waiting for me. They were the ones who kept lying to me. Who keep lying to me. I don't believe them. They never tell me the whole truth, always half-truths. They always lie... It's strange, Rarity, the ones who cry the most around me are always the ones who lie the most. I can tell when they're lying. They always cry. Sometimes I wish they would stop lying and just say what’s true. They’re trying to protect me, I know, but they just end up hurting me more and more and more until I feel like I could just...”

Rarity squeezed the tiny unicorn as hard as she could. She raised her up and showered her with kisses in her mane and all over her face. She squeezed her some more and rocked her back and fourth in her arms. "I'm sorry." She wanted to cry, but she couldn't, not in front of SIlver Streak. She wanted to remove all the sadness from the little filly, but it was something that she couldn't do. No matter what, the pain would still be there. "Oh, Silver, I'm sorry. So so so sorry." It was all she could say, but it wasn't enough.

"It's okay, Rarity." The filly wrapped her little hooves around Rarity's torso. They couldn't reach all the way around. "Please don't cry. Too many ponies do that around me. I don't want you to too." Rarity released her grip, and so did the filly.

"Ok, sweetie, I promise." Rarity took a deep breath and tried to relax. Silver Streak burrowed back into her coat, and there was more silence. Just the wind and the creak of the rocking chair. She popped out and broke the silence again. She spoke slowly.

"Were you lying to me, Rarity?" Rarity tweaked an eyebrow.

"Hmm?"

"You know, all those things you said earlier when we were drawing. Those things about our dreams and goals and achievement... Do you really believe all of that?"

Rarity, caught off guard, stumbled for her words. "I...I don't know, Streaks." She hung her head and closed her eyes and spoke again slowly. "I...don't know." The filly nodded and laid her head back down against Rarity, wedging the little bear underneath her arm.

She yawned and said, "I'm tired. And not just...weak tired. Sleepy tired too." Rarity looked down at her for a long time. She was so precious. No. It wasn't fair. Not at all.

Rarity pulled her in closer to herself. She rubbed the little one's back "It's okay, sweetie. It's going to be okay. Just fine. There there. Everything is going to be alright." The filly froze in her arms. It was like a switch had suddenly been thrown. Her head started rising out of Rarity's arm. Slowly, so slowly. Agonizingly slow. Her head was shaking, almost vibrating, jittering back and fourth as it was forced into place like a rusty mechanism in need of grease. Her eyes locked onto Rarity. It was the most intense expression Rarity had ever seen on a foal. Her eyes were squinting under pointed eyebrows. Her mouth hung open slightly. Rarity was startled by the boiling hatred in those eyes. The filly looked down upon Rarity and pushed their faces closer together. She was shivering and writhing under the awful stare. Silver Streak opened her mouth to speak her final piece. Her voice never rose above a strained whisper, but it carried with it the power of a pony shouting as their very loudest. The filly spoke slowly, drawing out each word in a cold, grave voice.

"Are you lying? Hmm? Like everypony else? Are you?" Rarity stuttered and shrunk under her eyes. "Everypony I've ever known has lied to me and then cried to me and then ran away from me like they were afraid to be around me. Like I had some sort of disease that they would catch if they stuck around too long. Like I wasn't even there. Just another bump in the road that could be rolled over and forgotten about. Pushed so far back into those dense minds of theirs that I become just a fleeting little memory. I always was, no––I still am!––Somepony that is ignored. Ignored by the ones who go home and curl up in pathetic little shivering balls on the floor and have themselves a little cry while they try to tell themselves over and over how good of a pony they are just to stay sane.Soothing themselves until they fall asleep in hopes of waking up forgetting. The ones who constantly have to remind themselves how charitable and pure and nice and good and how fabulous of a pony they are. Even though they lie and cry and forget and move on like they never knew I was alive. Avoiding me because they don't want to feel my pain. They don't know my pain! No. They don't want to know my pain! They're cowards, that's what they are. All of them. All the criers and liars. They can't bear to feel my pain even for one second. The quicker I can be shoved aside the quicker they can continue to live. So they wipe away their tears and try to forget." A sinister grin curled onto her face. "They try to forget––oh how they try!––try so hard! They try and try, but they never really forget. They can't. No, I'm always there, haunting them, at the back of their heads. I'm there. It doesn't matter how far back they push me, I'm still there. I'm always there and I always will be. And they know I'm there. I don't know how they sleep at night. I don't know how they ever sleep when they know I'm here, poor and parentless, sharing meals and toys and books and beds and blankets and love with fifteen of my closest friends." Her grin faded. "I don't know how they sleep when half the time I can't even sleep it's so cold. These walls aren't insulated and there's no air conditioning. Sometimes one of the others is coughing so loud because they're sick and there's no money for cough medicine. Or maybe its the sound of the pipes leaking. Or the fire going out in the middle of the night. Or when one of the weak little new ones starts whimpering and crying out for their mommy to pick them up and hold them. Or how the bedframes creak every time you move even an inch. On those nights when nopony can sleep, it gets so loud that it drives you crazy. Its silent most of the time, sure, but then there's a noise in the silence, and you hear it, and then there's another sound. So just when you think you're about to drift off, you're brought back by that little noise. It's a deafening silence. You cover your ears, but that doesn't do any good. It doesn't block out the sound and it makes your bed creak anyway so there's no point. So you sit there and endure it. You don't sleep. You don't sleep for the entire night. It doesn't matter how tired you are. Ten hours in your bed while the noises echo around you. Ten hours to think and that's when you figure things out. That's when you figure everything out. You got ten hours, what else are you going to do? What would you think about if you had to lie in bed for an entire night with a lump in your throat, hungry, miserable, shivering uncontrollably, with bloodshot eyes and a bed that squeaks to remind you that you're shivering, while the poor, pathetic little colt next to you won't stop whimpering mom, dad, mom, dad, mom, dad, mom, dad, and mom, and dad, and mom! And dad! And mommy! And daddy! And mommy! And daddy! And mommy! And daddy! And mommy and daddy why did you leave!? Why did you have to die!? Why did you have to go and die and leave me here all alone!? WHY!? Why!? Why? Why? ...why? ...Until finally...he just gives up and starts crying...

"What would you think about? You got ten hours to kill and there's nothing to do but think and slowly lose your mind. Me? I think about a lot of things. I'll let you use your imagination. But I'll tell you what I don't think about. How tomorrow is going to be a great day. How the world is just marvelous. How everything is just sunshine and rainbows. How lovely this rose colored glass is that I see the world through. And how the sun'll come out tomorrow––bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow!––There'll be sun! Lil' Orphan Annie... Too bad it doesn't work like that. What a wonderful world." Suddenly, the sinister grin was back. "'And I think to myself. What a wonderful world.'" She chuckled. "No. C'mon! World's a mess. Just sit and think about it for a moment, about just how screwed up everything is, and it’ll all be clear. Whoever was naive enough to write that. I don't even...no, wait... I do know. He must be one of them. One of the liars and the criers and the forgetters. One of the ignorers. They just don't care. You got ten hours to think. And take it from me, I've had plenty of time to think. I got it all figured out. Eventually the new ones figure it out too. All those crying colts and fillies eventually run out of tears. They dry up. Like a cracked desert. No water, no life, just a hard, dry wasteland like me. Like everypony else. Hard and cruel. Just a hollowed out shell of what they used to be. That's what we all are. We try to hide our pain from each other, from you, and I don't think we do a very good job. Everypony else here. They know my pain, they share my pain. And even if their parents didn't die, it's something just as bad. Like...like their mom was such a stumbling drunk that she could never walk in a straight line. And their dad would drink too. They would both drink. All day and all night. Their house would be decorated with all the empty bottles and cans. Carpet and furniture permanently stained from the spillage. And everything would always––always!––smell like alcohol. Even they themselves would smell like alcohol. They would go to school smelling like alcohol. Go to sleep smelling like alcohol. Play with their friends smelling like alcohol. And all those friends would go home and ask their parents why Little Sunshine always smelled funny. And those parents would just shake their heads and tell them that they shouldn't play with little sunshine no more. So now Little Sunshine's got no more friends and they get picked on at school because they don't have any friends and they are the one who always smells funny. So all they got left are their parents. Too poor to support a child because they spend their entire welfare check on something to drink. The father would drink and then, in his drunken rage, beat his little innocent child. Beat them until their head was cloudy and they couldn't walk in a straight line either. Until their face won't stop twitching in that funny little spot underneath the left eye. You know Scribbles? That little twitch he's got under his left eye? Guess how he got it... And their face would get all bruised up from the beatings so they would cry because of all the pain, and then they would get beaten some more because they were crying, and then the scrawny little mother will try and stop it, and then she'll get hit and he'll start beating her instead. And all that little innocent foal can do is watch. And as they're watching, they stop crying...

"Do you know the sound a foal makes when its beaten? Didn’t think so. Imagine...imagine air being let out of a balloon little by little. Like when you fall and the wind gets knocked out of you. A tiny squeak forced out with each punch. Crying the whole while. I’ve heard the others try to describe it to me. They say...” Just for a moment her eyes became blank and emotionless. “T-they say its like the sound a teensy little mouse makes when you squash it under your hoof...” She frowned and shook her head. “But anyway, eventually somepony else finds out, they call the police, and the foal gets taken away and sent here. They're almost worse off than me. They've never been loved. At least I know what it feels like to be loved. They have nothing. So it's the ignorers. The ones who don't care. The ones who choose not to care. They just lie and cry and forget. Forget that I even exist and try to move on with their worthless lives. Move on, cause everything is going to be alright. 'Everything is going to be alright.' Yeah. That's what she used to say...and she was lying. Lied every day. Right through her teeth and she thought I didn't know. She kept up that lie all the way until she died... So Rarity? Is there any hope? For us? For anypony? Is there any hope at all? Just tell me. Just this once. Are you lying to me?" Her voice was grim, but as the filly said this, her hard face softened back to its normal tired indifference. It had been like somepony else had possessed her and made her say those things, and now that spirit had left her. She collapsed back into Rarity's lap like a rock. Down. Like a dropped hunk of metal on sand. Thump. The switch that had been thrown earlier had been flipped again, letting all of the current rush out of her. It was a little shake, like she was still trying to hold herself up, and then she fell. Down. Just like that. Dead. The fire that had been stirred inside her was out. And down her cheek dripped a single, sad tear.

What words were there? What could she say? She was a filly who knew too much. Too clever for her own good. No matter what she said, it wouldn't be right. She couldn't bear to lie, but she couldn't bear to tell the truth. Either set of words would break her heart. Break both their hearts. Yes or no. What words were there? There were none. So she didn't say anything. She just gently pushed the filly's head back into her arm and cuddled the filly into her lap, stroking her.

Silver Streak spoke again, into the crook of Rarity's arm. "It's okay, Rarity. I understand. I forgive you. I'm sorry. I lie and cry and I try to forget about myself too. You're not like everypony else though, Rarity. You don't forget. You come back every week and see us. Every week. You're the reason any of us even get out of bed in the morning. You're the reason we keep on going. Just knowing who's going to be there to see us every Sunday. Just knowing that there's someone out there who cares. Someone who really, really cares. You make it all worthwhile. You give us hope, Rarity. Even if there isn't any..." The filly took a deep breath and relaxed further into Rarity's chest. "But I'm tired now. Very tired. Just...tired." The last word squeaked out of her like an animal giving its last breath. The filly rubbed her head into Rarity's arm and just sat there for a while, not moving.

"I'm tired too." Rarity whispered. She leaned back in the chair and started to rock back and forth. She found herself humming a wordless tune to her. One she made up as she went along. The song was slow and somber. She felt her chest rumble against the tiny body. It was a strange feeling. Singing to this orphan which she had only briefly spoken to a few times. But it felt right. Strangely right. There were warm tears on her face. Their saltiness carried with them the bitter taste of her mascara. Her face looked like the side of a zebra, stained alternating stripes of black and white. She sang to her until she couldn't think of anything new to sing, finally finishing on a rumbling low note that carried on until she was out of breath. The filly's breathing had steadied and she was asleep. Rarity took a moment to clear away all of her silently shed tears. Her hoof came away smeared black with makeup.

She rose as gently as she could and crossed the room to her bed. Every foal in the room was still sleeping, despite how loud Silver Streak had spoken a few times. Or maybe they were just faking it. Maybe they had heard everything. Rarity didn't want to know. She pulled back the covers and tucked her in. She left her bear on top of her hooves, and as soon as she did so, the sleeping filly reached out and pulled it into her. She nodded her head a few times and snuggled into her pillow, making little nickering sounds. Rarity felt her head moving toward the filly. She wasn't in control. She left a kiss on the unicorn's cheek. "Goodnight," Rarity whispered. She held onto her tears. As soon as she got home and was safely in bed, she could cry. Cry and cry and cry until she finally found sleep. She walked to the stairs, but just as she was plodding down the first step, she remembered her purse on the chair. She stared at it, almost glaring. She thought about leaving it behind, but she shook her head and took it up in her magical grip, securing it around her shoulder. She stole one last tired glance at the orphans and clacked down the rest of the stairs. "I won't forget. I promise."

Comments

[Rustedgear93]

How can there be so few comments!!!? I've read most of this story ( in one sitting) and haven't seen anyone make a note of just how great this story is! Can't wait to see how this ends.

[Violet_Rose]

I love this story