Chapters The stallion heard a knock from his front door.
He looked up from the magazine he had been reading, and folded back the corner of the page he was on so he could find it again later, and set it down.
As he was standing up, there was another, rather impatient sounding knock, so he hurried over to the door and, after unlocking it, opened it.
Outside was his mailmare and a moderately heavy-looking box sitting beside her, a package the stallion had been expecting.
With a smile, the stallion greeted her, only to receive no response other than a blank stare from the mare, and a clipboard shoved in his face.
He took the clipboard and the attached pen, and upon getting no other input from the mare, signed for the package at the bottom of the paper and handed the clipboard back.
The mare gave an emotionless grunt of thanks, or at least that was what the stallion thought, and turned away, leaving the package, and continued on her route.
And with that, the stallion carried his package inside his house, opened it, and went about using the contents inside.
Author's Note
[This story suggested by Neon Beat.]
The stallion took a deep breath and shook his head some, trying very hard to overcome the nervousness and anxiety that he was feeling.
He turned and looked for what must have been the hundredth time that day at the mare that worked in the cubicle next to him, with whom he was absolutely smitten with and had been for quite some time.
It was currently five minutes until the end of the last day of the week, and the stallion had made a promise to both himself and to his friends that he would ask the mare out sometime during the week, and now, after continually putting it off the previous days, it was his last chance to keep his word.
So now, he waited through the remaining minutes anxiously, still trying to drum up the guts to do what needed to be done, and then, just like that, as the clock seemed to move much faster than normal, it was the end of the day.
He stood up abruptly, causing what he felt was a loud noise, though no one really paid any attention, and stood at his cubicle, shaking slightly, while everypony else got up from their desks in a calm, everyday fashion and began to pack up whatever belongings they needed, which the stallion, having forgotten to, did so as well.
Soon enough, most everypony, the stallion and the mare included, was walking out, some chatting amongst themselves, some just intent on getting home.
Only a few steps behind the mare, the stallion opened his mouth, her name on the tip of his tongue, ready to call out to her, to get her attention, so that he could express his interest in maybe going out on a date with her, sometime.
And then he closed his mouth.
He couldn’t go through with it, his nerves getting the better of him, and he stared at the back of the mare’s head and watched as she kept walking, completely unaware of the stallion’s presence.
And the mare continued to walk away, right out of the doors, and then in the complete opposite direction that the stallion had to take to go home, and, even as she turned a corner and disappeared from view, he never once spoke up and got her attention.
Disappointed and angry with himself, the stallion walked back to his own home in silence, mentally berating himself for not talking to her.
And, once home, he spent the rest of the day upset, and wistfully imagining a scenario where he had actually said something, and he and the mare had ended up going on a date and had hit it off great.
Then he went to bed.
The stallion clenched his teeth and gave a shuddering breath, looking around his surroundings, desperately searching for a bathroom to use.
He and his family had come to the local fair, as they did almost every year, to have fun and to just enjoy being together, along with hundreds of total strangers.
Currently, his foals were in a fun house for the third time, and his wife was waiting for them to get out and would probably wait more when they wanted to go in again, and he was frantically trying to find a bathroom because he very much needed to use one.
But there wasn’t so much as an outhouse in sight, of course.
So, he was rushing through the crowds, feeling on edge and about to burst, and then, on the other side of an attraction, he finally spotted a port-a-potty.
Feeling a wave of relief wash over him, the stallion rushed over there as fast as he could and, when he got there, he was dismayed to find that it was occupied.
He groaned loudly at the inconvenience and, in some sort of attempt to alleviate the pressure he was feeling, bounced in place as he eagerly waited for whomever was inside to finish.
And, a few minutes later, the pony inside, a mare, opened the door and walked out, leaving the stallion to zoom in behind her and shut the door.
The stallion woke one morning with a start.
Glancing at his clock, he noticed that he was nearly an hour late for his work.
With a jolt of adrenaline surging through his body, the stallion leapt out of bed, hastily throwing on his uniform, thankful that he took a shower the night before.
He ran out of his bedroom, not even taking time to get a yogurt or something from the fridge, grabbed his overcoat and went out the door.
Sprinting down four flights of stairs, the stallion got to the ground floor of his apartment building and rushed out the door and down the street.
Thankfully, the stallion’s work was not to far from where he lived and he managed to get there in a little under five minutes.
Silently opening the door, the stallion peered around the lobby, looking for his boss, but didn’t see him.
Sighing in relief, the stallion strode into the building, giving the receptionist a pleading glance to not tell anypony he was late.
Quick as a wink, the stallion stole down the hallway to his cubicle without any interference or obstacle.
As he passed by other cubicles, a few of his co-workers noticed him and waved, but the stallion gave them no thought.
He took a few papers out of his “IN” tray, spreading them around his desk so that it looked like he was working and leaned back in his chair.
A few seconds later, his boss peered around the corner and saw that the stallion was working hard and was pleased to have such good workers.
The rest of the day passed by without incident.
The stallion coughed.
It was a pleasantly warm and a beautiful cloud-free night, but to the stallion, the night might as well have been bone-chilling and terrifyingly stormy.
To say the least, he was absolutely miserable.
He groaned, picking his head up off the countertop where he had placed it in defeat, and gestured at the bartender to get him another drink.
The bartender did so, sliding another glass of alcohol down to join the other numerous empty glasses that had collected in front of the stallion.
The stallion scooped the glass up in his hoof and pressed it to his lips, gulping it down in one fell swoop.
He slammed it back down on the counter, coughing loudly as the drink slid down his throat, burning his insides, and slumped in his seat, too defeated, too exhausted, to do much of anything else.
The door to the bar swung open, and four stallions sauntered in and sat at the empty seats next to the stallion, glancing at his sullen, depressed-looking form for a few seconds, before placing orders of their own.
The stallion also looked at them briefly and then let loose a soft whinny and cradled his head in his hooves.
His day had quite possibly been the worst he, or anypony he knew, had ever experienced.
He raised a hoof, motioning for the bartender to send another drink down his way.
The stallion took a long swig from the glass placed in front of him and hiccupped, spewing alcohol across the bar and into the barkeep’s face.
The bartender wiped the offending liquid from his face, his face contorting in anger, and snatched the glass from the stallion’s grasp, and ordering him out of the bar, much to the stallion’s cries of protest.
The stallion pleaded with the barkeep for just one more drink, but his appeals fell on deaf ears, and the latter practically dragged the stallion from his seat and out of the door, throwing him out into the frigid night air, muttering under his breath.
The stallion managed to stay upright, and, after a moment, began to move down the street, swaying as he walked, his head abuzz with the influence of alcohol.
The city streets were quiet and lonely, save for the stallion’s unintelligible mumblings and occasional hiccups as he wandered off in some random direction.
A streetlight flickered off in the distance, and then turned off permanently, leaving a street corner covered in darkness.
The stallion knew, somewhere in his intoxicated mind, that he should probably try and make his way home, but, as his eyelids fluttered and grew heavy, he thought about just how very tired he was and how much he just wanted to sleep.
He neighed quietly and slowed to a halt at the corner of a building, leaning against its rough brick exterior.
He was so tired.
The stallion stared up into the night sky, his eyes sluggishly moving over each distant point of light, searching for something or somepony that he so desperately wanted to see again.
But there was nopony there, no pegasus mare swooping across the sky and back into his embrace, no sound, no movement, just him.
Choking back a sob, the stallion clenched his eyes shut, stemming the tears that were threatening to form there and continued on down the street.
Several minutes, and a lot of swaying and stumbling, later, the stallion finally arrived at his now incredibly lonely and cold house and went inside to spend the night alone in a bed that he once shared.
Author's Note
[This story suggested by Dark Avenger.]
The colt woke up one morning to his mother’s excited and shrill voice.
Blearily opening his eyes to find his mother’s face looking at him expectantly, he groaned and waved a hoof in her general direction, reminding her that it was Hearth’s Warming Day, and he really wanted to sleep in.
The colt shut his eyes again and turned over, hoping that she would give up and go away, but as she shook him and tore the covers off of him, he knew that he would just have to get up and begin the day.
He sat up in bed, wearily rubbing his eyes, asking his mother why she felt the need to wake him up so early.
In response, she merely smiled and parted the curtains covering his window, revealing the blinding brightness of the outside world.
The colt covered his eyes with a hoof, expressing his annoyance at being roused for no real reason.
But then, as his eyes adjusted, and his sleep-laden mind began to catch up, he realized that there was something drastically different about the outside than normal.
A thick blanket of snow covered everything as far as the eye could see, the lawn, the streets, the houses, the trees, and even a few ponies as they trudged through the whiteness, braving the flakes of snow that still were falling from the sky.
The colt took a moment to take in the scene in front of him, and then a wide smile split his face as he hugged his mother, shouting in joy.
His mind was abuzz with excitement for, not only was it a white Hearth’s Warming Day, it was the first time it had ever snowed in the colt’s short life.
Needless to say, he was excited, ecstatic, even.
Bounding out of bed, the colt ran out of his room, intent on spending the day in the snowy wonderland just outside his house, but was stopped short when his mother’s magic gripped his tail, preventing him from leaving, much to his protests.
Carrying the colt back over to her, his mother forced several layers of clothing over his squirming body, ensuring that not an inch of his body would be cold.
Finishing, his mother patted his head and released him, telling him to say hello to his father as he immediately took off.
Cantering out of his room, barely acknowledging his father as he left, the colt leapt out of his house and into the fresh white snow that waited for him.
He bent down, scooping a large heap of snow into his forelegs and threw it high into the air, frolicking in the flakes as they fell down around him.
He fell backwards into the snow, giggling madly at what he knew was the perfect start to a day that would only get better as it went.
And, as the rest of the town began to wake up to the white beauty that appeared overnight, and more and more foals came out of their respective houses eager to frolic in the snow as well, it seemed to everypony like nothing at all could go wrong, that, it seemed as if the morning would never end.
Everything was perfect on that Hearth’s Warming Day.
Everypony was happy, from the smallest foal building snowponies, to the oldest couple sitting on their front porches, wrapped in blankets, watching the younger generations be young.
The colt spent the rest of the morning outside, only going back in when his mother offered hot chocolate and the prospect of presents as incentives.
And he too, was happy.
The stallion hobbled into his bathroom late one night, ready to brush his teeth, take a shower and go to bed.
It had been an exhausting day, more so than usual, for the stallion.
Earlier that afternoon, a group of young ponies had taken it upon themselves to decorate the outside of his house with eggs, something the stallion spent most of the evening cleaning up.
And for a stallion well past his prime, that much manual labor did not bode well for his heart.
Standing in front of his sink, the stallion stared at himself in the mirror, wondering how he had gotten so old.
It seemed, to him, that it was only yesterday that he had graduated from school, or that he married his loving wife, or that he held the first of his two foals, or that he retired from his job of sixty years, or that his wife, the love of his life, had passed away, leaving him alone.
To the stallion, his life had seemed so short and so full of both pain and joy.
But now, he felt the full brunt of his age weigh down on his shoulders.
The wrinkles on his face seemed even deeper than they had that morning.
With a quiet sigh, the stallion gave his teeth a quick brushing and decided that he would take a shower the next morning, because the day’s events had worn him out too much to be bothered.
Shambling out into his bedroom with a slow gait, the stallion moved towards his bed, ready to fall asleep after a long day.
With a pained grunt, the stallion managed to heave himself onto the bed.
His breaths were quick and shallow, but they had been for a long, long time.
As the stallion rested in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind drifted back to the past, as was the norm when he had nothing else to think about.
He thought of his wife and of the day that she finally succumbed to her illness.
He remembered the smile on her face as she told him with the last few breaths she had, that she would always love him and would watch over him from the next life.
He remembered the tears in his eyes as he felt her hoof go limp and saw her eyelids flutter and never reopen.
He remembered the smile that remained on her face and took little solace in knowing that it was there because of him.
Back in the present, as the stallion turned on his side, he briefly thought that he saw his wife next to him once again, a smile on her lips and love in her eyes, but he knew that she wasn’t there.
The stallion’s own eyelids fluttered shut as he fell asleep, and his mouth curled into a slight smile as thoughts of his life turned to dreams.
The stallion’s chest gently rose and fell, and with each breath came a new memory.
And he was happy.
But as the night wound on, the stallion’s breaths came fewer and fewer, though he had no way of knowing.
As his body began to fail, the stallion’s mind was lost in the past, reliving those far-flung days when everypony was young, the world was a little more vibrant and he had to walk uphill in the snow both ways, just to get anywhere, back when life was simpler.
The stallion took a few more ragged, shallow breaths as he dreamt of the day he went on a picnic with his wife and children.
And then, his chest slowly ground to a halt and his limbs relaxed as his body gave out.
The stallion exhaled one last time and the synapses in his brain sparked for the final time, giving him a rather pleasant memory of a day spent at the beach with his mother and father.
And with that, the stallion slipped quietly and painlessly into the afterlife, his thoughts in a happier place.
And he never woke up again.
And all was quiet for the rest of the night.
Author's Note
[Story suggested by Axan Zenith.]
The stallion woke one morning with a start.
Bleary-eyed and still half asleep, he sat up in bed and glanced at the clock.
It was a little before noon.
For a second, the stallion’s heart fluttered in panic as a small part of his brain worried that it was a work day, but then his memory kicked in and he remembered that it was the weekend.
With a sigh, the stallion slid out of bed and wandered over to the window, his horn sparking to life as he used magic to raise the blinds.
He stared out into his small, fenced-in back yard for a moment but saw nothing of interest in the small plot of land and turned to leave his room, intent on getting started on his to-do list.
But, as the stallion trotted through the living room, his stomach gave a particularly loud grumble and he decided to make some breakfast before starting anything that morning.
Walking into his kitchen, the stallion prepared a healthy breakfast of some oats, scrambled eggs and, as a guilty pleasure, three petunia flowers, a flower he had always enjoyed since he was a foal, even if it wasn’t good for the body.
Before he began to eat his food however, the stallion went out onto his front porch and picked up the morning paper so that he could read it while he ate.
Settling down at his table, the stallion took a forkful of his scrambled eggs and looked at the front page of the paper and nearly spit out his food.
Taking up the whole of the front page was a headline detailing some sort of major attack on Canterlot, right in the middle of the royal wedding that had been so talked about by the media for the past month.
With a sense of apprehension, the stallion flipped open the paper and read about how an army of some creatures called Changelings had invaded the capitol, intent on defeating the princesses and taking over all of Equestria.
Engrossed in the news, the stallion read on about how the entire invading army had eventually been repelled after a little under an hour by a large pulse of energy of unknown origins that forcibly drove every Changeling from the city.
Taking a bite from a petunia, the stallion was silently grateful that he lived far, far away from the capitol and the life-threatening events that had been occurring there in recent years.
He shuddered to even think about what experiencing something like that would’ve been like.
In his mind’s eye, he pictured his friends and family barging into his home and attacking him.
He could only imagine how much confusion and fear there was as ponies were suddenly attacked by Changelings disguised as their loved ones.
He could barely bear to think about the distrust that the citizens of Canterlot must feel, never knowing if they could trust another pony again, because they might not be who they say they are.
It must be terrifying.
But, as he took another bite from his scrambled eggs, he knew that the princesses wouldn’t stop until everything was back to normal and had the aftermath of the situation well in hoof .
He knew that life would inevitably go on, and ponies would get over what must have been a harrowing time.
And with that thought, he finished with his breakfast and went on with his day.
Author's Note
[This story suggested by Dark Avenger.]
The stallion was the happiest he had been in his life, despite the fact it was a dark and stormy evening.
He strolled through the streets, pressed up against his new fiancée, both of their bodies pelted by the falling rain, and they couldn’t care less.
Beside him, levitated by his magic, were two shopping bags that were thoroughly soaked through and filled with items that didn’t seem all that important any longer.
On his other side, the mare smiled brightly, a beacon in the dreary night.
On her horn, she was proudly wearing a small, delicate ring, which had hardly been there for an hour since the stallion placed it there when she accepted his proposal.
The new couple walked down the streets, their love for each other radiating outwards, on display for any passerby to see.
As they passed by a small restaurant, the stallion abruptly stopped walking, slipping away from his partner’s warmth, and made for the entrance.
The mare, who took a few seconds to register that the stallion was gone, soon followed, asking what he was doing.
The stallion merely grinned and gestured inside, holding the door open for his mare.
She walked into the restaurant and froze in shock as she realized that they had entered one of the fanciest restaurants in town.
She turned to the stallion, who was just entering, and squealed in delight, thanking him over and over.
Chuckling, the stallion walked up to the hostess stand, after drying himself and his mare off, and requested the reservations he had made months prior.
The hostess smiled, noticing the ring on the mare’s horn and led the couple over to their table and gave them their menus.
The mare sat down, still in awe over how the evening had gone.
The stallion took his place across from her, reaching over to hold her hooves in his, content to just sit there with her.
She smiled, tears of joy forming in her eyes, and broke free from her future husband’s grasp to dab at the corners of her eyes with the restaurant napkin.
He stared at her for a few moments, entranced by her beauty, and then turned his attention to the menu in front of him, wincing inwardly at the lack of prices next to the food.
The waiter sauntered over and introduced himself, telling the two about the specials of the day, getting their drink orders and congratulating them on their upcoming marriage before leaving.
The two ponies at the table returned their attention to their respective menus, both stealing glances over the top of the menus when they thought the other wasn’t looking and blushing furiously when they caught each other.
And they were happy.
To them, they knew that, however the rest of their lives went, nothing could ruin their feelings for each other, nothing could spoil that moment when the stallion bent down and held out a ring, nothing could destroy their bond, for they loved each other, and that was all that mattered to either of them.
By the time the waiter came back to their table with their drinks, the two had decided on their meals and placed their orders.
With minutes to kill before their food arrived, the mare and the stallion began to talk excitedly about their future, about their wedding, and about notifying all their families and friends.
They held hooves over the table again, lost in each other.
The waiter returned several minutes later, pushing a small cart with their meals on it.
The couple broke off their conversation, receiving their food with a chorus of thanks to their waiter, who nodded in appreciation and walked away.
They ate quickly, eager to get home and spend their first night together as an engaged couple.
Finishing soon after, the stallion paid the bill, cringing at the price, and the two left and headed home in the still pouring rain to enjoy a life together as husband and wife.
The stallion walked down the similarly empty streets, his eyes looking at nothing in particular, his mind wandering as much as his hooves.
The moon peaked over the tops of the towering buildings, alone in the sky save for a few stars scattered in the black.
He shivered slightly and tugged his jacket and scarf tighter around his body in an attempt to stave off the chill in the air that had begun to roll in.
The sidewalk stretched far in front of him, as it had been for some time, his destination still looming ahead like a foreboding thunderstorm.
he passed by a small coffeehouse, one of the few buildings still open at such a late hour, the lights inside spilling out into the street, chasing away the inky, young night.
The stallion continued to walk, lost in thought, and briefly glanced at the coffee shop as he went by, hardly registering the few patrons and cozy interior he could see through the window.
And then he left the coffeehouse and its warm, inviting atmosphere behind, returning once more into the dark shadows and sleeping buildings.
The moon rose a little higher in the sky as the stallion trudged through the streets, and after what seemed like ages, he found himself at the street of a small residential neighborhood filled with townhouses, all tall and brick and quiet.
He stood there, staring at the street, trembling slightly, before continuing down the brightly lit road with trepidation.
Feeling an increasing sense of dread creep up on him as he walked past the first few houses, all asleep, he eventually came to a stop at one in particular.
He gave a deep, reluctant, sigh and forged ahead, slinking up the pathway and quietly unlocking the front door and stepping in.
The stallion shut the door as carefully as he could, but still, the sound of the latch clicking shut seemed deafening in the dark, silent house.
He crept forward, taking care not to bump into anything, but before he got through the living room, one of the lamps switched on, revealing the rather angry form of his wife sitting in a chair, waiting for him.
The stallion gave a nervous grin, voicing some feeble excuse for coming home at such a late hour, but the mare in front of him was not having it.
After a heated discussion, the stallion slept on the couch for the remainder of the night, and the next few after that.
The stallion blinked and shielded his eyes from the harsh sun as he approached the peak of the dune, his hooves struggling for purchase on the loose sand.
Wind whipped round his head, tousling his mane, but provided some much needed refreshment from the blistering and stale air that pervaded the desert.
The sun beat down on the stallion’s body, his only protection a simple white robe that had seen better days.
The stallion stood at the top of the sand dune, gazing out into the featureless sand, searching for his destination.
The golden-brown sand all seem to melt together before the stallion’s eyes, brutally contrasting with the deep blue of the cloudless sky above that was as boundless as the desert seemed to be.
After a few minutes of searching, the stallion’s eyes alighted on a speck of green in the distance, the indication of where his village lay.
With the prospect of finally returning home, the stallion hurriedly readjusted the bags slung around his back and scrambled down the side of the dune, taking care not to fall.
He continued his trek through the desolate sands and the sweltering heat, his thoughts consumed by a singular drive to return home, back to his tribe, back to his family.
After what seemed to be countless dunes and countless steps, the sand flattened out and gave way to dark, fertile soil populated by grass and small shrubs as the river that gave life to these parts came into view.
He followed the river upstream, marveling at the lush green foliage after spending so long in the lifeless desert and came across a group of young foals playing in the water.
As the stallion approached, the foals stopped frolicking and stared at him warily, afraid of his weathered and imposing visage that had been born from his time in the desert.
Greeting the foals and introducing himself, the stallion left them and walked toward his small village, the foals eventually deciding to trail behind him as he went, their trust established.
He entered the settlement proper, immediately drawing attention from the older horses that lived there, who soon began to follow behind him as well, joyful that he had finally returned from his trek.
The stallion made straight for the center of the village, where a large, ancient tree stood next to the riverbank and stopped, bending down to drink from the water below and to wash the dirt from his face.
A crowd formed around the stallion, around the tree, everyhorse curious to hear the stallion's tale of his long journey.
But the stallion did not speak, instead searching the crowd, his eyes scanning over every familiar face there, searching for two in particular, but could not find them.
He suddenly clenched his eyes shut, overcome with nausea from his tribemate's expectant faces, and all the sounds, sights and smells that came with civilization, overwhelmed after so long of being alone.
He swayed, wanting nothing more than to leave the intense, questioning stares behind him, to leave the village altogether and head back out into the peacefulness of the desert that he had spent so long in.
But he did not.
Then, the stallion heard a shout over the mumbling voices of the crowd.
The mass of horses parted, revealing a rather nervous-looking mare and a small, gangly colt cowering under her legs, clutching at the shawl she wore.
The mare smiled and stepped out, towards the stallion, raising a hoof in greeting.
The stallion moved towards her as well, and embraced his wife, feeling her presence and warmth for the first time in months.
And then he bent down and scooped up his son, who squealed with joy and hugged his father’s neck.
And as he was reunited with his family and went home to sleep in his own house, in his own bed, he knew that he preferred the comfort of his own village over the wild of the desert.
And he was happy.
The stallion paced nervously up and down the hallway, his eyes occasionally fixating on the door to Room 427 before flicking away again.
A nurse pushing an empty wheelchair that squeaked with every revolution walked by, smiling politely at him before continuing down the hall and rounding the corner, but the stallion was much too tense to even notice her.
The hall in question was uninteresting and devoid of anything or anyone of note, save for a few ponies down at the far end and a flickering light a few doors down that was beginning to give him a headache, but he had paced it enough times that he felt as if he knew every nook and cranny.
As the stallion passed the room again, he stopped suddenly and rubbed his eyes with a forehoof, and very near collapsed in a chair just outside the door, suddenly feeling just how exhausted he was.
He leaned his head against the wall and took a deep, calming breath.
The past few months had been stressful, but he knew, that in a few moments, it would all be worth it.
He would’ve liked to close his eyes and rest for a few moments, but the humming of the flickering light in the otherwise silent hall wouldn’t allow that.
But seconds later, a loud, pained scream and a babble of voices emanated from the room and the stallion jumped up from his seat, alert as ever, all thoughts of fatigue forgotten.
His eyes glanced over the door worryingly as a few more grunting yelps pierced his ears, and his wings fluttered in nervous anticipation as he could only imagine what was happening behind the door.
And then the screams stopped, and an unmistakable, shrill wailing took its place.
The stallion swallowed an unexpected lump in his throat as the door clicked open and a rather flustered nurse peeked her head out and beckoned him inside.
He followed her into the room, a large grin appearing on his face as he saw his wife, unkempt and tired-looking, yet beautiful nonetheless, tucked away in bed looking down quiet wonder at the crying bundle of cloth clutched in her forelegs.
Pushing through the gaggle of doctors and nurses, the stallion approached his wife and his newborn colt.
He bent down, kissing his wife gently on the forehead, murmuring a hello, and took his first look at his son.
Though he wasn’t much at the moment, just a small, squirming, pink, fleshy thing, the stallion already knew he would love his son, no matter what the future held.
Cooing softly, he took up the colt as gingerly as he could and cradled him in his wing’s feathery grasp, marveling at the newest addition to his family.
The baby had not stopped crying since he was born, but, as the stallion stared down at him, teardrops glistening on his glasses, the foal looked up at his father, quieted down, and smiled.
And the stallion suppressed a sob and smiled back at his son.
And he knew some of the best years of his life were still to come.
The stallion bore the full brunt of the bitter chill as he slunk out from the protective cover of the alleyway and into the snow-laden streets.
His crinkled hat and threadbare jacket, a few sizes too large, provided little protection against the blizzard that was beginning to roll in, but he pressed on.
The streets were virtually empty, save for the holiday decorations that lined them, and the stallion.
Everypony was inside their houses, with friends and family, enjoying the warmth and comfort of simply being inside on such a cold, miserable day.
The stallion probably would have been inside as well, if his home was not an uncomfortable mattress, some old, stained blankets, and a small hoofful of other objects back in the alley he had been living in for a year or so.
And now, he scoured the streets, searching for something to eat, or anything else he could need, his hunger only matched by how very cold he was.
A particularly strong gust of wind surged down the road, causing the stallion to flinch away and shiver uncontrollably.
He quickened his pace, hoping that he could find something, anything, so that he could return to the relative safety of the alley.
But, there was nothing of any value on the streets, and no ponies to beg for some holiday charity.
And the wind did not lessen any, and before long, snow was spiraling from the sky in droves, hampering his progress even further.
The stallion struggled on for a few more minutes, but then stopped, struck with the sudden realization that he simply could not accomplish anything in the weather, except freeze to death, so he staggered off in the direction the nearest building, some diner, hoping to find some sanctuary inside.
But as he approached, it became woefully obvious that the restaurant was closed.
He peered through the darkened windows, and tugged on the doors, with the fruitless hope that it was unlocked, but it wasn’t.
The stallion slumped down in the doorframe, which provided some protection at least, and curled up in a ball, staring wistfully inside the diner.
He could not go back to his alley, or anywhere else, not in this storm, so he drew his jacket tighter around his body, pulled his hat further down on his head, and sat there, trembling.
The snow fell harder.
It was some undeterminable minutes later when he glanced down, and spotted a small purse lying on the ground.
He reached out with shaking hooves and picked it up, and was surprised when it was heavier than he expected an empty purse to be.
The metal clasp was near frozen, but after some fumbling, he managed to get it open.
The stallion’s eyes went wide.
Inside the purse was a fair amount of bits, all glistening and gold.
He poured out the contents on the floor and counted eleven bits, far more money than he had had in months.
A grin found its way on his mouth.
There was a few months’ worth of food and supplies, just lying there on the ground, ripe for the taking, and he had found it just wen he so desperately needed it.
He slid the bits back into the purse and held it close to his body, afraid that if he held it any looser it might just vanish.
And, despite the weather, he was happy.
Author's Note
[This story suggested by Lord Destrustor.]
The light in the ceiling overhead was flickering, which made reading his daily newspaper more difficult than it should have.
The stallion sighed and set aside his paper, glancing up at the light bulb with the slightest exasperation.
He got up from his chair, which he had just gotten comfortable in, and trotted into his kitchen, taking care to turn off the light switch for the troublesome bulb as he passed.
In the kitchen, he opened the cabinet that contained his replacement bulbs, and an assortment of other miscellaneous objects, and fished out a brand new light bulb.
He carried it back over to the living room and set it down on his chair to await its new life of providing light.
The stallion’s horn flared to life and he gently unscrewed the broken bulb above with his magic, silently glad that he was a unicorn and did not have to climb up and remove it manually.
He placed the bad bulb down and scooped up the new one, screwing it in with no trouble at all.
Nodding in affirmation, he crossed the room again and flicked on the switch, and the light snapped on and stayed on without any sort of flickering.
Smiling at a job well done, the stallion threw the old bulb in the trash and went back to reading the newspaper.
The stallion walked down the crowded streets, a small smile on his face, and his saddlebags loaded down with a day’s worth of shopping.
He had gone out with the intention of finding a gift for his wife’s upcoming birthday, but had ended up buying a few other odds and ends, including a few things for himself.
So, with significantly fewer bits than he had set out with, he began his trek home, hopeful that his wife would not be too concerned about where he had been all day.
A few minutes passed of weaving through crowds and the stallion found himself lost in thought, thinking about some issue he had at work.
He continued this way for a while, managing to avoid any major collisions for the most part, until he bumped right into some young mare in an apron.
Righting himself, the stallion muttered an apology under his breath, but then continued on his way, only to be stopped by the mare as she grabbed his shoulder, smiling much too brightly at him.
She waved off his apology with a giggle and then pressed a flyer into his hoof, telling him in great detail the services provided by the store she was standing in front of, and how, if he brought the very piece of paper she just gave him into said store, he would get a discount and a free promotional gift.
The stallion forced a grin on his face and pretended to thank the mare for the handout, saying that he would most certainly do what she suggested, before turning and walking away as she caught some other poor passerby’s attention.
A few blocks away, he crumpled up the advertisement and threw it away in a nearby trashcan.
He made it back home shortly after.
The stallion walked through the white, sterile hallway with some unease, a small bouquet of flowers clutched in his magical grasp.
He glanced at every room he passed, looking at both the number posted outside and the patient residing inside each.
There was a loud, wet cough from one of the rooms in front of him, and he grimaced and gave the doorway a wide berth as he went by.
Further ahead, in a different room, was a mare hunched over a body lying on the bed, sobbing so loudly it was likely the whole floor could hear.
Tearing his eyes away from other’s lives, the stallion picked up his pace, but soon came to an intersection and waited as a nurse passed through, pushing a sickly stallion in a wheelchair and the oxygen tank he was breathing from.
A few doors later, he eventually came to the room he was searching for.
With a hesitant, warning knock, he opened the door to find all the blinds drawn and the light off.
He crept into the room and opened the blinds slightly, illuminating the sleeping form of his mother, wrapped up in blankets, breathing peacefully.
The steady beep of her heart monitor filled the silence.
A sad smile gracing his lips, the stallion replaced the dying flowers in a vase on her nightstand with the ones he brought and sat down in one of the chairs.
He waited there for a long while, watching, unwilling to wake her up.
And then, without warning, his mother was jolted awake as the terrible, painful cough that plagued her racked her body, rendering her winded and gasping for breath.
When she was done, the stallion greeted her and offered some water that had been sitting on the table, but she quickly refused and was consumed by another stint of coughing, doubling over in pain.
He felt sad and useless, knowing that there was no way he could help his mother, however much he wanted to.
As her fit subsided again, the stallion urged her not to talk, but she did anyway, forcing out a few words in her hoarse, broken voice.
They spoke a little about how she was feeling and what was going on in the stallion’s life before they were cut short as another attack overtook her, even worse than the previous ones.
And when that was over, minutes later, she was in far too much pain to even breath, let alone talk, so the stallion tried to comfort her as best he could.
But she started again seconds later, and he could only watch as her infection wrecked her body and throat, the time between each fit getting shorter and each one getting longer.
He talked to her in between three more bouts of increasingly more intense coughing before he went to go fetch a nurse to help out.
As the nurse began to tend to his mother, the stallion felt that it was time to leave and said goodbye, giving his mother’s convulsing body a slight hug.
He made way out, reminding her that he would be back later that week, and took care to get some sanitizer as he left.
He went home.
The stallion woke one night with a start.
Sitting up in bed, he violently coughed, doubling over as pain shot through his throat.
He panted slightly as the coughing fit subsided, silently wishing that his strep throat would just go away already.
In the darkness of the room, he blindly reached to his nightstand, looking for a glass of water.
After fumbling for a moment and nearly knocking it over, his hoof found that glass of cool salvation.
Still half asleep, he lifted the water to his mouth and took a long chug of it, soothing the burning sensation in his throat.
With a sigh and a smack of his lips, the stallion leaned back, reveling in the comfort of his bed.
After a few ragged breaths, the stallion fell asleep and remained that way.
The stallion handed a few bits to the vendor and grabbed his coffee.
With an obligatory, almost mechanical, thank you to the barista, he turned and took a sip of the drink before heading off down the street.
As he walked, he passed by a few other ponies going about their own business, presumably going to work, just as he was.
Before long, the stallion was done with his coffee and was carrying the empty cup for a little while, without any sort of trashcan in sight.
He knew that he still had a few blocks to go until he arrived at work, and he really didn’t feel like carrying the cup all the way there just to throw it away properly.
So, with some trepidation, and a quick glance around to make sure no one saw him, the stallion quickly threw the cup on the sidewalk and hurried past, embarrassed to have littered.
He arrived at work a little while later and completely forgot about the entire event as he immersed himself in his job and his day went on as normal.
As his day was coming to a close, the stallion was hunched over his kitchen sink, washing some dishes leftover from dinner.
Almost unconsciously, he ran a plate under the stream of water and scrubbed it with the sponge, and then set it aside to dry.
With a small sigh, he picked up a pot and was about to clean it as well, when a small, wet nose poked him in one of his hindlegs.
He glanced down to see his dog staring up at him, eyes wide, and tail wagging vigorously.
The stallion smiled and greeted her, patting her head gently, before turning back to the sink.
But, she prodded him again, before barking several times and bouncing around the kitchen floor, obviously intent on telling him something.
He looked back at her, and, seeing his attention on her, she barked again and bounded to the front door, before returning to him.
Chuckling, he asked his dog if she had to go to the bathroom, to which she responded with a resounding woof and ran off to the door.
He set aside the pot and trailed behind her, and unlocked the door and opened it, letting her out into the evening.
She pranced out, down the walkway, and into the yard, while the stallion watched on from the doorway.
His dog circled in the grass, seemingly resolved on sniffing every blade, before she finally found a suitable spot and squatted down.
A few seconds later, she finished her business and the stallion called her back inside with a few clicks of his tongue.
The dog hurried back in the house, and the stallion closed and locked the door behind them.
He returned to his dishes.
The stallion stood on a street corner, in the pouring rain, scanning the line of carriages going by for a taxicab to catch a ride home in.
He hoisted his umbrella higher and adjusted his grip on his grocery bags so that they didn't fall.
It was then that he saw the familiar bright yellow of a taxi at the end of the street, but as it neared, it became apparent, much to his disappointment, that it was already taken.
He sighed and tapped a hoof on the ground, growing more and more impatient as the rain and time wore away at him.
Countless other carriages, and a few more occupied cabs, went by before a vacant taxi came down the road.
With care, the stallion lifted a free hoof and hailed the taxi.
The driver jerked his head in acknowledgement and swerved over to the curb, cutting off another carriage as he went.
The stallion smiled and opened the cab door as soon as he could, throwing his bags and umbrella in, before clambering in himself.
Once seated comfortably, he told the driver his home address and they set off.
Author's Note
[This story suggested by Dark Avenger.]
The stallion woke up early one morning to the sound of his alarm going off.
Still half-asleep, he blindly reached out and, after a few seconds, managed to switch off the shrill alarm, and sat up in bed, sluggishly rubbing his eyes.
A quick glance at the window told him it was barely light out.
He sighed, and wished that he didn’t have to get up at such an offending hour, especially on a weekend, but he simply had too many things to get done to just let the day go by.
With a grunt, he began to get out of bed to start the day, when an intense yawn stopped him
He sat there, on the edge of the bed, for a moment and looked around his room, before finally settling on the clock once more.
It was only two minutes past seven o’clock.
The stallion blinked a few times, yawned again, and just gave up on trying to accomplish anything so early, mentally resigning all the work that needed to be done to some other time.
As he yawned a third time, he fell back into his bed, unceremoniously threw the covers over himself, and quickly went back to sleep.
The stallion sat at his desk one night, head propped in his hooves, staring forlornly at the spread of bills and bank statements covering his desk.
He sighed and ran through the numbers for the umpteenth time, only to come to the same conclusion he had been coming to.
There was no more money left.
He could hardly believe it, but there was just no possible way he could pay his bills, loans, and other expenses without going bankrupt.
Cursing under his breath, he slumped further down in his chair and rubbed his eyes, completely at a loss as to what to do.
Taking another loan out was out of the question, he knew that much, as was finding another job in time.
Feeling a mix of dread and anxiety set in, the stallion got up from his desk and paced around his small apartment nervously, running over possible solutions in his head.
But there was just no conceivable way he could come up with the bits he needed.
And that was when it hit him.
He went over to the hall closet and opened the door.
Up on the top shelf was a lone, unassuming box, inside of which was what remained of his parent’s belongings and heirlooms.
The stallion got the box down and hesitantly opened it.
Inside was everything his parent had left him after they had both passed away.
He looked at it for a moment and sighed.
There were certainly enough valuables there that he could probably get fair amount of bits for them if he were to sell them at a pawn shop, but the stallion was uncertain about the idea.
Was he really so desperate that he was willing to pawn off his parent’s belongings just for some quick cash?
After some thought, the stallion put the box back in the closet and turned away, deciding that his parent’s few remaining possessions was simply not worth it.
At the very least, he would try and find some other source of money before resorting to that.
He then went to bed, and the next day, he managed to scrounge up some other money from various places, and got by just a little bit longer.
The stallion had finished his shower and was about to leave the bathroom when something rather concerning caught his eye in the mirror.
He stopped, returned to the mirror, and studied his body, noting that he seemed a bit…heftier than he seemed to remember, especially around the middle.
Experimentally, he poked at his stomach and grimaced as his hoof sunk in more than it should have.
He swore under his breath and looked at himself again, taking a moment to process the fact that he had gained some weight, simultaneously wondering just how it had happened and how he had not noticed it before.
How exactly he had put on weight, the stallion could not understand, considering he had not been eating any differently, as far as he could recall, and was still maintaining the same level of activity.
But the fact of the matter remained, that he was getting fat, and he needed to begin doing something about that.
The stallion made a resolution right then and there that he would do his best to eat healthier and to start working out some, and with that in mind, immediately went to go fix himself a healthy, nutritious breakfast.
But, as time went on, he grew more and more lax with his new, beneficial lifestyle, and after only two or so months, he had stopped exercising completely, and had returned to eating the foods he was accustomed to.
And, though he ultimately did not lose much weight, the stallion did not gain any either, and with that, he was perfectly content.
The stallion brushed his mane from his eyes and stepped into the barber shop.
A soft chime sounded when he pushed open the door, alerting the sole hairdresser, a kindly-looking, middle-aged mare, to his presence.
With a chipper tone, she greeted the stallion and invited him in, gesturing for him to sit in the chair in front of her.
Flashing a small smile, the stallion slid into the seat, informing the barber that he only wanted a slight trim, but nothing too drastic.
In turn, the mare acknowledged his request, and wrapped the drape around the front of his body, before turning and gathering the few tools she would need.
She turned back, scissors in hoof, and spun the chair around so that he faced the large mirror that lined the wall, and began cutting away at his hair.
After a few moments of silence, the mare started up a conversation, asking the stallion how his day was going, what wonderful weather they were having, and various other topics.
The stallion, though both expecting and dreading this small talk, reluctantly answered her questions and very much wished she would just stop talking to him.
A few minutes passed like this, until the barber eventually drifted off into silence and focused solely on her job.
And all the while, the stallion watched in the mirror as the mare cut his mane shorter and shorter, and then went past the length he had wanted her to cut it to.
He fidgeted in his seat a moment, considering saying something to her, but ultimately decided to just let her finish cutting his mane, which she did only a couple of moments later.
As she brushed some loose hair from his shoulders, she asked him if he liked his manecut, to which he responded yes, and left it at that.
The barber whisked the drape off of him and shook the remaining hair to the floor, allowing the stallion to get up.
Running a hoof through his considerably shorter mane, he wandered over to the nearby counter, where she joined him momentarily and informed him just how much he needed to pay.
Thanking her for a job well done, the stallion slid over the correct amount of bits, bid her farewell, and promptly left the barbershop.
The stallion walked into the building and let out an exasperated sigh as he saw just how many other ponies were already there before him.
He had been called in to city hall over some miscommunications on some official documents, something that probably could have been avoided, but nothing so serious that he was particularly concerned, so he had come with no worries and the expectation that everything would be over quickly and smoothly.
However, as he took another few steps in and really saw just how many other ponies were waiting for one thing or another, he was already getting apprehensive of the fact that he would probably be waiting a very long time before he got to speak with anyone.
After looking at a sign and figuring out which part of the room he needed to go to, he was immediately annoyed to see that the line that he needed to go stand in just happened to be the very longest, and, as luck would have it, be moving the very slowest, because of course it was.
So, the stallion settled in to wait for what he expected to be an obscenely large amount of time, completely and utterly bored out of his mind, and wishing that he was anywhere but standing in the line.
Two and a half hours passed by like this, and the stallion still had six ponies in front of him before his turn, and he was well beyond impatient at this point, and was beginning to get hungry, which only served to worsen his mood further.
Eventually, over an hour later, he was finally called up to the desk and was able to sort out his problems, and get everything in line, though not without venting some of his frustrations on the mare at the desk.
He then went home, his entire day more or less completely wasted.
The stallion stepped outside his apartment and immediately cringed as a blast of cold air blew over him, chilling him to the bone.
He pulled his jacket and scarf tighter to him and set off into the frigid, winter morning, hoping that the snow would not impede his journey to work too much.
It was several degrees under freezing, as it had been all week, the coldest couple of days in years, and certainly the coldest day he had ever experienced, and he had to walk to work in a veritable blizzard.
The weather pegasi had apologized profusely for the inconvenience, but assured the public that the entire region was overdue for a snowstorm, and the stallion, though not entirely sure why that was the case or was particularly happy about it, decided to leave it up to the professionals and just accept it.
And so, he reluctantly trudged to work in piles of ice and snow that came up to his knees, tightly wrapped in three layers of clothes, more angry that his boss had not canceled work than he was at the weather itself.
He did, however, take solace in the fact that many other ponies were also working, as evidenced by the fact that the city streets were still as crowded as they ever were.
By now, after several minutes of walking, the stallion was thoroughly cold, even despite his clothes, and wanted nothing more to make it to his job, where it was warm and not snowing.
Turning the corner, he was hit by another gust of cold air, sending his whole body into violent shivers.
He clenched his eyes shut for a moment and turned his head away from the violent wind, frozen to the spot, unable to move due to how unbelievably cold he felt.
After a moment, he took a step forward, and then another, and then continued on, practically galloping down the sidewalk, desperately wanting to make it to his destination, which was only just up ahead.
The stallion paused briefly a few seconds later to readjust his hat and earmuffs, which had almost slid off, before walking the last three blocks at a much more respectable pace.
Soon enough, though not fast enough for him, he finally arrived at the building.
He wrenched open the door as fast as he could and stumbled into the lobby, relieved to have made it, reveling in the warm air inside.
And the stallion made the decision right then, that, even if there was still work the next day, he certainly was not going to show up.
Author's Note
[There are seven more stories to go until we make it to fifty, where, as I have mentioned before , I will be stopping.]
[I will be publishing a story every day from now on until we get there.]
[And, as such, I am no longer taking any more suggestions.]
The stallion, for the third time in as many minutes, called his two young foals over to him from the other side of the living room where they were playing.
He stood by their backyard door, waiting patiently, while they dragged themselves over, grumbling under their breath about how they had been doing something, as if he could not hear them.
But despite their protests, the stallion simply smiled at them and explained that one of the hinges on the gate out back had rusted through and fallen off and they were both going to be helping him bolt a new one onto the fence.
They gathered up the wrenches, the bolts, the new hinge, and the other assorted materials and trudged around the side of the house where the gate was hanging limply from one hinge.
The stallion could tell that his children were not entirely thrilled to be doing this, but he knew that it would be good to know how to do this sort of thing in the future, in the event they ever came across a gate or a fence in need of repair.
With little difficulty, the broken hinge was taken off and handed to his son, and his daughter gave him the new hinge.
He showed them how he first lined up the holes in the hinge with the holes in the fence post, and then put the bolt in, making sure to let both foals turn the wrench a few times before he took over and drove the bolt the rest of the way in, taking care not to overtighten it.
The same happened with the rest of the bolts, and then the stallion had his foals help him hold the fence in place while he attached the other side of the hinge to it.
It took a few more minutes, especially since he had his children do a bit of the work, but the hinge was finally in place, and the gate swung like it was new again.
They may not have found it particularly enjoyable, but the stallion knew that his two foals now at least had a basic understanding of how to fix a gate, and he was happy about that.
Author's Note
[This story suggested by Dark Avenger.]
The stallion did not want to do anything today.
He hadn’t slept very well the previous night, and, as one o’clock in the afternoon came around, he was feeling very tired.
And, of course, he simply did not have the time to rest, as he had plenty of things that he needed to do before the weekend was over.
He slowly paced back and forth in the middle of his living room, trying to decide what to do next, but he really wasn’t feeling up to doing anything, so he continued pacing, not really wasting time, but not beginning anything either.
Eventually, the stallion yawned and sat down on his couch, wishing that he was just a little more motivated and awake.
For a moment, nothing happened, everything was silent, and the stallion continued to not do anything, despite knowing he needed to.
Some minutes passed.
And still he was sitting.
He yawned a second time and rested his head on the back of the couch, groaning in frustration.
However much work he knew he needed to accomplish that day, the stallion could just not bring himself to do any of it, and it was annoying him considerably.
So he gave up.
The stallion got up from the couch and went to go lay down in his bed for a quick nap.
He could do everything next weekend.
The colt stared at his mother with wide open eyes, watching and listening intently as she said something to him, even though he was too young to understand what exactly she was saying.
He had just woken up from a nap, and was still feeling a little groggy, and his mother had carried him into the kitchen and set him down in his high chair so that she could feed him.
His mother spoon-fed him his favorite mush for several minutes, entertaining the colt as she went by making funny noises and laughing, and flying the spoon around in the air before bringing it to his mouth so he could eat it.
Another couple of spoonfuls later, she fed him the last of his food, and, despite him opening his mouth again, obviously wanting some more carrot-flavored mash, she did not give him anymore.
Instead, she giggled at his expression as he realized that he was not getting any more food, and started speaking to him again, in a high-pitched tone of voice, and eventually started to repeat the same, simple sounds over and over again, and looking at him as if urging him to say them too.
Now more curious about the noises that his mother was making than wanting more food, he quickly forgot about the mush and he focused his attention on the shapes her lips were forming, studying them.
Then, with some effort, the colt opened his mouth and forced out a noise that sounded, to his ears at least, very similar to the ones his mother was making, though not quite the same.
Regardless, it seemed to excite his mother because she gasped loudly, smiled, and she began repeating the same sounds again, more intensely this time.
The colt listened to her once more, and then he tried again, and successfully spoke his first word, much to his mother’s delight.
The stallion flapped his wings and banked slightly to the right, gliding around a nearby cloud, and finally spotted his destination floating in the distance.
He had been flying for some four hours now with a pair of very heavy saddlebags strapped to his back, filled with everything he had needed over the past few weeks, and was feeling very tired.
But, emboldened by the last stretch of his journey, the stallion flew on, relieved to finally be returning home after what felt like such a long time.
He had been gone for a little less than a month, attending his father’s funeral and spending time with friends and family, but now, with no more vacation time left, had to go back home.
As he drew closer, more and more pegasi filled the airspace around the cloud city, all going about their own business and lives.
The stallion flew into the city proper, following the pre-approved lanes of air travel, and spent several minutes navigating the maze of buildings and the crowd of ponies that had only grown denser the further he traveled in.
Eventually though, he found himself at his home, one of the apartments in a modest little cloud building in the heart of the city.
He set down on the cloud and stretched his wings to their fullest extent, and then did the same with his other limbs, a few pops and cracks coming from them after not having been in use for so long.
With a yawn, he trotted inside the building, up the stairs, and into his apartment, very happy to finally get out of the sky and back on his hooves, and to be back home.
The stallion sat at his desk late one night, the parchment in front of him illuminated only by the rapidly dwindling candlelight.
Heaps of crumpled-up balls of paper filled the floor around him, on each a different story, a different idea, a different character, a different stallion.
The stallion yawned and rubbed his eyes, wishing that he did not have to write this novel, but he knew he had to, as per his publisher’s demands.
And so, he stared at the blank paper, at a complete loss of how to begin his story, as he had been for most of the day.
He had written and scrapped so many ideas, that they all began to seep together, filling his mind with fragments of passages, openings, sentences, paragraphs, settings, characters, and a multitude of other things.
With a sigh, the stallion dipped his quill in the near-empty inkwell and put it to the paper for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that night and began to write once again.
“This is a story about a stallion…”
Author's Note
And now we're done.
Everything has to draw to a close eventually, even completely unrelated, incredibly short stories about fifty different unnamed stallions doing nothing in particular in one sentence paragraphs.
Many thanks to everyone who read this Story and suggested their own.
I'm glad everyone found so much delight in this little experiment of mine, and I hope you all had as much fun reading this as I had writing it, even if I did have some difficulties at times.
I may end up doing a more character-driven story, with one, consistent character, in this same style sometime in the future.
Maybe.
Goodbye.
The stallion sighed and opened up one of his kitchen drawers, the one that contained all of his silverware, and began taking it all out to pack it away in a box.
He had been spending practically the entire day, and several of the ones before, packing up his belongings in preparation to move out of his house sometime later that day.
Luckily, he had managed his time wisely, and only had the rest of the kitchen to pack up, utensils, pots, pans, and the like, before the movers arrived to take away all the boxes and furniture.
Finishing up the silverware, the stallion moved on to the next drawer, which contained some miscellaneous items like whisks, spatulas, scissors, and other things he never really used enough to have made buying them worthwhile, and began to put them all away as well.
Less than an hour later, he had managed to cram everything in the kitchen into about three large boxes and one smaller one, and, after taping the final one shut, he took it and pushed it into the corner with the other three, not even bothering to stack them up.
And so, after weeks of planning and preparation, he had finally finished packing up all his possessions, and now all he had to do was to wait a few hours until the movers arrived to haul it all away.
With a satisfied smile, the stallion turned and surveyed the living room, which was filled with stacks of even more cardboard boxes, all sealed shut and ready to be taken to his new home along with all his furniture.
But, as that would not be for a few more hours by his count, he maneuvered around the boxes and fell down onto the couch, both mentally and physically exhausted, and intended to get a small nap in before the moving ponies arrived.
The stallion laid on that couch for a few minutes before falling asleep, staring wistfully at the ceiling, somewhat sad about having to move out and leave the home he had lived in for so long.
He would certainly miss a lot of things about the house, but he had already made peace with it and knew that he had to move on and make new memories, meet new ponies, and make the most of wherever his life took him.
And then he fell asleep.
When he woke sometime later to the sound of the moving ponies knocking on his door, he was well rested and ready to start moving out, or, rather, let the movers move everything out for him and ensure that they didn’t break anything.
He stood and took one last look around at his house, trying to picture how everything had been before he had packed it all away in the boxes that now filled his vision, and then let the movers in to begin their work.
And so, finally, without much hassle, and in a relatively short amount of time, the stallion successfully had moved out of his house, and was left standing alone in the barren living room, the moving ponies already gone.
He simply looked at the room for a second, silently saying goodbye, a slight smile on his lips, before turning out the lights and leaving, closing the door behind him for one last time.
Author's Note
Hello again, everyone; did you miss me?
Don't expect for this to start up again. I always figured that if I had a particular idea that I needed to write, that I would write it out, but I'm still not going to be actively devoting time to writing this any longer. It is still complete.
I could very well never touch this again after this, but there's an equal chance that I might. We'll both be pleasantly surprised whenever that happens.
But, besides that, the stallion in this particular story is inspired by myself.
I've moved four times since last August, and will be moving a fifth time before this coming August is out.
I will have lived in six different places in a year's time, and I'm just exhausted by it all.
That's exactly what inspired this story about moving, as I wrote it hastily at midnight, edited it a bit that next morning, and then published it a few days later after some more minor tweaks.
Well, as we may never see this story update again, so goodbye again, everyone.
The stallion stared out of the window of the train as the countryside scenery rolled by just a little too fast to make out any discernable details.
He had been on the train now for almost four hours, and, if everything continued on schedule, he would be arriving at his destination in under an hour, something he was very grateful for, as, even though the train was a very nice one and the seats comfortable, the trip was wearing on him.
For instance, in the seats next to and across from him were two mares, friends obviously, who had been talking rather loudly about this or that since before he had gotten on, and did not seem to be slowing down anytime soon, much to the stallion’s annoyance.
Sighing, the stallion looked away from the window and out at the crowded passenger car he had been sitting in, checking his luggage stored up on the rack on the opposite side of the aisle for the umpteenth time.
It was all still there, of course; no one had messed with it the entire ride, but, as the suitcases contained a lot of the possessions that were too important to him for the moving ponies to take themselves, he felt the need to check on them once and a while to make sure they were still there.
At this point, he was just anxious to get to his destination, because moving to a new city was always a hassle, and he was entirely ready to just get everything started, meet with and instruct the movers, and start moving into the new house.
But, considering that he could not actually do any of those things yet, as he was stuck on the train, the stallion turned his head and looked out the window again, trying to relax for a bit before he had to get off.
Sometime later, the conductor drifted through the car, informing everyone that we were almost at the next stop, and, after a few minutes, the train rolled into the station in question.
When the train doors opened, the stallion stood up, ready to get going, as did over half of the other ponies in the car, including the two mares sitting next to him, which made it difficult for him to get into the aisle and get ahold of his luggage.
After struggling momentarily to get his baggage down, holding up some of the ponies trying to get off behind him while doing so, the stallion haphazardly dragged his luggage through the narrow aisle, off of the train, and onto the station platform, making sure to quickly, or as quickly as he could with several bags weighing him down, move off to the side as to not irritate the ponies behind him any longer.
The train station was extremely crowded, overcrowded even, but he had been there before and was expecting that, and so managed to weave his way through all of the masses and out of the building with relative ease.
He stood there for a moment, just outside of the station doors, luggage piled next to him, and stared out at the bustling city streets for just a brief instant, and then picked his bags up and set off, ready to begin a new chapter in his life.
Author's Note
A little continuation to the previous story.
The stallion, laden down with luggage, walked up to the front door of his house, finally returning home after a long and exciting vacation.
He had spent a little over a week and a half in the city of Manehatten, during which he managed to see just about all of the major sights he could, and, in addition, even spent a few days with the entirety of his extended family that lived up there.
It had been an incredibly exhausting vacation, what with having to rush all over the city each day, as well as having to deal with all of his cousins, who were all much more outgoing and exuberant than he was used to in his relatives, but, in the end, his time in the city had been absolutely amazing, and the stallion was now more than happy to finally come back home, returning with a plethora of souvenirs, pictures, and memories.
Now at his front door, he stopped, bent over, and unceremoniously dropped all of his bags on the ground, too weary to even set them down properly.
He unzipped one of the pockets on one of his suitcases, and, after rummaging around in the compartment, managed to fish out the keys to his house.
Fumbling with the keys only slightly, the stallion inserted them into the lock, turned them, and opened the door wide.
His house was dark and quiet.
Walking inside, picking up one of his bags as he went, he flipped on the nearest light, bathing the foyer in a soft glow.
He set the bag down on the floor where he stood, and then turned his attention to the rest of the luggage still sitting outside.
With some difficulty, he dragged the rest of his stuff inside, leaving it all in a pile just within, and then shut the door.
He took a deep sigh and walked further into his house, turning on another light as he went, this one in the living room.
Everything looked just as he had left it, the only difference being a fine layer of dust coating all the furniture, and a few small, dead roaches that littered the floor, something that never failed to appear whenever a house was left empty for a significant period of time.
The stallion walked past all of that though, and instead headed for the nearest bathroom in order to relieve himself, as it had been a rather long journey home, and he had had a little bit too much water to drink near the end of his train ride.
Only about a minute later, he exited the bathroom, and returned to the foyer and luggage that was still waiting on the floor.
He took two of the bags, as that was what was comfortable to carry, and brought them into his bedroom, where he then left the both of them at the foot of his bed.
The other three of his bags met a similar fate right after, as he brought them from the foyer to join the others.
Standing in the the middle of the bedroom, the stallion knew that he should start to unpack right now, but, as he stared at the pile of luggage with increasing apprehension, he just didn't quite feel up to it.
And then, he yawned.
Not only did he need anything in the suitcases any time soon, it was already late in the evening, as the train ride back was a lengthy one, and he was feeling pretty tired as it was.
He then decided that he didn't need to unpack right away, and decided instead to simply rest for the remainder of the day.
And so he did.
Author's Note
Hello again
The stallion was wide awake, and it was the middle of the night.
He had been trying to fall asleep for the past five hours or so, but no matter what he did, he stayed firmly in the waking world.
It was almost four o'clock in the morning now, and he had to get up in three hours to get ready for work, which he was not at all looking forward to at the current moment.
Sighing loudly, he rolled over onto his side for what felt like the hundredth time that night, stuck a foreleg under his pillow, and tried to get somewhat comfortable.
A minute passed by, yet no sleep came.
He pulled the covers tighter around him, and shifted one of his hooves around slightly.
And some more minutes passed.
Still, he was awake.
The stallion flipped back onto his back and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling in exasperation.
It was endlessly frustrating to him to not be able to fall asleep when he wanted to, especially considering that he had never had a difficult time falling asleep before, and that there wasn't anything particularly worrisome or stressful going on in his life that could be keeping him awake.
He didn't have the slightest idea as to why he was having so much trouble getting to sleep on this night.
Grunting in anger, he kicked the covers off of his body and sat up in bed, breathing deeply, his eyes darting around the darkened room, looking at nothing in particular, before finally settling on the clock on his bedside table.
Only about ten minutes had passed by since he had looked at it last, though it had felt like much, much longer to him.
And so the stallion fell back down into the bed, defeated and downtrodden, wishing nothing more than to be able to fall asleep.
But he was not that lucky.
He stared up at his ceiling the rest of the night, right up until the morning sunlight broke through his window and his alarm went off, ushering in the next day.
Author's Note
I probably already did a story like this, but oh well.
The stallion woke one night with a start.
He sat up in bed, eyes wide, searching all around his tiny room for whatever had awoken him, only to find his bedroom door was wide open, light from the hallway spilling in.
Cautiously, he shuffled over to the door, still half asleep, and shut it.
But, as he went back to his bed, there was a loud thump from the door.
Surprised, he whirled around just in time to see the door creak open.
The silhouette of a pony stood in the hallway, just watching the stallion.
Afraid for his life, the stallion rushed over to his nightstand and picked up a book that had been lying on it, holding it threateningly, in case the mysterious pony tried to attack him.
With a nervous tinge to his voice, the stallion called out to the pony, asking it what it was doing in his apartment.
The pony took a step inside the room and turned on the light.
The stallion breathed a sigh of relief, because it was only his wife.
He smiled as she wandered back over to the bed.
He set the book back down and kissed her, apologizing for almost attacking her.
His wife smiled and nodded in understanding.
Together, they went back to bed and slept peacefully for the rest of the night.
The colt sat at his desk one weekend evening, reading through a beginner’s guide to magic book that his parents had gotten him just earlier in the week.
He had just cast some of his first magic, outside of the random bursts as a young foal, only last week, and his parents had figured it time for him to start getting some practice in and studying up on it a little.
So that was exactly what he had been doing for the past few days.
With some effort, the colt’s horn sparked to life, and his magic enveloped the page in front of him, and very slowly and very unsteadily, he managed to turn the page.
He smiled at the accomplishment, as he had only managed to successfully do so a mere nine times beforehand, and was very glad that he was progressing as fast as he was.
And so, he refocused his attention on the new page, and read through the simple information written there very carefully several times.
But then, just as he was getting into it, his mother’s voice called out from the other side of the door, interrupting him, and she came into his room, informing him that it was time for him to go to bed.
The colt protested at this, using the fact he had managed to turn the page with magic for the tenth time as reason that he should stay up and practice some more, but his mother would hear none of it, telling him how very proud of him she was, but that he could continue in the morning if he wanted to.
After a few more minutes of whining, to no avail, the colt finally relented and went with his mother over to his bed, stifling a deep yawn as he went, as to not show his mother that he was indeed tired.
He got into bed, still a little aggravated that he did not get to stay up any longer, and his mother tucked him in and gave him a goodnight kiss, before leaving the room, turning off the lights as she went.
The colt laid there in bed for a while, his mind running with wild thoughts and ideas, and excitement over learning how to do magic, but then eventually, after some time, fell asleep.
The stallion woke suddenly as his two children burst into the bedroom, and jumped onto the bed, yelling loudly for he and his wife to wake up so that Hearth’s Warming Day could begin.
He sat up, yawning, still a little shaken from being woken up so suddenly, and told his foals to settle down and stop jumping on them, and, once they did so, he told them, just as he did every year, that they would have to wait until the rest of the family came over in a few hours.
The foals began to whine, but a quick glare from their mother made them scamper off to somewhere else in the house, and the stallion and his wife both got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to freshen up before joining them.
He and his family had been spending the past few days at his parent’s house, as they did every year for Hearth’s Warming, along with some other close relatives that came in from elsewhere, so that they could all celebrate the day together.
After they were done getting ready for said day, the stallion and his wife went out into the house proper and found his parents in the kitchen preparing some breakfast for everypony, and his children seated around the table, talking about something or other.
Greeting his mother and father, he helped out a bit with the food and, soon enough, they all were eating a delicious meal while they waited for the rest of the family to get there.
Only an hour or so later, everypony else, the stallion’s brothers, some uncles and aunts, cousins, and some other assorted relatives and close friends had all shown up and gathered on the living room, ready for the day’s festivities.
And everybody had a wonderful Hearth’s Warming.
The stallion woke one night with a start.
He sat up in bed, eyes wide, searching all around his tiny room for whatever had awoken him.
Only there was nothing but the sound of his own breathing.
He pulled the covers tighter around him and whimpered softly, still unsure whether or not something was there.
Tentatively, he slipped out of his bed and trotted over to the light switch and turned it on.
His room was bathed in light.
And there was nothing there that shouldn’t have been.
His fears put to rest, the stallion turned the lights back off and got back in his bed.
After a few moments, the stallion fell asleep and remained that way.
The stallion felt the wind rush through his mane as he pulled out of his dive and landed on a passing cloud, folding his wings neatly against to his side.
On the cloud, some hundreds of feet above the ground below, the stallion caught his breath for a few moments.
He had been out for his night flight, something he did maybe once a week, for a little over an hour and had begun to feel the muscles in his wings begin to strain with each flap.
Content to just rest for a moment, the stallion looked out over the surrounding countryside.
The lights of the city twinkled and danced in the distance, but it did little to detract from the calm, natural beauty of the scenery down below.
The moon shone high from its perch amidst the stars, its light beaming down on the ground below, highlighting everything with a warm, silvery tinge.
The night was beautiful, to say the least.
The stallion sighed and leaned back on the cloud and stared up at the stars, which, so far from the city, stood out as if they were just mere meters above the stallion’s head, though he knew better.
The stallion stargazed for a few more moments before he realized with a start that it was getting to be late.
With a flourish of his wings, he leapt off the edge of the cloud and used an updraft to propel him back towards the city.
After a few minutes of vigorous flying, by far much faster than the pace he had had when leaving that evening, the stallion found himself on the city limits.
With a soft thwump, the stallion landed on the grass just on the edge of the city and began the short stroll back to his house.
As he walked down the empty streets, illuminated only by streetlamps and the occasional light spilling out from an uncovered window, the stallion thought just how peaceful and quiet things were, not only in the city, but in all of Equestria, and felt pleased for being a part of such a wonderful time.
This, he thought, would how he would like his retirement to feel like, however many years down the line that was.
He was happy.
The stallion trotted up the walkway to his front door and let himself in, turning on the lights as he entered.
Finally in the safety and comfort of his own home, the stallion went about his business for the rest of the night.
The next day was the weekend, so the stallion did not have to work, something he capitalized on as he worked on various things around his house that needed to be done and took care of some odds and ends.
Then, a few hours after midnight, the stallion, exhausted after his flight and after working so hard, collapsed into his bed and was asleep within moments.
The stallion woke up one morning.
He ate breakfast.
He went to work.
He worked.
He had some lunch.
He worked some more.
He went home.
He ate dinner.
He relaxed for a while.
The stallion went to bed.
And did it all again the next day.
The mare woke one night with a start.
She sat up in bed, eyes wide, searching all around her tiny room for whatever had awoken her.
Only there was nothing but the sound of her own breathing.
She pulled the covers tighter around her and whimpered softly, still unsure whether or not something was there.
Tentatively, she slipped out of her bed and trotted over to the light switch and turned it on.
Her room was bathed in light.
And there was nothing there that shouldn’t have been.
Her fears put to rest, the mare turned the lights back off and got back in her bed.
After a few moments, the mare fell asleep and remained that way.
The stallion woke up from his sleep with a grunt.
He sat up and looked around the room for whatever had woken him, but there was nothing but the soft whirring of his fan.
With a sigh, he lay back down and tried to fall asleep again, but only tossed and turned, unable to find any sleep, for whatever reason.
Grumbling under his breath, he sat up again and flicked on the lamp on the table beside him.
Kicking the covers off, he got up and wandered out into the hallway, hoping that a midnight snack would calm down his mind.
He stumbled around in the near darkness, nearly walking into the small table in the hall, before he made it out into his living room, where he discovered that all of his furniture was on the ceiling instead of the floor.
Blinking in surprise, the stallion wandered out into the middle of his now empty living room floor, gazing in wonder at the furniture suspended above him.
His horn flared to life, wrapping the sofa in his magical aura as he tried to yank it down from the ceiling, but it did not budge.
Then, there was a knock from his front door.
Cautiously, he walked over to the door and opened it, revealing a very large, very particularly angry-looking light bulb staring at him.
And then the stallion woke up from his dream.
The stallion stared into his refrigerator and marveled at just how empty the shelves inside were.
Letting loose a grumble of frustration, he slammed the door closed and turned and opened his pantry door, only to be met by a similar lack of food in there as well.
It was breakfast time, and he was completely out of any food in his house.
And he was starving.
With his stomach slowly digesting itself, the stallion decided very quickly that he needed to go out shopping immediately, even though he had a few hundred things to do before the weekend came to a close.
Gathering up some bits and slinging his saddlebags across his back, the stallion hurried out the door and down the street to the market.
The streets in question were bathed in the morning sunlight and crowded with other ponies of all shapes and sizes, all going about their own days.
If he were not so pressed for time, the stallion would have liked to stop for a moment and admire the mid-morning sky and soak in the hustle and bustle of the city.
But he did not.
Half-galloping and half-walking through the streets, the stallion quickly arrived at the grocery store and practically burst through the doors in his haste, startling the few cashiers there.
Composing himself slightly, the stallion was silently grateful that the store was open so early, and began to walk through the mostly empty aisles, browsing the shelves for any sort of sustenance, all the while tormented by his stomach.
At the end of a few minutes, he walked toward the cashier, his saddlebags bulging with a variety of vegetables and fruits, and oats, cereal, milk, bread, snacks and other assorted goods.
He smiled at the cashier, a young, very bored-looking mare, who merely stared blankly at him, obviously very annoyed at having to work so early.
His smile faltering, the stallion quickly paid for all of his food and left the store, relieved to know that he could finally eat something.
And then he went back home, ate, and continued with his day.
Author's Note
[This story suggested by Dark Avenger.]
One night, the stallion woke from his sleep with a start.
He sat up in bed, unsure what had woken him at first, but then was met with the acrid smell of smoke and burning.
In a flash, he leaned over and switched on the lamp, and noticed a thin layer of smoke blanketing the ceiling of his bedroom, trickling in from the open doorway.
A sense of dread settling in his stomach, the stallion leapt out of his bed and ran over to the door, only to see the hallway beyond completely consumed by bright, hot flames.
His eyes went wide and he backed away, but kept his gaze on the encroaching blaze, watching as a wall weakened by the fire, gave up and collapsed, blocking the hall entirely.
Smoke began to billow into the room more and more and the fires grew ever closer, licking at the paint and at pictures hanging on the walls.
The stallion swayed for a moment, transfixed by the flames, before coughing violently and coming to his senses, and began to look for some means of escape.
With most of the house likely razed by the fire and the hall impassable, the stallion ran over to the window, tugged off the curtains and blinds, and unlocked it and slid it open, revealing the calm night beyond.
He took a deep breath, coughing again, and glanced back at the fire once more as it crossed over the threshold of his bedroom, crackling and roaring all the more vigorous as it reduced his home and possessions to ash.
The stallion crawled through the window and fell into a bush just outside, silently thankful that the fire had not yet found its way outside.
He rushed out to the street and stared at the monumental inferno that had overtaken his house, and at the flickering orange light it cast over the surroundings.
And then, another wheezing cough racked his body and he fell to the ground, doubled over in pain from smoke inhalation.
As he lie there, he could feel the heat radiating off the blaze and heard a terrifying crack as several support beams cracked and buckled, sending embers cascading out and into neighboring trees, igniting them.
He looked up to see his house in complete ruin, everything unsalvageable.
The stallion let out a choked sob, and stayed there on the ground, unable to take his eyes off the charred remains of his home.
By the time he heard any sort of authorities arrive, his home was already a smoking husk of what it once was.
The stallion woke with a start.
He was still for a few moments, hoping sleep would overcome him again, but for some reason did not feel the slightest bit tired.
He twisted and turned for a while, trying to get comfortable, but nothing seemed to work, and he stayed firmly awake.
So he gave up and simply sat there, frustrated at his predicament, staring at the lazy spin of the ceiling fan illuminated only by the glow of his clock.
He glanced at said clock, and gave an exasperated groan when he saw it was one o’clock in the morning.
Giving up on the prospect of sleep, the stallion sat up, pulling the covers closer around him, and gazed around his darkened room.
And then, much to his surprise, his stomach rumbled loudly, crying out for some food.
He put a hoof to his stomach in confusion, baffled as to why he was so hungry so late at night.
As his stomach continued to make more noise, the stallion decided to just give in and fix a midnight snack, something he had never done before, otherwise he would never be able to get back to sleep.
With a small grunt, he swung out of bed and lumbered through his moonlit house to the kitchen.
The stallion flicked on the light and opened his fridge, searching for something to quell his appetite, but found nothing that looked enticing.
He shut the fridge and went into his pantry, where he immediately saw a small package of biscuits that would hit the spot.
He grabbed the package, sat at his table, and he started to eat.
A few minutes later, and about three-fourths of the container, the stallion felt sated and the welcome haze of sleep began to creep back over him.
And so, with his hunger more or less taken care of, the stallion went back to bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
Author's Note
[This story suggested by Lord Destrustor.]
The stallion stepped out onto his back porch and stared out at the blanket of leaves that covered his yard.
Though the trees that lined his backyard were nice in summer and spring, every autumn that came around, the stallion regretted even having them, as their falling leaves would bury the yard to the point where there was more leaves than grass.
And he had neglected to clean them for most of the season, so his yard was nigh unrecognizable.
With a weary sigh, the stallion hoisted his rake in his magical grip and stared apprehensively at the daunting chore he once again had to complete.
He took a step onto his yard, the leaves crunching under his hooves, and began raking, clearing a small strip parallel to his house, exposing the dead grass underneath.
Resigning himself to his task, the stallion worked diligently through most of the day, with a few breaks in between, raking all of the fallen leaves into several piles throughout his yard.
By the time he was done, the sun had already passed its highest point and was beginning to sink lower.
As the evening swiftly arrived, the stallion grabbed several trash bags and went around shoving as many leaves into one bag as he could, closing it up, and moving onto the next.
Before long, he had cleared his yard of all its offending leaves, the only reminder of what was once there being the numerous trash bags stuffed to bursting.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, the stallion leaned on his rake and looked at his clean, albeit lifeless yard and smiled, proud of what he had accomplished.
And then one final leaf blew off a branch and landed in the middle of the clean grass.
The stallion went into his kitchen one night, ready to prepare himself some dinner.
He opened one of the cabinets to take out a plate when he noticed a line of large ants crawling around the back of the counter.
Cursing under his breath, he followed their line over to the end of the counter, across the wall, and into his pantry.
He yanked open the door to discover an infestation of ants swarming over all of his food.
Wherever and whatever the stallion looked at, the little black insects were everywhere, surging over whatever they could manage to get themselves into.
With another, much louder curse, he quickly tried to salvage whatever he could, brushing off a few ants as he went, hoping that he could at least save some of his food.
And a few cans, some boxes, and various other packages later, he had a small pile of food largely untouched by the ants, and a pantry still completely infested.
After storing the remaining food in a safe place far away from the ants, he hunted through his house for any sort of ant killer, but came up with nothing.
Undeterred and beginning to get aggravated, the stallion searched again, hoping that he missed something the first time, since he was sure he had a can of insect spray somewhere.
But there was nothing to be found.
So, greatly annoyed that he could not solve the problem on his own that night, and that he would have to wait until morning to find an exterminator, he got out a trash bag and began to throw away all the ant-infested food.
Bread, oats, condiments, grains, ingredients, and a lot of ants all were stuffed into the bag, hauled outside, and thrown in the garbage can.
With that done, the stallion trudged back in and collapsed onto his couch, exhausted by the turn of events, only for his stomach to rumble loudly, reminding him that he still had not eaten yet.
Groaning, he got back up and got out a can of peaches, one of the few things left, and, after opening it, reluctantly ate the fruit, cursing the ants under his breath with every bite he took.
And then he went to bed.
The stallion’s pace quickened as he neared his house, and he hoped that the torrential downpour of rain that was currently soaking him, even through his jacket, wouldn’t get any worse in the last few steps to his home.
He practically sprinted up his yard, keys already at the ready, and as quickly as his magic would allow, unlocked his front door and bolted inside, thankful that he was finally out of the rain.
Throwing off his jacket off, he once again lamented both the fact he had forgotten to bring an umbrella and that the pegasi had gone and made such a severe storm in the first place.
Grumbling under his breath, he shambled over to the nearby hall closet and took out a towel to dry himself off with, which he then did.
Now somewhat dryer, though not much happier, the stallion went and peered out a window to check on the conditions outside, and was amazed to see that the weather had gotten even worse in the few minutes since he had gotten home.
It was a proper deluge outside now, with a steady stream of water flowing down the middle of the street and wind that was beginning to rattle the window panes and cover his yard with broken tree branches.
He turned away, drawing the blinds over the window, and began to walk into his living room, when everything lit up as a sudden flash of lightning touched down what must have been only a street away, its ear-splitting crack of accompanying thunder shaking the entire house, causing him to jump in alarm.
Rattled by the booming noise, and cursing under his breath some, the stallion sat down on his couch and settled in for the rest of the day, preparing himself for a long, stormy night.
The stallion laid down in bed, exhausted after a particularly grueling day at work, ready for a quiet, peaceful night of sleep so that he could be ready and energized for work tomorrow morning.
He settled in and turned off his lamp, casting the room into darkness, and pulled the sheets over his body.
There was a brief moment of silence where everything was calm and the stallion finally managed to relax, yawning deeply.
And then, as if on cue, there was a high-pitched speaker feedback whine, followed by some of the loudest, most jarring, and most grating music he had ever had the displeasure to hear coming right from next-door.
He flinched at the sudden noise and sat up in bed, groaning in aggravation.
The situation was nothing new for the stallion, as his neighbor quite frequently played booming music and threw wild parties that lasted for hours, and, as always, it was not appreciated in the slightest, especially tonight of all nights.
Of course, just as he did on any other occasion, he always had the choice to contact the police and try and get them to quiet down, or just go over there himself and ask, but he had always felt as if that was overreacting to the situation, and never did.
So, deciding to once again take no action, he resigned himself to what would probably be another sleepless night, which did little to alleviate the day’s frustrations or better his mood.
Four hours and some minutes passed by before his neighbor shut off his music, but, by that point in time, the stallion had grown so agitated that he took another two hours to actually fall asleep and stay asleep.
And then he woke up some two hours later, still very much stressed, and then had to go to work.
The stallion wandered through the art fair, perusing the rows of booths that were set up and the various wares displayed inside them.
He stopped for a moment as some very intricate, colorful glass figurines caught his eye, and then went over to inspect them closer.
There was one in particular, a small cat ready to pounce, that he thought his coltfriend might like, but decided to look at the rest of the wares before purchasing it.
As he looked, the artist, a kindly old stallion, sitting inside the tent, greeted him and then continued assisting another customer of his.
After a few moments, and seeing nothing else of much interest, the stallion bought the glass cat and continued through the fair, stopping at a few other booths along the way, but didn’t find anything else particularly fascinating.
It was then that he came to a booth that was completely covered in stunning, beautifully detailed paintings of landscapes.
He looked at the few displayed outside, isolated beaches, rocky canyons, serene countrysides, and many more, but could not find the prices on them, so he headed inside to find the artist to inquire further.
The inside was shrouded in near darkness due to the sheer number of paintings lining the walls, and, as his eyes adjusted, he was startled to find what looked like a bat pony mare staring at him out of the shadows.
The stallion had never seen a bat pony before, so, after his initial shock quickly wore off, he found himself immensely curious, and introduced himself and announced his intent to buy one of her paintings.
She seemed confused at first, but then became very excited, explaining with a heavy accent that he would be her first sale of the day and that the paintings cost whatever he wanted to pay.
They chatted for a few moments, the mare briefly explaining to the stallion how and when she began painting, where some of the landscapes were located, and a few other comments about how her week had been, and the stallion responded in kind.
Eventually, the stallion paid what he thought was a good price for a painting of an old bridge crossing over a river, and, judging by the look on the mare’s face, she thought it was a good price too.
After a couple more minutes, the stallion parted ways with the mare, complimenting her on such fine work, and left, pleased with both his purchase and his first interaction with a bat pony.
Author's Note
[Story suggested by Lord Destrustor.]
The stallion stepped into the shower in his hotel room and turned the water on, making sure to stay out of the stream until it became hot enough.
He was away from home for a business meeting and was spending the next few days in the hotel while he completed his work.
Currently, he had just woken up, a little earlier than he normally would have, so that he could make sure that he got ready in enough time to make it to his conference, and had gone into the bathroom to take a shower.
After a short moment, the water turned warm and the stallion moved underneath it, letting the water just roll over his body for a couple of minutes, relaxing in the warmth.
He yawned, still not quite fully awake yet, and started absentmindedly cleaning his coat and mane, without thinking too much of the motions he was going through.
Shutting his eyes, the stallion lathered up some soap and began to scrub his body, singing a tune he had had stuck in his head under his breath as he went.
A few minutes went by like this, until he sensed what felt like a sizable amount of water pooling around his hooves.
Opening his eyes, he glanced down to see, to his surprise, that the shower had backed up and he was standing in a sizable puddle of water that reached a little over a quarter of the way up his legs.
Immediately, he rinsed all the soap off of himself, or most of it, and quickly shut off the water before it could overflow any further.
He stood there for a minute or two, intently watching the water level, hoping that the water would eventually drain away, but it did not.
Cursing under his breath, he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off haphazardly.
Even though he did not particularly want to, he knew that he had to go inform one of the hotel’s staff members about his shower’s problem, so he made himself look halfway presentable and went out to the front desk.
Once there, he told the mare there about what had happened, and she told him that several of the other rooms were also experiencing the same problem, and that maintenance was already working to fix it, assuring him that his shower would be functional by that night.
The stallion thanked her for her assistance and went back to his room, got ready for his meetings, and left for the day.
The stallion woke up one night with a start, violently jolting awake.
He sat up in bed almost immediately, eyes wide, searching all around his tiny, dark room for whatever had awoken him, but did not see anything amiss.
Nothing seemed to be wrong, as far as he could tell in the dim lighting, and after a few moments of intent listening, he did not hear anything particularly worrisome, only the sound of his own breathing.
A large yawn escaped his mouth and he grunted in annoyance, still unsure whether or not something was wrong, and certainly bothered that he had been woken up in the first place.
Tentatively, he slipped out of his bed and trotted over to the light switch on the far wall and turned it on, bathing his room in light.
And there was nothing there that should not have been, nothing seemed to have been moved, and there was no sign of any sort of disturbance.
With his room clear of anything potentially troublesome, the stallion left his bedroom and inspected the rest of the rooms in his house, flipping on all the lights as he went, but still, nothing seemed to be out of place, which only served to exasperate the stallion all the more.
In the end, though, not quite sure what had woken him up, his fears of possible robbers, murders, or anything else bad were put to rest, and the stallion turned all of the lights back off and returned to his bed.
After a few more moments, during which he still could not hear anything troubling, the stallion fell asleep and remained that way for the rest of the night, right until he woke up in the morning.
The stallion winced as another flash of pain jolted through his upper jaw.
He grimaced and held a hoof to his mouth, silently cursing under his breath.
For the past five or so days now, one of his teeth, for he could not quite tell which one, had been causing him a lot of discomfort.
It had started out innocently enough, just as some minor cold sensitivity, but as time went on, the slight pain in his tooth became a constant, throbbing one.
So much so that it was now having an impact on his daily life, to the point where he had to leave work early because he could not concentrate due to the intense and now persistent aching in his jaw.
That night, he even had to take pain medication just to fall asleep, because it hurt just enough to keep him awake.
Even eating was a sordid affair, as he had to take care to chew all of his food on the other side of his mouth, since any sort of pressure near that tooth would send another spike of pain through his jaw.
And, to top it all off, he had absolutely no idea why his tooth was in such a state, and that was almost just as annoying as the actual pain itself.
The stallion brushed regularly, did not eat much junk food, went to the dentist twice a year, and just generally took good care of his teeth, and, even though he flossed only occasionally, much to the chagrin of his dentist, he felt that that was not a likely reason he was in so much pain right now.
It was utterly mystifying.
He did not know why his tooth was hurting so.
But, he did know that he would have to do something about it very, very soon, because it was now unbearable, even through the medicine he had been taking.
And so, he took the next day off of work and went into the dentist's office in the hopes of getting this issue resolved.
By about noontime, he was done and his tooth no longer hurt, though the entire left side of his face was completely numb and he could not eat anything for a few more hours, as was expected.
With that done, he went back home and relaxed for the remainder of the day.
Author's Note
INSERT WITTY AUTHOR'S NOTE HERE
The stallion walked in his front door and slid out of his heavy winter coat, grateful to be in from the freezing cold temperatures that were outside.
It was his birthday today, though that hardly meant much, as he had long since passed by the age where that sort of thing even mattered and was made a big deal of.
His day had been nothing special or out of the ordinary, save for a much-appreciated breakfast made by his wife before they both had left for work, and a few well wishes from his coworkers.
The only other thing that was at all telling was a card he had gotten from his parents several days ago in the mail.
Besides that, nothing.
As one got older, birthdays came to be less and less meaningful and celebrated.
It was a somewhat sad thing, yes, but nothing to be terribly upset over.
The stallion was not expecting much when he got home, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that his wife had gotten in before him today and was cooking him his favorite dish, spaghetti with garlic and oil.
Just that little thing made what had been a rather drab and boring day into one that was far more enjoyable for him.
After that dinner, and the subsequent cleanup of the dishes, they lounged together on their couch and his wife gave him the present she had bought for him.
See, they had agreed some years ago to only ever get one present for each other's birthdays, for purely financial reasons, mind, though that rule was rarely followed in subsequent years, as both could not resist splurging a little for the other.
But this year, he only received the one present, a fact that he was completely fine with, as money had been a little tighter the past few months than normal.
He opened his gift and was very happy with what he received.
They then went to bed and fell asleep, as they both had to get up early and work the next day.
Author's Note
How's everyone doing today?
