by Pwn13s

First published

You adjust to life in Equestria as a Human. Love story featuring Lyra and Bon Bon.

One year ago you were thrown into a strange new world, equipped with only your underwear and enough wit to get you to safety. Your memory was scrambled, fragments of your old life whirling in the pool of your brain, though they never stayed long enough.

Now, you have found a new life, among the people of your new world. One which you are quite content with, where you are loved and safe. Your old life is dead, and with it, the old you. Many things die, but lots can be born from said death. Is the exchange worth it?

Big thanks to Vallis for proofreading the story!

If you enjoy this story let me know in the comments, or if you have any tips on how I could improve it then feel free to do so. Leave a like too, helps me see the progress!

*Edit. AAAHHHH IT GOT FEATURED! Holy shit I feel like giddy like a bloody schoolgirl :pinkiehappy:. WOOHH First story to get featured and it's the one I'm most proud of. Thanks so much for everyone who's supported this story, and there's much more to come.

Old Endings, New Beginnings

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Rays of light seep through the windows of your room, spreading across the floor and walls and sweeping the darkness into the corners. They continue to weave through the space, illuminating all that was once dark. The light reaches your eyes and you open them slowly, adjusting to the brightness. You stretch your arms above you, letting out a groan of relief as your bones crack and your muscles loosen. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you roll off the bed and onto the floor.

A pile of clothes sit in the cupboard, and you fish out a pair of shorts and a shirt. Slipping the shirt over your head, you make your way to the door, turning the handle quietly so as to not wake up your housemates. You place your hand on the door knob, noticing a small cyan sparkle hovering around the handle. The door swings open, and you step back and out of the way.

Lyra stands in your doorway, her hair hanging loosely over her face and shoulders. Her sweater is grey, baggy, and is suspended from only one of her shoulders, the other one naked as a newborn. Her hands are gently cupped around a mug of what you presume to be coffee, and another mug floats in the space around her head. The cyan glow emanating from it warms you, and you blink gently as your fatigue finally dissipates.

You smile at the Turquoise mare standing in front of you. She looks beautiful. "Mornin' Lyra."

"Morning." The floating mug moves slowly towards you, and as you close your hand around the handle the cyan aura vanishes. "Bon Bon figured you might want some tea."

"It's nice to know that after a year you guys finally know me." You mutter as you sip from the cup, the warm liquid sliding down your throat and settling in your belly. You blow onto the surface of the drink, hoping to cool it down somewhat.

Lyra crosses her arms and leans against the door. "So are you gonna sit there drinking tea all morning, or you gonna come get some pancakes?" She stands up straight and walks out, the mug of coffee trailing behind her. You get up and follow.

Bon Bon stands next to the counter, the pancakes stacked on a plate beside her. Their sweet caramel smell washes over your nose, and your mouth starts to salivate ever so slightly. Her tail swishes as Lyra walks up to her, and she nuzzles her lover gently. Lyra plants a kiss on Bon Bon's neck.

You cough. "I can go back to sleep if you want." Bon Bon blushes, and Lyra playfully flips you off. You grin. "I mean, either way I'm happy." A pillow flies towards you, and you duck to one side. Lyra has another one ready.

"Lyra! Don't throw the pillows. They're expensive." Bon Bon chides the other mare.

"Yeah Lyra. You might damage them y'know."

Lyra fixes you with a death stare, but she doesn't throw the pillow. Instead, the previously thrown pillow smacks you in the back of the head, then floats gently to Lyra. She places both of them back on the sofa, and moves towards the table. You do the same, stopping by the counter to grab the plates and cutlery.

As you set the plates down, Bon Bon comes to the table with the stack of pancakes, placing them in the centre of the table. You hand both her and Lyra a plate, and then sit down, sliding the chair closer to the table. You reach for the pancakes, but Lyra smacks your hand before you can grab one.

"Excuse you, but I always get first pick on the pancakes." She smiles childishly, her grin reaching from one ear and ending at the other. She yanks the plate away from you, and spears one of the cakes with her fork.

"So what happened to guests first?"

"Cut me the guest bullshit. You've lived with us for pretty much a year now, and you don't seem to be leaving anytime soon." Lyra dismisses your complaints with a wave of the hand.

"And that's how we like it." Bon Bon smiles at you from across the table, and you grin back at her. "Consider yourself part of our little family."

Through a mouthful of pancakes Lyra groans. "Ugh! Tenderness, my one weakness." She swallows, washing down the rest of her meal with some milk. You bite into your own pancakes, savouring their fluffy texture and sweet taste. Bon Bon sifts through her bowl of fruit, picking out the oranges and biting happily into them.

You continue chewing on your breakfast, occasionally sipping on the tall glass of milk that sits in front of your plate. Lyra hums happily, while Bon Bon flicks through the newspaper, her beige hands carefully turning each page as her eyes scan the page for important or interesting news. A soothing mix of paper rustling and Lyra's humming echoes through the house, and you feel a sense of calm come over you.

You let out a loud yelp as your head hits the concrete floor, and your vision blurs. You can only moan as your body spasms on the floor, a sense of numbness the only palpable emotion you can muster. Blood trickles from your forehead, matting your hair with the sticky substance. It seeps into your eyes, no matter how clenched you keep them.

You reach up with your hand, brushing the hair away from your eyes and feeling around for the wound. You wince as your fingers brush over a swollen patch of skin, which you determine to be the source of all the blood. Looking around, none of your immediate surroundings are recognisable, but there's something about them that seems familiar. What is it?

A loud groan escapes your mouth as you get to your feet. Swaying a bit, you reach out for the nearest support, and your hand hits a hard, uneven surface. You squint at it, the fading light not helping in determining the object. It's tall and wide, with weird limbs reaching out from the higher level of it. A tree. You blink repeatedly, straining to figure out what's happened.

The dizzying sensation is slowly reduced to the point where you are able to walk, and so you start making your way around. You exit the forest and come into what you presume to be a town square. A fountain sits in the very centre of the square, an assortment of roses, carnations and other flowers resting around it. Water sprays from a statue of...

A horse?

The statue stands there on two human like legs, with arms and hands and the figure that horses definitely should not have. Additionally, wings sprout from its back, frozen in mid beat, and a horn rests on its head. You rub your eyes, but the statue remains in place. Placing a hand to your forehead, you feel a dull but constant throbbing. You sigh loudly in the silent courtyard.

And then the thunder starts to boom. You flinch as the loud rumble echoes around you, and lightning flashes across the sky. Shit. Looking around, the rain clouds your vision and stings your skin. As it falls from the clouds you realise that you're bare skinned besides a pair of boxers. Goosebumps prick your skin, and you wrap your arms around yourself to stay warm.

You squint through the heavy cover of water, and see lights in the distance. You immediately start to move towards them, your feet slipping on the now soaked brick floor. The clouds explode with thunder once more, and you drop to the floor. Lightning flashes and you briefly see your hands covered in cuts, small lines with rocks or sticks protruding from the skin. You can feel a gash in your foot, and your knees are no better off.

You continue to stumble your way along the road, and finally you reach the first of many houses. Beating on the door with your fist, you call out to anyone inside. "Hello? Someone please let me in!" No one answers, and you knock even harder. "Please! I, I think I'm lost. I need somewhere to stay! Hello?" Finally the door unlocks.

In the doorway stands a strange, human-like horse, much like the statue you came across earlier, minus the wings. She still has the horn. Her fur is dark purple, with yellow streaks that run along her sides. A tail rests behind her, sweeping back and forth and occasionally curling around her leg. Her hair is a bright silver and blue, the locks falling past her shoulders.

You lock eyes with her, your face mimicking her expression of disbelief and confusion. She blinks a few times, her eyes shifting from your head to toe, inspecting every inch of you. You simply stand there, your eyes wide open and your breathing heavy. Blood trickles from the various wounds you've suffered throughout this ordeal. Eventually you muster the brains to speak. "Please."

The woman shakes her head, her body quivering slightly. She slams the door, and you're left alone again. You slump against the wall of the house, falling to your knees. Brief comfort from the storm is provided by the roof, but you know you cant stay. Shaken by the whole experience, you take a moment to collect yourself. This is fucking weird. I don't know how much of this is real, but I know I need to get somewhere indoors. I'll wake up in the morning and sort shit out then. For now, I need a place to sleep. Yeah. That's all. It's fine, I just need some sleep.

You sigh loudly and get up, your feet still tender against the floor. You poke your head out from underneath the roof, the rain still pouring heavily, and then move out and away from the house. You move down to the next house, and knock on the door again. This time a much taller, buffer male comes to the door. He unlocks the latch and looks at you for a brief second.

The door closes as quickly as it had opened. You move to the next house, your body now shivering wildly. Knock knock knock. You stand there, hugging your naked chest, waiting for someone to answer the door. After half a minute or so the door finally swings open. Standing there is a turquoise woman, her hair cyan and white and her eyes a glorious sunglow. You stare at her, mesmerised by her beauty. "Please help."

She turns her head back into her house. "Bon Bon! Grab some bandages and a blanket!" She turns back to you, and extends a soft hand. Her voice calls out to you softly. "Come on in." You take her hand and immediately your whole body relaxes somewhat. She places her arm under yours, and around your shoulder. Another woman rounds the corner, a first aid box in one hand and a heavy blanket trailing in the other. A towel is slung around her shoulders.

She hands the towel to the turquoise one, who releases her arm from your shoulders and starts to wipe you down. You lift a hand. "Please, I, I'll manage." You reach for the towel, but she gently pushes your hand away.

"Please. You're really not in good shape. I'm Lyra by the way, but we'll have more time for introductions tomorrow. First we need to get you to bed." Lyra finishes up with the towel, depositing it in a basket at the corner of the room. She comes back to you and resumes her position under your arms.

Together the pair usher you into a small room on the side of the hallway, and lay you down gently onto a bed. The cream coloured one, Bon Bon, starts to clean your wounds. You wince, sucking in air through your teeth as the alcohol seeps into your cuts. She places a hand on your chest, steadying you. "There there. Just give me a minute and I'll have you fixed up."

She finishes up on your cuts, then starts to wrap bandages around them. Lyra comes back in and tucks the blanket over you just as Bon Bon finishes dressing the cut on your head. You stare at the strange couple, their similarity to your anatomy and yet so many differences as well. To your surprise, your mouth opens and you utter a few words.

"Can I have a watch and notepad? Something to write with too."

They stare at you for a couple seconds, presumably bewildered by your request. Lyra nods suddenly, and exits the room. "Yeah yeah just gimme a sec. I'll be back." You smile weakly, your eyelids heavy and your mind already clouded. You take in your surroundings, the room, the storm thundering on outside, and the strange thing sitting on the bed in front of you.

Lyra comes back in with the watch, pen and pad, handing them to you. You yawn, checking the watch for a date. "Thanks. I need some sleep now." You catch a smile from Bon Bon, and Lyra's eyes brighten up with an almost motherly joy.

"We'll check on you in the morning. Sleep well." They leave the room, and you fumble for the bedside lamp. Turning it on, you scribble something down on the paper.

Date: 12th April, 2013. Storm. Strange place, don't know where. People like horses. One of them's turquoise, sexy and nice. The other's cream, cool and caring. Nice alliteration. Bad dream? Find out tomorrow.

You place the pad on the floor, and rest your head on the pillow. You instantly fall asleep.

"GUYS!" Bon Bon and Lyra flinch violently, Lyra spilling milk everywhere and Bon Bon dropping her newspaper.

"Fucking christ! What was that about?" Lyra fixes you with a death stare, cleaning up the spilled liquid with a napkin.

"The date! It's 12th April! One year since I got here!"


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Lyra raises an eyebrow at you. "So, our anniversary?"

You tilt your head in thought, trying to find a more appropriate term for it. "I mean, I guess that's it. Yeah."

Bon Bon giggles from across the table. "Oh my god this is so exciting! Are we going to do something?"

"What about that little seafood place at the corner of town? Harpoon Harbour or something?" Lyra chimes in.

"Sounds perfect." Bon Bon gets up from the table and grabs her computer, flipping the cover open. She taps the keys, her fingers shifting from one letter to another and finally pressing the enter button. "Oh I know! We can have a picnic for lunch down at the park! You guys run out and grab some food, and I'll make the reservations."

Lyra groans. "Grocery shopping? Bon... You know I hate supermarkets."

"Oh come on Lyra. It'll only take 20 minutes tops." Bon Bon dismisses her with a small wave of the hand, her wrist loosely hanging. Lyra's tail swishes with frustration, and her face contorts into a frown.

You smirk. "It's cool. I'll run down there myself, just gimme a list and I'll head off." Lyra's face visibly relaxes. Bon Bon huffs.

"Fine fine. I think we have most of what we need in the fridge, but there'll be a couple of things. I'll write 'em down for you. Lyra?" Lyra runs off down the hallway, but she's back within a matter of seconds. A small notepad floats in the air, the telltale cyan aura gently pulsing around it. It floats slowly towards Bon Bon.

"Thanks." She gets to scribbling down a list of food, meanwhile Lyra has collapsed dramatically on the sofa. You walk over to her slowly, looking down at your friend and her strange position. She huffs the hair from her face, and smiles up at you. Her grin beams out, illuminating her beauty and highlighting her glorious sunglow eyes. You try so hard not to stare. To not show how you feel.

"TICKLE FIGHT!" Lyra yells out, suddenly reaching for your chest. You pull back, but her hands are locked solidly around your shoulders, and she flips you over the sofa. You fall clumsily onto the carpeted floor, struggling to roll away from her. Her fingers dig into your sides, pressing on the nerves and sending spasms through your body.

You shift and wriggle on the floor, Lyra pinning you down with the weight of her body. Loud yelps of laughter escape your mouth, your cheeks flushing red as you scream on the ground. "Lyra! Ly-ha HAH. Lyra stop! Stohohop! Stop it! Get off." You squirm out from under her, turning around and roaring as you throw yourself on top of the mare.

She squeals as you begin to assault her feet with your fingertips, circling the areas that you know from experience will elicit a response. The fur rubs softly against your fingers, and you slide your hand around her heel. Her cackling does nothing to slow you down.

You shift position, keeping Lyra nailed to the floor with your knee. Bringing your hands around the back of her neck, you gently press into the soft flesh and feel her shoulders tense. “Nononono don’t you dare! Do NOT do that! I’m, I’m warning you! Don’t do it!” Her cries for mercy fall on deaf ears. You pinch down with your hands, and immediately Lyra screams out.

She arches her back and pushes against you with all the force she can muster, but you’ve already locked your hands around her neck. You wriggle your fingers around, prodding at nerves and poking the sensitive muscles under her skin. But your attack is over as quickly as it had begun.

You can only watch as you begin to float away from Lyra, encased in a bubble of magic that drifts slowly towards the ceiling. Looking through it, you see Lyra stand up, brushing lint and dust off her shirt and smoothing out wrinkles. She turns to face you.

Very slowly, very deliberately, she walks up to your cage and places a hand on the bottom of it. You call through it. “Lyra. Get me out of this thing.” You try to contain your grin, putting on the face of a father scolding his child. She smiles at you, a wicked shine in her eyes.

“I told you not to do it. I very specifically told you not to, but you did it anyways. And now I’m exacting my revenge.” She pushes gently on the base of the sphere, sending you floating helplessly towards the ceiling.

It bumps gently into the roof and remains floating there, a good 3 meters off the ground. “Lyra you started all of this! Don't make me finish it!” Other than a small swish of the tail, your comment evokes no reaction from Lyra. Bon Bon has picked up the phone and is speaking to someone, you presume them to be from the restaurant, and so she’s oblivious to everything going on.

“If I say the magic word will you let me go?”

“Depends. Do you even know what it is?”

You shrug. “Lyra is the greatest?”

“Y’know, that is true. But no, that’s not it. This is.” Lyra scrunches up her face and, without a moments pause, releases a tremendous burp that echoes off the walls of the house. You groan.

“That was disgusting.”

“That was the magic word.”

You roll your eyes. “That wasn't even a word.”

“You get the idea. Now come on! You don't wanna piss off Bon do you? I tell you, if you don't get those groceries she’ll flip her shit.”

You groan again. Alright, let’s do it. You begin swallowing air, feeling your stomach bloat slightly with gas. Finally it begins to feel full, and you swallow one last time for good measure. You make a ‘wait for it’ gesture, then let loose a barrage of gas that rumbles your throat and tickles your tonsils.

It begins to trail off, and you breathe out the last of it. Lyra laughs sharply, a bark of noise that leaves her with a huge smile on her face. “Hey man not bad. Let’s get you out of there.”

The bubble pops and you flail in the air for a few seconds before landing on the sofa with a soft ‘oomph’, burying yourself in a mound of pillows.. Lyra’s head pops up from the other end of the sofa, and her hand is extended out to you. You grab onto it, and together you manage to haul yourself out of the mass of pillows. She smiles at you.

You smile back. “Well then, I’d best be off.”

Lyra puts on a posh accent, and daintily places her hand in front of you. “Oh indeed my dear, that seems like it would be the most efficient use of time!”

You roll your eyes, bringing her hand up to your mouth. “As you wish, madam.” You plant a soft kiss on the back of her hand, her fur tickling your lips gently. You pull back, grabbing the list and heading out the door.

As you hear the click of the door closing behind you, you take a deep breath through your nose, inhaling the fresh scent of the towns many stores. Strong cinnamon wafts over from the local bakery, a strong earthly mix of wood and soil coming a nearby construction site, and natural sweetness from a flower store. Other aromas drift in the wind, and you smile once again. Today’s gonna be a good day.

You’ve barely made it five feet from the door before you’re charged from behind. You stumble forwards, almost tripping over the curb. Regaining your balance, you turn your head to shout at whoever was blind enough to run into the only Human in all of Equestria.

Of course it’s Lyra.

You lean back into her, feeling her warm breath on your neck, her arms around your shoulders, and her chest against your back. “You do realise this looks extremely intimate.”

You feel her jaw dig into you as her smile widens. “Bon ain't looking, so we got special allowance to be frisky.”

Your grin splits your face from ear to ear. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Yeah well, my love for you surpasses all else.” You roll your eyes, and as if in response Lyra elaborates. “Seriously though. You don't get out enough and I was worried you’d get lost. Supermarket’s down this way.” She points down the road, in the exact direction you were heading previously.

Once again your eyes roll around in their sockets, but Lyra locks her fingers in between yours and you start moving. She skips happily along the pavement, her arm flying back and forth, swinging yours along with it. You walk beside her, indifferent to the stares you receive from some of the Ponies.

A sudden thought strikes you. You lean over to Lyra, whispering in her ear. "Doesn't everyone know about me by now? Considering, y'know. Do I need to explain?"

Lyra shrugs. "I know all of our friends know about you, and they're sorta used to the idea of you, but I cant say for these guys. Maybe they haven't seen you? I'm sure they know, but even if you had known we existed, you still would have been shocked when you got here, right? Seeing one of us in the flesh?"

"Fair enough."

"Plus they probably never thought you'd hook up with the hottest pony in all of Equestria." Lyra sweeps her hair behind her shoulder and bats her eyelashes. You reach the supermarket. Thank god.

The bags of shopping weigh down your arms, your shoulders and back struggling to maintain good posture. Lyra, of course, continues to waltz around next to you, her arms completely free of any baggage. Trudging along the sidewalk, you make your way back home.

Lyra reaches for the door knob, twisting it and swinging the door open. “We’re home Bon! And look! I brought presents!”

Bon Bon’s head peeks around from the corner, and she smiles. “Good. I’ll get the picnic arranged and then we can head off!”

You place the bags down on the kitchen counter, sighing with relief. “Cool cool. I’m gonna have a quick shower.” Slipping your shirt over your head, you chuck it into the wash pile in the corner of the room and walk into the bathroom.

With your pants resting on the counter, you slip into the shower and turn on the water. The warm liquid runs down through your hair and over your stomach, down your back and sliding off your legs into the drain.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you massage the shampoo into your scalp, and then immediately washing it out. The bubbles of soap run down the drain, and you step out and reach for the towel.

Feeling cleansed and refreshed, you step out of the bathroom and grab a shirt from your room. Bon Bon calls out to you from the kitchen. “You want anything particular in your sandwich?”

You step out of the room and make your way along the hall. “Not really. Just some ham and lettuce is fine.” As you reach the kitchen Lyra thrusts something into your hand. “What i…”

“Ssshhh sshh shut up. Just try some.” She bites into some sort of biscuit, the crumbs scattering in the air and drifting to the floor, settling in the fur of the carpet. You try some of your own, your teeth clamping around the wafer and biting down.

Caramel immediately floods your mouth, a sweet, thick mixture that sticks to the roof of your mouth. You pick up on a gentle, underlying taste of lemon, and you smile with your mouthful. You catch the crumbs as the biscuit breaks up around the edges, catching Lyra’s own grin.

“Good right? Shush though, Bon’s only making a certain amount and she watches them closely. But not close enough.” You pop the rest of the biscuit into your mouth, crunching down on the flakey shell and chewing on the gooey centre.

Dusting the crumbs into a nearby bin, Lyra in tow, you step into the kitchen. Bon acknowledges your presence with a nod of the head and a basket of food. “Hold this.” You do as you’re told, the basket now hanging from your hand.

Lyra grabs another, slightly smaller basket from the counter, peeking inside to get a look at the contents. Bon Bon smacks her on the back, and she drops the lid of the container back down. After dusting herself off, Bon Bon’s face lights up with a smile.

“Alright! Let’s go.” She nods towards the door, and you make your way out. You hold the door open for the two mares, then let it drop as they step into the street. The door clicks as it closes, and you twist the key to lock it.

Dropping the key into your pocket, you catch up and match pace with Bon Bon and Lyra. Through the crowded streets, you gently push your way through the crowds of ponies that line the streets. Some glance in your direction, but fewer than there were last time. You shake your head slightly. I wonder if they’ll get used to me. The sight of me. The thought of me. Generally the fact that I exist.

About a foot behind you, Bon Bon chimes in. “Don’t worry sweetie. They’ll understand that you’re here to stay soon enough. Give it time.” You smile. She always knows how someone feels.

Lyra on the other hand, replies in a way that can only be described as, well, Lyra-y. “They’ll get used to you, but you’ll always be the ugly little duckling. Ugly ugly duckling.”

“Gee, thanks Lyra. I was feeling so down until you gave me that support.”

She walks up to you, linking her arm in yours. “Oh lighten up kiddo. I’m sure you’ll find someone who can look past you various, glaringly obvious flaws. Or at least, sweep them into a dark little corner of the room.”

“Oh boy! You think someone could manage that?” You widen your eyes and force a smile, your tone dripping with sarcasm. Lyra grins and pushes you away.

Turning a corner, you’re welcomed by a vast land of lush green and tall trees. Lyra drops her basket right in front of you, proceeding to sprint into the field, giggling like a psycho. Bon stands next to you, her hands on her hips. “She, uh, really likes this place.”

You flash Bon Bon a smile. “Dog’s gotta be able to run around right?” She puts her hand to her mouth and almost spits, a smirk peeking out from her palm. She raises her hand, motioning for some space. Finally a giggle escapes from her mouth, before she regains her composure and straightens up.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

You throw your arms outwards, pointing to the turquoise dot that zooms across the grass. “Look at her! She’s gone barking mad! Next thing you know she’ll be scratching her ears for fleas.” You shake your head, picking up Lyra’s discarded basket and heading into the centre of the field.

"Better get used to it. You guys are gonna be with each other for a while longer.”

Bon Bon hums happily behind you as Lyra continues to spin her way around the grass. You reach into your basket and pull out a large cloth, fanning it out and spreading it on the ground. Bon Bon smoothes out the wrinkles and gently lowers herself onto the cloth, her legs tucked neatly by her side.

You drop onto the large weave, the grass poking through the fabric and prickling your legs. The beige mare plucks an apple from one of the baskets, crunching through the skin and tearing out a chunk of the sweet flesh. Juices squirt out from the fruit.

Grabbing one yourself, you swivel your head around to search for the other pony. Still scanning the surroundings, you take a huge chunk out of your apple, chewing it thoroughly and savouring the crisp taste. As you turn back around, something knocks into you from behind.

You drop your apple as a ball of light blue and mint white balls into you, fur and hair alike swishing in your face and tickling your nose. A pair of arms wrap around your shoulders, squeezing you much softer than you had anticipated. “I bloody told you she’s like a dog.”

Bon Bon laughs, a short and precise chuckle that fills the small hill with its sound. Lyra blows a strand of hair from her eyes, sporting a smile that dwarfs even the shine of the moon. Her face is only inches from yours. You feel her breath warm on your neck, her body pressed against yours.

Abruptly she jumps off you, showing no signs of embarrassment. “Happy one-year-since-you-arrived celebration! I haven’t said that yet!”

Her girlfriend huffs. “Lyra you doof. You’re supposed to say that when we give him the cake, and preferably NOT give him a concussion while doing it.”

She twists her hair around her finger, batting her eyelashes. “But I didn’t mean to hurt him! I was just trying to have a widdle bitta fun!” Flashing you a grin, she dives into the picnic basket, chucking you your sandwich without any warning. You catch it nonchalantly, biting into the soft bread and chewing slowly.

Finally Lyra pulls out the cake from the bottom of the basket, placing it in the middle of the cloth gently. "There we go!" Planting a small kiss on your cheek, the mare's horn sparks and the candles ignite, wavering ever so slightly in the breeze. Bon Bon comes round and cheek kisses you, a quick peck on each side.

You can't contain the look of complete bliss that crosses your face, and both the women giggle simultaneously. Pulling them close with your arms, you embrace them in a tangle of limbs and hair. Loud chortling echoes down the field, two happy ponies and one ecstatic human all guffawing in tandem.

Leaving the huddle, you take another bite of your sandwich. Bon Bon has finished hers already, neatly wiping away at crumbs with a napkin. Lyra, although she hasn’t even started yet, soon begins to chow down and her sandwich is gone within seconds. She gulps down her meal.

The rest of the picnic goes as you had more or less expected, besides the cake. You share stories among yourselves, tales of your life in the early stages of your arrival. Lyra roars with laughter. “Oh my god! Do you remember that time, the time when we all got absolutely shit-faced and you ended up performing ‘magic’?”

“Okay, so what you do is, this is a magical horn.” Lyra places a stick-like object in front of you, and although your vision deceives you, your mind is sure that it must be a horn. Like the one Lyra has. You nod intently, completely lost but at the same time focused.


“So it’s a magical horn. And what. What you do is.” Lyra sways on her feet, a sudden hiccup rocking her body forwards. She stumbles on the table, falling to the floor. Bon Bon wheezes with laughter, slapping her thighs and gasping for air. She teeters towards the table, picking up the magic horn in front of you.

“Whud Lyra’s trynna say is ya gotta just.” She smacks you in the face with the stick, her hand sliding further up to your forehead. She tapes on the horn, then, for some reason, places a lighter at the base of the horn.

Thinking logically, your brain comes to the conclusion that the reason for this is to help weld the horn in place. Of course that’s why. Why else would she need fire?!

Bon Bon shouts at you suddenly. “And then, POW! Do some magicy stuff widdit.”

You nod fervently, the horn bobbing up and down. Standing up, you widen your legs slightly, loosen your shoulders and lean forwards. Lyra roars with laughter on the floor, throwing off your concentration. “Lyra! Shut it!”

She jumps up from the floor, hitting her head on the table on her way up. “Fucking shit! Bon! When did this table get’ere.” Her girlfriend shrugs. The turquoise mare turns her attention back to you. “Alright.” She slurs her words.

“Try and shoot somin out of it. Like, a fireball or stuff. Threetwoone GO!”

You blink and tense yourself, squeezing every ounce of strength into your attempt at releasing a projectile from your newly acquired horn. A spark ignites and suddenly a bolt of light erupts from the tip of the horn, and your jaws gape at the sight.

Behind you, Bon Bon and Lyra are struggling to breathe through bouts of snickering, their hands slapping floor, backs and thighs alike. You throw your arms around in a bewildered manner. “Ohmygodman! Thas amazin! How come, how come.” You fall to the floor in a drunken stupor.

This only brings about more laughter, and Bon Bon’s face goes visibly red from a lack of oxygen. She releases short bursts of breath that struggle to become even a most feeble laugh, but her smile splits her face. You continue your drunken rambling.

“How come Bon diddun just ged wunadeez? Then we could do magic togetha!” Lyra roars with laughter, her chest heaving on the floor. You turn around and yelp as a flame licks at you, originating from the hole where you had just performed ‘magic’.

Bon Bon swears for the first time in a while. “Fuck! We need uh, we need, water! Water!” She careens across the room towards the tap, surprisingly intelligent for the current state she’s in. Filling a bucket with water, she runs carefully, albeit losing some of the precious liquid, and douses the flames rather efficiently.

You scratch your head, struggling to comprehend the situation and stand at the same time. So you take the only evident course of action. With your entire body supported by the floor, you can now start to think clearly. Or as clear as a drunk man can think. Something rolls towards you on the floor.

You pick it up in your hand, squinting at it in the dim lighting of the sitting room. It looks oddly familiar, like a slightly larger sparkler. You turn to look at the two mares, one of which is almost unconscious on the floor. “Is this a firework.”

Lyra looks up at you, her head heavy and saliva drooling down her chin. She looks closer to dead than sleepy. She giggles profusely, then abruptly falls asleep on the carpet. You look to Bon Bon for an explanation. She burps, then shrugs gently. “Congrads ontha magic. Im bed now.”

You nod carefully, as if someone has explained to you the mysteries of the universe and you’re attempting to comprehend them. But that’s not what’s happened. You hear Bon Bon drop onto her bed, and you begin to crawl to your own one.

You make it to your room, but not into the bed itself. You’re granted a small bit of satisfaction when it occurs to you that you made it further than Lyra. Opening your hand, you find it clenched around a small stick of thin metal, with a ruined canister at the end. “Is this a firework.”

Sleep hits you hard and fast.

You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, now en route to your house. “Yeah, I, uh, WE, had a lot to drink that night. Besides. You guys could bloody turn an apple into a snake or vice versa. In a state like that I’m not surprised I fell for your trick.”

Lyra scoffs. “We had more than just quantity. The fact that BON, out of all people, decided giving you a firework and lighting it indoors was a good thing means we had something a hell of a lot stronger than just beer.”

In contrast to her girlfriend, Bon Bon frowns slightly at the thought of the incident. “I’m actually quite upset that all of that occurred. Usually I never would have let something like that happen. You should have seen all the damn work I had to put in to fix that wall.”

Lyra nudges her. “Chill out Bon. You were the only one who was able to think properly in that situation. I was totally fucked, I mean I woke up with my face covered in spit and my face squashed into the folds of the carpet, and when I went to check on him” She raises her eyebrows and nods at you. “The dirty bastard had puked all over his bed.”

A cheeky grin flashes across your face. Lyra releases a jokingly exasperated sigh. “You were on the bloody floor! How had you managed to get it all up there?”

You shrug. “I have some very specific talents.”

Bon rolls her eyes, a smile crossing her lips. The sun is starting to set, the blazing orb drifting closer and closer to the horizon. Swinging the door to the apartment open, you dump the baskets by the kitchen sink and retreat to your bed. Small pockets of light float around in the space of the room, and you trace your finger along the bright rays.

”Alright kiddo, time for bed.” You tuck the blanket over the small boys chest, stopping just under his chin. He releases a yawn, stretching his legs under the cover and offering you a weak smile.

“Goodnight daddy. Sleep well.”

“Night night boy. Love you lots.” You close the door gently as the child turns in his bed, reaching out for his stuffed toys and drawing them nearer to him. You check the next room, finding that your daughter is already fast asleep. You plant a gentle kiss on her forehead, sweeping her hair out from her eyes.

Quickly going through the house, you flick off any light switches and double check on the dogs. ”Honey? Are you coming to bed?” You hear your wife call out to you from the bedroom.

“Shh, kids are asleep. I’m coming.” You slip into the bed with her and she snuggles into you. Her smaller frame slots perfectly into the space of your own, and you wrap your arm around her chest, pulling her closer. Your hands run gently over her soft skin, feeling the various bumps, moles, hairs and small scars. She is human, yet she’s perfect.

You breathe in the scent of her hair, a sweet fruity smell from her shampoo and a more natural one from her face wash. She breathes deeply as sleep washes over her, and soon she’s lost in the realm of dreams and glee. Your own eyelids begin to feel heavy, and soon you’re drifting away with her. You let out a deep breath, smiling to yourself and letting your body rest.

You open your eyes abruptly, looking frantically around the room. Your brain pounds away in your skull, throbbing violently and thumping against its shelter. You place one hand on your temple, and soon the pain subsides. You still feel fuzzy, and cant quite recollect what you had just experienced although it had only been mere seconds go.

You screw your eyes shut, trying to reel the dream back before it is lost in the expanse of your mind for good. Nothing comes back except for the pounding against your skull. You bury your palms into your eyes, shutting out the pain and releasing a grimace of anger. They never stay too long. They’re never long either. They’re just… fragments.

A door clicks shut, and you listen to the sound of water spraying from a shower head and splashing on the fibreglass bottom of the bath. You’re brought back into this world by the sounds of life coming from the small house. The gentle gargling of the liquid echoes from the bath as you sift through the vast oak wardrobe, picking out a pair of navy blue pants and a grey collared shirt to match.

You slide your feet into your shoes, quickly tying the knot in the laces and smoothing your pants out. Slicking your hair back from your face, you step back outside and wait in the living room. A quick look in the mirror confirms that you’re good to go. Already you’ve put the incident behind you, filing it away as another hallucination. You glance down at your watch. 6:45. You call out. “Hey Bon! What time’s our reservation?”

A few seconds pass before you get an answer. “7 O’clock. Why?”

“Just might wanna get a move on. We got 15 minutes.” You hear an audible ‘mmhmm’ of agreement, and within another 5 minutes both mares are done with their preparations for tonight. Your eyes widen slightly as they settle on the stunning sight before you, and you shake your head to stop from staring.

Lyra’s dress is a simple dark black dress, silky smooth with a v neck that reveals a small amount of her cleavage. The dress is slit along the length of her leg, revealing it as she walks along. Part of her hair is tied into a bun, the rest of it falling neatly and symmetrically on her shoulders, loose waves of mint coloured strands. You’re overcome with a sudden longing.

Bon Bon is wearing a long purple dress, the lower half of it ruffled but not overly so. It stops just before the ground, bouncing gently as she walks along. Her hair sweeps across her face, parted on one side and hanging slightly above her eye, the curls imitating the motion of her dress.

Lyra places her hand gently on your shoulder, a genuine smile lightening up her face and eyes. “You’re looking very nice. Shall we go?” She nods to the door.

“Nothing compared to you two. I feel like a bloody homeless person among gods.”

Lyra’s laugh is hearty and only serves to further your desire to be with her. You start to drift off, thinking of a life with Lyra and how you would be together. Her girlfriend’s sudden chuckle reminds you of her existence, and the barrier it presents. You shake your head, talking to yourself. Christ man you’re making it sound like I want her gone. Fuck, that’s not how it is at all.

You force a smile, although it’s not the hardest thing to manage at the time. As Bon Bon makes her way towards the door, Lyra takes your hand in hers, a much more gentle gesture than you’re used to with the woman. Your skin prickles with goosebumps, and she leads you outside into the fresh evening air.

You wrap your arms around yourself as a sudden breeze of cold air runs through you. Lyra huddles slightly closer, while on her right Bon Bon tucks a scarf around herself. She takes the lead, turning right and heading out towards the restaurant. You follow closely behind, Lyra still snuggling you for warmth.

Nothing pierces the evening silence apart from a quiet howl of animals, coming from a distant location, a mixed echo of wolves, owls, deers and other woodland critters. The night sky is littered with stars, pinpoints of brightness in the void of the heavens. Bon Bon quietly whistles a tune to herself, and Lyra starts to join in.

Lyra’s lower mimic combines gracefully with the higher notes of Bon’s tune, creating a melodic masterpiece that begins to fill the atmosphere. You look down at Lyra as she continues to form music from her mouth, her lips puckered gently and her eyes lost in the rhythm. It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve heard since you arrived.

You cant help but lose yourself in the tranquility of the moment, the amalgamation of noises that your brain registers as a single chorus, a strange mess of beauty and order. Lyra pinches you gently in the ribs, and you look down to catch her grinning up at you. You rest your head on hers, and after a while you’re finally at the restaurant.

The small mare shifts her head to look up at you. “You okay honey?”

You raise your eyebrows, refocusing on the world in front of you. “Hmm? Oh right. Yeah I’m fine.”

“You sure? You just seem a bit, distant.”

You nod your head, this time more assertive. “Just another fragment. I’m fine now.”

Lyra nods slowly, finally understanding what’s happened. She tucks her head back into the nook of your arm. “Well, if you wanna talk, I’m all ears.” You exhale through your nose, a quick burst that signifies acknowledgement. Up ahead, a neon sign flashes with the words “Harpoon Harbour.”

Bon unfurls the scarf from her neck and tosses it over her shoulder. “Hello, I called earlier making a reservation for 3?”

The waiter nods, and gestures for you to come. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you your table and tonights menu.” The grey man walks briskly through the busy restaurant, pulling out the chairs at a table and beckoning for you. You take your seat on one side, Lyra and Bon Bon place themselves on the other. The stallion places three menus on the table.

He goes through the usual waiter talk of the specials, wines, chef favourites and any special deals. Sifting through the menu, you pick out a simple lobster dish, while Lyra goes for scallops and a mixed vegetable salad. Bon Bon chooses the special, a sea bass ceviche with grapefruit and fennel, and you order a bottle of red wine for the three of you.

The waiter nods and goes to relay the order, while you sit with the two mares patiently awaiting your food. Glancing around the restaurant, you look at the tiled walls that match the floors, the little booths to your left with sofa chairs, the large windows that look out on the vast fields of the town. The place is well lit, with lamps placed above each table, illuminating it but not overly so. There is no music playing, but frankly you think it only helps with the ambience.

You pass the time with small talk, and there’s no other way you would want it to be. Most of the stories have already been shared, so Bon Bon asks about what you’d like to do in the future. “I don’t really know. I guess visiting Canterlot would be nice, considering it’s the capital of this place. Plus, I mean, I’d imagine I might get a free ticket to see Celestia. Y’know. Me being the only human ever to grace this world and whatnot.”

Lyra chuckles at your comment. “Trust me, you really don’t wanna spend too much time there. Everyone’s either a snob or they’re too busy kissing Celestia’s ass to be stuck up. Either way, they’re boring as all hell.”

“Come on Lyra, you were in the choir for a while.” Bon Bon reminds her, sounding like a mother scolding a child, verging on condescending.

She scoffs. “Yeah, until I realised that the only reason they had their mouths open during performances was cause they were hoping Celestia would stick her dick in them.” She winks at you and grins. “You’d be amazed what magic can achieve.”

Bon Bon raises her eyebrows at Lyra as you try to choke down your laughter. Soon enough the waiter returns with a tray of food, placing each item in front of their designated recipient. He pops the cork off of the wine bottle and proceeds to pour around half a glass for each of you, then places it in the middle of the table. “Enjoy your meal and please let me know should you need anything else.”

You nod at him. “Thank you very much.” He nods back, his eyes lingering on you for a couple seconds more than normal. You ignore him, not taking any personal offence but still choosing to not respond. You pour some of your melted butter over the lobster tails, taking in the sweet smell of the lemon, parsley and garlic, as well as the salty sweet smell from the lobster.

Stabbing one of the tails with your fork, you cut it up into a more manageable size and pop it into your mouth. The meat is sweet and perfectly cooked, the sauce strong and ever so slightly overpowering. The butter coats your mouth with its spiced flavour, and you take another bite of your lobster.

Lyra swallows another chunk of her scallops, while Bon gracefully chews on her sea bass. You smile as you compare the three of you, Bon with her prim and proper manner of eating, elegantly lifting her glass and sipping on the wine. Through another bite of seafood, you dump a large amount of the contents of your wine glass into your mouth. Your nostrils flare as you swallow, the strong alcohol tickling your throat. Lyra tears through another one of her scallops, and much like you she is a bit over the top with her wine.

Doesn’t mean you’re not enjoying it though.

You wipe away butter and bits of lobster from your mouth, crumpling the napkin and placing it down next to your glass. Bon Bon puts her cutlery down neatly next to her plate and coughs. “Lyra? Colgate’s going to have a spot open for a job as her assistant, and I thought maybe you’d consider taking it. Not that money’s tight, but you might find it enjoyable. And we could use some more bits for the store.”

Lyra pauses mid chew, her eyes moving to look at the mare but her head still down. She swallows her food, and answers cautiously. “Bon? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Her girlfriend laughs. “No no. Honestly Lyra, we’re fine on money. I had just heard of the job and thought maybe you’d want to consider it. That’s all.” The turquoise mare nods her head slowly, evidently thrown off by Bon’s statement. She gives a final shake of the head, returning to her food and dismissing the conversation.

You swallow down the last of your meal, setting your knife and fork down in the centre of the plate. Placing your hands behind your head and leaning back, you stretch out your stiff spine. The bones crack and click, and repeat the movement with your neck. Everything loosens up a bit.

Bon Bon suddenly erupts into a coughing fit. You sit up straight, momentarily startled by it, and you extend a hand. She motions that she’s fine, but continues coughing. Lyra pats her on the back, and hands her a napkin. She coughs into it, finally finishing with her bout of sickness. She places the napkin on the table and there’s a spot of blood. Lyra yelps.

“Oh my god Bon! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Must have been something in my throat. Yeah, I’m good.” She nods her head and takes Lyra’s hand, presumably reassuring the frightened mare. You stare at the small crimson stain on the otherwise stark white fabric, a hint of worry in your expression. But the cream coloured mare seems okay now, so you sweep your concerns away.

Bon puts on a smile and calls for the waiter. “Excuse me sir, could we have the bill please? Thank you very much.” A few minutes later he comes back and places the receipt on the table. Lyra reaches for her wallet but you stop her.

“Please. You guys have paid for everything else today, so let me get this one.” Before either of the women can complain you empty your wallet onto the table. Sifting through the money, you hand the man 5 gold bits and 3 silver ones. “Keep the change.” He nods his head in thanks, and you make your way out of the restaurant. The streets are illuminated by the bright lamps overhead, and you turn to wait for Lyra and Bon Bon.

They come out together, Lyra’s arm around her girlfriends waist and her head on her shoulders. As they catch up to you, you smile at the pair. “Thanks a lot for today guys. It’s nice to get out a bit more.” Bon walks away from Lyra and wraps her arms around you.

“Don’t even mention it. I know for a fact that I had a lot of fun, and I hope you did too. It was kinda the whole point of it all. For you to enjoy yourself.”

Lyra slides next to you and throws herself into your arms. “And we would be happy to do it again. Now come on. It’s getting late and I need my beauty sleep.” She places her arms around Bon Bon’s and your shoulders, walking in between you two while humming happily. You stroll through the streets back to the house, admiring the stars that are dotted across the sky. Lyra points out constellations, naming each one as she scans through the darkness. Bon Bon smiles at you when your eyes meet, and you smile back.

Slipping into the house, you dump your pants and shirt on the floor and throw your shoes into the corner. Lyra lingers by your door, and you turn to face her. She flicks her hair behind her head. “Night night. Sleep well yeah?”

“You too.” She nods and begins to walk off, but you call her back. “Wait!”


“Thanks. Again.”

She smiles at you in the dim light of the hallway. “Always a pleasure. See you tomorrow okay?”

You bury yourself in your blankets as the lights go off outside, and rest your head against the pillow. You can’t shake the memory from before, of the red spot on the napkin, of Bon Bon’s horrible cough. You frown slightly, screwing your eyes shut and forcing yourself not to worry. You finally drift away, focusing on the memories of earlier today rather than the slight scare at dinner. Night night Lyra. You fall into a slumber.


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The frisbee flies straight through the air, cutting through the wind as it spins and spins. You jog backwards as it continues gliding towards you, and as it makes its way closer to the floor you jump up, catching it neatly in one hand. Your son starts clapping excitedly, hopping up and down on the spot. “Daddy pass it here!”

He reaches out with his arms, beckoning for you to throw him the disc. Brining your arm back, you slowly extend it, flicking your wrist gently and opening your fingers. It flies slowly but straight towards the child, and as it comes to his chest he snaps his arms down on top of it. His hands smack over the frisbee.

“Good catch kiddo!” You flash the boy a thumbs up, and his grin widens even further. He half jogs half waddles towards you on his chubby little legs, the grass of the park coming up to his knees. When he reaches you, he hands you the frisbee. You take it from him with one hand, ruffling his hair with the other.

He shakes his head away from your hand, smiling at you through his messy fringe and bouncing around. You pick him up and sling him over you shoulder, much to the delight of the young boy. He begins squealing and laughing, his legs moving frantically and his arms beating on your back. “Mommy! The monsters gonna get me!”

Over at the picnic cloth, your wife sits with your daughter, fiddling with her hair and tying it into a braid. Her eyes slide to look at you, her head ever so still as her mother lifts her hair over and under. Tying a band over the end, your partner pats her on the back, and she jumps up to you.

“Daddy look what Mama did!” She turns around and spreads her arms wide, revealing the intricate ponytail hanging to her lower back. “Isn’t it cool.”

You smile, putting your son down on the floor and pushing him off to the picnic cloth. “That’s beautiful baby! But you know what looks even better?” You turn her around and poke her nose. “You.”

She giggles gleefully and runs back to the mat. You sit down next to her and grab a drink from the basket, sipping on the carbonated beverage. Your son waddles around his mother next to you, while your daughter chews away at some carrot sticks.

A cool breeze runs through the field.

Your eyes jolt open suddenly. After a slight delay, you begin screaming as a deep and persistent fire sparks in your brain. The sharp pain writhes across your face and through your eyes, and you press your hands against your ears, squeezing your head. Your arms shake and suddenly cramp up, and you drop them down where they spaz uselessly. Blood dribbles down from your nose, and you kick out with your foot against the bed frame.

The sensation finally leaves your body, and is replaced by a cool relief. You breathe heavily in bed, sweating slightly. Lyra pokes her head into your door, her face plastered with a look of worry and confusion. “Morning. You okay? I uh, heard you…. Heard you shouting.”

You struggle to nod, still recovering from the ordeal. When you open your mouth the sound comes croaky and dull. “Yeah. I’m fine.” The mare doesn’t buy it.

“No no no. We don’t do this. Let me guess, you had another memory flash? Yeah, thats why you’re sweating like that. Does it really hurt that bad?” She moves gracefully towards the bed, her tail flicking behind her as she sits down. Her hand rests briefly on your forehead, and then she takes it away. “Boy that’s some headache it gave you. Come on. Tell me.”

You sigh and turn your head away. You can remember parts of it, but details are where the pain comes from. Turning your head back to the mare, you look into her eyes and see genuine care. Concern. “They. They come occasionally. And never for long. It’ll be, about, a minute long, all of it clear, and then I forget all the details. And if I try remember them, well, the pain comes back.”

“How bad is it?” She places her hand on yours, locking her fingers between yours and squeezing gently.

“At first, when I wake up, it’s a fucking nightmare. It feels like someone’s drilling into my skull, like there’s a million ants crawling around my brain and biting at my nerves. Spasms rack my body, and sometimes I worry that they’ll tear my limbs apart. Everything goes dull apart from my sense of pain, and that heightens to the point where if you poked me I’d probably die from a heart attack. I really can’t describe how bad it is. It’s miserable.

And then, there’s just a sort of cool numbness. Nothing. If I try to recall the memory, in detail, I can feel the pain just lurking at the corners of my brain. Ready to come back and torment me. Usually they’re just scenes of me. My, my old family.” You hold back sobs, suddenly feeling very tired and emotional. A tear rolls down your cheek, and Lyra brushes it away. You nod weakly and continue.

“I can remember the general, sorta, plot, of the whole memory. I can guess what my life was like through these fragments. But I can’t remember anything special, anything that made me happy or sad. Any emotion drains out of the fragment once it passes. It’s like I’m just watching someone from a far. I can see what happened, but not how they reacted to it. And then I convulse and wake up in bed. Like I said, the pain comes hard and fast. Lately it’s been getting way more violent.”

"But you're okay? I mean, on the whole. You're coping with this? You're happy here?"

"Lyra, I couldn't be happier, considering how much I’ve been through. I mean, yeah.” You let out a sigh and smile sadly at the woman. “I’m just, scared I guess.”

“Of the pain?”

“No. No not at all. I know that’ll be over soon after it comes. Ironically though, that is part of the reason I’m scared. Of it being over. The dreams, I worry about how they end. Because they’re my old life, and, well, I guess I’m just afraid of finding out how I got here. How it ended.”A tear rolls down your cheek and though you try to stop it, you begin to break down.

“I had a family Lyra! A fucking family! A wife and I had kids and they depended on me to keep them safe, keep them fed, and now I’m gone! And they don’t even know what happened to me. And I don’t know what happened to them! I don’t even fucking know what happened to me!” You grit your teeth as tears stream down your face, your features pulled into a deep scowl.

Lyra shifts further up the bed, and without warning pulls you into a long and warm embrace. You lean into her, your face buried in her neck as she rocks you back and forth. Tears stain her shirt and you breathe in short bursts of barely contained sobbing, reduced to nothing but a whimpering child who’s afraid of the dark. But in this case, should the dark come, it’ll stay forever.

Lyra runs her hand along your hair, smoothing it down and cooing into your ear. “Hey hey it’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere soon. I’m here for you. Hey.” She lifts your head up and stares into your eyes. “It’s okay. Honestly, I’m here for you whenever you need me okay? Come on.” She kisses you on the cheek and rests her hand on your shoulder.

You rub your sore eyes, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I’m, I’m okay now. Thank you.” You cough a couple of times, clearing your throat of phlegm. Tears still trail along your cheeks, but they come less liberally. You nod again, wiping tears off your face with your hand and sniffing. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Lyra flashes you a subdued smile, pats you gently and heads outside.

“See you in the kitchen. I’ll prepare us some fruit.” She closes the door of your room and you hear her feet pat gently across the carpeted floor. Your breathing is raspy and deep, your chest expanding and contracting and your nose sucking in air. Rolling over, you finally get out of bed and put on some clothes.

Making your way into the kitchen, you pull out a chair and sit down. Lyra places a small bowl in front of you, filled with apple slices, orange, grapes, and strawberries. You chew into a grape, crunching through the skin and into the softer, sweet flesh within. Lyra sits down with her own bowl, and begins to chew into her strawberries, the juice dribbling down her chin.

She fixes her gaze on you once more. You look up from your fruit and catch her staring at you. Swallowing your current mouth of orange, you flash her a small grin, and she smiles back. “Hey, promise me something quickly?”


“Next time you have a flashback, you come straight to me. You see what happens if you don’t tell anyone about them? It’s like a, sort of, mental dam. Everything just builds up behind it and eventually it’s bound to burst.” She places her hand softly over yours. “And I’m more than happy to listen. I just don’t want this placing any stress on you. Okay?”

You nod quickly. “I get it. Sure, next time I’ll come straight to you.”

She rubs your hand gently, and simpers at you. “Good.” Turning back to your bowl, there’s a sudden knock on the door. Three quick raps against the hardwood.

You raise your eyebrows at Lyra, but she simply shrugs. “Dunno. I’ll get it.” Sliding away from the table, she walks up to the door and opens it slowly.

“Morning Doc. What’s up?”

A Parting Gift

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The stallion standing in the doorway is tall and of average size, his brown fur peeking out of simple white clothes that cover most of his body. His spectacles rest on his nose, their wire bridge seemingly causing him some irritation as his continues to fiddle with it. In his hand is a clipboard.

“Umm, mornin’ Lyra.” He pokes his head over her shoulder and looks at you. You give a short wave to the man, who nods back at you. “Something important’s come up. You may want to come with me. Now.”

“What? What’s happened?”

“It’s Bon Bon.”

You and Lyra both tense up as the words exit the doctors mouth. Lyra grabs him by the arm and squeezes tightly. “Tell me what the fuck has happened right now.”

He places a hand gently on her arm. “Lyra, I can give you all the details when we get to the hospital, so the sooner we leave the better for you.” Lyra swallows audibly, releasing her iron grip on his arm and stepping out the door. You follow suit, grabbing the house keys as you pass. Locking the door shut behind you, the brown pony takes the lead and walks along the streets with a brisk but controlled pace.

Your mind races frantically with questions and worries about the mare. Your legs carry you mindlessly across the paved streets, a rhythmic thudding against stone and cement, a routine amongst the chaos of the past few days. Though none of it has been bad so far, something tells you this will break the streak.

You catch up to Lyra and she buries her face in the nook of your arm, muttering to herself. “Oh god oh god oh god.” She grabs hold of your hand and squeezes it, and you squeeze hers gently back. You feel her pulse in your fingertips, her heart beating erratically and goosebumps prickling her skin. Following the doctor around a corner, you push through some glass double doors and into the sterile environment of the clinic.

All around you are nurses and doctors alike, speeding past and flinging themselves through doors and into rooms, tending to patients and their families, buzzing around like a colony of bees. You breathe in the flower scented aroma, but the taste in your mouth is of anything but flowers.

Next to you, Lyra breathes heavily, scanning the hospital for any sign of her girlfriend. A small pony coughs on the bench in front of the reception, a father tends to his son’s grazed knee, a mare cries happily over her newborn. And a cream coloured mare sits solemnly in her room.

Instantly you’re dragging Lyra along with you. The Doctor takes a while to notice, but when he does his legs carry him swiftly through the busy hospital and right behind you into the small room. Lyra releases a small gasp of air as she takes in the scene.

Bon Bon lies on the bed, a thin sheet strewn along her body and her feet sticking out from the edge. Her gaze is fixed on the ceiling above, her breathing ragged and visibly hurting her. Upon hearing the door click open, she turns to look at you. A tear runs down her cheek. Her eyes trail over to Lyra, and the corners of her mouth droop into a frown.

Lyra dashes to the bed and grabs the chair nearby, stroking her girlfriends hair and fretting over her. “My god Bon Bon are you okay? What’s wrong? What have they done to you?” The cream mare blinks away some more tears, her features distorted by the deep grimace that spreads across her face. You stumble to the chairs opposite to Bon’s bed, feeling a tear welling in your eye.

“Lyra. Lyra I’m so sorry.” She coughs out the words, reaching slowly for Lyra’s hand, stroking the back of it with her fingers. A soft kiss is planted on her hand, and Lyra cries into her girlfriends palm. You’re too overwhelmed by everything going on and can’t speak. Behind you, the doctor knocks on the door. Lyra turns to him.

“What’s happening? What is this?” Tears stream down her face, the whites of her eyes turning red.

“I’m sorry Lyra. Bon Bon came for a check up and didn’t feel so good. She seemed to have a few worrying symptoms, some anomalies, and we had her x-rayed. The results weren’t good. I’m afraid she has a malignant tumour in her lung, and it’s spread rapidly.

Highly developed lung cancer. Chances of survival are low among patients, and even then they often live life severely scarred.”

“She has, lung c-cancer? But you can cure it right? There’s a cure right!?” She shouts at the doctor, her eyes filled with tears and worry. You wipe away a tear of your own, your face buried in your hands. Lyra’s chest rises and falls with her breathing, her eyes clouded with a mixture of rage and sadness. “Tell me there’s a fucking cure!”

“I, we. I…” The stallion sighs. “No. We don’t have the knowledge to get rid of it without causing permanent damage. Fatal damage. We’ve already removed a significant amount of the infected site, and any more would simply render her unable to breathe.”

“Can’t you use magic to get rid of it? Surely you’ve got these fucking powers for stuff like this? Right?” Your question is desperate, a final plead for some ray of light in this abyss of pain. The doctor shakes his head, and your shoulders sag.

“I’m so sorry. I know you wouldn’t know, but for us It’s common knowledge that we can’t use magic in the medical field, no matter what. Not even Celestia is allowed to cure anything through magic. Besides, we don’t have spells that are potent enough to fix this. I’m sorry. It’s been diagnosed too late.

If it were up to me I’d have already searched for a cure to everything and no one would have to die. I would have sacrificed my life to cure all illnesses on this planet. Hell, I’d have done it for one person only. If, it were up to me. But it’s not. And hence I can’t do anything but offer my sympathies.”

Lyra stares blankly at the Doctor for a couple of seconds, then with tears streaming down her face she turns back to Bon Bon. “Lyra I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

She runs a cyan hand over the mares face, cupping her cheeks and stroking a strand of hair from her eyes. “Don’t be fucking stupid Bon. None if this is your fault.”

“It is. It really is. You remember all those years ago, when you told me I had to quit smoking? Well I did, but the damage had obviously been done already. My god Lyra I’m so fucking sorry.” At this point Lyra is bawling her eyes out while Bon sits and weeps silently.

“Don’t, don’t say it. There’s no way in hell you’re responsible for this.”

Your mind seems damaged, unable to comprehend what’s occurring around you and how to react. It had never really crossed your mind that there would be laws regarding the use of magic. It never occurred to you that this kind of pain would even be present in a land such as this. You swallow the lump in your throat. “Well, how bad is it? I mean, how-“

The stallion cuts you off. “How long does she have? It really isn’t good. Are you, okay with hearing this?” He motions to Lyra.

“Of course I’m not fucking okay with hearing it.” Lyra sniffles, her nostrils flaring. Her tone suddenly becomes much more gentle, almost defeated. It breaks your heart to hear her speak, and Bon Bon is visibly upset as well. “But I need to know.”

“At best, I’d say about a week. But she’ll be bed bound for the whole time.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” You mutter under your breath. Your hands are shaking violently and the corners of your mouth are tugging downwards into a scowl. Tears suddenly blind your eyes, and you grit your teeth. Whirling around, you bury your fist into the hospital’s wall, a dark pool of rage and despair bubbling deep inside you. “Jesus fucking christ!” Bon Bon flinches.

Lyra screams out. “Fuck! My god Bon how didn’t we notice this any earlier! How did this get this bad!?” She kneels down next to the bed, her knees tucked underneath her and her head buried in her own shoulder. She goes limp, her arms are draped over the bed’s frame, her hands resting on Bon Bon’s stomach.

You stand up, your knees threatening to buckle with every step. Sitting down on Bon’s left side relieves you of this worry. “How did we let this happen.” Lyra begins to shake with grief.

You lock eyes with Bon, and she flashes you a sad smile. Your body racks with sobs, your shoulders rising and falling erratically as tears stream from your eyes, staining the pristine bed sheets that the mare will never leave from. Your grimace worsens as Bon tries to comfort you, her hand running over yours. You squeeze it tightly, worried that it may disappear as soon as you let go.

The Doctor still stands in the doorway, but after a few seconds he finally leaves without a word. The door clicks shut, and suddenly it’s just the three of you, drowning in the noises of Lyra’s wailing and your weeping, Bon Bon lying down in the middle with her hands on both of your shoulders. Surprisingly, through all of this, she’s the one giving support.

You open your eyes slowly, the skin around it still sore and puffy from crying. Your nose is blocked partially with mucus, you have a lump in your throat and your mouth feels dry. Your head aches. Your legs wobble with every step. Your mind is clouded with emotions of sadness and fear, and most of all, the knowledge that at any moment the memories may come back to haunt you.

Groggily, you get out of bed and shamble into the kitchen, sweeping the coffee beans across the table and into the machine. You press down on the cold metal button, drowning in the sharp noise of the steam being blown out of the casing. The smell of the beans wafts across the kitchen and into your nose, clearing your mind somewhat.

But what awaits in your mind would have been better had it remained clouded. Fucking hell. You pour the dark liquid into a mug, dropping in one cube of sugar and stirring it with a spoon. Pouring more into a different mug, you hear a door click open, and turn to face Lyra.

3 days since the news and she still looks like hell.

Her long jacket forms little bundles at the end of her arms, grey socks that jiggle as she moves across the kitchen. She stumbles the last few steps towards you, falling right into your chest and arms as you close them around her. Her breath is warm against your shirt.

“Made us some coffee.”

She smiles weakly. “You’re a life saver.” Reaching around you, she grabs the mug with milk and sugar, whereas you’ve chosen to drink pure black. She takes a tentative sip, blowing on the surface until it’s deemed cool enough to consume. Her breath forms slight clouds in the cool morning air.

You gulp down some of your own, feeling the hot liquid slide down your throat and pooling in your stomach, forming a small concentration of warmth. A slight buzz runs through you as your body reacts to the caffeine. Beside you, Lyra cups her hands around the mug, still attempting to cool the surface of her drink.

Your eyes drift to hers for a couple of seconds, studying her face for a sign as to how she’s coping. The answer is pretty obvious. Her girlfriend is currently in the process of fucking dying, how do you think she’s doing?

You want to hold her. To let her know it’s okay, let her know that you’re here for her. But it doesn’t seem appropriate. Doesn’t seem right. So instead, you stand there uselessly, watching the mare drink her coffee. Strangely enough, she looks so serene. Perhaps being so exhausted rendered her unable to feel anything.

She looks up.

You dart your eyes away from hers, heat and colour alike flooding your cheeks. You take a much larger gulp of coffee, hoping it can provide an alibi for your flushed tone. Lyra’s lips curl ever so slightly into a smile, and you feel relieved at her reaction, returning to much smaller sips of your beverage.

Finally swallowing the last of the drink, you spit out a couple coffee dregs and wash your glass. Lyra slurps on hers as you make your way back into your room. Dressed in only a pair of shorts, you decide that a trip to the hospital probably constitutes some actual clothing, and you change into long black pants and a long sleeved shirt.

Lyra leaves her room just as you close the door to yours, now dressed herself in a more decent outfit. She reaches out to you and grabs your hand, squeezing gently as she leans on you. You squeeze it back, walking with her out of the house and into the streets. The chill air runs through the alley as Winter begins to show signs of returning, and the plants are glistening with morning dew.

It’s such a beautiful day, wasted on such a solemn occasion.

You exhale a long breath through your nose, watching the wispy cloud of steam drift away in the breeze. Her hand in yours, her head nuzzled against your shoulder, you and Lyra begin to amble down the streets towards the hospital. Pushing through the front door, you’re welcomed once more by the dismal atmosphere of the building.

Lyra makes a beeline for Bon’s room, barging past the mass of people that swarm the hospital. You trail close behind her, making a feeble attempt at moving past the crowd politely, a mixture of apologies gushing from your mouth. You enter the room softly this time, the anxiety and fear of your previous trip replaced with tiredness and sorrow.

Bon Bon smiles calmly as Lyra sits next to her, worrying about how the night was spent and if her girlfriend slept alright. You take your seat at the end of the bed and muster up a melancholy smile when the mares eyes meet yours. A heavy sigh fills the room.

A man enters the room with a large plastic tray in his hands, filled with an assortment of breakfast foods and a mug of coffee. Placing it gently on the bedside table, he nods his head towards Bon Bon and exits the room again. The mare sits up and places her hand in Lyra’s. “How’d you sleep.”

“Not so good. You?”

“Same as you. At least they have a TV here.” She pokes at the remote and the screen lights up, displaying a young mare reporting the weather. Pressing another button, the volume mutes and your attention returns to the room.

Bon Bon scratches the back of her head. “Hey Lyra, I know you just got here but, could you, give us a minute?” Lyra looks to you for an explanation, but you’re just as confused as she is. Lyra turns to Bon Bon and back to you, but you just shrug. She nods slowly and stands up.

“Sure. Call me back in when you’re done.” Bon Bon smiles and dips her head, and as Lyra exits the room she turns to you.

“So how’s she doing?” She ask’s the question nonchalantly, but something about her posture tells you that this isn’t going to be just a quick chat.

“Not too bad. She doesn’t sleep very well, and she spends most of the time moping around the house, but I don’t do much either. I think she’s trying her best to hold it together. And I’m not sure how much longer she’ll manage to do so.”

“That’s what I’m worried about as well.” She takes a sip of the coffee provided by the hospital, and grimaces. “God that’s ghastly stuff. Look, I’m going to be very straightforward with you here. I know that you love her.”

Your cheeks flush red and you open your mouth, but Bon shushes you loudly. “Don’t look so embarrassed. It’s not that obvious, or at least not obvious enough that anyone else would find out. But I can tell. And I can also tell that, though she won’t admit it, she loves you too.”

You lean forwards in your seat. “What the hell do you mean.” You glare at Bon, upset that she could see so clearly how you felt towards Lyra, and more importantly, that she just called you out on it.

“Is there something that you don’t understand?”

“Well forgive me for coming across a bit angry but you just said that your girlfriend loves me! How the fuck does that make any sense? For Christ’s sake Bon do you understand how upset she is by all of this? And then you go and tell me she doesn’t love you?”

“I never said that.” Her voice is calm but powerful, and you sit back in your chair. “Lyra is a funny girl. She doesn’t really understand her own emotions, and what may be seen by her as teasing or mock flirting is actually genuine affection. The former of which she’s done quite a bit of with you.

And now that I know I’m not going to be around much longer, and now that we both know your feelings for Lyra, I’ve decided upon something. And it’s something that no one is going to dispute, and no one is going to be upset by.”

“And that is?” Your annoyance has been replaced by curiosity, anger replaced by relief.

“You’re going to take care of Lyra when I’m gone. And of course, by no means is that an order. But something tells me you’re not too bothered by the prospect.” She smirks at you, her eyes lit up with a mischievous look. Biting into a small pastry, she motions you closer.

As you approach the bed, without warning Bon pulls you into a hug, wrapping her arms around your neck and lower back. You squeeze back, taking care not to harm the fragile body under you. Pulling apart, she wipes crumbs from her mouth and breathes out through her nose.

“I need you to do this. For me. For you. But most importantly, for her. It’s not going to be easy. I know Lyra, and she’s going to do everything to push you away and keep me close. Or at least the memory of me. All you have to do is give her space when she needs it, be there for her when she needs you, and give her some tough love when she needs some. This is hardest on her.

And she’ll warm up to you. You guys are already pretty close, but what I’m saying is that she’ll come out of mourning if you get her out. And you can. So can you do this? For all of us?”

A tear forms in your eye, slipping out and rolling steadily down your cheek. Your eyes pass over the mare sitting in bed, her smile hiding the weakened spirit inside, cracked and gaunt. These days have been hard on her, and yet she’s doing everything she can to help others. This woman, who allowed a complete stranger, of a completely different species, into her house, into her family, and thought nothing of it. This woman who, when your life was torn from you, picked you up, dusted you off, and gave you a brand new one. Who is now fading from existence.

And still she comforts others with her last breaths.

Your voice breaks. “Of course I can. Of course.” Your shoulders shake and your hands shudder, but you make your way to the door and hold on to the handle. “Should I call Lyra?”

Bon Bon smiles. “Yeah. And, one last thing. I need a moment with her as well.”

You nod, your vision still blurred by tears. Opening the door and stepping out into the waiting room, you flick your wrist at Lyra. She comes hopping over, and you motion to the door. “Bon wants a word.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Lyra puts a hand to your face, wiping a tear from your cheek. You dip your head, mumbling out a “I’m fine” and softly pushing Lyra to the door.

“Go on. Don’t keep her waiting.”

The door shuts slowly as Lyra walks into the room, and you sit down on the soft leather sofa positioned in the corner of the room. Up above, the TV’s blare out sounds of adverts, news reports and soap operas, but you shut them out.

You’re going to take care of Lyra when I’m gone.

It wasn’t a question.

Reaching out

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The room quiets down as people take their seats in the rows of the church. Breaking away from a conversation with Colgate and Cheerilee, you shuffle along the chairs and place yourself next to Lyra. She recognises your presence with a nod and a slight smile. In the middle of the hall a priest begins the funeral procession.

You space out as the man drawls out rehearsed phrases with the emotion of a robot, instead choosing to reminisce on the life you shared with Bon Bon. Her final words remain planted in your memory, and in the corner of your eyes you catch Lyra glancing at you. You cant help but wonder if Bon told Lyra anything similar, or if it’s entirely up to you to win her over.

Your mind wanders, picking up the memories of your early months in Ponyville. Some are smaller than others, snippets of Bon Bon bringing you soup or Lyra asking if you wanted to walk around town. The first few months were rough. You slept very little during the night and were rarely awake in the day. You were both mentally and physically weak as a result of little exercise or contact with the outside world. Overall, you were shaken pretty bad by the experience.

It took a while for you to take it all in. After a couple of weeks you began speaking again, talking to Lyra and Bon Bon whenever they brought you your food. You still weren’t friends, but the relationships had started to build. And then after a few more weeks, you left the room and started eating with them, and even occasionally helping with work around the house.

Then over a month since getting here, you left the house. Took quick tours around town, though usually heavily covered so as to not draw attention to your skin. Often accompanied by Lyra or Bon Bon, or both. They weren’t very informative, but they gave you a rough idea of the layout of town and the areas around it. Because you often avoided the streets, these small walks were scenic to say the least.

3 months after your arrival and you were fully accustomed to the new world. Or at least, enough to leave the house and do whatever you needed, or wanted, to do. People stared at you when you walked the streets, but for the most part that was the full extent of their actions. You were essentially a normal citizen, despite your obvious differences, and managed to get through the days.

And through it all Bon was there to support you. Despite spending a lot of time at their shop, she managed to focus on your needs more than you had expected. Lyra provided a companion with whom you could mess around with, and Bon provided an almost motherly-figure. She was essentially a point you could focus on in a whirlwind of uncertainty and confusion. And now she’s gone.

The priest finishes his speech, closing the book splayed in front of him. “And now, anyone who would like to say a few words may choose to do so.”

Standing up, you make your way through the row and into the middle of the hall. As you brush past Lyra, she touches your hand ever so gently, and nods solemnly. You step up onto the small platform and scan the crowd. Lyra sits in the front row, her eyes glazed over and not focusing on anything, but still managing to pierce yours. You feel mucus lining your throat and cough harshly to clear it. Swallowing once again, you open your mouth to speak.

“Uhm, to start this all off I’d like to share with you all an old saying that I was taught as a child, and I find it rather fitting for this situation.” You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and steadying your breathing. When you finally speak, your voice is surprisingly strong. “The story of one’s life is punctuated by two dates, and that is their birth and their death. But what matters are the chapter’s in-between. For Bon, I took part in what I hope could only be described as a short and sweet one. But for me, she was, and still is, essential to my own story.

As many of you will know, I’ve been lucky enough to be in the company of Lyra and Bon Bon for the past year since I got here. And throughout that time I can safely say that I never met anyone whose compassion came even close to the level I received from this marvellous woman and of course, Lyra as well. When I arrived here, in this world, it was during a thunderstorm. I was bleeding from multiple cuts and covered in dirt, and to top it all off I was wearing nothing but a pair of underwear. And I showed up on their doorstep, shouting into the house in the middle of a deluge. And I remember. I remember very clearly. At about 12 at night, Lyra let me in and helped me dry off while Bon Bon addressed my wounds. I was at that point a complete stranger, and they offered me not only shelter but comfort.

I spent the next couple of months wallowing in self-pity. I would simply sit in my room and do nothing other than cry myself to sleep. I had bouts of exhaustion and often awoke to one of the two mares checking my pulse. I was a complete mess, but they stayed with me and made sure I was safe. Not once did they leave my side.”

You wipe your nose, sniffling softly. Blinking away the briny drops from your eyes, you compose yourself and continue. “I believe very strongly that I would not be alive today were it not for the warmth with which I was accepted into this family. I would have been entirely lost. No matter how many times I told her this, it would never be enough to convey how much she meant to me. Although I am far from a religious man I know that something special awaits the wonderful woman we lost recently. And I hope with all my heart that Bon is as loved in her next life as she was in this one. Because if there was anyone in this world who deserved true happiness, wherever they were, it was her.”

The silence in the room is deafening. You swallow once more, nod your head and step down from the stage. Some people clap respectfully, others murmur agreement, and some begin to weep openly. You sit back down next to Lyra, who clenches your hand. She smiles at you and mouths the words “That was sweet.” After a slight moment, her body racks with sobs and she buries her face in your shoulder.

You bring her closer to you and stroke her hair, letting your own guard down. Her tears splotch your shirt, her arms squeeze your body. Cooing into her ear, you kiss her on top of the head. As tears begin to stream from your own eyes, the two of you hold each other for comfort. Neither of you speak. The embrace says enough.

Holding open the apartment door, you stand patiently as the group of ponies slowly make their way out of the area. Some of them smile as they go pass, others place a hand on your shoulder. Colgate briefly embraces you, tears still running down her cheeks, though slower now. You stand numbly as the last few clear the door, and as a breeze runs through the house you push it closed and turn the lock.

You hear Lyra shuffling around in the kitchen, and step away from the door. She moves slowly to each piece of furniture, clearing plates and glasses and stacking them up. You place your hands gently around her as she takes a few ragged breaths. Her muscles relax and she places the stack back down on the table. 

You check the clock, the hands reading 11 o’clock. “Hey, I’ll get all this cleaned up. You head off to bed.” You reach around with one arm to collect a couple of glasses. Lyra eyes you for a second, but nods wearily.

The days taken its tole on her. Although the wake was no drag, the fact remains that it was a very sober moment. From the way she looks you can tell that it’s cheered her up a bit. Sharing memories in a larger group added some element of laughter and happiness to an otherwise dreary situation. Everyone had their sad stories too, but they shared them with friends and family, people who they could lean on for support.

And Lyra certainly can’t hold the weight alone.

You understand that now more than ever. Bon was not only physically and emotionally a huge part in her life, but also mentally. She was a perfect anchor for Lyra. Something to keep her grounded when she’d rather just fly away. She knew what was good for Lyra and what wasn’t. You don’t have these qualities. You’re not dull, but Bon was able to put aside her emotions to care for others.

Lyra sniffs and drags herself towards the bedroom. She turns around as she reaches the door, her eyes wet but not flowing. “Thank you. For everything.”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing. Now go on. Get some sleep.”

She nods one last time, closing the door gently. You breathe heavily in the now empty room, sweeping up crumbs and loading crockery into the washer. As the dark veil of night covers the sky, you groggily finish the cleaning and collapse onto your bed.

Lyra’s light has been off for a while now. Colgate’s business card sits on the counter outside, Trixie’s letter on the dining table, and Cheerilee’s invitation still stands. There’s so many people around you, so many people to rely on.

You’re not alone, so why do you feel so lonely?


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May 17th 2015
I think it goes without saying that none of this has been easy on anyone. It has now been a full year since the death of Bon Bon. Bit more even. We all still miss her like crazy, but Lyra’s getting better. She’s still pretty down though. Am I over it? Of course not. In reality I'll never get over it, I'm just able to live with these emotions more than some. More than Lyra.

There’s been quite a few people running around and helping Lyra out, so I’m not alone in the ‘rehabilitation process’ if that’s what you wanna call it. I just have to bear the most weight, what with me living with her. Cheerilee’s had her over for tea a couple of times, Carrot Top gave us front row tickets to one of her shows, Trixie’s taken us to one of hers, and Derpy seems to be constantly baking a batch of muffins. So I’ve got help. More importantly, Lyra’s got help.

I still can’t say much about Bon’s “request”. She’s more comfortable around me than I expected, and we’re still living in the same house, which is obviously pretty good. But I just…. don’t really see it happening. It’s not that I think she hates me, or even mildly dislikes me, but really. Her entire bloody sexual preference is the same as mine, and considering we’re different genders….

You don’t really have to be a psychologist to figure out why I don’t have high hopes. Or a biologist.

But, now I’m not so sure. Yesterday made me slightly uncertain about things. Lyra’s been extremely reserved since Bon died. I mean, she speaks to me, but I’m talking about the no touching type of reserved. However, out of nowhere, she kissed me on the cheek.

And yes, I know that doesn’t mean a lot, I’m not a middle school kid crushing on some chick who kissed me on the playground. But this felt genuine. Different from what she would do earlier on. It was gentle, soft but needy, and she lingered briefly. Blushed pretty hard afterwards.

So there’s that. It’s not much and it doesn’t prove a lot, but it’s something.

I guess we’ll see.

June 24th 2015
Things looked like they were going pretty okay. And they still are, just a bit less okay than before. I’ve had quite a few flashbacks in the last week, about 5 of them. And the headaches were fucking miserable. Worse than ever before. Worse than I ever could have expected. Not a single one hasn’t given me a nosebleed, and to top it off, I was quite literally paralysed after one of them. For at least five minutes.

I don’t know what any of this means, and I don’t know when they’ll end. Something tells me they can’t last much longer, but it all seems so normal. There hasn’t been a single hint as to what happened to me, but then again, I can’t expect the answer to just pop up. At least, until it…. does.

Or maybe it never will. Maybe they’ll stop beforehand. Maybe they’ll just end without any real end. You know, just cut to black. Poof. Bye bye.

Like I said. It scares me, not knowing how they’ll end. Though I’m almost hoping they will end, and soon. The pain is bloody unbearable nowadays, and I can’t let myself break down. Not with what’s happened. Not with Lyra still in mourning. If I can’t be strong then Lyra wont be able to either, and I’m really trying hard to get her stable again.

I know she asked me to go to her whenever I had these memories, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Luckily Colgate’s had Lyra over at her house on more than a few occasions. At least twice a week, so I have some moments where I’m alone, where she cant catch me spazzing out and almost dying.

So I haven’t had to speak to her about anything yet. They’re just normal, daily situations. Me at work, watching my kids’ play sports, having dinner. I know why she wants me to talk. I know why I should talk. But knowing what to do is pretty different to actually doing it.

So for now, I’m quiet. Keeping my mouth zipped, and my arms open. Lyra’s still in need of support, so that’s what I’ll give her, even if it breaks me.

August 19th, 2015
It’s been a while since I wrote down anything. I guess I’ve just been a bit busy, taking care of the house and Lyra. And myself. Plus there’s not really much to write about. It’s all been pretty normal, considering the circumstances.

Flashbacks are still a, um, occurrence, shall we say. And they still are a massive pain in the ass. I guess my request for them to end soon was a bit too hopeful, cause they certainly didn’t stop. Didn’t even let up.

Fuck it’s hard.

Dealing with everything. Lyra’s okay, but there hasn’t been any significant improvements in her mental state. She’s sleeping fine and eating normally, and she can get out and around town, but I still don’t know just how healthy she is up there. It hurts, having to watch her like this. The usually bouncy, energetic mare that she once was, now completely gone. There’s no spark, no energy.

She smiles and laughs, but we all smile and laugh. She hums and dances, but we all hum and dance. She’s okay, but we’re all okay. I wish she was more. She’s lost her individuality, her personality. I’m not giving up because she’s not herself anymore, and I want to bring her back. And that only makes me more determined to take care of her.

I took her down to the park with Derpy and Trixie yesterday. We chucked around a frisbee, had some lunch. It was nice, and she seemed to like it quite a lot. I was aware that it may have sparked some sad memories for her, so I took her to a different field than the one we went to a year back. Overall though, I’d say it was a success.

Now all we need is a couple of miracles.


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You slide the key into the door of your house, swinging the frame open. The radio’s on in the kitchen, blaring out some news about traffic accidents on the highway today. You drop your bag by the side of the kitchen, calling out to your wife. “Honey! I’m home!” You poke your head into the living room, but she’s not there. Nor are the kids.

Your feet thud against the tiled floor, the hard plastic sole slapping gently and echoing in the empty hall. Climbing up the stairs, you call out again, with no response. You knock on the solid wood of the bathroom door, your knuckles rapping against it and the sound once again hovering in the air.

The door to your bedroom creaks open, dust flittering about in the air. You peek into the room and switch on the lights. The bed is empty, the entire room is empty. You pause. They should be home by now.

The only sound left is the radio in the kitchen. The faint hum of the reporter’s voice just reaches your ears, muffled through many walls and doors. “Another accident today on the M25, a very bad collision between a truck and a smaller car. Although the details are incomplete, it is said that the Mother and two kids were killed in the crash. More on that later, and in other news…..”

You freeze. “Mother and two kids.”


Two kids.

You take a deep breath, slowing down and forcing yourself not to panic. Reaching slowly for your cell phone, you dial in the number for your wife, punching the call button a bit too hard. The tone rings, but no one picks up yet.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

A quick flash of static, and then her voice comes gently through the speaker.

“Hello, you’ve reached-”

You hang up immediately. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. You sit down on the cushioned chair in the study, the wheels grating against the floor. Jabbing at the computer keys, you search for a news site with more information on the crash. Your phone continues to ring your wife, the cheery tone haunting the otherwise silent house. You click on a link.

An image pops up. Blurry camera, bad angle, a normal picture snapped from a phone by someone desperately trying to take it before being ushered away by police. But the car is unmistakeable. Even without the license plates, you know it’s yours.

And your heart sinks.

The phone clicks again. “Hello, you’ve reached-”

You slam the desk with your fist, breaking the keyboard.

“My mobile, but”

Your flesh tears as your knuckles come into contact with the wall.

“Sorry I’m not here”

You spin the chair and smash it against the door.

“If you leave a message”

Tears begin to blot your vision.

“Name and number”

Your scream tears through the house.

“And I’ll try and get back to you.”

You fall to your knees. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

”Goodbye!” The phone falls silent.

You drag your feet through the mud and grass, lazily trudging along the stretch of land. Your father walks slowly alongside you, his breathing slightly ragged. You catch him staring at you through the corner of your eye, but you avoid his. He sighs.

“It’s a lovely day isn’t it?”

You grunt. “Yeah. Wish I could actually enjoy it.”

An arm falls over your shoulder and pulls you closer to your father. He knows you don’t want to talk, so he doesn’t either. You acknowledge the brief moment of tenderness, but you’re almost too numb to appreciate it. You stare out across the field.

The soil and dirt give way to large rows of wheat and corn, as well as tall grass between the spaces. The sun casts a mellow light over the farm, painting the sky and ground alike in pink and orange. Your mind conjures memories of your kids running around in this exact area, and you scowl to get rid of them.

But you came here to escape them. To try and forget, or if not that, at least to focus on something else. After you had gone to the hospital, after you had found out that……. that they had died, you didn’t want to grieve. If you were going to move on you needed to forget. But you just can’t.

You kick at a clump of grass, sending it spiralling along the floor and down the hill. Your father huffs again. Feeling tears begin to surface, you wipe them away and breathe deeply. Space out. You would give anything to have them here with you now, to see this day. To see any day.

But it’s not going to happen. You know that, and so does everyone else. It doesn’t stop you from wishing that you could talk to them one last time, to tell them everything you forgot to. You stare into the sky, empty save for the bright ball now fading into the ground.

A voice brings you back into focus. Your mother’s singsong voice comes from within the house. “Honey, dinner’s ready.”

“Coming then!” Your father turns back to address you. “Let’s go?”

You nod, hesitating a moment before turning away. He smiles apologetically at you as you pass, and you smile back. It’s not genuine, simply a reflex. Something you’ve repeated too many times, and yet must repeat a few more.

He looks at you solemnly. “Son, are you sure you’re okay?”

You shrug. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess.” You mutter the last part to yourself.

Walking through the halls and past picture frames, you spot one that catches your eye. It depicts a family, two men standing tall in the back and their wives by their sides. Two children sit in the bottom of the picture, an arrangement based on height. You swallow.

Suddenly all the composure you’ve built up is lost.

“No. No I’m sorry. I can’t stay for dinner, I have to… I have to go. I can’t stay, I can’t stay.” You shake your head and make your way outside, ignoring the calls of your parents behind you. You reach your car and jam the keys into the ignition, starting the vehicle and driving away before anyone has a chance to ask questions.

As you speed down the highway, your body is filled with a sense of dread and despair. Hidden away however, you feel a slight buzz of…. relief.

You down the entire glass in one go, the cool liquid numbing not only your sore throat but your mind as well. The last traces fizz away, and you let out a small burp. Pouring yourself another glass, it clinks against the neck of the beer bottle, letting out a sharp click through the empty kitchen.

You blink slowly, barely clearing your eyes to focus on the world around you. You tip the glass upside down, repeating the action for the sixth time now. Or maybe the seventh. You’ve lost count, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that the liquid’s doing its job.

Beside you lies a pen and notepad, as well as a photo of your family, though you can’t remember its purpose at this point. You pour yourself one last glass of beer, but you don’t down it yet. This one is for savouring. Grabbing the other nearby objects, you start heading upstairs.

You sigh as you lower yourself slowly into the bathtub, you knees bent and cramped in the small ceramic dish. Placing the photo and glass of beer to the side, you reach out for the smooth, wooden grip of the pièce de résistance.

Your fingers close around the cool material, and you bring the shotgun closer.

Taking a sip of beer, you grab the small, empty-paged booklet and pen. Jotting the point of it against the paper, you test the ink to make sure it hasn’t dried up. A small breeze comes through the window, rustling the shower curtain and flipping the sheets of your journal.

Clicking the end of the writing tool against the tiled bathtub lining, you try to form ideas in your head. What to write, how to go about saying sorry. Or if you should write anything at all. You don’t think you can bear leaving this world quietly, without anyone knowing about why you did what you did.

You trail the pen further up the page and begin to write, but your mind, heart and hands seem to have conflicting ideas. Dear friends or family. I will be dead by the time

Your hands shake, struggling to hold on to the marker. Putting it back on the paper, you make an attempt to continue writing. The sorrow and rage renders you unable to control your hands, and you curse as the page tears.

You drop the pen. Fuck it. You slowly drink the remainder of the alcohol, and place the picture frame in front of you. You run your hand gently over the photo, reminiscing about your most tender moments as a family.

Assessing the smooth frame of the shotgun, you check that the shells are loaded. Snapping the weapon back together, you turn it around and prepare yourself. Bringing the barrel of the gun to your head, you finally begin to break down, realising your situation. But you do not cry.

You clench your jaw, but still speak; you sniff, and you grunt, and you quiver, and you fantasise. What if, I could have done this, imagine if. But that’s all they are. Fantasies. You mourn for your loss; mourn for the loss of your wife, your children, and the loss your friends will soon experience.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, to everyone. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you to care for you, I’m sorry that I didn’t get to tell you I loved you, I’m sorry that I wasn’t always the best father, I’m sorry that I can’t bring you back. I’m sorry that I didn’t know what to say in tough times, I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell how you were feeling on a rough day, I’m sorry that I can’t live without you.

But now I’m coming to meet you.” Steeling yourself, you place your finger on the trigger, and squeeze it slowly.

They say your life flashes before you when you die.

The only flash you see is that of the gun.


View Online

You jolt awake in bed, panting heavily in the darkness. Sweat drips down your forehead, and you feel the familiar metallic, viscous taste of blood in your mouth. Your tongue feels dry and sticky, your throat stuffy and constricted. Your hands feel sore and tense as you try to open them. Your toes cramp up. Your mind, however, feels clear; like a weight has been lifted.

You look around you and find that it’s not actually dark, and upon opening the blinds light pours into the room. Quite a large amount of it too. Your watch reads 3:00. You chuck on a pair of pants and a shirt and walk to the kitchen. The front door’s been unlocked, and you find a note sitting on the kitchen counter.

Will be out for a while, no need to panic.

You swish some tap water around in your mouth, spitting out the bloodied mix of saliva and water. Rinsing your face, you feel slightly more awake, and fix yourself some food. Placing bread, lettuce, ham and tomatoes on a plate, you sit down on the kitchen table.

Crunching on the sandwich slowly, you consider all that you learnt last night. It takes you a while. For the first time, you come to terms with your death; and for the second, the death of your family. You feel odd, not unaffected but not quite mourning them either.

Of course you feel some sense of sadness. But for the most part, it’s just pins and needles. Numbness. It was all so weird; you were so detached from the situation. They were memories, but it was more like watching someone else's life. Like waiting for the resolution in a mystery movie. And now that it is resolved, you feel a sense of emptiness, in the true meaning of the word. Nothing you feel is explicable.

But you’re sure you’ll feel something sooner or later. It always works like that.

Finishing up with your meal, you head outside to take a look around town. Grab some groceries, check out the stores; just general wandering about. And of course, while you’re out, may as well try and find Lyra.

Brown leaves scatter in the breeze, falling from trees and sweeping along the streets. They snap audibly as Ponies walk among the piles, crunching the delicate objects under boots and heels. You watch as a leaf is carried through the air, floating back and forth in the wind.

Arriving in the centre of town, you take a look around you; at all the stores and people, at the sculptures and decorations. Studying them. Acknowledging them. Accepting them. This is my life now, this is my home. 

The words comfort you, reminding you that all is not lost. Yes, you’re living in a rather strange world, but it’s recognisable. The structure of life is relatively similar, the inhabitants aren’t entirely dissimilar. It’s not home, but it could very well be.

And it might very well be. Passing the numerous shops, you head into the market and straight for the food stands. Stocking up on mangoes, apples, cherries and grapes. Platters of meat and fish, arrangements of cheese, baskets of bread. General foodstuff.

The streets are thick with ponies; the usual assortment of vibrant colours, bushy tails, outstretched wings, and vivid auras floating around. Your ears fill with the noises of shop-owners bellowing out advertisements, beckoning those around them to visit their stalls. Finally cutting through the crowds, you have some space to move.

With the groceries in one hand and an apple in the other, you continue on your little journey. Rounding a corner and through an alleyway, you navigate the streets; getting accustomed to the layout of the town. And as you emerge from a side-street, you bump right into some familiar faces.

Derpy reels back in surprise, grabbing Trixie for support. The blue mare shakes her off, irritated at the clumsiness of her friend.

You nod your head to the pair. “Trixie. Derpy.”

“Hello dear. What brings you out of your little cave?” She teases.

You roll your eyes, grinning at the little dig. “Getting used to the town I guess.”

“But why?”

“Dunno, personal stuff. Just a little revelation, that’s all.”

“Did that revelation happen to be about an empty fridge?”

“Well what’s the best way of getting used to a place if it isn’t eating everything there?”

Derpy takes a step forwards, shoving her face into the slit of the bag. “Where’s the baking ingredients?”

Trixie tuts at the cross eyed mare. “He probably doesn’t need any you moron. Now come on, get your face out of his groceries. It’s not polite.”

“I ain’t gonna eat anything, I was just looking!”

“I know that dear, but it’s still a weird thing to do.” She mutters the next bit to herself. “Then again, you don’t do normal do you.”

Derpy continues to defend herself. “No it’s not! I’m just checking what he has.”

“And then asking him why he isn’t planning making muffins. Not everyone is a baker Derpy.”

“But that’s not important! Maybe he was stocking up on whatever he didn’t have, and no one’s made me muffins in a while!”

“Because you don’t ask for them, and you make plenty yourself.”

You cut them off before the argument gets any worse. “Any idea where Lyra is? She said she’d be out for a while, but not much else.”

“I’m afraid not. If I were to guess I’d say with Colgate or Cheerilee, but both of them are working today. Other than that, Lyra doesn’t really have any personal spots that I know of so… I’m out of ideas.”

Derpy shrugs. “You live with her, so you’d have a better idea of where she’d run off to. If you don’t know, how should we?”

Trixie rests her hand on her chest, her mouth and eyes widening in mock surprise. “Ditzy Doo, did you just say something intelligent?”

“Trixie! We talked about this, I don’t like you teasing me!” She whines. Her friend grins, which only serves to annoy her even more. The grey mare spins on her heels and storms off, huffing and sighing noisily.

Trixie calls after her. “Derpy come on! It’s just a joke sweetie, don’t take it personally.” But she doesn’t stop. Trixie turns to you and rolls her eyes. “Well, looks like I fluffed that. Anyways, I’ll see you later. Oh, and do let me know when you find Lyra.”

You smile back. “Sure thing.” The blue mare jogs off after her friend, still calling out. You watch her go for a while longer, then start walking again yourself. Ideas ping around your head about where Lyra could be, but none of them seem plausible.

You just don’t understand why the note was so vague, why she didn’t actually tell you anything. She’s been a lot better with communicating recently, except for the odd day or so. But nothing comes to mind, so you give up for now. I mean she did say don’t worry. She knows the town, I’m sure she’s fine.

Humming to yourself, you stroll along the roads and streets of Ponyville. Now that you’re aware that it’s your world, you begin to appreciate it a lot more. The structure of houses and buildings are well built and appealing to the eye. Nature and civilisation are perfectly balanced, creating a peaceful setting for even more peaceful lives.

The people who you’ve met are, for the most part, pretty nice. Of course they’re unsure about you, but that’s entirely understandable. And the towns are all beautifully decorated, displaying something about the area or the people there. The intricate designs that seem to carry a sense of pride for their culture. You don’t know a lot about it, but you know it is something to be proud of.

Generally, it seems a lot easier to relax in. To be happy in.

Earth was a place where everything was busy, and if you weren’t working hard then you risked losing everything. There was too much to worry about for anyone to remain calm for more than a short time. If you wanted a comfortable life, you either worked your ass off for it or you got lucky. Everything went too fast. Here, you can finally slow down. You can finally focus on just being happy.

Meandering past children playing in the numerous parks and ponds that make up the borders of Ponyville, you catch some of them staring at you in awe. Jaws slack, eyes wide and fingers extended. It doesn’t hurt that they’re staring. But it reminds you that you’re not part of this world. Not yet.

That stings a bit.

Shrugging it off, you decide it’s about time to head back home. You watch the sun float along the sky, the flaming ball gradually lowering to its resting place for the night. In your mind you plan out a route, weaving through the streets and back to the centre of town. Although you didn’t manage to find Lyra, you’re sure she’ll be home by now.

And this time, you truly feel that it’s your home too. Opening the door to the dimly lit kitchen, you place the grocery bags gently on the table. The quiet hum of a running sink echoes through the house, and you turn it off. Gentle sobbing replaces the silence.

You raise your eyebrow at the noise. And as you follow it, you realise it’s coming from Lyra’s room. You knock on the door a couple of times, and the sobbing stops. You hold your breath, awaiting a response, but none comes.

“Lyra? Lyra open up please.”

“Go away.”

“Lyra I just need to make sure you’re okay. Can you tell me that much?”

Her voice croaks through the door. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You slowly turn away, but something stops you. A small echo, a trace of her voice, something muttered under her breath that makes you freeze. “I guess.”

”Yeah, I’m fine. I guess.”

The same thing you told your father when you last saw him. Some of the last words you said to him, before you took your own life. You turn back to the door and knock one last time. “Lyra I know this may sound weird but I really need to see you right now. Open up.” She ignores you.

You reach for the door handle and turn it slowly, but it jerks back halfway through the motion. Locked. You try frantically to turn it again, but of course the knob wont move past that one point. Swearing under your breath, you search in the kitchen for the keys to her room, but are unable to find them. Shit, they’re probably in there with her.

You come to the realisation that Lyra’s not going to open up, and you can’t unlock it from out here. Taking a step back from the door, you lift your leg and slam it into the door. The frame shakes, but other than that your foot rebounds harmlessly off it. You place another kick by the handle, grunting as it connects.

The wood cracks slightly, splinters poking out of the otherwise still standing object. Three more rapid kicks open the crack wider, and one big one knocks the doorknob right off. You push the door open, the handle fractured and broken on the floor.

Lyra’s sat on the floor at the other end of the room, her shoulders slumped and her hair covering her face. Her shirt’s stained with tears, her chest rising and falling erratically, and her arms shake. A gleaming object is held limply in her right hand, the blade of a knife unmistakeable even in the darkened space.

“Lyra?” Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, the sound reverberating in your eardrums. Making your way around the bed, you crouch down a metre or so away from her. You slowly reach out your hand to her.

She shuffles back quickly, keeping the knife out in front of her. You jerk your hand back just in case, but the mare stays still. “Hey, hey Lyra it’s me. It’s all right, it’s just me.”

“Stay there. You stay right there!”

You take a step closer, but she shuffles further away. You splay your hands, letting her see they’re empty in the hopes that it’ll calm her down somewhat. “Lyra come on. You don’t want to do this, alright? Just take a moment to think about this all.”

“What if I do want to do this. What if it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past year? I have nothing to live for anymore, so why bother?” Tears stream down her face, her throat constricting as she struggles to breath through her crying. It breaks your heart seeing her like this.

“Because it’s not what Bon would have wanted.”

“How do you know what she wanted!?”

“Because she told me! In the hospital, a couple of days after we first heard about the, the news. She asked me to take care of you? She told me to not let anything happen to you, said to help you recover. So how do you think she’d feel seeing you like this? Lyra, for her sake, don’t do this.”

Her own breathing slows with yours. She moves the knife back, but keeps her grip firm on it. “Let’s talk for a bit. Put the knife down okay? Here, give it to me.” Lyra reluctantly complies, moving her arm to bring the knife closer to you. Still cautious, you take the knife out of her hands, sliding it across the floor and to the other side of the room.

You turn back to Lyra, sighing as you see she’s returned to her fetal position on the floor. As you pick her up, she remains limp in your arms, not bothering to stand up. You place her upright on the bed, but she still avoids your eyes.

“You broke the door.” Her voice is constricted, her nose clearly blocked from crying.

“Yeah well I figured your life is worth a bit more than a handle and some wood. Lyra come on, talk to me. You can’t bottle your emotions like this.”

She whips her head round to face you, her mouth pulled into a deep scowl. You take a step back out of shock. “You don’t understand what it’s like, okay? You don’t know how I feel! I lost her. She was my everything and now she’s fucking gone! Everyone just sort of expects me to “move on” and act as if life is okay now, as if nothing’s any different. No one had what we had, no one gets what I’m going through!”

You frown as memories of your old family come back, but try to keep your voice calm so as to not startle her anymore. “Lyra, just think about what you’re saying for a second. Of course I get what you’re going through-”

“No! No you fucking don’t! How could you have any idea! Everyone says that, “Oh Lyra I get what you’re going through, I understand, I can relate”, no you fucking can’t! You don’t understand!”

Yes I do! How can you sit there and genuinely tell me I don’t know what it’s like? I’ve been living in an entirely unknown world where everyone stares at me like I’m a monster, like I’m an alien. Everyone’s got fucking wings and horns and magic and it’s part of their lives. It’s not my world, yet it’s the only one I have. Because I lost my last one!

How do you think I got here, huh? What do you think I left behind? My kids, my wife, my parents, my friends and all my other family, they’re all gone! All of them! Do you know what happened to my wife? To my kids?

Dead! They died in a car crash, and they were my everything, and I lived and worked so that they could live and enjoy themselves! And I never got to say goodbye to them. I never got to tell them how much I loved them, because they were snatched away from me without any warning.”

Lyra opens her mouth to retaliate, but closes it. Sighing, you sit down on the edge of the bed. You’re tired, physically and emotionally, the full weight of what happened finally bearing down on you. A tear drops from your eye, leaving a cool trail as it rolls down your cheek.

The bed sinks slightly as Lyra shifts around, and you feel her hand rest against your shoulder. You take a ragged breath, your throat dry and constricted. Taking a moment to steady yourself, you think out the best way to approach the situation. The best way to tell her.

“Do you know how I got here?”

She exhales. “No. Do you?”

“I kept almost entirely to myself after their deaths. I didn’t see anyone or speak to anyone, because I just felt so devastated. I had just lost everything, why would I want to be with other people? So I kept all my emotions to myself, and in the end, when it all came spilling out, it was too much. I put a gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger.”

“You… killed yourself?”

You nod solemnly. “Yeah. Shot myself. And I have no idea how or why, but I didn’t die; I got sent here. I got given a second chance. And I didn’t deserve it. I kept to myself and didn’t tell anyone how I felt. I had so many people around me that I could have turned to for support, yet I neglected them and focused only on what I had lost; Not what I still had.” You turn around, looking Lyra straight in the eyes. “And now I’ve lost almost everything. I don’t want to lose you too.”

She dips her head, and you wrap one arm around her, pulling her closer. You rest your face on the top of her head, the hair tickling your nose. You feel a tear drop onto your arm, and in response you squeeze Lyra ever so slightly. Planting a gentle kiss on her scalp, you move to stand up.

“I’m gonna head off to bed now. Try and get some sleep, I think we’ve both had a long day.”

Lyra reaches out for your hand, clasping it gently before you’re out of reach. She smiles, and although it seems slightly forced, you can tell it’s genuine. “Thank you."

You shake your head. “No problem.” Letting go of her hand, you move to go back to your room. Picking up the knife as you go, just in case. As you reach the door, you sweep the knob to one side, and begin to close the damaged frame. “I’ll uh, I’ll get this fixed soon. Good night.”

Lyra wraps herself in her blanket, sighing audibly before settling. She half mumbles her response. “Sleep well.” You swing the door completely closed, and walk the short distance back to your room. Flopping onto the bed, you breath out a heavy sigh of relief, mixed with a tinge of sorrow. Your eyelids begin to droop, and you do nothing to stop them.

Some rest is well deserved.