Things Lost and Broken
Prologue: I Can See the Sun
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“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings."
-Anaïs NinI was taught as a young filly that rainbows were a symbol of promise. I've carried that with me ever since I was that age.
Of course, my parents were the ones who taught me that, more specifically my dad. Mom ran away from home after I was born. I'm not mad, or anything. I don't have reason to be, really. I didn't even know her. Because of this, my dad was really kind to me, and often spoiled me, afraid to lose the last of his family.
Until mom was found. Dead.
The cops found a dead body in the woods and identified her as my mother. She died only recently prior to us finding her. It seemed she was brutally murdered, and possibly raped. The remains of her indicated that she may have been a drug addict, and further investigation identified her as a prostitute.
Dad was heartbroken. Not only did he lose the one mare he loved, but the mare he loved didn't seem to love him. He began to drink, and we grew further and distant. We were no longer the close father and daughter.
The thing is, this is reality. At marriage, a young mare and colt promise eternal love, never to leave the other's side, no matter the consequences. But, then again, promises are one of the things lost and broken.
My dad promised the filly me at a young age that he would never leave my side, that he'd love me and be with me until the end of eternity.
Yet, here I stand now: in the rain, and a flood of ponies dressed in black before a box, being slowly lowered into the ground. I don't wear black. Dad always told me that black is a depressing color. Besides, I don't even have any formal clothes. All the ponies around me are crying, sobbing at the loss. How can they cry? I should be the one crying; I've known dad better than they ever will.
But, why are tears not falling?
Even the sky is crying, gloomy and depressed. What made it upset, I wonder?
I wasn't even there when he died. He ended his life without telling anyone. The last words he said to me were, "I'm going out for a while. Stay here." He went mad when mom died, drinking and gambling everything. He began to come come really late while I was already tucked in bed, drunk and yelling and sobbing. He never took out his anger on me. He was drunk, yes, but he learned to control himself with me.
Then he went out and thought out the most creative way to die. I never knew how.
And I never will know. Everyone has left now. Here I stand. Alone. Like I've been for the past fifteen years. Just me and my dad. Just me and a grave. I stare blankly at it.
"You promised," I mumble. I feel the life drained from me. "You promised, dad."
He doesn't answer.
"Dad, can you hear me? You're drunk again, aren't you?"
He doesn't answer.
At this point, I feel a tear down my cheek. Even though it's raining and I'm soaking wet now, I can distinguish the tear because it's warm on the midst of the cold autumn raindrops. Why is it cold? It shouldn't be. It's only August.
But, maybe, it only feels cold to me.
I should probably leave. I've been here too long, and I can't see the sun anymore. And I really never will. It won't be the same. I've lost everything, haven't I? I've lost my family, my friends, the love of my life, my home, my dignity, my happinessー everything.
I turn to leave, and my eyes graze the blank and stark plain. This is the plain that Dad and I used to go all the time. Before Mom died. But then, that changed. The grassy hills became desolate mounds. The vibrant flowers became dull and stale. The life, the open freedom became dead and imprisoned.
"Dad," I say, not looking away from the plain. "We should really start coming here again, once you stop drinking so much."
He doesn't answer.
Rage fills my lungs and my chest. In anguish, I bolted up into the sky, leaving behind a world broken and incomplete. Higher, higher, higher. I don't stop. How can I stop? I've only ever gone up. But, maybe, this time I will go down. Maybe I will fall, this time. Just this once.
I look down over my shoulder, at the dark and cloudy world, gray and stoic. It looks plain. There is life, there is love, there is friendship, somewhere. Just not here.
Here, I fall. I let my muscles relax, and I feel gravity pulling me viciously to the ends of the earth. I only see a blur of gray. The clouds flash past me, and I can't see the sun. I will never see the sun. I close my eyes, and breathe in, releasing everything in my head. This is the end.
I land.
No, I don't land; I'm still alive. The ground came gently, warm and soft. I open my eyes slowly. Directly above me, I see an angel. Two angels: a colt and a mare. It's so soft. I see their wings outstretched towards me, and I realize that I am engulfed in the fluffy feathers. Who do they belong to?
I don't see them clearly, because they're silhouetted against the dark sky. Wait. No, they shade me from the sun. But, how? I squint weakly beyond their heads, and I see the sun.
The sun. I feel it's warmth, happiness, and I see the two heads, silhouetted against the bright sky. Who do they belong to?
"Dashie."
My eyes spring open. It can't be. I've heard this voice. I've heard this voice a million times before. I've heard it before I went to bed, before I left for school, before I left for work. I've heard this voice. But, the voice is long gone now. Except, it's not. It's the voice of someone I love, someone I cherish, someone I callー
"Dad?"
All of a sudden, his face becomes clear, as if a huge spotlight illuminated his face. I see him. I see the sun. I feel tears drop from the sides of my eyes.
"Dad. What the hell? You scared me."
"Dashie, you should know not to say 'hell' in such a crude manner."
Now, this voice, I don't know. This voice, I've never heard. But, for some reason, I feel it compelling, familiar, common. I feel as if I've heard it as many times as I've heard my dad's voice. I feel like I was born into this voice; like the voice is the only voice that has ever said, "Good night," or, "I love you." My body acts on its own, and before I realize what I'm doing I hear the word I've never called anyone before:
"Mom."
Light explodes everywhere. The world becomes bright, and everything becomes clear. Suddenly, the clouds explode into a spectra of colors, reflecting luminously against the bright blue sky. The hills and grassland far beneath me are now strikingly green, almost seemingly fake: but it's real.
It's all real.
The last words I hear from Mom and Dad before they disappeared into mist and became the dew on the grass that they lay me down on are:
"You're not alone."
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I open my eyes. The same dream, again. It almost seems too unreal for a dream. But, the events were true.
It's been two years since then. Now, I live in Cloudsdale with the few friends I have left. The memories of my family and old friends are still vivid in my mind, withstanding the age despite the rusting of all my other memories.
I crawl out of bed, and I look outside my window, and as I have for the past two years,
I can see the sun.
Chapter 1: Through the Dark Clouds
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"It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light."
-Aristotle Onassis"Dad, I'm home."
I don't hear a reply, and I peek my head into the living room. There he is, sleeping. Next to his hoof, I see an overturned empty bottle of beer. I sigh.
"You should really stop drinking so much," I say softly, so as not to wake him.
I gently lift a blanket and cover it over his shoulders, heaving up and down from his heavy breaths. I trot back upstairs to my room. I set my saddlebag by the door after emptying the contents inside. There's nothing in it, really. Just a plastic container for my lunch and a bottle of water. Tired from work, I head over to my bathroom for a cold shower.
It's summer here in Ponyville right now. Cloudsdale doesn't have much of a job in this season, other than to keep clouds out and the sky clear. In the Cloud and Rainbow department, I don't have that much to do other than clearing clouds, taking into credit that rainbows are useless without rain.
As I stand in the rushing warm water, I lean against the cold tiled wall. I sigh. I don't know how long it's been since I've talked to my dad. He's always either out drinking or here drinking. Every time I come home, he's always with a mare. This time, he wasn't; that was a rare occasion.
I turn the water off and I dry myself off. Dragging myself out of my bathroom and to my bed, I pass by a picture on my desk. It was a picture from fifteen years ago: my dad and I at the one field that we always went to play. No one else went there, so we were alone to the whole field. In the picture, his hoof is extended to hold the camera, and his other hoof is around my shoulders.
I pick up the frame and smile gently. I don't remember the times when we were together anymore. It seems so distant, like those memories were just a mirage, a fake illusion that only deceived my emotions.
Sometimes I wonder. I wonder what it would've been like if Mom stayed, Dad never sank into depression, and if I never left my friends and everyone that cared about me. Maybe I could remember what it felt like to "love" and "be loved." Maybe I could experience "happiness." But all of that seems impossible. It'll never happen.
I gently put down the frame, violently blinking back tears. I'm already used to this lifestyle. I shouldn't be complaining, though all I have left is my life. I don't have my usual colorful personality anymore, and my egotistic dignity is gone, rusted and withered along with the happiness that was my life. Now, everything's gone.
I trudge over to my bed and flop down, staring at the ceiling in the dark. I can't think anymore; I'm too tired. I slowly feel my eyelids weigh down, and suddenly a veil of darkness overtakes my sight as I tumble into the depths of rest.
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"Dashie!"
I hear my name called, clear and loud; I turn sharply. I barely have time to react. I see a redーsomething hurtling towards me at speeds of blur. My mouth opens just a slight andー
Thunk.
I land face down in the soft grass, soothing my bruise with its cold dew. I hear footsteps approaching fast. I feel a hoof on my shoulder pulling me and flipping me over on my back. I look up and see a face creased with worry. I groan.
"God, Dash, really. Be more aware of your surroundings."
I laugh. "Come, on, Soarin, it was just a little bump on the head. Don't worry so much."
"I can't help but to worry. Lemme see it."
I move my hoof from my forehead and watch as Soarin lifts his own hoof to the bruise, gently brushing my head as if it would shatter if he were to weigh down less than half of a half of an ounce. "Tsk. You're too careless."
I smile and touch his hoof, holding it to my cheek. He smiles and returns the gesture my caressing my face. "Dash, Iー
A crash of thunder breaks the soundless aura of the plain. Soon after dark clouds begin to gather, blocking the sun. A flash of lightning illuminates the once vibrant sky. In the distance, more storm clouds began to mesh, creating a tunnel that stretched from the heavens to the earth.
"Soarin, look!" I say, sitting up. "A tornado! Let's check it out, yeah?"
He looked at me with a worrisome eye and chuckled nervously. "I'm not too sure about that."
"Oh, lighten up. It'll be fun! Besides, we have these," I say, flapping my wings.
He scratches his head and sighs. "Fine, but whatever damage it costs will be entirely your fault."
I laugh. "There won't be any damage."
I take to the sky, pushing of the ground and pressing against the fold of gravity, unravelling the freedom of flight. I hear Soarin close behind me, his wings flapping strong against the wind. Close by, I see a flash of lightning nearly blinding me into shock. I slip on the air, my wing buckling against me. "Dash!"
I feel hooves on my back. "Yeah, I'm fine. It was just a shock."
"We gotta go; this isn't safe."
I blow a raspberry and reply, "You're so uptight!"
I giggle and roll off his arms, falling. I use my wings to lift me into the air once again, giving me a chance to smirk at Soarin and speed towards the tornado. I begin to feel drops of rain gently tapping my muzzle. As I fly, the water begins to weigh down, each droplet flicking me hard on the face before sliding past. Somewhere behind me, my peripheral vision catches the wink of lightning. Ahead, I see the tornado building, more clouds clustering to the tunnel: It was growing.
I gulp. "Yeah, Soarin, I think it's a good idea to go back. Now," I say over my shoulder, not taking my eyes off the tornado.
Silence.
I frown. "Hey, if you're mad, Iー" I pause as I turn around and see nothing.
"Soarin? Soarin!" I frantically search around, yelling his name. Then, I look down and see something fallingー
Soarin.
I inhale sharply and dive for him. I reach him just before he touches the ground and slowly lower him. His eyes are closed; his chest heaves slightly from shallow, ragged breaths. There's a burn on his right wing, bleeding. "Soarin."
His eyes keep closed. "Soarin, come on, answer me." No reply. "Please."
I begin to sob quietly. I clutch his right hoof and hold it to my face. "Dammit, Soarin. I don't cry," I say, my tears falling down my cheek and onto his arm. Or is that just the rain?
Behind me, I feel the wind pick up. I allow a glance behind and see the tornado catching ground towards us. "Soarin, come on! The tornado's coming." Quickly, I perform CPR, desperate to keep him alive. I sigh and lay my head on his chest, sobbing. "Please don't leave me."
I hear his heartbeat slow. A hoof touches my head and I look up. Soarin's face smiles softly and weakly at me. "I told you it would be dangerous," he says, laying his head back down. "I won't leave you, Dash. Ever. I love you."
I cry at the words, flattening my ear against his chest. I hear nothing. I don't hear the soothing thump of his heart. I don't feel his warmth. "Soarin, it's cold."
I hear no reply and I sit up, glancing down at him. I feel air collect in my lungs. I scream; I scream his name. I sob openly.
The tornado is right behind me now, but I refuse to let go of his hoof. "Soarinー"
The wind picks me up, and I clutch his body to me, fighting against the tornado. I feel tossed around, and Soarin dangles from my grasp. I look up.
There, in the middle of the tornado, wind and earth spinning around us, is a tunnel through the dark clouds and straight to the sky.
I open my eyes to the chirping birds outside. Sunlight flows through my blinds; I blink tiredly, focusing my eyes to the light. I don't feel like getting up. I feel a soft breeze flow through my cracked window, sending a shiver down my spine. I expel a breath and sit up with a groan. Tottering down the stairs, I see the living room glowing orange with the dawn's sun. A blanket is folded on the coffee table; on top of it, a note is taped.
Dash,
I'm going out. I'll be back soon.
Dad
I put the paper down and leave the blanket on the table. I lumber to the kitchen and open the empty cabinet. There's nothing in the fridge, since it doesn't work anymore. I hast worked for ten years. I close the cabinet in disappointment and decide to talk a walk, since I don't have work on Saturdays.
Locking the door behind me, I glance up at the cloudless sky, squinting in the sun. I focus my attention on the ground before me. I sigh and walk on the path I always take: There's no other path here. Not a lot of ponies even live in this area.
I only look down. Maybe I do it unconsciously. I don't remember ever looking up while I walk. A glint catches the corner of my eye and I pause, not looking up. I see a drop of water hit the soil at my hoof, and I see another, followed by another, until the ground is nearly soaked with my tears of memory.
I cry silently, remembering the lightning, my expression not changing. I glance at the thing that caught my eye; tears run down my face. It was a piece of silver on a chain. It was buried in the grass, invisible unless the reflection caught the sunlight. My eyes widen in surprise. I haven't felt surprise in a while; nothing new ever happens.
I rush to the necklace, tripping. I scramble up. Collapsing in front of the shiny object, I lift it gently, my hooves trembling violently and my breath rapid and uneven. I press the wing-shaped charm to my chest, sobbing. I feel the cold metal on my skin, just as I had felt when Soarin clasped the chain around my neck, laughing. I finally found it, after five years. I finally found it.
Crawling to the nearest tree, I lean back against it, balling up and grasping the necklace. "I told you I don't like jewelry, Soarin," I whisper, as if I would wake the memories sleeping inside the silver.
Walking back home with the necklace safely hidden, I abruptly stop, shocked.
In front of my house, I see policeponies gathered at the door, the backyard, inside the house: everywhere. A flashing array of red and blue illuminate the evening sky; the multiple voices of ponies flood the quiet air.
I walk up to the nearest police officer: "Sir, what's going on?"
The officer replies, "That's classified, ma'am."
"I live here; I want to know what's happened to my home. Where's my dad?"
The officer stiffens and replies hesitantly, "I-I'm sorry, ma'am. We found your father's body on the side of the road. Wound marks indicate suicide. We're here to investigate the house for possible reasons. May we take you in for interview?"
I stare at him, my expression unchanging and stoic, taking in the new information. I should be crying right about now. The only dad I've ever had, the only father that was there to welcome me home: Why do I not pity his death?
"Go to hell," I tell the officer, pushing to the sky.
I fly higher and higher, until I break through the clouds: There, I stop, looking around at the endless sea of orange clouds, colored by the sunset. My head stops pivoting, and points to gaze at the burning sun, glowing in the midst. I stare at the sun; I feel a soft breeze on my mane, reminding me of the morning before the day had begun.
There, tears fall again. Tears fall; they don't reach the ground, carried away by the wind into the land of nothingness. The tears, they dance solemnly in the air, glistening and shining in the spotlight. The tears, they wave goodbye and glide away into the sun. I don't wave back. I let the tears go. Here, tears fall. Here, tears are not of pity, not of sorrow; they are not of pain, nor of loss.
The tears that fall are lonely.
