Manehattan's most mysterious mare recounts her life to a journalist who uncovers the only link to her rocky past. A story of rags to riches, of survival... a story of love. This is her story.
“I am Autumn the White, Autumn Winds, and sometimes I am Autumn the Mystical. I have ran with criminals, toppled financial empires, and ended the League of Shadows’ reign of terror on the West Side. I saved dozens of foals from terrible fates ponies shudder to think about. I acquired more wealth than Princess Celestia. I have loved and I have lost. But before all of that, I had grown up on the streets of Manehattan where I learned to lie, to steal… where I learned to survive. And when my life was about to take a turn from bad to worse, she fell from the sky.”
The rain poured relentlessly, and the streets of Manehattan were unusually bleak—even for a rainy day. With tensions that had been mounting all week, several ponies were outraged, startled by what was discovered... and others were left in doubt. The news predicted riots would break out any day now. Yet there was no sign of disturbance today. At least not in my small corner of the city.
But I wasn’t concerned with all of that, no, I had other things on my mind. Maybe it was how unusually quiet the house was today, the way the walls creaked, or maybe it was the way the drapes moved in the drawing room…. Even after all of these years, my instincts were still sharp, and they were telling me something wasn’t as it should be. It’s that feeling you get when someone is very close and watching you. When you can almost hear the breathing. If only my ears were what they used to be.
I kicked back in my cozy armchair. After searching the rooms of my house and jumping at shadows, it was nice to sit back. Of all of the rooms, the drawing room felt the most unusual. I couldn’t put my hoof on it, but I suspected this room was where something or someone was lurking.
I visually scanned the drawing room while taking a sip of brandy. I wrinkled my nose as it burned its way down to my stomach, and I raised the snifter for another sip, only to find it empty. But before I could muster the energy to refill it, my eyes caught something…. It’s the kind of thing, as I had come to realize, most would’ve missed. It was the exact something I was waiting for: a clue that proved I wasn’t paranoid.
Cracking a smile, I feigned reaching for the bottle of brandy. But, just as my hoof touched the bottle, I chucked the snifter I was still grasping at the window. The glass soared through the air, but it never hit the drapes. After a dull thunk and a sharp gasp of breath, I knew I was right. Someone was invisible.
“You could’ve knocked,” I sang out, pleased with myself.
“Funny thing for you of all ponies to say,” a deep voice said to the room. Red sparks fizzled, and a pale-blue unicorn materialized. “How did you know?”
I frowned, but otherwise ignored his first statement. “You haven’t been the first, but I have to say, you are by far the cleverest….” He was a younger unicorn with a handsome face and kind eyes. I knew from his tense stance that he was out of his element. He was not police or a spy, that much was certain. “The drapes gave you away. They are made of a thick material and are quite heavy. So when they moved slightly… and I’ve had this nagging feeling that I was being watched.”
“Did you have to throw a glass at me?” He rubbed the back of his head.
Did I have to? Certainly not. But who does he think he is? “I needed conclusive evidence.” I shrugged. “Now, who are you and what do you want?”
He looked at the ground. “I’m Quill Scratch, a journalist. I’ve come to discover the truth of your origins.”
I couldn’t hold back a laugh as I slumped back into my chair. Ponies had been bugging me all week, but none were this direct… or awkward. He really had no backup plan in case he were caught. What an idiot.
I stifled my laughter and watched him tensely shift his weight. “And by sneaking around in my house you were going to uncover incriminating evidence? Who hired you?”
“No one; I’m freelancing,” he stated nervously.
“And just what exactly did you hope to find?” I asked, deciding to humor him. So far, he seemed to be telling the truth. He appeared to have no cover story or outrageous lie. Or he was a really convincing actor.
“You have been deemed Manehattan’s most mysterious mare. You’re not of nobility or royalty, yet you seem to run the city.” He cleared his throat and looked up. “There are dozens of police reports over the years, most of which ties in with urban legends. But it goes something like this: On a windy autumn night, a white mare appeared and saved dozens of orphan foals from an abusive orphanage by burning it to the ground while they were out. A few weeks later, a detective received an anonymous tip-off that led to the arrest of Manehattan’s most notorious crime syndicates; one of the main bases of operation was burned in a similar fashion.
“The strange thing was, many ponies reported having seen a white mare in that area days before the arrest was made. Another coincidence was that particular gang was linked to the orphanage. There are several other reports similar to those, and all of them report a similar mysterious white mare. And then one day, she vanished and no reports of her appeared… at least not in police reports. There are a few rumors circulating Manehattan that an unknown mare had a strong hoof in the local government. I could go on….” His eyes locked onto mine, and he cracked a broad smile.
“And you think I’m that white mare?” My heart was racing, but he had nothing. If I had been the only white mare in Equestria, I would’ve covered my tracks better, you would think. Ponies with white fur aren’t so uncommon, though. He’d have to put me at the scene of any of those events.
“Well, you are a white mare, and you’re mysterious. There are three different biographies of you, Autumn, and all of them were confirmed fake. You’re not from Canterlot, and even if you were, then how could you also be from Los Pegasus? You never attended the University of Trottingham either; I looked into all of those biographies very closely.”
“They’re all true,” I smirked. Okay, he wasn’t as big an idiot as I took him for—oh he’s good, very thorough indeed. Journalists are so irritating, and this one was quickly ascending to the top of my list of most annoying journalists. If I weren’t so annoyed, I may have admired his attention to detail, something I admire in all ponies… except this one.
“They aren’t,” he stated matter of factly. “You see… I have something to prove it.”
I ground my teeth. That smug smile really made my blood boil. I knew he could see my discontent too. Being a white pony is very revealing when it comes to emotions, and there was no hiding my red face. “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome here,” I said through my clenched jaw.
“You’re right. I broke into your home, invaded your privacy, and called you a liar. But before I go, I’d like to show you what I have—please.”
I nodded, slightly shocked at his sudden change in tone and how quickly his smug little smirk washed away. He was young after all and probably figured he could score some bits and notoriety by doing a story on me. At least he wasn’t blinded by finding the truth at any cost. I could respect a pony who could admit to being wrong, a quality that could be very costly. He really should have knocked.
Quill opened his saddlebags and levitated a blue folder to me. I quickly snached it out of the air and opened it. Then… my heart stopped, and I clapped a hoof over my mouth. Inside the folder was a tattered photo of a white earth pony filly with a pale-purple mane. She had one foreleg wrapped around the neck of a cream colored earth pony filly with an auburn mane and a round, freckled, face. They were grinning into the camera. I flipped the photo over to see faded, loopey writing.
Snow,
I know it hasn’t been easy, but I hope this picture helps you remember the good times. Let those times fill you with the strength to carry on without me. I wish you well, and may the stars guide you.
Love,
Windy
It was a few seconds before I realized my face was flushed and tears were building up behind my eyes, but I cleared them and ignored the ache in my chest. I looked up to see Quill leaving the room.
“Wait!” I called out to him.
He stopped and looked at me.
“Where did you get this?” I clutched the picture over my heart.
“I found it in a police report.” He shrugged.
I doubted it. The picture had gone missing many years ago, but in a police report? Why? There was nothing suspicious about it. Even if it were then where was the rest of the report? He was lying. “This has been—this is something special to me, thank you.”
“I’ll be going now.”
“Wait! You were looking to find clues about me and about the stories surrounding me?”
He nodded.
“Well, how about I give you the biggest story to hit Manehattan? How about I tell you my story, my real story? And then you can tell me where you really got this photo.”
His ears perked up and, although he tried to hide it, he smirked. I realized I played right into his hooves. He knew once I saw that picture he’d have me. He knew more about me than he let on, and if he had a picture of Windy, then what else did he have? What else does he know? ‘Funny thing for you of all ponies to say.’ A funny thing to say indeed, unless he knew of my past, unless he knew about her.
“I would be honored.”
I shot him a knowing look. “That little ploy of yours was pretty clever. There may be hope for you yet.” I sat up in my chair and grabbed another glass from the table. “Would you like a brandy?” He shook his head. “I promise not to throw any more of these at you,” I added in a sympathetic tone, but he shook his head again. “Tea?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Quill extracted a stack of paper and an elegant eagle feather quill. He pulled up another chair and coffee table and sat poised, ready to write.
“Alright, but this is going to take some time…. Are you ready then, Quill, to write the true biography of Autumn the White?”
“I am. I promise to record everything exactly as you say.”
I smiled at him and poured myself some brandy. The truth was, he was in the right place at the right time, but he really should have knocked. After all of the annoying journalist banging on my door and private investigators snooping about my my past, no one had ever come this close before. After all of these years of covering my tracks, looking over my shoulder, and remaining guarded, I was ready to talk. And all it took was a certain photograph to surface; I needed to know how it came into his possession. “Well then, let’s begin.
“I am Autumn the White, Autumn Winds, and sometimes I am Autumn the Mystical. I have ran with criminals, toppled financial empires, and ended the League of Shadows’ reign of terror on the West Side. I saved dozens of foals from terrible fates ponies shudder to think about. I acquired more wealth than Princess Celestia. I have loved and I have lost. But before all of that, I had grown up on the streets of Manehattan where I learned to lie, to steal… where I learned to survive. And when my life was about to take a turn from bad to worse, she fell from the sky.”
“She fell… from the sky?” Quill cocked his head. He looked at the photo again. “She’s an earth pony.”
“It’s a figure of speech, but she did literally fall from the sky.” I smiled at his bewildered look and added, “I will explain when we get to her.”
That answer seemed to quiet Quill for the time being, but he had that unsatisfied look of ‘I’m willing to wait only so long’ on his face. My only concern was why he was so interested in her.
However, before I could muse over the implications, Quill cleared his throat and tapped his quill against the ink bottle.
“Right, let’s get started.” I took another sip of brandy and cleared my throat. I could very easily start this story at the beginning, but before I could start the story of my life, I needed to give him the setting. To do this, I was going to have to start out before my life on the streets, before we met, even before I left the most miserable place in Equestria.
“Well... as you probably already know, my name isn’t Autumn; it was a name I took, but let me be clear, I never actually took any of those titles with the name. Those were added on by others. No, back then I was called a different name….
“From as far back as I can remember, I lived in the orphanage on the West Side. There, I had learned two things early in life: my parents abandoned me, and the ponies of the orphanage named me Snow because of my white coat.”
I paused to take a sip of brandy. “Now, I was content to live in the orphanage, but like every foal there, I was waiting for that happy day to go home with a nice family. Then one day, when I was about ten, my dreams were crushed.”
It was noon when I emerged from deep inside the hedge. I had spent the morning with my friend Lily pilfering from unsuspecting tourists. We ran our typical tag-team stunt. While Lily distracted a nice couple in the park by pretending to fall, and the nice ponies tended to a crying filly, I put my well practiced sticky hooves to work.
Today was the biggest amount yet: ten bits. We celebrated at the nice bakery on the corner. They didn’t ask too many questions and did diligence loading up bags of pastries and sweets. And with no place to eat our prize without the other foals seeing, we took refuge in our secret hiding spot.
Lily was a few years younger than me, but she was really small for her age which made her look even younger. She was the ideal pony to play the ‘happy go lucky filly who fell in the park’ part, and she played the part very well. It also helped—and there was no way around saying it—that she was really cute. She had big blue eyes, a golden-blonde mane and tail, and a fuzzy longhair white coat.
“You were really good today, Lily,” I said as I rolled onto the hard ground, too stuffed to move properly.
“I actually fell that time,” she replied, lying next to me. “My hoof slipped on a pebble.”
In the distance the other foals were playing while others slithered about. No doubt they were running similar cons and hiding their loot somewhere.
Opening my saddlebags, I saw six bits left. I quickly forked over half of it to Lily. “Your earnings, for such a convincing performance.”
“Keep it.” She smiled, pushing the money back.
Shocked, I pushed it back to her. “Lily, are you feeling alright? Did you eat too many apple fritters?”
“No. I just don’t want it. Besides you’re better at finding things to spend it on.” She eyed the money in my still outstretched hoof. “I said no.”
She seemed frustrated, and since when did I worry about paying her a share? More for me…. “Didn’t you want that princess doll?”
She shifted uncomfortably and looked away. “No.”
“Stop lying to me! You’re my friend, you have to tell me everything!” I jumped to my hooves ready to storm off, but to my surprise she was already standing.
“No I don’t!”
She cantered off before I could get another word in. All I tried to do was give her her share. Six bits never felt so heavy. Why was she so upset? Did she really hurt herself this time?
Whatever, I’ll say sorry and give her more. Better yet, I’ll get the doll for her.
“Something the matter, dear?”
I jumped.
“No, Miss Crescent,” I said looking over my shoulder up at her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Where’s your friend?”
“I don’t know, she ran away.” I kicked at the ground. I had always liked Miss Crescent even though she was strict and wouldn’t approve of stealing. She did her best for us, and she was the only grown-up I could talk to.
“I think she’s having a hard time right now. Change can be very frightening sometimes.” She pushed my forelock over my ears to look me in the eyes. “You’re her only friend….”
“Change? Miss Crescent? What’s changing?” I had a feeling I knew what was coming. The dread was creeping upon me, pulling me to the ground. I couldn’t deal with this again.
“She’s being adopted, dear. Those nice musician ponies were approved and are taking her in a few days.”
My heart dropped; I knew it, but hearing it didn’t make things better. It made me face it head-on. Another couple of ponies came through and passed me by without a second glance. My heart pounded. Another friend I’ll never see, and she was closer to me than any other.
“I know you’re upset, sweetie…”
I stopped listening to whatever she was saying. Memories and feelings were building up; I couldn’t stop the tidal wave of emotions from drowning me. “It’s not fair!” I stamped my hoof with everything I had, denting the ground. “I’ve been here all my life, and no pony has ever looked at me! She’s been here for half a year and gets picked? Why doesn’t anypony wa-wan—” Losing all control, I collapsed to the ground and buried my face in my forelegs.
A hoof rubbed my back. “I’m sorry, dear. Life’s not fair sometimes. I wish you all could go to good homes.” I felt myself being scooped up and held tightly. I rested my head against her warm body, sniffling. “The West Side Orphanage is a terrible place; I tried to transfer all of you to a better one in Manehattan, but it was stopped,” she whispered. “I fear it’s too late for you.”
Was she crying too? Why was it too late? It was very confusing for me. Miss Crescent was nice, but she was never this compassionate. None of the ponies working there were. And I couldn’t think of a time I was held like this; it was nice—lovely.
For forty precious seconds I knew what it felt like to have a mother; I knew what it was to be wanted, to be loved. She placed a soft kiss on my head, and then I was set upon my own feet, feeling nothing but the cold air around me. For a fleeting moment I felt what Lily was surely going to experience from now on, and the worst part was, I was angry with her. It wasn’t her fault, and I should be happy for her. It felt like a spike of rage, of jealousy rose up within me. But even those feelings were smoldering and dying almost as quickly as they came. All I wanted was Miss Crescent to hold me again.
I wanted her to tell me how everything was going to be fine. Instead she confirmed my worst fear: I was too old. Through my time at the orphanage watching younger foals come and go, I learned I missed my chance years ago. And maybe that was my fate… to walk through life ignored.
“Come line up by the swings, it’s time to go back.” Miss Crescent strode off, rounding up the other foals.
Lily emerged from the bush behind me. “I-I’m sorry, Snow. I-I wanted to tell you. I’ll write you everyday,” she said with a hopeful smile. “I did want that doll, but Mr. Coda bought me one last week when he and Mrs. Forte took me out.”
“You said you were at the doctor’s!” I shouted, but I wasn’t sure why. I wasn’t mad at her anymore… was I?
“I wanted to tell you.”
“No you didn’t!”
“Did too! Miss Weaver told me not to because you’d be upset,” she shot back.
That figures. My anger and jealousy over Lily’s fortune vanished instantly at the mention of Miss Weaver. If there was one thing every foal in the orphanage agreed upon it was that Miss Weaver was pure evil. And of course she was bent on making my life as miserable as possible, but I never thought she’d stoop this low.
“Why that evil, old, hag!” I shouted, causing several ponies to look in my direction. “Of course I’m upset and jealous, but I still would want to know.” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t stay mad at her if I wanted to. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to tell me. Just don’t tell her you told me.” I winked and flashed a cheesy grin. “I’m happy for you.”
Lily giggled. “Sometimes I think you’re my big sister.”
I smiled at her, fighting back a tear. It was one of those rare times where we shared something deeper than our dislike of Miss Weaver and the mischief we’d get into. Family was a touchy subject, so when it was brought up, it was a big deal—especially when we thought of each other as family. It meant we trusted each other completely.
I hugged her tightly. “Sisters.”
“Snow! Lily! Come along, it’s time to go!” Miss Crescent called to us.
I didn’t say anything on the walk back. Miss Crescent’s words still loomed in my mind, and what was worse, Lily was leaving me soon. Over the past five months we grew close, and now she thinks of me as a big sister. And maybe I was; I looked after her. In return she was a friend, a companion, and I was no longer lonely.
The walk wasn’t long, and before I knew it, I was back at the the gloomy brick building I called home.
Miss Crescent ushered us inside where an unpleasant shadow was cast over us.
“You’re late,” a voice said from the shadows.
“I’m sorry. The foals were having so much fun in the park,” Miss Crescent replied.
“Thieving no doubt,” the voice spat.
“We’ve already spoken on that subject, Miss Weaver,” she replied. Turning to face us, she smiled. “Go to your rooms; dinner will be ready soon.”
Glad to get away from Miss Weaver, I was the first to reach the stairs. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough.
“You!” she barked, and I knew she meant me. Miss Weaver stepped into the light. Her expression was impossible to read, but I had associated her with bad news. As did everyone else. “I want to see you in my office. Now.”
Miss Crescent put a hoof across my chest, holding me in place. “They’ve just come back from the park, give them some time to unwind and maybe take a shower.”
Her voice shook. It almost sounded like a plea rather than a request.
“You cannot delay the inevitable. See to the others.”
She gave me a meaningful look before releasing me. And with no other option, I followed Miss Weaver down a long dark hall that ended in an even darker office.
My heart was pounding as I followed as slowly as I dared. There was only one other time I was in her office. It was to be punished for stealing bread from the kitchen after bedtime; my flank was sore for a week. But I didn’t let her have the satisfaction of ‘beating the delinquent out of me.’ No, on that day she made a better thief and better liar. The first thing I learned to lie about was my true feelings; I didn’t let her see me cry or beg her to stop. I wasn’t going to let her win.
Miss Weaver looked over her shoulder casting a smile that made my skin crawl. Anything that had her in this good of a mood wasn’t good news for the poor foal going to her office, and since it was me, it was especially bad news.
In her barren office, I stood in front of her desk. I knew better than to sit in that chair. Poor little Coal paid dearly when he sat there.
“Good news,” she barked once she was sitting at her desk.
I didn’t reply but just raised an eyebrow.
“You’re supposed to ask ‘what’s the good news, Miss Weaver?’” She glared into my eyes. I could feel the energy burn my soul as I fought to keep eye contact.
“What’s the good news, Miss Weaver?” I asked in a flat and uninterested tone.
She eyed me sharply. “I said it was good news! Perhaps the cane will encourage your interests.”
“What’s the good news, Miss Weaver?” I asked in the most over-the-top fake excitement I could think of.
“You watch your tongue, you miserable little brat!” she spat, lunging halfway over her desk. “Oh I’d love to teach you proper respect. I’d love to train you on such matters, yes. But something better has come along.”
“What’s that?” I asked, deciding to play along. Except, I had made one critical mistake, and I realized it a second too late. Faster than I could react I was smacked across the face with a ruler.
“What’s that, Miss Weaver?” I repeated, ignoring my stinging cheek.
“It would seem you are learning after all. Consider that a warning…. Now, as I was saying, something better than lecturing you about respect and not being the scum of Manehattan has come about. Do you remember the colt named Coal?”
“Yes, Miss Weaver.” I left out the part about remembering him being rushed to the nurse with several bruises.
“Well, he was adopted in a manner of speaking, and so have you.”
My heart skipped a beat. I was adopted? “Who adopted me—I-I mean I’ve never met with any families, Miss Weaver.”
She cracked a broad grin as if she had been waiting for me to ask that very question. “I’m glad you asked. The Fabric Consortium of the West Side offers free room and board in exchange for working in their factory. You will be joining Coal there.”
My heart sank, it may have stopped beating for all I knew. Any chance of being adopted was over, Miss Weaver made sure of that. My chance at a real life was over, and remained would be spent in servitude. The working conditions in these factories were harsh, labor was in high demand, and foals were often send to work there illegally.
I left the office. I had nothing to say, no will to continue on. This was what Miss Crescent feared. This is why she was so nice to me in the park, why she wanted to transfer me and the others; this place wasn’t safe.
No longer hungry, I returned to my room. It was nearly deserted as only Lily and one of the new fillies were there. I didn’t really want to see her. How was I supposed to tell her I was to spend my days working in a textile factory? I could hardly tell myself, but I knew she’d get it out of me in the end.
“Snow! Are you alright?” Her eyes focused on my face and widened. “Oh, no! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, it was just a light smack.”
“What did you do?” she asked. She rubbed her hoof over the side of my face, tenderly tracing the stinging area.
“I didn’t address her properly,” I huffed, rolling my eyes.
“No, why did she pull you into her office? Did she find out about the money we stole?”
It would’ve been so easy to tell her that was so; she’d believe it…. It was a ready-made excuse, but I couldn’t keep myself composed to get through the lie. And she meant too much for me to lie to.
I took a deep breath and stared at the floor. “No, it’s nothing like that. I-I’m being sent… away…”
“Are you being adopted?” Lily squealed.
“No. That evil old—that horrible, piece of—” I couldn’t find a word horrible enough to describe her. “She sold me to the factory!” I blurted out.
Lily’s smile vanished, and her eyes became heavy with concern. “No,” she whispered. “When?”
“Tomorrow. And I was hoping to meet your new parents.”
“Y-you can’t go; run away! You’ll never survive in there. They work you all day with little breaks, they beat you if you fall behind, the-they’ll kill you….” Lily’s eyes filled with tears.
Of course escape was my plan all along, and it was probably Miss Weaver’s too. She wanted me gone and she made sure of it; one way or the other I was leaving this place. “Shhh, I’m not going to let that happen. I’m running, tonight.”
“Oh, Snow!” Lily sobbed. She flung her forelegs around my neck and buried her face in my neck. “Y-y-you’re m-my best friend… a-always.”
I held her tight. This was goodbye. “And you’re my little sister.”
I don’t know how long we held each other, but at some point we broke apart. She helped me pack all of my belongings in my saddlebags. The entire time we were silent; the only thing accompanying me was the lump in my chest. I’d ask her to come with me, but I wasn’t going to ask her to sacrifice her happiness for me. I knew she’d do it in a heartbeat, but the life I was choosing wasn’t for her. She still had a chance for a life.
“Oh wait.” Lily slid under her bed and opened a small box. She turned it over, dumping out three bits. “I was saving this… but you need it more than I do.”
“Lily—”
“Take it! Please.”
Shaking my head, I placed the bits in my bag. My coat was buttoned, my scarf was tied, my small blue blanket, doll, and nine bits were secure in my saddlebags; everything I owned, my life, was upon my back.
“Lily, someday, somehow, I promise I’ll see you again.” I pulled her into one last tight embrace, kissing the top of her head.
“I’d beg you not to go—I’d beg you to take me, but we both know that that’s not the way of things. Goodbye sister, I wish you well. May the stars guide you.” She kissed my cheek and then broke the embrace.
I could tell she was sobbing in her bed as I left the room. I creeped down the hall, most of the foals were still in the common room. I heard screeches of a counseling session from Miss Weaver coming from the other end of the hall. They died down as the sound of playing foals filled my ears; I silently strode past them. The front door was in my sight. I reached for the handle but stopped, sensing someone was behind me.
It was Miss Crescent. She stepped forward as if she had been waiting for me. Her expression was somber and grim. Without words she said a million apologies, and I could tell she was crying on the inside. Another foal forced on the streets: the only place she knew we at least had a chance.
Silently, she opened the door, and with a slow sweeping gesture, she pointed to the dark street ahead. A single tear dropped down her cheek as I took my steps through the threshold. “Make something of your life, sweetie; never give up. May the stars guide you,” she whispered, and then she shut the door.
I left at breakneck speed, leaving my old life behind, never looking back, never to return.
My hooves thundered on the ground. The cold air burned in my chest as I ran with an intensity that caused my hind hooves to nearly slide out from under me; my forelegs could hardly keep pace and threatened to send me rolling end over end.
One left then another... I turned at random from one narrow street to another with only the goal of putting as much distance between me and the orphanage as possible.
In the back of my mind, I knew I was safe once I stepped out the front door, but I needed to be sure. Many sleepless nights taught me that the neighborhood wasn’t safe after dark; the thick metal deadbolts on the orphanage door was another indicator. It was rumored a stallion was stabbed right down the street—it was all hush-hush, but we weren’t taken to the park for two whole weeks, so something bad did happen….
It was always scary when the front door was suddenly locked, and we were told to keep quiet and stay in our dorms. Even Miss Weaver looked alarmed sometimes, which really scared us—especially Lilly and I.
My legs burned, but I pressed on, ignoring the numb rubberiness that I felt in them. Heaving and coughing, I turned a hard right onto a busy road that seemed to go on forever. I wasn’t sure how far I had gone or how long I had been running, but I didn’t stop.
I weaved in and out of the ponies walking and dense taxi traffic, ignoring the angry shouts.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, kid!” A cab driver shouted, as he skidded to a halt. The ponies inside glared at their driver for throwing them off of their seats.
In the distance, the stark skyline of Manehattan rose into view. Tall, dark buildings stood silhouetted against the rust-red sky of twilight.
How long have I been running? I slowed to a stop as I took in a view I had only seen pictures of.
I nearly collapsed on the spot. I wheezed and panted; my legs trembled and wobbled as if they could no longer support my weight. Yet, despite all of that, I kept my sight set on the skyline, until something collided with me, and sent me stumbling backwards. Instinctively I shuffled my hind legs as I tried to regain control; my legs felt too heavy to move, and my hoofing was sloppy as if I had just learned to walk. I collapsed rump-first, and then I found myself face-first on the concrete.
“Woah, sorry there, little filly,” a middle-aged brown stallion said. “I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?” He offered a hoof to me.
“I-I’m fine.” I pulled myself back to my feet.
“Where’re your parents?” he asked.
“They’re at home; I’m headed there now,” I lied.
“You look a little shook up—how about I walk you home? It’s getting dark out.”
My heart was pounding as I prepared to bolt; however, I changed my mind at the last second as my eyes laid on something enticing. I couldn’t help smirking as I quickly rethought my plan.
“I’m alright. I live just up the road.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yeah, you just caught me by surprise is all. It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking.” I stepped past him and stumbled, falling into his side.
“Hey, easy there.” He grabbed me and set me upright.
“Sorry, it’s my fetlock—injured it playing hoofball a few days ago.” I held my foreleg to my chest. “I’ll be alright.” I smiled at him.
“Okay, get home safe,” he smiled and walked off.
As soon as I was certain he wasn’t going to look over his shoulder, I pulled my foreleg away from my chest, uncurled my fetlock and counted four thick coins wedged between my fetlock and hoof. I grinned and quickly stored the newly acquired currency in my bag.
There was probably more money in his bag, but he was quick to react to my fake fall and would probably have noticed if I'd tried to snatch the whole thing.
Taking in the cool air, I continued on. My legs and everything else still ached from running, but I was at least able to walk without staggering like a drunk.
A street sign said I was on 52nd Street, and a tourist info sign said I was headed for the West Side Art Museum and the Celestia College of the Arts.
The skyline twinkled against the darkening sky as 52nd Street stretched on for as far as I could see. In the distance I could see a massive body of water surrounding the tall buildings. It reminded me of a moat around a castle.
On the other side of the street was a huge park full of rides and happy foals playing. I folded my ears over, muffling high-pitched joyful cheers, and the sight of a smiling colt jumping about made my stomach turn. I tore my eyes away after a few seconds, and resumed gazing at the pretty skyline.
Ponies have always said Manehattan was a big city, but for the first time, I was beginning to see what they meant; the city wasn’t just big, no, it was impossible huge, a vast never ending sprawl of concrete and buildings.
There was a beauty to the twinkling buildings in the distance. It truly was the City of the Stars….
I finally turned off of 52nd to an unnamed street. It was narrow and lined with tall apartment-like buildings on each side; it reminded me of the streets near the orphanage.
The road sloped downward, and for a brief moment I caught a glimpse of water off in the distance, far below. I took a few more turns, aimlessly walking the streets. The buildings were dirty, covered in graffiti and posters advertising nightclubs. Trash lined the streets, and I could feel ponies watching me from behind boarded-up windows.
As the sun set, I finally realized I was hopelessly lost in a bad neighborhood with absolutely nowhere to go.
I spun around, peering down the road, and then I spun back looking forward again; everything looked the same: trash, dingy apartments, and stares from behind barred or boaded windows.
Deciding I should try and retrace my steps, I turned about. However, it proved useless when I reached an intersection and couldn’t remember if I had turned there….
The lack of ponies walking the streets was more unnerving than the constant feeling of being watched. It was as if only fools and ponies not to be messed with walked these parts at night. Little fillies especially didn’t wander in such places after dark.
At last I spotted someone walking the street. It was an older pony by looks of it, but it was hard to tell from the back. I increased my stride. As I got closed I could tell it was an elderly mare, limping along.
“Not lost are you, my dear?” she asked in a shrill voice that made the fur on my back prickle.
“C-could you tell me how to get back to 52nd Street, ma’am?” I asked in the most polite voice I could.
The mare stopped and looked me in the eyes. Her face was tired, but something in her eyes made me want to scream and run for my life, and that smile was more sinister than anything I had ever seen, including any of Miss Weaver’s evil grins.
She simply stared and smiled….
“I-I’ll just be…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to backtrack and risk becoming more lost than I already was, so I picked up my step to a brisk pace.
“What a sweet filly. Why don’t you come over for tea? Such a long walk for such a sweetie… Oh, how I would love to have a little filly in my house…”
Her shrill voice faded under my hurried steps, but I still caught words like ‘cute’ and ‘perfect’ and something about a collection.
Casting a quick look over my shoulder, I saw her still limping along, up the road. Her eyes were still locked onto me.
“Where are you going?” she called out.
Overcome with fear, I broke into a canter. I took more random turns before I was sure it was safe and stopped to catch my breath.
Bracing myself against the wall of a dirty corner store, the smell of dirt and filth assaulted my nose. I coughed and hacked as fine particles tickled my throat.
The shop had a light on inside, and I could make out movement from within. I pushed on the thick glass door, and it slid open. Inside were two narrow aisles loaded with various foods and a small refrigerated section in the back.
A gruffy looking stallion eyed me from behind the counter. He looked as if someone had dumped a bottle of cooking oil over his head with his sleek-greasy mane and fur.
Maybe he’ll jump over the counter and slide down the aisle if he sees me stealing. A quick glance at the floor and I doubted it. The floor didn’t look like it had been swept or mopped… ever.
I made my way through the aisles, doing my best to ignore the sticky floor and that sound it made after every step.
I picked out a can of carrots and a bottle of water. As I wandered the aisles aimlessly, I contemplated where I was going to sleep. 52nd Street probably had plenty of hotels; none I could afford, but with a little luck, that wouldn’t be a problem. But before I could worry about that, I needed to get a map.
I sat my two items on the counter. The clerk merely grunted, rang the items up the items and nodded at the numbers on the register’s display.
“Do you sell maps?” I asked politely.
I gulped as his dark, vacant eyes gazed through me as if I were part of the store.
I suppressed a tremble and put on a fake smile.
“W-well, can you tell me how to get to 52nd Street?”
“Dunno,” he mumbled. “Four bits.” He pointed to register screen.
I slid the money across the counter and stuffed my dinner in my bag.
“Well there must some way back to that place... “ I racked my brains. “Oh, there was a nice park with some rides and there was water, like lots of it, and tall buildings, but they were kinda far away. I think the road will take me to them though.”
His expression, if possible, became more blank. His eyes seemed to glaze over as I spoke.
“Look, kid, what do I look like to you, huh? Get lost.” He sounded distant, like he wasn’t sure I was real or something. His eyes went in and out of focus. His gaze clumsily shifting from the back of the store to me.
Slowly, I backed out the door.
I put a little distance between myself and the store before taking a sip of water. It was so refreshing. The canned carrots were possibly the worst thing I’d eaten, but at least it was something.
While I ate I thought about where I was going to sleep. It didn’t look like I was getting out of the bad neighborhood anytime soon. I contemplated sleeping behind a dumpster or behind one of the buildings in an alleyway. Some of the apartment foyers looked promising. I could easily sleep under the mailboxes or in the janitor’s closet, but there was always the chance of being found and hauled away.
I decided to search around more after eating, and I if became desperate enough, I’d just sleep in an alley. The risk of being caught and sent to another orphanage was too high….
After eating, I casually tossed the can into a pile trash on the sidewalk, and resumed my journey to nowhere. The street curved on, growing darker and darker. Soon all of the streetlamps disappeared; only the light cast from nearby windows allowed me to see.
Ahead, the street opened, and I spotted a park. It looked dirty and abandoned—similar to the one we always visited from the orphanage.
Perfect!
Relief washed over me as I entered the park. Everything was broken and vandalized, but I didn’t care about that. The park had exactly what I wanted: hedges and shrubs.
I took refuge inside a particular thick hedge. The prickly bushes didn’t bother me, I simply pushed them out of my way and cleared a spot. I pulled my blanket out of my saddlebags and wrapped myself in it. Using my saddlebags as a pillow, I curled up—concealed inside a hedge in a nameless park, lost in a big city—and let sleep take me.
