When the Bough Breaks

by TypewriterError

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Dark
Length: 2523

Based off of a Poe story

More than a family name, Apple is a definition, a legacy, and a command. But family trees don't last forever, and limbs can be cut off so the rest of the tree survives.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-07 15:16:58 UTC

Whispers at a Funeral

I never saw it coming. Applejack was always so healthy. Bucking trees with me all hours of the day, helping protect Equestria multiple times, spending time with Apple Bloom, and helping Granny Smith... I suppose the lack of sleep got to her and when she got sick... she just couldn’t fight it. Still a shock though. Mighty big shock.

Princess Celestia donated a fine headstone for her, though. I was worried it would be too fancy for her... something she’d feel embarrassed about. Thankfully the stone was simple. Nice marble; so it’d be sturdy. It was tan... kinda like her hair. It suited her well. She would have liked it.

A nudge on my shoulder turns me back towards the rest of the funeral party. Granny Smith gives me a wrinkled smile. Probably trying to reassure me. I force a small smile onto my muzzle and turn back towards Applejack's friends, standing on the other side of the open casket. I can’t stand to look at them so I look at her instead.

She’s laid out on her back. She might as well be sleeping but she has no smile on her face. Whenever she would take a quick nap in the orchard she would have a small smile on her muzzle. She always slept that way... not like this. Her stetson had been placed beneath her crossed hooves, like she was hugging it to her chest.

A blue aura appears around the hat and slowly pulls it up to cover most of her face. She slept like that sometimes. I looked at Rarity. Her eyes quickly glance at me. I give her an appreciative smile before she looks away again.

The worst part of this whole business is Pinkie Pie. I keep wishing she would make a noise of some kind. Or at least had not straightened her hair. Just don’t look right to me. I looked at her only once before looking away during the beginning of the funeral.

What bothers me most was I have the worst time trying to cry. Maybe I was still in shock but I just can’t seem to cry. She probably wouldn’t have liked it anyhow.

The reverend cleared his throat.

“Now, let us all say our goodbyes to Applejack and hope, by Celestia, to see her again someday.” Everyone nods in unison. I throw a glance to the whole crowd of Ponyville ready to say good-bye. I would have to see each of them and nod when they said “my condolences” or “I’m so sorry” or “If you need anything...” Everypony acts so sad at a funerals and so much in love with the dead. But how much of it is real?

Her friends glance up at us and then walk to stand with us. We don’t say anything but nothing needs to be said. They’re just about family themselves so they might as well join us. Though honestly I’m not that sure that they make much of a difference to more than Apple Bloom. I don’t know any of them well enough to receive any comfort and I can tell Granny Smith is offended to have them stand with “the family”.

Granny Smith is always polite to outsiders...as long as they remained outside. A strong apple tree only needs itself for support she says. Of course I know that’s a load of wallop. A strong apple tree comes after grafting it with a stronger root system and even then a big storm can cause a heap of damage.

The town lines up and passes by, bidding farewell to a pony they had heard of a lot but never helped much. I only recognize a few faces but I don’t know their names. Some of our out-of-town relatives are there too, able to take time from their own farms to say good-bye and act like family. What’s made me so cynical so sudden? Just plain old grief I guess. When I hear Apple Bloom crying it’s hard not to want to blame somepony. I guess I’m her only sibling now.

After an hour or so the ponies are gone. Caramel, Braeburn, and Cortland stay with me while the rest of the relatives file inside the barn to prepare dinner. Time to put Applejack into the ground. Granny Smith makes sure Apple Bloom goes in so she doesn’t have to see it. I could have asked another cousin to help me bury her...but it just doesn’t feel right to not do it myself. Cortland tried to move her hat down to her hooves again.

“Leave it.” I tell him. He leaves it. Caramel and I flip the lid of the coffin to cover her. Then we lay Applejack to rest. I don’t dwell on it, I just do it. Do it and go inside to wash off before dinner.

Inside the barn a reunion is underway. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, great aunts and uncles, second, third cousins... everypony from the Apple family who could make it is here catching up. I’ve never been one for socializing so I just stand in the corner and try to eat something. Not really hungry though.

I just don’t want to be stuck thinking about it. I went into the field the day she died knowing what I might find. I was almost happy to find her that way. Under her napping tree, hat covering her face...she wanted to go that way. That’s why I had brought her out there to the orchard in the first place. I knew she was going. No matter how many apples she ate and how much medication she took...she just kept getting thinner and thinner and her color was more off.

I can’t keep thinking about her. She went out the way she wanted to. No regrets. Just being out in the sun with the smell of trees was enough to help her a little. I don’t care what nopony says to me; she died happy.

“Remember when she was born? How we were all so scared she wasn’t going to make it?” one of my aunts remarks within earshot to another teary-eyed aunt or cousin.

“Yes, Big McIntosh was always there though to watch her. He was so excited and proud of his sister...”

“Oh, I remember! I guess he and Apple Bloom have to carry on the line, now.”

“Yeah. I think they can do it. He just needs to be more friendly with other ponies. As for Apple Bloom...well, you just know she’s going to be pretty so no trouble there...”

“It’s just...odd though, isn’t it? I mean...Grandpa Crisp died, then Granny Smith got skipped. Then it was her father, then her mother a few months after...and now her?”

“What are you saying?”

"Maybe it comes in cycles. I don't know but you can't deny the facts and what everypony else is saying."

"What do they say? What facts?" my aunt or cousin asks eagerly.

My aunt never says. She catches me watching them and politely nods before steering the aunt or cousin away. I grind my teeth. Of all places to speculate... The aunt doesn’t need to explain it to me. I’m only too familiar with the rumor. It’s whispered between relatives out of earshot of my immediate family.

The rumor is often told that Sweet Apple Acres, and this branch of the Apple family tree, is cursed.

Suggestion from the Outside

Applebuck season is over now. Took a lot longer without Applejack...but Apple Bloom and AJ’s friends helped when they could. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but having them here sometimes makes it harder. Rarity is always hinting she wants to talk but I’d rather not right now. Can’t be all that important.

Apple Bloom’s getting by. I try not to worry about her, but I can tell she’s hurting. She’s holds more things in now, like her sister used to...and like I still do. I keep asking Granny Smith  about it. I tell her that Apple Bloom needs to go  somewhere for awhile so she can have a change of environment. But Granny Smith always insists that Apples stick together. She’s gotten so much more crankier since Applejack passed. Maybe it’s just her getting old and I never noticed it.

Right now, I’m making the annual barrels of apple cider to store for the winter. It will be harder to make it all without AJ...but it will have to work. It usually does anyway. Rarity is of course inspecting and sorting the apples, and trying to get me to talk.

“Are you certain you want to mix Galas and Golden Delicious?”

“Nope.” I say and she levitates an apple into it’s proper barrel. She knew better than to ask if I wanted to mix the two. Stupid mare.

“How is Apple Bloom handling the situation?”

“Ask her.” I say with a shrug, drowning her out for awhile by rolling a barrel up to the spigot.

“I shall then. How are you...”

“Applejack’s death isn’t a situation, Rarity. It happened and it’s no good talking about it.” I could practically hear her roll her eyes.

“Finally, you speak.” I shrug her off then turn the spigot handle with my mouth. “My concern is mostly for Apple Bloom.” I turn the spigot off.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, I understand she is an Apple and needs to stay with her family...but, Sweetie Belle has told me how much of a change has come over Apple Bloom since Applejack passed away... I know it's none of my concern but it troubles me. I just wonder if it would be better for her, for this next semester of the school year, to go to a boarding school to get away and recover. Just for a while... I think a change of scenery would help her. What do you think?”

“...Ee-yup.” is all I say.

“Really? I would have thought you would put up more of a fight.”

“Nope.”

“Well, There is one school in Canterlot I was considering...”

“Before asking me?” I interject, turning the spigot on again.

“Well, I was looking to send Sweetie Belle there...”

“Hmph...”

“Well, I was intending to send her there!”

“Send who where?” Granny Smith pipes up over the sound of cider filling the barrel.

“Oh, why hello, Granny Smith, I was suggesting that sending Apple Bloom to school in Canterlot with Sweetie Belle might be good for her...”

“But that’s a family affair, Rarity.” Granny Smith says cooly. I become very interested in how the cider is coming along.

“Of course. It was only a friendly suggestion.”

“Aw, shucks, Rarity. Don’t feel the need to apologize! It’s the thought for us that counts...” Granny Smith says, poking Rarity with a wrinkled hoof, “...no matter how misguided... But we apples can defend ourselves. A strong apple tree only needs itself for support, you see. But we certainly appreciate the concern.”

I can almost feel the heat radiating off of Rarity. Not really sure if I feel bad for her though. I reckon both of them are too stubborn for their own good. Although...Rarity’s suggestion does seem like a mighty good one. Perhaps coming from me it wouldn’t be so bad sounding to Granny Smith. Maybe after this has cooled off for a bit. I wait for Rarity to blow up, continue to argument, or say something ridiculous. She just smiles politely, nods, then walks off. The spigot runs dry and I close and seal the barrel. Granny Smith’s eyes are on me the whole time. I know I’m about to get a talking-to. Not entirely sure about what this time.

“Big McIntosh...”

“Ee-yup?”

“Where did Rarity get an idea like that? That we’d send Apple Bloom off to Canerlot to some Hoity-toity school?”

“Don’t know.”

“And just why was Rarity down here in the first place?”

“She was helping me.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you told her to keep her muzzle to herself!” she said with a firm nod before climbing the stairs again. I wonder how in Equestria she’s lived this long... She’s grown more creaky than the stairs. Guess she just refuses to die. If only all Apple mares could be that able to control their lives...

Nope. I won’t think about it. Applejack couldn’t have been saved. She died the way she wanted. But Apple Bloom...Apple Bloom will have a chance too. Hopefully a better one. I roll the barrel to stand with the others by the wall. We won’t need as much this year.

Why is it only with Applejack that I have trouble with crying? I’ve cried over her before because I’ve missed her...but why can’t I now? I got nopony to impress and nopony to stop me from crying. It don't make any sense to me.

Maybe...maybe because this time she’s really gone for good. All those other times she was planning on coming back or could come back...now she is back...and can’t ever leave. There's no more hope to see her again. She only exists in pictures and memories now...and I still can't give her the decency to cry for her.

“Big Mac?” I hear Apple Bloom ask me. I turn and almost think I see Mama’s face coming through in the filly who is growing up so quickly. She’s wearing her saddle bag.

“Ee-yup?”

“Were you crying down here?”

“Nope. What are you down here for?”

“Granny Smith said I’d find you here...I was just wondering if you were crying and needed Miss Smartypants...”

I had no reason to be angry with her. She was allowed in my room or AJ’s old room. She already knew about Miss Smartypants. Yet, seeing her take the doll out and hold it in her mouth towards me...thinking she could change something...

“Quit touching my things!” I shout before ripping the doll away from her. I ignore her eyes welling up and carry Miss Smartypants off towards my room upstairs. Applejack and I had talked around the time she was born. I couldn’t help but agree. Things would have been better if she had never come around. Mom would still be around. Maybe Applejack would have made it better. Only my mom could ever stand up to Granny Smith and maybe we could have done more than just follow tradition...

She don’t deserve this.

I’m outside the cellar and I place Miss Smartypants on the table of the kitchen and return. Apple Bloom is standing where I left her and she tries to hide her face from me. I don’t need anypony to tell me Applejack would be ashamed. I’m ashamed enough of myself.

I lie on the floor next to her and place my foreleg across her withers. She lies down too and lets her tears go. I sigh as she leans up against me and cries. I don’t have to apologize but she knows I’m sorry.

I think I need to talk to Granny Smith about school a little more seriously. I have to get Apple Bloom out of here and away from me. I just don't know what it is.