I'm Afraid of Changeling (and other short stories)

by Cold in Gardez

Tempest

“Are you ready?”

I saw Cirrus swallow, the knob in his throat bouncing faintly beneath his skin. He licked his lips and checked his footing for the fifteenth time; the cloud beneath him hadn’t moved. The wind was barely a breath against our coats. To my left, the newborn sun was just peeking above the high mountains, painting the sky orange and pink and yellow as it burned away the nocturnal mists that collected around us like an ocean.

“Y-yeah.”

I smiled at his brave show. “Remember. Just like I showed you.”

“Right. But what if—”

“Just like I showed you.”

He nodded and gave his wings a gentle flap, enough to lift him from the cloud and drift along beside me. We floated like bees to the side of a small, fluffy cloud I had harvested the previous evening, just for this purpose. It was dark, like a bruise, and practically dripped with with the night’s collected moisture. An easy cloud to draw rain from. It wanted to explode and drench the world beneath it.

Cirrus turned away from the cloud and drew his hind legs in. His eyes crunched closed, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, he bucked the cloud with all the force his little body could summon.

Pegasi are not naturally good at bucking. We aren’t earth ponies, to whom kicking is like breathing. For us, flying is everything. Using our hooves is something we have to practice. Like this.

Cirrus’ hooves smacked the wet cloud and sank several inches into the grey cotton. Rivulets of water poured from the twin holes, soaking his fetlocks, but after a moment the stream died to a trickle. The rest of the cloud rumbled in frustration and then went quiet.

“Not bad,” I said. “Not bad for your first try.”

“It didn’t work!” He pulled his legs out of the cloud and whirled around to glare at it. His hooves dripped onto the ground far, far below.

“No, but it didn’t shock you either, did it? That’s not bad.” I gave the cloud a tap with my hoof. The air around us shook as the cloud rattled, and from deep within a flash of light hinted at the incredible power waiting to be born.

Cirrus floated away from the display, and only returned when the cloud had quieted. He gave it a tap of his own, earning a wet squish for his efforts.

“Don’t worry,” I said to my son. “It gets easier.”

* * *

We stood atop a high bank of clouds above the valley. Even the mountains to the east looked up at us. It was the highest I had ever taken Cirrus.

He leaned over the edge, his wings fluttering to keep him from falling. His coat seemed darker than normal, set as it was against the blinding brightness of the white cloudtops. Aurora’s coat, our friends said, but my eyes.

He turned to catch me staring. “Dad?”

“Sorry, just thinking.” Green eyes, like grass emeralds. I shook my head to clear away the cobwebs.

He let it slide. “So, how does this work? Is it like the rain?”

“Not quite.” I drew my hoof along the cloud, stirring up a cloud of snowflakes that drifted away in the breeze, eventually to join the white blanket coating the mountains below. “Snow isn’t frozen water, it’s frozen water vapor. If you smack them around like a raincloud, all you’ll get sleet.”

He made a face at the word. Sleet ruined pegasus wings, clogging the spaces between our feathers with ice. It was nasty, nasty stuff.

“Scratch it,” I said. “Coax the snow from it.”

He gave it a try. Patches of the cloud tore away from his hoof and floated off into the void. He frowned at them and tried again, harder. More of the cloud broke free.

I brushed the cloud with my hoof, sending a curtain of snow spraying into the air. It sparkled in the noon sun like a million diamonds before vanishing beneath us. His ears flicked back, his eyes narrowed, and he tried again.

Gently. Nothing.

Harder. The cloud cracked beneath his hoof. Tiny fissures spread beneath us and slowly healed.

He stomped. Crystals of ice the size of sand grains popped up from the abused cloud and stuck to his coat. He scowled at the sleet.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It gets easier.”

* * *

Cirrus’ coat blended so well with the fog that he might have been a ghost. Only his eyes, green as grass and bright as emeralds, managed to shine through the mists.

“Easy,” I said. “Let it flow.”

I drew my hoof through the fog. It evaporated. Gone. Less than a memory. The air around me was a clear bubble amidst the gray.

Cirrus waved his hoofs through the fog like he was swatting away a swarm of invisible insects. Eddies of mist swirled about him, but no sooner did the fog clear than more rushed into to envelop him. I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from my throat.

Eventually I caught his tail in my teeth, and his frenetic motions ceased. His chest heaved for breath, and he looked up at me with eyes full of frustration.

“How?” I could hear the air wheezing in his throat. “How do you do it?”

I released his tail and flapped my wings, spinning in place with my hooves outstretched. The fog washed away from us, spilling about the trees and rocks around us in its frantic effort to escape. Within seconds the forest around us was dark and clear and utterly, utterly empty. Above, the stars joined us with their light.

“Do you think the rain comes from our hooves?” I asked. “That tapping a cloud can cause it to thunder?”

“It does! I saw you do it!”

“Do you think the secret of snow is hidden in these limbs?” I tapped his shoulder with a wingtip.

He scowled. “It is. Come on, dad, just tell me how you do it.”

I grinned, just like my father had, thirty years ago. “Do you think the fog cares for this body? For our hollow bones and hot blood?”

“I don’t care what the fog cares about! Just tell me!”

“You should. It is not our bodies that shape the weather. It is our will. I think, and my hoof rises in obedience.” I lifted a hoof to demonstrate. “I think, and the cloud pours out its heart. I imagine, and snow blankets the earth. I will it, and the fog does as I wish, for I am the fog, and the snow, and the rain. Think, Cirrus, and become.”

He stared at me, the skin around his eyes tight, his mouth open a crack. "That... that's all? That's it?"

"Don't believe me. Try it."

And he did. He closed his grass emerald eyes. His heaving chest slowed. The tremble of his wings with each heartbeat faded. He closed his grass emerald eyes, and thought, and became.

A drop of water hit my snout. I looked up to see the sky, absent its stars, begin to fill with rain.

Author's Note:

Written for prompt #303: Your mind makes it real.

Visiting with Alto, Cirrus and Aurora, during happier times.

Comments

[Southpaw]

This is a sweet story and a very nice, subtle interpretation of the prompt. I really enjoyed reading this.

I've been watching these prompts lately and found out today just how far I have to go before I'll be able to accomplish a well-formed story in only 30 minutes. It's a cool challenge.

Question for you: Is the 30 minutes strictly for actually typing out the story? As opposed to outlining, research, and anything else that doesn't involve actual writing of the plot/dialog/action/etc? I ask because it doesn't seem very clear on the TMP blog. Thanks!

[Cold in Gardez]

2342638

You can outline and plan your story as much as you want. The 30 minutes only start when you actually begin writing.

I'll usually spend a few minutes afterward editing and cleaning up as well. The versions that gets posted here are usually a bit different than the ones that go up on the tumblr, only because I have more time to fix them up here.

[Southpaw]

2342643 Thanks very much!

[q97randomguy]

I really like the whole "will" thing. It reminds me very much of my favorite book series, "The Kingkiller Chronicles".
Seeing this anthology update is always nice.

[Fabulosity Personified]

'Visiting with Alto, Cirrus and Aurora, during happier times.'

That made the whole thing so much more poignant, particularly with the repetition of the line '“It gets easier.”' bearing in mind the One Thousand and One story.

Another terrific short.

[Themaskedferret]

Beautiful and haunting.

[horizon]

Been reading along quietly. Had to pop up to say this one's particularly lovely.

[Cold in Gardez]

2347876

The opening paragraphs between Vermilion and Cinnabar were wasted. I spent time writing about their relationship as brothers, and how Cinnabar always got what he wanted because he was a few minutes older, but then that line of thought gets completely dropped.

Also, when I wrote those first few paragraphs, I imagined them both as much younger, not much more than colts. But then Cinnabar confronts the princess for weeks like he's the master of the farm. Where were his parents all this time?

Ah, well. That's the stress of trying to write a 30 minute story. Things get rushed, and rushed things are sloppy.

I'm glad you thought it was beautiful, though. Thank you.

[toafan]

D'aww

Excellent match for the other one.

[Daes]

Excellent. Very well-thought-of execution of the prompt, really beautiful narration, the result being strongly poetic.

Also, I have found two tiny errors.

It was dark, like a bruise, and practically dripped with with the night’s collected moisture.

It seems there is an extra "with" over there.

If you smack them around like a raincloud, all you’ll get sleet.

I think there's an "is" missing before "sleet"(?)

[Borg]

Just wait until he learns lightning. Lightning is proud, and will not be commanded. It must instead be invited, and humbly offered the path you desire.

[Myrandall]

all you’ll get sleet.

*is

[Godslittleprincess]

Okay, this is a nice father-son bonding moment. It makes me feel bad that it all falls apart later on.