CH1 - Mythias' Struggle
“Based on true events”
“As we were, so perfect, so happy.
They'll remember, only our smiles 'cause that's all they've seen.
Long since dried, when we are found, are the tears in which we had drowned.
As we were, so perfect, so happy.” Rise Against~The Approaching Curve
"Why isn’t this coming to me now!? I had only just earlier had it all figured out!" The off-white colt, said with frustration cracking at his tone.
The quill was cloaked in his grayish aurora, hovering silently over the page, in a gentle whirr of magic, the parchment beneath; lay barren, blank, and unattended. I knew what I had wanted to write, but the words wouldn’t just find their way onto this page before me. The idea was brilliant, the thought of a sub-conscious dream-like reality, the pony psyche never questioning the obscurity of a dream. No matter the past experience, the reality of a dream was accepted for the truth, whether it is a nightmare, or even a fantasy, it was sought for existence, Then finding yourself waking to something else mystical. No matter.
I still hadn’t named this piece, and I couldn’t even begin to think of a title this early on, the thought that if I was to give this story of endless possibility a beginning handle, it would only strangle my advantage of options and imagination, or even the open-endedness of sudden idea.
I lowered the quill down to the page, its tip touching down and making first contact as I begun the first few strokes that would evolve into many more as this story unfolded. I had begun the first two or three lines, envisioning what I wrote down, words falling into place like carefully placed bricks, building onto this house of literature I was attempting to create.
I had been in a place similar to this many times before. I flinched at the thought as I turned to my shelf, where stacks of sealed, rolled parchments lay. All of which, containing a rose of an idea that died at my feet, its petals fall away. I half-thought all the time that the reason it was so hard for me to follow through with a story was because of my own insecurities about my writing. The thought that no matter how much I liked the idea, (that is to say if it was ever graced enough to be finished) that I would put myself down, in the manner that I’d had convinced myself it was a bad story, and that there was no-where it would go.
I stopped to think about the next few lines. I was about a paragraph and a half in at this point, and every fiber of my being knew that I saw something different in this story. But who’s to say I hadn't convinced myself of the same thing time and time again? I would never be able to fully tell. I set down the quill and my magic's aurora had disappeared from it as it puffed silently to my wooden desk. I sighed deeply as I glanced back at my cutie mark. It’s a quill in a small vial of ink, set next to a rolled up piece of parchment. A cutie mark for being an author, then it must mean I’m good at what I do, doesn’t it? I flip my green and blue mane to the side as it had fallen in front of my eyes when I glanced back. I look around my room, shelves lined with unfinished stories, material for writing, such as vials of ink, and stacks of fresh paper. Other shelves remained lined with books, like some of my favorite titles and authors, like Mare Brookes who wrote Equestrian War Z.
I turned back my attention to the paper lying on my desk and considered the thought of our mind deceiving us, or even the chance that each individual person sees the world differently, in the way that our mind blocks out pony interaction and fills it with pure hallucination.
I willed with my magic, to once again raise the quill, its tip pointed down towards the page, its ink jumping for the words it sought to create. More and more lines provoked their way on page, as I continued my story.
There was my main character, a young mare psychologist named Derriella Cellist, which of course I thought to be a strange name for a psychologist mare. But I wasn’t any good at naming anything anyway. Well in story, Derriella is seeing a very young, blank flank colt, whose parents believe him to be psychology dismantled due to the strange thoughts and dreams he presents to his parents, and that the only reason the parents saw this as off was due to the age of their very young son. “The child was ushered softly into the dimly lit office, by his father’s wing. The young colt shakily walked towards the desk of Derriella and sat in the small chair just in front of it.
“Leave the child with me, and I will speak with him” The gentle mare emitted.
The parents silently backed out of the room and the door shut behind them. “Now, tell me about the dreams you’re having.” The mare stated fairly calmly. – I was cut off as a friend of mine, Apple Cinnamon Crisp, as she pushed her way through my door.
“Hey there Mythias, you’ve been wallowing around in your room for 4 hours! I think it’s time we go outside.” The young mare said.
Apple Cinnamon Crisp was a beautiful, mid orange-toned, young mare earth pony, who had a long brilliantly flowing blonde Mane that seemed to just hang on her perfectly. Her eyes were a beautiful oceanic blue orbs, that seemed to sparkle when she spoke. The curves of her body, from her neck line to her flank seemed to be crafted by gods. Thing was however, me and her had been best friends since we were very young,…but…I liked her. A lot actually, and I could never bring myself to tell her, she was nice, fun, smart and they prettiest mare around this sodden town, and I couldn’t bring myself to just say it. I felt the admittance on my tongue, it felt weighted down. Every time I had look into her gentle blue eyes, and my throat would refuse to cooperate. But alas, I was only her long time friend in her beautiful, eyes, and I don’t ever know if I could have the will inside to change that fact.
I fought the thought away and laughed at her comment as I tossed my blue-green mane once more. I looked to the paper again, and used my magic to roll it up and put it to the shelf. Another shelved story... I thought as I gritted my teeth, I walked to the door to meet her, and followed her through the hall and into the front room, I swung open the door with my magic, and we went outside. I looked up to the sun, and cringed at its sudden brightness, and felt its warmth on the back of my neck as I relaxed a little.
I looked up as Cinnamon called and broke into a trot, “come on yah slow-poke, Il race ya’!”
The golden mare galloped away towards town, once again with my lover boyish self, the realization had just hit me. I was losing, and I wasn’t going to let that happen, I thought with a playful smirk. I launched off the porch of my home, into a full gallop, quickly gaining on AppleCinnamon. I pushed my legs to run harder, each second getting closer and closer on her. AppleCinnamon looked back and saw I had gained on her and said,
“Not so fast, you silly colt” Her southern twang, dotting her words ever so delicately and at the same time, harmonically. Her voice was indeed perfect too.
We continued racing through PonyVille’s bustling streets, and in the midst of our escapades, I had bumped into a softly colored, yellow, mare with a pink curled mane. As I had collided with her she let out a sharp squeal and tumbled back to her haunches. I had stopped only for a moment, and decided with myself she had seemed fine, so I began pushing once again for the lost time. But as I took off I thought I could barely make out her saying,
“Oh... I’m so sorry.” I bit down on my lip feeling bad I had tackled such a modest young mare, and went on without an apology. I swallowed the thought of beating myself up and raced after AppleCinnamon once again. My chest was heaving, and I felt it difficult to keep a galloping pace. I achieved a side by side, pace with her, and looked over and saw those beautiful blue globes of hers, sporting a competitive look, and I knew she meant business. I once again summoned my strength and pushed pass her, hearing her gasp in surprise at the same moment.
We press on outwards from the borders of the town, and out towards the fields that ran along the outside of the EverFree forest. AppleCinnamon and I tumbled into grass, as we skidded to a halt. Rolling over each other, while heaving for air, and laughing, we sat up to catch our breaths as we looked out upon the sun-kissed beauty of the landscape before us. Celestia’s sun was illuminating the almost sparkling, rolling, green hills. In the distance lay orchards of apple trees, glittering in the daylight. The Small gusts of wind, not only keeping the temperature comfortable, but kicking up tiny cloudlets of floating, white orbs from the rustling grass. Up to the sky, lays a vast, cloudless expanse of rich blue, which was inevitable that i was reminded of her eyes again…
Here in this beautiful natural landscape, Apple and I sat, enjoying the scenery, chatting and joking as hours by hours past, I had felt more peaceful than any other period in my entire life. Just being here with her, brought my mind at ease and relieved my stress. I was happy here, well anywere i was with her. If only I could tell her. That thought, brought around again, reinsured the knot in my stomach. I knew I had to tell her, and I didn’t know if I was going to get another chance, rather than this.
The earth, was tinting its warm orange over the land as the day concluded. The breeze remained, and continued gentle. We had stopped speaking minutes before, and were watching the sun, set cresting on the horizon. The breeze rolled across the surface of the earth, grass rustling, and the golden light bouncing off its surface ever-so slightly glimmering. I attempted to choke back my fears, choke back my doubts, and jump in with all four hooves.
I raised my gaze to her vibrant eyes, and – something stopped me. Though her face remained expressionless, her gaze fixated on the horizon, I saw something there in her eyes. Something, I just couldn’t put my hoof on. I felt as if I saw focus, or even deep thought and consideration, the eyes of a pony, balancing out a heavy decision that needed to be made.
I examined her eyes for what seemed an eternity, when she turned her head to look me back in the eyes. I dropped my head down, looking at my hooves as I fiddled them in the grass, pawing at the ground. I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment as she caught me staring at her; it was evident that I was a solid shade of red, through my muted, off-white coat. I swallowed back the lump in my throat, and brought my head up to meet my gaze with hers, an expression of shy, almost of being lost crossed my face.
I began “AppleCinnamon, I…I –““I love you” she had cut me off.
The look in her eyes said, she had security in that fact, and she was sure of it. Speechlessly idiotic stumbles and half words attempted to leave my lips, before she leaned in and sealed the babbling leak with a kiss, as she pressed her muzzle to mine.
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I turned over in my cold, comfortable sheets. I turned to the ceiling in a restless mess, Thoughts clouding the recesses my brain, and the previous events played over and over, Events that I wouldn’t label bad, or even unwanted for that fact. I sat up, unable to sleep in any form, and turned my attention to my shelf where all my stories laid. I focused an amount of energy into my horn, and pulled a story off of the shelf, and over to my bed, and stopped it in front of my face. The paper unfurled and my horn’s magic had illuminated its surface. This was a zombie story I had written, two brothers making their way through Manehatten. The story starts with the brother alone in the streets, just about several hours after the death of the other brother. I had, at one point, had high hopes for this story, and hoped to turn it into a book one day. But the same curse had reared its ugly muzzle, and struck it down, leaving it to gather dust upon my shelf of Ideas once lost.
I rerolled the parchment, and levitated it back to its rightful location on the shelf of shame. No. The shelf of “my inability to stick to something that I wanted to do”. I thought again back to my kiss with AppleCinnamon, and with the memory fresh in my mind like a play; it reset its self in my mind-
With eyes closed, we remained in this passionate embrace for what seemed hours, but in all reality, were only a few moments. We pulled away; eyes locked, mouths slightly open, trying so hard to release words that weren’t in attendance. I remembered so clearly the look in her eyes, like she had discovered something she had been searching for her whole life. But inside I knew I felt the same, I loved her…and she had loved me too. What more could I want? I had her and that’s all I needed to be happy.
She looked around, the sun had gone down, far past its beautiful grip on the horizon, were it had painted its last vestiges of warm orange and reds. High in the sky, hung Luna’s moon, which left the silent scenario a light whitish-blue. In the distance could be heard, frogs croaking in harmonious sync with crickets and various other small critters of night.
She broke the silence. “Id...I’d better get back to the apple farm. So...so no-pony is worried where I’m at.”
“Uh…Oh…yea, it’s probably best we both get back.” I muttered idiotically.
She turned and left me there, Galloping away to her home, and family. I sat in that field for what I had assumed was maybe an hour. Finally, I rose to my hoofs, and off my haunches, and begun a gallop home. I took a long route, enjoying the breeze in my mane, and the cool night air, darkened windows all about, as I ran through the night. I crossed Pony-Ville’s cobbled streets, and turned onto the dirt path that leads to my home. My galloping slows to a trot as I swing the door open with my magic, and enter my home-
I pounded my hoof into my forehead “stupid, stupid, stupid” I scold myself out-loud.
I knew I fucked up. I had that “You-just-fucked-up” feeling in my gut. But in another part of me, I bet she was telling herself the same thing. I knew I hadn’t wanted anything else, but what was troubling me was if she had. I relies I had did have another small desire in my heart; I had wanted to go back with her. Go back and lay there with her, through the night, just me and her, heart to heart.
Even after just seeing her, I already missed her immensely; I wanted her back with me, to hold her close, and never let go, because everything in life I had let slip past my hooves, and I couldn’t let it happen again. I was sure of it. I loved her, and nothing would change that fact. But then, just as fast as I had decided it, another knot hit my stomach. The story I had been writing just before….could I…could I just drop it like that?
I had lied in bed for hours, tossing and turning, kicking away the sheets, and then levitating them back up to my muzzle, for warmth. I wasn’t sure exactly how long I had been tossing and turning, but the last thing I remember was seeing the Celestia’s golden sun peak its nose past the rolling orchards through my window. I turn over onto my side, away from the window, and give into the temptations of sleep.
I slowly droned into consciousness. Shapes in the room were unclear and fuzzy blurs of dull color, as they collided with the shadows that crept around them. Furniture barely illuminated by tinted moon-light. I blinked my eyes several times, my vision reluctantly returning as my irises adjusted to take in the crepuscular light. I had slept through the day, and somewhat into the night. I lied silently in my bed for a minute or so and brushed off my blankets for a fresh breeze. At my back, I felt unnatural warmth. I heard the steady sound of a silent snore. I rolled half over to look behind me.
I felt a silent catch in my breath. I rubbed my eyes with a fore-hoof, as my vision attempted to pierce the darkness. I looked out the window and saw the moon hiding its face, to peek from behind a thick cloak of clouds. I craned my neck down again, seeing the figure illuminated as the clouds shifted, and exposed the moon’s silent reflective glare. I lit the room slightly further with my horn’s magic, and brushed back the covers, unsure of who was actually there.
It was AppleCinnamon. I held my breath quickly as to not wake her, as she shuffled slightly when the breeze hit her. She had crawled into my bed in the night. I couldn’t understand why. When at that moment, her eyes ease opened slightly, and focused in on me staring across at her. She coughed slightly, and broke the silence.
“Uh…Hey there” She said off-handedly, with a slight embarrassed smirk. “it’s just…I uh….I came over to talk to you…and you were sleeping still…and I thought I would just lay here until you woke up….guess I fell asleep too.” She said with another cough.
The clouds shifted back into place as darkness hung on the room once more. I settled my head down deeper into the pillow, and closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the cool fabric. I re-opened my eyes and met my gaze with hers. Bringing my fore-hooves up, I wrapped them around behind her back, and pulled her close. We both stayed silent, with our bodies pressed together, feeling her rise and fall of steady breath, feeling her rapid heartbeats thumping through her chest, embracing her warmth. I lay there for what seemed forever, and saw she had fallen asleep, and I soon had followed as well.