The Angel of Grief
The chill of a cold, winter’s night had me within its grasp.
As I sluggishly paced among the willows of the Everfree Forest, I saw their branches dangling like sharp, dismal claws waiting to slash me. With a hard and rough huff, I told myself to keep on pushing through with every inch and muscle of my body. I knew they weren't going to hurt me since they never once touched me. Instead, those limbs remained above my head, swaying to the howling wind.
While the snow covered the landscape, some of it lingered and floated within the air. Illuminated by Luna’s full moon, the snowfall tinted my surroundings with a light shade of blue. The vegetation laid dead upon the beaten trail, withering away with each brown leaf drifting to the ground. The air was frosty and cool to the touch, leaving my body to shake and shimmer when the wind passed through the fur of my brown coat.
Besides the whistling wind and my hooves pressing upon the rocks, snow, and leaves, not another sound was heard. The birds didn't chirp and the critters never spoke, making Everfree seem like an utterly lifeless place. I sighed with my head still down, dragging myself along the muddy road and over the fallen trees and crushed branches.
In the distance, I gazed upon a black, iron gate. Two burned-out lanterns stood on their own stone pillars, holding up the gate hinges. Vines, thorns, and sprigs with grey flowers possessed the entrance and clung to it, making it seem like nature owned it within its own right. The words “Amino Cemetery” were inscribed on a rustic, iron arch above the gate’s doors in old Equestrian Times font.
Pushing them aside, causing some of the vegetation to crumble and fall to the ground, I made my way into the graveyard.
I froze in place, bewildered by the state of the graveyard itself. I don’t exactly know what struck me first. Was it the rows of stones rising above the layers of mist and snow? Or how dark and bleak the site was?
I could think of a time when this place was lively, full of color from the roses, pines, and bushes surrounding the site in nature’s own tight, warm hug. I remember on any given day, you could, ironically enough, take a relaxing stroll through this place, see the graves, and honor those who have passed. Now, any ounce of joy or happiness seemed to be shriveled up and gone. What now remains are the memories of those chiseled on their own stones.
I slowly gazed around, trying to find any resemblance from what I had remembered. However, nothing seemed to appear as the way they were before. The tombstones were stained, corroding from the downfall of snow. The once white, gravel paths were now merely visible, covered with mud, dead ferns, and branches. Even the old vault, once a proud, freestanding structure, was now showing its age. From where I stood, I could see cracks within its stone.
I lowered and shook my head in dismay. This place was completely abandoned, something I’d never wish would happen here. Yet, as I trudged through the yard, passing by what’s left of those rows of tombstones, my heart sank as my mind came to terms with reality. Nothing seemed to be left here except gravestones and emptiness.
Is this how we remember things once important to us?
Is this how we treat places of remembrance? Like they’re worth nothing to us? I thought for the longest time a cemetery wasn’t some place you ever left alone. It’s always a place you can come to and feel the company of whoever laid there in rest. It’s the place to feel joy and happiness, a sort of celebration of living life and remembering the times they spent alive.
But, I guess, the idea doesn’t really matter here anymore. All the love, cheer, and glee escaped through those gates a long time ago. What's left behind was overtaken by the creeping, cold darkness of despair that seeped its way in and filled the gap left by happiness. It turned a once thriving place into a grave in of its own self.
I laid down with a thud, the freezing air brushing over me in defeat. As a single tear escaped my eyes, I covered my face with my hooves. I wanted to hide away my own shame and not feel like a complete failure. I loved this place once, but I guess I don't actually care enough about it to keep it up like I use too.
I then heard something in the wind. Taking my hooves off my face, I looked up. Wondering where the sound came from, I managed to spot a raven perched on a mausoleum. It stared directly at me, cawing before brushing a wing.
What does it want? Why is it speaking to me? Is it trying to draw my attention? Doesn’t it know I have already given up?
I sighed.
I didn’t know, but I felt like this bird cawed at me for a reason I’ve yet to care about. After all, it wants my attention, so what’s stopping me from giving it? I stood up, brushing some of the snow off my back, making sure the bird remained within my sight.
It flew off.
Great.
Alone once more, I decided to walk among the gravestones as I searched for the raven. To my luck, I found the bird. However, it was perched on a grave I’ve never quite seen before.
Could this be the one I came for?
It was carved from marble, standing no taller than a few meters, an angel wearing a thin headband and a silk, sleeveless robe. While the site of a heavenly being would appear cheerful to ponies, this didn’t seem to be celebrating anything. In fact, it was doing the mere opposite. Laying itself over a curved, boxed tombstone, this angel appeared to be grieving over whoever was laid to rest there.
What? What is this?
I had no clue on how to react to such a sight. For one, I had to wonder if this was the grave. If this was the final resting site of someone close to me. If, after all these years of exploring cemeteries throughout Equestria, my efforts have finally paid off. Is it?
Is it the final resting place of my wife?
With a burst of desperation, I leaned up against the tomb and brushed away the snow, trying to uncover any sort of inscription to whom the grave belonged to. At long last, after clearing out any natural obstructions, I could see some sort of name engraved in stone. While the first part of it was scratched up, I could make out the last name to be “Grief.”
Grief, it’s what I felt after I found it. It’s what I felt after my hopes grew, only to be trampled and stomped into the ground. “Grief” wasn’t her last name, nor her first, but now I guess it’s something I’d label her as. She’s done this to me, to cause such grief over her death.
I drew my head down and covered it with my hooves. How could I have been so naive? How could I have let this happen in the first place? I was her husband for crying out loud! Why did I leave her behind before she died?! It wasn’t my fault, yet I felt like it was!
I could have said “No.” I could have tried to persuade her from leaving me behind at home, but I let her go. I let her go, and now she’s lost because of me. At this point, I could believe I’ll never be able to find her ever again.
I then heard tapping. I pulled my head up and saw the raven once more, pecking at an olive branch. Lying on the pedal of the angel’s grave, it too was carved from the same stone as the divine being. It rested below the left hand of the angel, appearing as if she purposely dropped it, while the other cushioned her head she laid over the gravestone.
Peck.
The raven tapped at the branch once more, and it started to annoy me. In fact, it seemed irritating to hear the raven pecking at a branch, which wasn’t real to begin with. I came here to find answers and think to myself! How could I think with this bird tapping its beak on marble?!
Peck!
I stared at the bird, irked by my peace of mind being broken by the taping. How stupid is this thing? Why is it pecking at a fake branch? Doesn’t it know it’s not real?!
Peck!
With rage filling my limbs, I knew I had enough of the bird’s foolishness. I reared up, hoping to scare off the raven by stomping on the ground it stood. However, as my front legs came down, the bird flew away and my hooves crushed the branch underneath.
Breaking apart with a few snaps, it crumbled beneath my hooves. The defined olives, stems, and leaves were now smashed to dust by my hateful force. Meanwhile, I could only look down upon my destruction in terrified awe.
As my hooves ached in pain, my eyes seemed to widen in fear. My mind raced with endless amounts of questions coming to me. What did I just do? Did I just destroy a piece of somepony’s grave? Did I just vandalize somepony’s final resting spot? Did I just destroy something not worth tampering with?
Lifting my forehooves off the ground, I laid down in the snow and held them close to me. They throbbed from the force it took to break apart the marble branch, making me whimper in agony as I curled my lips. I thought to myself, Was it necessary for me to act out in such a manner? The bird did annoy me, but I didn’t have to rear up and strike the branch! I could have easily just said “shoo!” and it would have flown off. Oh, well. I guess I didn't do that then!
I sighed in defeat, knowing I didn’t. I lowered my eyes in dread, knowing a piece of a wonderful sculpture was broken beyond repair and covered by downfall of snow. I then curled my hoof inward. If I had magic or the ability to work with a chisel, I would try to carefully, piece-by-piece, restore the olive branch. However, I lacked those abilities, thus any effort, on my behalf, would be seemingly worthless.
Whoever sculpted each painstaking detail into this gravestone, I applaud your intricate work. She’s a beautiful angel, one mirroring the elegance and charm of Princess Celestia herself. Such a divine being she is, with beauty and grace complimenting her perfect feminine form! One would be proud and happy to have such goddess qualities. To which, any pony would think nothing would be able to drag her down.
Yet, I see her crying over the gravestone of a lost one. I see a joyful creature, who once celebrated in the light of day, now fallen to her knees, on the brink of sobbing over death. You’re an angel! You shouldn’t be able to feel the pain of a lost one! You should instead be celebrating the gift of life and beauty!
I sighed, turning my head towards the side while freezing wind brushing over my coat. While the physical pain in my hooves were gone, the agony within me remained. Dipping my head, I felt the weight of distress crush it inward. My body shook in cold misery as tears fell from my eyes.
I never knew angels felt pain too.
How can one know joy and love if they never suffered in life? How can one know happiness if they never knew despair? How can a soul live without knowing their emotions?
I wiped the tears from my eyes, breathing in the fresh, winter air. As I exhaled with a trail of warm air leaving my nostrils, the weight on my mind was lifted by a single thought. I realized I’ve wasted too much time ignoring the truth which was in front of me. The fact is, I’ll never be able to find her ever again.
I’ll never be able to hold her close to me again. I’ll never be able to kiss her, talk to her, or take slow walks with her ever again. I’ll never be able to tell her how much I loved, cherished, and adored her. She was my sweet and innocent angel, now fallen and buried somewhere under Equestria's ground.
I rose to my hooves. While the thought of her was still hard to bare, if I knew my wife well, she’d be saying, “Don’t cry because I’m not gone, I’m just not with you right now. So, don’t you fret! I know I’ll be seeing you soon! So, enjoy your life until then!”
I nodded my head with a halfhearted grin, the cold tears still wet on my face. She wasn’t with me right now, but I knew I’ll be with her again sometime in the future. So why was I still crying? Well, maybe it’s because I still miss her.
Yet, that mare would want me to be strong and carry on the weight of my sorrow for her. The point to life is to live every single day that you can to the fullest potential, so why should I spend my time worrying about things I can't change? I shouldn't. As much as it will ache and hurt me, there comes a point where a pony does need to move along with their life. I spent too much time searching for something I can't get back.
So... Honey. You were right all this time.
As I stood, I gazed beyond the cemetery and saw the sun break the horizon. It was morning, and the once bleak gravestones shone like pearls in the sunlight. A new gust of warm wind swept through the cemetery, already melting some of snow off my coat. To my humble surprise, I also saw the raven from before. Posting on a bust, it cawed out to Equestria, as if to announce my revelation. I could only bow my head and smile.
Lifting my head back up, I saw a bright red rose sticking out of the snow and resting beside the angel. I had no idea how it managed to survive the cold, harsh conditions of winter, but that was the least of my concerns. It was still there, touching the statue like it seemed to care about it as much I did. It loved the statue, and wanted to make sure that it wasn't forgotten or lonely as well. I blinked my eyes a few times, trying not to cry once more.
To quote my own work, The Raven, I spoke the word, “Nevermore.”