When I was a little filly, hide and seek was one of my favorite games. The challenge of finding a particularly clever hiding place, the satisfaction of being able to squirm into even the tiniest nooks and crannies, the stifled giggles from watching Big Mac roam the halls as he fruitlessly checked the same room half a dozen times, and the full-on laughter that ensued once he finally spotted the tuft of my tail peeking out from under the couch, or inside the flower pot, or whatever crazy hidey-hole I managed to stuff myself into that day. He would ruffle my mane and tease me about how he had searched for me for half an hour, sometimes even a full one, however long the game happened to be.
And it just so happened that today was the longest game of hide and seek ever.
With the poor old side door flying back and forth on its hinges, I raced inside the kitchen, nearly toppling the teetering piles of food and pastries that my relatives from all over Equestria had brought us throughout the day. It was real nice of them to visit us, even if it wasn't for the Apple Family Reunion, although I had no idea why they had come at all, since nopony was having a party as far as I knew. My four little hooves pounded heavily against the tender floorboards, but if they could support three generations of Apples, they could bear the added weight of one little filly. With an almost feverish excitement, I eagerly flung open cupboards, looked under tables, and even peeked my head into the wood stove before leaping back from the hot coals with a yelp.
Behind me, Applebloom had just sprinted into the kitchen, her hooves screeching to a halt so as to make tiny grooves in the floor. She called for me to wait, but I was in too much of a hurry (and I wanted the victory of finding them first), so I instead encouraged her to catch up. My heart twinged with sympathy as I turned around to see my baby sister practically tripping over her own hooves in her haste when she was barely old enough to walk anyhow, even by earth pony standards. She was probably already worn out from chasing after me.
With a sigh, I smiled and knelt down to let Applebloom climb on my back. With her forelegs wrapped around my neck and the tuft of her tail swaying back and forth by my blank flank, I took that as the cue to continue the search.
Looking under rugs, above bookshelves, behind picture frames, inside lampshades, and below flowerpots, the two of us were tornadoes wreaking chaotic havoc throughout the room. I was just about to knock over the house's only china vase when another steadying hoof just barely kept it from wobbling over. I looked up to find myself staring into the bright, spring green pools of wisdom that were my brother's eyes. As usual, he didn't speak, only conveyed a mutual feeling of understanding in the kind of special gaze that only two kindred spirits can comprehend. And yet I knew he was hiding something important in this silent conversation, keeping it reserved behind an unseen wall of tears, but I didn't dare ask what it was. All I did was silently and respectfully stand aside, as he bent down to carry our exhausted baby sister to bed for a much needed nap. Not wanting to see the tear streaks matting his fur, I closed my eyes, allowing him to survey me with sadness and pity (Why? Was my failure at hide and seek so pathetic that it deserved pity?) before closing the door and quietly ascending the staircase, with Applebloom's gentle snoring growing ever fainter until it faded into silence. Once they had departed, however, I continued turning the room inside-out, until I deemed it time to move on to the second level of the house.
Outside, Celestia's sky of brilliant gold and soft pink began to pool and fade into shades of inky black and indigo, and the sounds of friendly and not-so-friendly nocturnal creatures cloaked in shadows began to emanate from the Everfree Forest. But inside, however, I was hearing different sounds. The creak of a step, a stifled cough, the swish of a disturbed curtain; all these sounds conjured from my imagination sent me racing in all directions. I knew they were cheating, as they flitted from room to room unseen, but it didn't matter to me. It was a fun kind of challenge, and even with the disadvantage of being outnumbered two to one, I was still determined to win. Still, no matter how fast I ran, they all managed to just turn the corner so they were out of sight. But I would catch up soon; I always did. After all, it's not like they would leave me forever, right?
Eventually, I decided to take my search out into the fields. The cool night wind caressed my fur as the full moon sent a glowing spotlight over my family's apple orchard. I zigzagged through the last few carriages and caravans of our visiting relatives, sprinted through the barn, trampled several stalks of corn, and searched the branches of countless apple trees, but I felt like none of it had brought me any closer to the two ponies I had been pursuing. Rather, I felt like they had been running next to me the whole time, and yet they felt so far away. Only the thinnest of veils separated us, but that distance stretched across a thousand oceans, like a closed portal to another world, and their presence, while certainly tangible, was as fleeting as the wind.
I wanted to cry. I didn't want to play anymore. I just wanted them to come home, to hug me and sing lullabies to me before I went to sleep. But they had to be out here somewhere. I couldn't give up, because giving up meant defeat, and defeat meant loss, and these were two ponies I could never dream of losing. I had to keep looking, no matter how long it took.
Unknown to me, Granny Smith and Granny Apple Rose were standing and watching me from the porch as I searched, shouting their names as I ran through the open fields.
"How long has she been like this?" Apple Rose asked, her voice horribly shaky, like that of somepony trying to hold back tears.
"A few hours, Ah believe," Granny Smith replied mournfully as she saw the orange speck darting to a fro in the moonlight. Pitying the poor filly, Granny Smith sighed, Apple Rose sighed, and even the dark silhouette of the Mare in the Moon suspended in the sky seemed to soften her cruel gaze in favor of compassion for the child.
"Ah know Ah should tell her, but Ah just don't have the heart to," Granny Smith lamented, as her tear-filled eyes saw two especially bright shooting stars streak across the night sky.
"Ah just can't bear to tell her that they're never coming back."
Author's Note
A random idea that came to me while playing hide and seek with my younger neighbor. Constructive criticism and helpful tips are very much appreciated.
