Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can never hurt you.
What a quaint little adage it was.
If only it were true.
But it was a lie. The truth was that words could hurt; they could cause just as much pain as any jagged rocks or sharpened sticks. They didn’t always strike hard and fast either, sometimes they burned, slowly eating away at you until it felt like there was nothing left inside but a smoldering ruin.
The words hurting Roseluck were of the latter variety. She could feel them, burning in her heart. She’d been pacing the hallways of her house for the last hour. The Moon shone in through her windows, bathing her in pale blue ribbons of light. She couldn’t sleep. She wouldn’t sleep. Tomorrow was the day. The day that she both dreaded and longed for with equal measure; the day that she loved and hated; the day that she was forced to watch as everypony in Ponyville said those three little words; the day that those three little words would do so much more than just “hurt” her; tomorrow was Hearts and Hooves Day.
How innocently it had started: they had been five little fillies, ugly and awkward in their youth; bonded together by loneliness and torment, until they became something different altogether—strong and wonderful, like coal crushed into diamond by the weight of the world. They’d been inseparable; together they’d been capable of anything. They’d gotten their cutie marks and stood up to bullies together. And as they’d grown older, when Hearts and Hooves Day turned from a funny little holiday to an arduous trial; the taunts and slurs were thrown about like rotten tomatoes, they had stood together.
“Lonely and loving it.” That had been their motto. Their mantra. Their prayer. Their spell against the unkind world of their youth.
But as with all good things, it had come to an end.
Far to the east, across the sea, was the country of Gardenia. The entire country was said to be filled with flowers of every shape and color. Among these countless flowers, there was said to be a unique flower by the name of Mourning Glory; reputedly, this flower would bloom only for one day in its entire lifetime, in the first light of dawn on the first day of spring, and would die before the last light of dusk at the day’s end. It was said to be both unspeakably tragic and indescribably beautiful.
Their friendship had been like the Mourning Glory. It had sprung from nothing, and it had become something wonderful, something beautiful, and then as quickly as it had bloomed, it died.
They had grown beautiful. And that beauty had ordained the death of their friendship; that beauty had murdered their friendship.
Daisy had been the first, then Lily, and finally Golden. One by one by one every member of their lonely little group suddenly found themselves being showered with compliments instead of insults. Faces filled with warm acceptance rather than cold hostility. One by one by one they became beautiful, one by one by one they became accepted, and one by one by one they stopped being lonely. They began to drift apart, drifting apart like dandelions in the winds of change. Eventually they stopped spending Hearts and Hooves day together, as they were each asked in turn to be a very special somepony. Except for Roseluck. And her.
Now, it was the same every year. Roseluck could see it now. Tomorrow she’d get up and open her shop in the market an hour early, and they’d come in droves: stallions and mares, all looking for a bouquet of red roses to give to their special somepony. It wouldn’t even be noon before the bits were piled high. And then she would walk past. She would turn her head and wave to Roseluck with that wonderful smile. She would walk over to Roseluck’s stall and jokingly ask her if anyone had tried giving her one of her own roses, Roseluck would smile back and wouldn’t say what she wanted to say; no, Roseluck would just keep on smiling like a porcelain doll and ask if they were still on for a night of being “lonely and loving it” hoping against all hope that she would say yes. That somehow, someway, there it wasn’t too late. That somehow, someway, Roseluck would be able to finally say those three little words that weighed so heavily upon her heart.
If she said yes,if that fleeting and tender flame of hope within Roseluck’s heart was not snuffed out, then at day’s end, when Hearts and Hooves Day became Hearts and Hooves Night, she would come over to Roseluck’s house with a smile and a bottle of cider. And they’d serenade their single status together, deep into the night. And all through it, Rose would be smiling and laughing and joking, on the outside, but on the inside, she’d be in agony; agony over three little words; agony over not being able to say those three little words that she so desperately wanted to say; those three little words which stabbed at her heart like a thousand knives; those three miniscule words that caused such massive pain; those three little words that were slowly crushing her under the weight of their unspoken silence; three little words that she could only bring herself to speak in the utter solitude of an empty house.
She spoke them now, as a tear ran down her cheek like a falling star.
“I love you.”
Roseluck woke up with a sigh, it was dark in her room; outside The Sun had yet to appear over the horizon. She felt disoriented. At first she didn’t know why she’d gotten up at this unholy hour, but after a couple minutes the fog over her thoughts lifted somewhat and she remembered. Today was Hearts and Hooves Day, which meant that she had work to do.
“Ugh,” Rose moaned, and got out of bed. Her body felt stiff and brittle, like an ancient oak in its last years of life. Her legs didn’t seem to want to work, nor did her eyes. How late had she been up last night? Too late, she thought grimly. She looked into the mirror and winced. She looked even worse than she felt; her mane looked as if a pack of rabid rats had been fighting in it; her eyes were bloodshot, and her muzzle was crusted over with dried spittle.
Roseluck looked at her reflection for a few seconds, taking in her appearance. “Morning, Roseluck,” she said at last. “You’re looking lovely today.” She gave a wry smile.
She went into the kitchen and put a pot of tea on, ran a comb through the rats’ nest where her mane had once been, then went out to check on her flowers. She’d gotten them ready last night, during her insomnia—trimming any withered petals and biting off the thorns—and now she would only have to cut and organize them into bouquets and set them up in her stall. The only reason that she hadn’t cut them last night, was that the longer she could put off the cutting, the fresher that the roses would be.
Hearts and Hooves Day was a big event for florists. It was the one time of year when ponies were not just willing to spend a lot of bits on flowers; they were expected to spend a lot of bits on flowers. And in a small town like Ponyville, it was even bigger. Roseluck wasn’t the best rose gardener in Ponyville; she was the only rose gardener. And roses were the flowers of love. What all this boiled down to was that, for one day every year, Roseluck was basically able to run an extortion racket out of her stall in the market. Roseluck looked over her at her flowers; row upon row of bright red roses, plush and plump and juicy. She smiled, allowing herself a moment of pride before she got started.
Roseluck sold her roses in bouquets of four, six, and twelve roses each, with the price adjusted accordingly. No sooner had she wrapped finished wrapping roses into three such bouquets when there was a knock at her door.
Roseluck looked up in surprise. Who would be up this early? And why would they be coming to her house? She wasn’t expecting anypony. Could it be a visitor? No, far more likely a customer trying to get the jump on Hearts and Hooves Day. There was another knock. “I’m coming,” Roseluck said, finishing her current bouquet and hopping to her hooves.
The Sun was only just beginning to rise, tickling the sky into the color of a petunia. Rose couldn’t imagine what kind of pony would willingly get up this early in the morning, but she’d find out soon enough she supposed. She opened the door, and was nearly bowled over by a gray pegasus.
“Happy Hearts and Hooves Day, Miss Roseluck!” she said, hugging Roseluck tight.
“Oh . . . hi . . . Derpy,” Roseluck said trying not to suffocate. Derpy Ditzy Doo Hooves was the town’s resident mailmare. She was an okay mare, though Roseluck found her to be almost unsettlingly happy at times. “Happy Hearts and Hooves Day to you too,” Roseluck said, squeezing out of the other mare’s embrace.
Derpy beamed, as much as a wall-eyed mare could beam, and said, “Thanks, Roseluck! Holliday’s are always happy days in my book!”
Roseluck stared at her. “Um, right. But if you don’t mind my asking, why exactly are you here at”—Roseluck looked up at the clock—“six o’ clock in the morning?”
“Oh, almost forgot! I have a letter for you, Roseluck.” Derpy rummaged around in her mail bag for a few seconds and pulled out a plain pink envelope.
Roseluck blinked. “A letter?”
Derpy nodded, “I was only supposed to bring this to you in pony, so I thought I’d bring it by a little later on my way back but then I saw the light on inside your house and thought you must be awake, so I thought that I’d just stop by and give it to you.”
Roseluck looked at the envelope with a growing sense of foreboding. It was pink, and sealed with a little heart sticker. She had a bad feeling that she knew exactly what was in that little envelope, and it certainly wasn’t an advertisement for Fabulous Flora Magazine. Slowly, with the trepidation of pulling off ripping of a Band-Aid, Roseluck opened the letter. But it wasn’t an invitation to be somepony’s very special somepony, hidden in the thin guise of bad poetry. Inside the letter was a single sheet of pink stationary; on it was a mouth written note.
Dear Roseluck
I’m sick. I’m sick of seeing every pony around me acting like a drooling idiot and then feeling bad that I’m not one of those drooling idiots! I’m sick of not being able to do anything or go anywhere alone for the whole day! I’m sick of seeing everypony making baby talk and googly eyes at each other. In short, I’m sick of Hearts and Hooves Day. Last year I was poisoned and woke up in a pit! Well, I’ve had a thought. Every year on Hearts and Hooves Day, it seems like we’re the only two mares who aren’t joined to a stallion at the bridle, so I was thinking; I know we usually spend the day at your house but I’m tired of feeling like a leprous diamond dog just for not being in a relationship. And I’m especially tired of hearing that Hearts and Hooves Day is only for couples. What if we go out and do the whole “Hearts and Hooves thing” together as friends? There’s no reason why we can’t go out like anypony else just because of a holiday, right? So I was thinking that we could go out and have a friend date. So, what do you say? Just write yes or no and give the letter back to Derpy; I’ll see you after school either way.
Love, Your Friend, Cheerilee.
P.S. I would have come to ask you this myself, but I know how you hate to get up early, and I had to get to school, so I’m giving this to Derpy.
P.S.S. if you see the girls, don’t mention you’re single. And DO NOT; UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES accept any form of food/drink from them.
P.S.S.S. She said that I didn’t need to pay her for the delivery, but would you give Derpy a rose for her trouble. I’ll pay you back later, I promise.
P.S.S.S.S. Happy Hearts and Hooves Day!
Roseluck read the letter a second time, then a third, a fourth. The mouth writhing looked like Cheerilee’s; it certainly sounded like her. But, the idea behind it; that Cheerilee had asked her to go do “the Hearts and Hooves thing together” was just . . . just . . . too good to be true; it was unbelievable. A trick she thought. That’s what it had to be. She looked back up to the mailmare, “Derpy, who gave you this letter?”
“Miss Cheerilee did!” Derpy replied cheerily.
Roseluck felt her heart jump. “And you’re sure it was her? It wasn’t a pony that looked a lot like her?
Derpy looked thoughtful for a few tense moments. “Well . . . yeah. I’m pretty sure. She caught me on my way to the post office to pick up the day’s deliveries. She gave me the letter and told me to give it to you personally, and then take it back to her afterward.”
Roseluck felt her heart take another leap, harder this time.
“Miss Roseluck, are you okay?” Derpy asked, a concern coloring her features.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just a little . . . surprised is all. Derpy, do you have a pen?”
“Sure. I have to carry one for certified mail.” Derpy pulled out a pen and gave it to her.
Roseluck scrawled “yes” on the paper, unable to think of anything else to write, and passed the letter back to Derpy. “Thank you, Derpy.” She said. Then, remembering what Cheerilee had written, she went to her greenhouse and grabbed a large orange rose. “Here you go, Derpy,” she said, holding the rose out to the pegasus.
Derpy looked at the rose dubiously. “Oh, um, Miss Roseluck, no offense or anything, but I already have a very special somepony.”
Roseluck laughed. “No, it’s nothing like that, Derpy. It’s the least I could do for you going out of your way to deliver this to me. An orange rose represents enthusiasm and passion. Consider it a thank you.”
“Oh, wow. Thanks Miss Roseluck!” Derpy said, taking Roseluck into another fierce embrace.
“No . . . problem . . . Derpy.” Roseluck choked out.
Roseluck really didn’t like Hearts and Hooves Day.
The next few hours passed by in a blur for Roseluck. The constant flood of customers kept her too busy to think about the events of that morning, for a while at least. But by midmorning she’d sold out completely, and her thoughts turned once again to her impending “date”.
She was going on a (platonic) date with Cheerilee. The more she thought about it, the more her insides flip-flopped back and forth. It felt like her stomach was training for the gold at the equestrian games. Roseluck’s heart was trying its hardest to break out of her chest.
At least she’d managed to find something decent to wear; a red lace saddle that Lily had bought for her birthday. She’d never worn it worn it before, she’d never had a reason to.
Just relax, Rose. This is Cheerilee we’re talking about, remember? You’ve known each other since you both were still blank flanks. You have nothing to worry about. Sheesh! She smiled wanly. Yeah, what did she have to worry about? It wasn’t like this was a real date. It was just like every other Hearts and Hooves Day, the only difference this time was that instead of spending the day together at one of their houses they were spending the day outside. That was all. It was just a simple little get together between two longtime friends. Nothing more, nothing less. So then why am I so nervous? She thought.
The doorbell rang. Roseluck jumped.
“Coming,” she said. She got up, went to the door and, with a quick breath to calm herself, opened it. Standing beyond the threshold, like the first sunrise of spring, was Cheerilee.
“Hi, Rose.” She said, smiling.
Roseluck’s heart caught in her throat. Cheerilee looked resplendent as always. She wore no jewelry or finery. But she didn’t need it. Cheerilee had always possessed a kind of plain beauty, like a still lake reflecting the sky. “Hi,” she managed at last. “Happy Hearts and Hooves Day.”
Cheerilee broke into a wide grin. “Lonely and loving it. Am I right?” and with that smile, the tension shattered like a frozen flower.
“Lonely and loving it,” Roseluck repeated. “That time of year again, right, cheery?”
“The best holiday of the year, without a doubt.” Cheerilee said. It was an old joke, but never failed to make them laugh. She looked Roseluck up and down, taking in her saddle. “You look nice, Rose. If you dressed like that more often, then maybe you wouldn’t have to spend every Hearts and Hooves Day moping in your house,” she said with a devil’s grin.
Roseluck stared at her, eyebrows raised, “this advice coming from the mare who never wore a dress in her life until she was love poisoned!? I think I’d be better off taking my chances.”
This exchange got them both laughing.
“So,” Roseluck said, straightening up, “what did you have in mind? Your letter wasn’t very specific.”
Cheerilee shrugged, “oh, nothing special. I just thought we’d go get a bite to eat and see a movie at the cinema after that.”
“Sounds good to me,” Roseluck said. Already this night was feeling like just another night of them hanging out together. They set off into the afternoon.
“So, Rosie, where did you get that saddle? I didn’t think you owned any.
Roseluck looked up from her plate. They’d settled on a small café on the edge of downtown to go to for their meal. “It was a gift from Lily,” she said.
Cheerilee nodded in appreciation. “It looks good on you.”
Roseluck felt a flicker of flame on her face. “Thanks, cheery. You look pretty good yourself. I can’t believe that you came straight from school.”
Cheerilee smiled. “Thanks, but I really didn’t do all that much. I’ve had a lot of practice cleaning myself up quickly.
“Like the time our school burned down during the science fair, an hour before your job interview?” Roseluck asked with a smirk.
Cheerilee cringed. “You remember that!? Ugh, I didn’t think anypony remembered that anymore.”
“Oh, no.” said Roseluck. “It’s my job to remember all of your embarrassing moments.”
“Your job?” asked Cheerilee.
“Okay maybe not ‘job’, more like sacred duty.” Roseluck put her hoof in the air, “after all, I can’t let your children grow up thinking that their mother was one of the ‘cool kids’ now can I?”
Cheerilee glared at her mischievously. “Oh you little—”
Whatever Cheerilee had been about to say was interrupted by a loud gasp from a table on the other side of the café. They turned their heads to see a unicorn mare with her hoof held to her face, she was staring down at the stallion across from her, probably her date, who was holding something out to her, it looked like a—
“Glitter Shine,” said the stallion, will you make me the happiest stallion in the world? Will you be my bride?”
The mare, Glitter Shine, stared at him with tear filled eyes. “Oh . . . I . . . YES! YES! A thousand times, YES!” She leapt into his arms, and they kissed. Then everypony in the café burst into applause.
Except for the two mares at the other end of the café.
“Roseluck.”
“Yes, Cheerilee?”
“How about we just eat at the cinema?”
“That sounds perfectly good to me.”
And they left.
Roseluck had seen movies before. Not many, but enough. When they’d first come out she was not ashamed to admit that she’d gawked up at the screen with her mouth hanging open in amazed stupification for twenty minutes. But not in her entire life, had she ever seen anything, so horrific, so terrible, so mind numbingly stupid, as the story unfolding in front of her face at that very moment.
“Oh, Dusk Shine. Please make me like you,” said the film’s heroine, Bell Swan—a mare whose features seemed to be frozen in a grimace that reminded Roseluck of her Uncle Manure when he got constipated.
“You, know I can’t do that, Bell. I’m just too dangerous.” This was the film’s male lead (and judging from all the young mares in the audience, the central draw of the movie), Dusk Shine. Dusk Shine was a vampire. From what Roseluck had been able to tell thus far, Dusk Shine being a vampire and looking sultry was the premise for the entire movie.
Bell Swan managed to look even more constipated then she already was, and said, “Oh, Dusk Shine, you’re so dangerous. Make love to me in this burning temple!” They proceeded to start kissing each other while orange paper began to wave around in the background.
Roseluck turned to Cheerilee, whose expression of horrified fascination mirrored her own. “Cheery,” she whispered into her ear, “maybe spending Hearts and Hooves Day at my place wouldn’t be so bad after all?”
“Well, that was a fun little experiment,” Cheerilee said after they got back into Roseluck’s house.
“You have a very strange definition of ‘fun’, cheery.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The whole point of doing this was so that we wouldn’t have to spend Hearts and Hooves Day moping around. And we certainly didn’t do any moping today.”
Roseluck thought about that for a moment. “Huh, I guess you’re right, cheery.”
“You sound surprised,” said Cheerilee, with a Cheshire grin.
“Well I guess even you can have a good idea every once in a while,” said Roseluck, grinning right back.
She paused for a moment, “Cheerilee?”
“Yes, Roseluck?”
“I need to tell you something important.”
“Sure, Rose. You can tell me anything.”
Roseluck closed her eyes. This was it. Just three little words, she told herself, what’s the worst that could happen? “Cheerilee, I . . . I love you! I’ve loved you since the day I first met you and every Hearts and Hooves Day I try to tell you I love you but I never can, and I can’t take not being able to tell you anymore so . . . I love you, cheery.”
It was like the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. For better or worse, she’d said the words. She would accept whatever came afterword.
Cheerilee broke into a wide grin, “Rose, I need to tell you something important.
“Um, yes,” Roseluck said, heart pounding in her chest.
Cheerilee moved her head closer to Roseluck’s until they were nose to nose. “Me too,” she said, and kissed her.
Author's Note
Well, I honestly can't say that I'm disappointed with how this story came out, because I'm not; I did the best I could in the time allotted. But I can't really say that I'm satisfied either. I think I'll have to add another two-thousand words or so before I can say that. But for now, this will do.
This story was written for Random Romance, a group which holds a monthly shipping contest. Roseluck x Cheerilee was the prompt for February.
Artwork: Roseluck in Ribbons by MalwinaHalfMoon.
If you liked this story I'd recommend: Second Chances by The 8-Bit Flame Princess.
