Desirable and Undesirable Factorsby Shadikal12345ChaptersMoney Makes The World GoHere To StayThe Rush vs The FlowMoney Makes The World GoMoney Makes The World Go: Money. Everything in a place with nothing, it is the life source of our community and It's earned through work and work alone. I said work, not labour. Larceny is still technically work, isn't it? You have to put a lot of well-placed effort into the skill of stealing yet it hardly pays off when you get caught. I'm not a thief thankfully, I prefer to earn money in more legitimate manner: Goods Distributer. I sell off items and stocks, even during these testing times. I run a bakery and sell off quality and quantity, sometimes both of them combined, but not usually as It isn't often you get a well-paying customer, but like I said: it can't be helped in these times. I work 9 to 5 all day everyday, making and baking; well, on the exception of this week as it would seem that sales are dying down. If only Celestia would do her job and keep the economy afloat rather than spend it all on glamour, none of which are actually parties; otherwise I'd have been rich a long time ago. "Pinkie, you have another request from Canterlot and two more from Ponyville," A familiar tongue calls out from the back. Those are the first orders this week, thank f-... *Goodness. "Oki Doki, thanks," I respond, testing the floorboards. "These are going to need to be replaced," muttering, I turn to the door as a new face enters the store. Greeting the male, I'm met with a dull grunt as he continues to browse the shelves at the opposite side of the room. He takes little interest in what's actually lying in front of him, and pays more attention to the things further away. I'm not sure if he knows I'm watching him though, but he'll get more than an earful if he tries to steal from me. Clattering comes from the kitchen, a couple of pans had been dropped but even still, such disturbances wouldn't distract me. Giving a disgruntled sigh, the young man finally loses all interest and decides to leave, while doing so; I wave him off as he slams the door behind him. "Another one?" Clover asks, emerging from the room behind me. I nod, "Yup, another one." Disappointment fills the room. Another unsuccessful attempt at local sales. The only things that are keeping us running are our discreet connections with the nobles in Canterlot. Pretentious Douche Bags, Clover calls 'em. I'd rather she didn't say that though. I mean, one of my friends is the one keeping us up; but that's where she gets me. "Some friend she must be if she decided to take your boyfriend." Some friend I must've been to drive her there. What I did to spite her was all just a prank, a harmless prank but faults on my part lead it to become a stupid little lie and that lie... That lie cost me dearly... "C'mon, we've got to go... Y'know, take a stroll around the streets." I give her a discerned look, gesture toward the sign hanging loosely above the door. "Oh. Come. On," rolling her eyes in utter disbelief, she struts her stuff imitating a pompous little girl she used to know. She tends to do that when she's angry, act like the one who picked on her when she was little. "Look, I've got to take care of the store, but you can go have twice as much fun to make up for the fun I won't have," laughing nervously, I quickly retreat to the kitchen and grab myself a cupcake hoping that she'll just leave, but she doesn't. There's a sterness in her voice as it creeps through the still air, from one room to the other. The store to the kitchen. "You can't dwell on things like that. It's bad for your health. I remember a time you were the happiest girl I'd ever met-" "I really don't think it's worth sharing nostalgic times right now..." Dismissing any sort of notion she might've got. "I just want to be alone, is that too much to ask for?" I bite into the savoury, spit it out in the bin next to me. Stale. She says nothing more and I hear her slowly walk out the front door, creaking shut the glass window shudders as it clicks into place. Finally Alone. The room feels so macabre, like a medieval kitchen made of stone and wood. It's a mess, the whole thing. The benches are covered in ragged towels and dirty utensils, it's a wonder how anything actually gets done in here... Wait, I should know how everything gets done in here, it's my kitchen and my mess. My other friends do next to nothing when it comes to contributing to this shop of mine. I make a mental list to myself: Dishes, Snacks (Delicious Snacks,) and a nice quiet story. I go over that list, come across something I hadn't thought of in a while. Change. I've changed since I moved away from Ponyville, from my friends. Well, they changed first but who am I to complain? Rainbow Dash got bored with life in the backwater town so when she achieved stardom she left without hesitation. Applejack sort of remained on the farm but would disappear every now and again to her cousins in Appleoosa. Twilight was offered a position in some college very far away, then transferred to Canterlot shortly after. Rarity isolated herself to the comforts of the boutique, sooner attending her work than having fun at parties. Fluttershy also consoled herself, but in a more lonely and sad manner. Don't get me wrong, I tried to cheer her up but she simply wouldn't budge. And finally, me... I was reluctant to change, I remember being the me I was till the very end, till things died down, so then I moved here with Clover and her little sister. Both of them students. I don't really hear from them anymore, but that's the price you pay for having such loosely tied friendships. Easy come - Easy go. What a naive life I lived, making people laugh and suddenly they become my friends? No, I did try and talk to them, I sung for them and I did everything else that was necessary to maintain that friendship. It wasn't my methods but time that made me lose them. Time and change. "Alright Pinkie, you need a pick-me-up. Hot cocoa for a cold winter day?" Pushing myself gently away from the wall, I toss the cupcake into the bin and start up the jug. I hear a distinct jingle, so I turn and rush out to the front. "Good afternoon," she says, but I don't catch a glimpse of this customer anywhere. I try to set some sort of composure, but the nervousness sinks in and I can't help but tremble. "A-afternoon, do you-" "You're scared because you can't see me? I'm behind the far aisle, I'm also a little short," then popping out from the corner comes a familiar little girl. "Still recognize me?" She asks. I almost jump back, seeing that oh so familiar lavender and pink streaked mane. "Sweetie Belle?!" I gasp, jumping over the counter I give her a hug while barely containing my excitement. Returning the embrace for a short while, we release each other and I laugh. "I scared you, didn't I?" She giggles, throwing a playful nudge at me which I deflect with minimal effort. "Yup," I admit shamefully. "What're you doing here by the way?" "Sis has some sort of business here. Fashion or something... Also, heard that you opened a bakery here." "Where'd you hear that?" "Someone recommended it, a girl named-... Clover?" I give her an assuring wink, "A weird girl, wouldn't ya reckon?" "So you know her," A sudden realization overtakes the calmer intonations. Nodding happily, I return to the counter, invite Sweetie Belle over and pass her one of the pies on display. "It's cold, but it'll do. Berry Pie, not too bad to be honest." "Doesn't look like your best creation, honestly. You should've stayed in Ponyville." Twirling the savoury in hand she gives it a good prospect before taking a slow, cautious bite. "I disagree. I stayed my time and had to leave," grabbing another pie from the diplay, I too begin eating it. Cold and crumbly, the shell is so brittle that it breaks, almost melts as my teeth sink in. "N ee waesh, ah koodn't- *swallow* - just open another store in Ponyville, too much competition against the Cakes. We'd be divided." Sweetie, who has a few more lessons in social etiquette finishes her mouthful before speaking. "True, but still, you did have friends there. I was there. I'm sure Rarity could've hired you as a model or something." "No," Shaking my head I take another bite, look around the run down room. "Ahm nawt th modehlin tahyp." "Why don't you eat first, then speak. Rarity would be disgusted." "But you aren't Rarity," I retort. "Fair point, speaking about Rarity, I should probably get back to the station." Then taking a napkin from beside the display case and a pen beside the order bell, she writes down a number. "Call us if you need anything or-... Y'know, want me to come over and visit sometime. We could catch up or something." She looks like a nervous school girl giving away her number to a boy, leg slightly cocked her tip toes pressing against the ground. "You mean not having to do chores for Rarity," I joke, having a good laugh. "Yeah, something like that." Fiddling with the pen a little, she hesitates to leave. Something's on her mind, clearly. "Well, see ya!" I wave, giving her a little shock. Dropping the pen she pushes the number towards me then makes a hasty dash out. I have a small relapse of the moment she pushes away the pen and notice something. She's upset about something. "See, the world does care about you Pinkie!" My mind screams at me, but I ignore my mind because sometimes it gets on my nerves. Making a quick sprint into the kitchen, I take a look around to see a steaming jug in the middle of the bench. "Cocoa, I've come for you!" I cry out as I take long valiant strides to the cupboards. Old wooden things they are, like the rest of this place but atleast it all matches up. It all matches up in a crumby broken down way. Opening the door I stretch my arm up to the farthest shelf and let my hand do a little scouting. Jam, Cup, Spice - I really should organize this place a little better - ah, there it is: cocoa. Flicking it toward the edge, the tin spins around but I feel it coming my way and as it finally reaches the end I knock it off and catch it with both hands. Success! Setting the tin down by the jug I make my way briskly toward the fridge and give that a good browsing. Dissappointed, I find half the stuff in here a day away from being off or already off. "Time to do some major tidying up," I mutter to no-one in particular. Milk? Yes. Off? *Sniff* HELL YES! Tossing the milk into the trash, I rub my nose hoping to recover from the putrid smell. "Damn girl, you really need to clean things up," re-arranging my mental checklist, I begin prioritizing and adding things in. Cocoa? Dishes, Fridge and Cupboards, Groceries, Cocoa and Story... Sleep! A tiny glint catches the corner of my eye, grabbing my attention immediately. It's a knife, a tiny glimmer reflecting off the blade throws my mind into reminiscence. The thin sliver piercing flesh, the almost erotic feeling it gives as you drive it in, breaking the delicate skin. Biting my lower lip, I turn away and put myself back together but even still, the thought remains in the back of my head, itching. "You need to sort yourself out too because you're mind is going all sorts of crazy!" That's probably what Clover would've said if she knew what I was thinking, doing right now. Well it's true, I mean lately my mind has been all sorts of places bouncing back and forth. Just like people actually. They all just come and go... Taking a short leisurely stroll into the back department, I open up the deposit box and check the cash. Wow, we're too poor to afford a lock for our deposit. Lame... "Three Hundred, Four, Five, Seven... Twelve?" Sudden regret fills me and even though I know noone is listening, I still fear that if I count aloud, someone will hear. I remove a bit of cash and stow the box back in it's place. Beneath a few pieces of paper in the lowest recesses of these confined shelves. We're barely scraping by, what the heck?! Maybe if I convinced Clover or her sister to get a job then maybe... But I doubt they will, lazy bums! One more time. Clean up. Groceries. Talk about Jobs. Snacks. Sleep... "This is going to be a long day," I sigh. Here To StayHere To Stay: Roaming aimlessly, I happen upon a little duckling stranded and alone in the middle of the park. Crouching down I reach out, calmly talking to it, luring it in when a stone suddenly pelts the back of my head. "Ow, what the-?!" I grab myself, pulling the hood down over my face I duck and run. I hear laughing as I run, then: "That's right, you better run! We won't let you hurt that duckling like you did..." I can't hear them anymore, but now I've been driven further into the park, further into isolation. I manage to cross a puddle along my path and take a long hard look at myself. The concrete grey hoodie is filthy and my jeans - well they were blue when I bought 'em - are somewhat faded, mud stained and smell of trash. Homelessness is a pretty hard lifestyle, but then again, beggars can't be choosers. Apparently. There's a little story about me that circulates through Ponyville, and though I disapprove it doesn't stop the whispers. They even made it into a limerick of sorts. "One girl and many pets, In one day, a lifetimes debts A crime committed by one insane, One is never the same again, One girl and no pets." It's popular but also banned because of its vulgarity thanks to the mayor. I'm grateful that at the very least, even if I can't be trusted that what little integrity I have left, can be respected. I hear the cawing of birds echo through the trees, the breeze whispering as it does. A sunny day to contrast against my feeling, warmth against lonliness and soft blues against earthy greys. Though, I'm used to being alone, used to not being in everyones way but today it seems like most other days that lonliness is just going to get the better of me. Pushing my feelings aside for a bit, I lay down on the grass and get myself a good view of the sky, unobscured by the trees that hum and groan as they sway from side to side. A few leaves tumble over me as a chill comes across, shoots straight through me like a million tiny ice like claws. Shivering, I lean up for a bit, locate the nearest tree and scuffle towards it. Tired, hungry and alone. Afraid, sad and angry. Emotion, thought and action. I wish I had only fought harder for myself, or that my friends- No, they're not my real friends. They didn't stick up for me when I needed them, talk to me when I was alone. They are not my friends. Reaching into my pocket, I pull a crumpled piece of paper from the folds and unravel it slowly, fingers fumbling as the cold renders my exposed muscles useless. Finally, after a few moments of pathetic struggle I manage to completely reveal the contents inside. A photo, burnt slightly around the left side. It was the only thing I managed to salvage what wasn't already on my own back. Looking at the picture brings back memories of us a friends, when Twilight was just a crazy book worm and Rarity a vain little princess. Pinkie was a crazy party girl and Applejack was rather settled, working hard on the orchard. But Dash, she was the one I focussed on the most, thought she'd stick up for me, hoped that she'd be there for me. She was afterall, the one who looked after me when I was young. I stroke the photo with upmost care, dragging my fingers across each of their faces, each but my own. A scorch mark runs through me and an empty hole where my face once was, had melted away. Rays break through the leaves, beam down on the photo and bring a strange warmth to the atmosphere. "Fluttershy," I hear someone call over my shoulder, the voice comes from behind the tree. "It's been a while, little butterfly." A deep and heavy accent, foreign but feminine. "Ze-Zecora?" I ask, peeping out behind me. "Take off that hood my dear, for me there is no reason to fear," Approaching me, she sits down next to me, takes interest in the photo as she leans in to closely examine it. "Such a time when you had these friends, too bad it all came to an end." "You're rhyme scheme is pretty bad, I think you're getting a little lazy," The insult comes so casually to me, from me and off me. A few years ago, I never thought such words would've come from my mouth but now they flow like water. Zecora appears a little offended, puffing her cheeks she lets out one long huff before: "Well why don't you try living in a forest by yourself then, I'm sure you'll find it easy." "Is that an invitation?" I ask, looking her in the eyes. A cool breeze brisks past us once again, my fringe falls apart and seperates into threads slightly covering my left eye. "Now don't get your hopes up," She begins, staring outward into the park. "I doubt I'll be allowed to under the current circumstances. Social outcasts should not band together, it only worsens our position." "Oh," I sigh, scrunching the photo back into a ball, stuff it into my pocket as a chill runs down me. "I'm sorry Fluttershy, really... But I can't provide you with the help you need right now. I can try discussing it with the Mayor, but I doubt-..." I stop her where she is, trying not to rise my hopes again. "It's okay, really. I've been living like this for a year now, I'm starting to get used to it." I admire the bangs around her neck, just two gold rings lathered in a long white sheet of hair which covers the slightly exposed shoulders, curves over her breast. "I like your clothes," I say, tone sheepish. "They look really nice." She reveals a khaki satchel from behind her, lies it down in front of me. "I was looking for you these last few days, this at the very least is what I can do," pushing the bag toward me I openly accept it. Undoing the few buckles to find a fresh set of clothes, a small loaf of bread and a flask. My eyes widen with hunger, gratitude, joy and saddness as I'm left absolutely speechless. "It's not-... No, don't cry," Reaching out she wipes my cheeks. When did I start crying?! "I'm not crying," I lie pathetically, sniveling a little. "See? Happy face," The smile feels weak, probably looks just as bad. "Yeah, not working sorry," Zecora replies, completely unconvinced. No surprises there. "I want you to get changed into these," Literally throwing the bag at me this time, I almost stagger back as I barely catch it. "Hand me those other clothes when you're done, okay?" I quickly lurch upright, bounce to my feet and find the nearest place to change in discretion. A few bushes stand out to me, but I realize that the surrounding area is far too open for my liking and the branches too spaced out. I then notice a stream of water passing through not too far from those bushes and a conveniently placed bridge, but I'd be standing in water so that won't work either. "Just go over there," I hear Zecora say, pointing out a nice outcrop of land surrounded by several well placed trees, oak by the look of it. "You'll be fine, people don't usually come this far into the park, that's to say it's too time consuming." Her tone is scary but I love it, such an exotic voice but it all sounds too good to be true; clothes, food and sympathy. There must be a catch. That's something about me I've realised. Trust doesn't come so easily anymore, but I'm becoming more and more attached to this generosity. "Thank you again." "Don't mention it." I make a quick break for it, running as fast as I can in fear of being seen. My heart pounds as adrenaline rushes through me, like old times. Times when I'd get scared of something like my own shadow, then dash to the nearest bush to get away or loud noises like thunder during storms. Everything scared me, but it helped that there was always something to hold onto during hard times. I manage to cross the field with a little breath left in me, panting I drop to my knees suddenly, sweat breaks out over me. I should really clean myself before getting into these clothes, damn it, what's wrong with me? "Damn it, what do I do now?!" I curse, see Zecora walking towards me. She's smiling, that grim but charming smile; it hasn't changed. I edge the lip of the bushes, poke my head out, "I need to wash myself down," I call out but my predicament goes unanswered till she arrives. "I'm not sure why I didn't think of this before, but what about the public bath house?" The idea shocks me, there's no way anyone would let me in there. Not after all the distrust the town holds towards me, but not only that; the absolute disgrace I'd have to face as I'm stormed with insults. "Don't worry, it's a public holiday today remember?" "Oh... Right, I knew that; yeah." Grabbing me by the arm she gently pulls me from the bushes, they rustle and snap as I trod clumsily through them. "Everyone should be here at the park by eve, that's when I'll take you in. Actually, there's someone there who has been wanting to see you, but too afraid to compromise her position if caught." "Who?" I ask, gripping the satchel. "Lotus, she's been waiting patiently for you to come on by." I give Zecora a curious look, "How do you know?" "I'm still welcome there of course, but I'm not appreciated by everyone who's still a little sceptical of me and my methods." Sighing, I sit myself down on the grass. "Will you stay with me for a bit?" She almost looks surprised, her expression quickly changing to a softer tone however. "Of course, it must be lonely wandering the streets," sitting down she wraps an arm around me, brings me in. "I wonder though, even after all of this, your teeth are still so pearly white." I find this a strange statement, something very odd to point out but comfortably reply: "Some people take pity on me, others mock me but they still leave me with atleast a little dignity. Though I don't know who, a toothbrush and a little tube of paste was left outside the bus shelter." "And you didn't find that suspicious?" I shrug, "Back then I was desperate, I threw myself on the ground and begged for someone, anyone to let me in." "You have been through some tough times," she pets my head and I lean in on her shoulders, nuzzle in. "I don't know why I didn't turn to my friends when I had the chance, I really don't..." Things happened like some sort of decline, like they just started rolling down one massive hill; endlessly. Into the pits of eternity, they all fell away and I felt nothingness fill me like a massive black ocean, it crashed and curled, drowning out everything I held close to me once, a long time ago. That's how I felt when they left me, when things changed so suddenly. My friends... "You didn't do it for them?" The question rocks me, my eyes shoot open as I break my lulled senses. For them? "I don't think that once, in that state did I ever think about their intentions." "What about Rarity, I know for certain that she still lives here." I shake my head, my hoodie scuffles a little. "Yes, she does still live here, but she cut our connection long before any of that. Have you-..." I feel Zecora nod, a quiet hum of affirmation confirms the answer before the question. "I've heard the stories; I shouldn't have asked." "No, you shouldn't have..." "It's tragic, really-" "I don't want to talk about it," Biting my lip, I restrain my next few words, revise and reconsider, then: "She might not be my friend, but I still respect her; Rarity that is." "Should I tell her that the next time I'm in?" I think it over, shake my head, "No, neither of us would profit from something like that." "You're still concerned about the outcome of others?" A leaf floats down in the wind, twirls gracefully before landing down by my feet. I stare blankly, but thoughts cross my mind, some trivial and others... These shoes, they're starting to hurt me, maybe I should check out the dump later on or something... Yes, I had delved as far as the dumps to get what I needed, a cesspool of waste becomes a wide open store for me to observe, take what I wish. What's that saying, One mans trash is another mans treasure? Whatever it is, I held to its letter. It isn't theft either since the dump is literally one huge heap of trash and it isn't owned by anyone, even the people who manage it. They just take note of the mess, make sure it isn't crowded and keep check of whether any vandals might come in and try something brash. What a wonderful green, the leaf, so green... "You're not hungry? You haven't touched your food yet," with her free hand, Zecora reaches around my front and I quickly pull her in, bury my face into her shoulder. "Please, please don't go!" My fingers grip the dress tightly, desperately. I want to hold onto her forever, the first known person to be compassionate to me and I don't ever want to let her go. It might've been unwise, it might've been sudden but my outburst had a reason behind it, pent up feelings. Gently but surely she pushes me away, lifts my face and stares deeply, sympathetically into my eyes. "You aren't alone," she pecks me on the forehead, brushes me down. The feeling of hands being where they are, where they were and where they're going feels all too familiar; a sign of comfort. "You really should eat though, at the very least." I oblige, wiping the tears away I fumble around for the satchel behind me and lift it around. Opening the lip I pull out the bread, find it's wrapped in a dry green leaf much like lettuce except it isn't crunchy. Snapping the cake in half I offer one half to Zecora who politely presses it back. "It's yours, you eat it." "Thanks again, really." I take a small bite and return my view to the leaf. It's crumbly, falls apart in my mouth... It's good! The sweetness runs through my mouth like a rush of sugar bursting from a sweet. "This is amazing," I gasp, gripping the bread in an attempt that I hope it never ends, this euphoria. I recognize something though, a familiar taste almost like I should know it. I take another bite, this time a little bigger. "Do you recognize it, the taste? A signature of someone you used to know." Swallowing the lump I reach into the bag and pull out the flask, quickly unscrew the cap and pour its contents into the lid. It steams, the liquid does and the smell of spice rings throughout. I throw it all down, ignore the heat of the broth as I make another move to the bread. "It's Pinkies' bread and I'll have you know that she's living in Manehattan. Apparently she owns a bakery there, sells goods every now and again." I stop eating, look up and ask: "Why are you telling me this?" She almost sounds surprised, replies: "Well, wouldn't you like to know how your friends are doing?" With the arm she had wrapped around me, she manoeuvres it down my body and places her hand against mine. "At the very least, know that they're happy. Whether it's because you didn't interfere or because they grew that way; they're happy." "They're happy, but I'm not..." "It's only natural, you're homeless after all. Homeless people generally aren't happy because they hold onto the things that made them suffer, can't get past them. If they could move on, don't you think that they could turn their lives around?" "I stink," Changing the subject, I quickly place the flask, sealed up in the satchel. "It's getting dark, I think I should leave now." "We should leave now, a great suggestion." Picking up the satchel she grabs my hand and pulls me up. "I don't know how you've managed to survive this long alone, kept yourself in shape but it's impressive; you must have quite the story to tell." "Maybe later," I swat it away. The Rush vs The FlowThe Rush vs The Flow: The gowns here look simply magnificent, taking their rightful place upon the display racks as they should, thus I marvel at my creations with the upmost pride. I'm a little picky as to which dress is my favourite though, no thanks to my judgemental little sister who always likes to pressure me when I don't need it. "Rarity, oh miss Rari-ty! You've done another outstanding job if I do say so myself," I get a pat on the back, crude but gracious. "There's no need for flattery, Miss shores; honestly. These aren't really my best pieces," Gliding my fingers down the sleeve of the dress, I turn to Sapphire who's giving a glance at another piece of work. She purses her lips together, manoeuvres around me still keeping her hand on my back as if she was about to show me something. "Well, I must admit that these pieces are a little unique, at least in contrast to your other works." "The theme for this show was a little in the area I'm least experienced in," There's a sense of irony in that statement. "The streets-" "The streets? Darling you mean the Red Light District," she waltz' around me, "The theme is Taboo and you hit the right spots." (Only a whore knows how to design a whores' clothing.) I almost blush, a flush of heat runs through me. "Well I'm-" "Flattered?" Sapphires tone dulls down, the hype disappears and what's left is darkness; gravity. "Don't be, a compliment is a compliment so be happy with it, not flattered. Flattery means that you disagree, hold feelings against it." (You're a silly little girl with no sense of fashion, and those thin threads men call sexy are nothing but red strips of latex and a maids outfit. How pathetic!) I'm almost fuming, feeling the blood within me boil I hold tight my lips and clench my fists. "Easy to aggravate, that's new." (That's right, get pissed off and see what happens.) "Thank you for the chat, Sapphire." Emphasis, the key intonation of hatred. "It was wonderful spe-" Sapphire groans, pulls me away from the display. "Don't lie, it wasn't wonderful at all!" (You're falling for it, Rarity.) "I just want to go," Pulling away, I make my leave but a hand holds me back. "Get off me!" I spin around and lift my arm up, threatening to strike her. She almost looks genuinely surprised as she staggers back. "Whoa now girl, you get a hold of yourself!" She's trying to make me the bad guy here?! "How dare you! You come here, insult me, berate me and you think that you can make me the bad guy?!" I must have the entire backstage focussed on me now. Her composure returns, she acts cool saying: "I did no such thing, I simply complimented you..." "I'm going now, farewell Miss Shores." I wave, exiting the room and out the back. There was no response, at least from what I could hear; just the sound of hurried assistants and the clambering of other things. And finally I close the door behind me, refuse to step within that facility again but I do regret some of the things I said back there. Oh well, it's too late now. I'll just have to accept what's happened and hope things change. At least I have my money. Reaching for my pockets, I scavenge around till I find an envelope, a little scrunched but still viable. The lip of the envelope peels off as I slide my nail beneath, the glue audibly tears and with a satisfied feeling I pull the contents from the pocket. ^10,000.00 (EQB) It's quite a unique check, a symbol of our nations currency is printed in green at the right corner, two upright mares wielding a pair of banners, one in each mouth. "Luna est dominae - Sola est Dominae. Equestria est Dominae" printed beneath them, written in their shadows. It's quite a fancy check indeed, but what really matters is the digits written and hand signed for legitimacy. Photo Finish, what a stupid bitch... Reasons, what reasons? She's stupid and she's a bitch! I fold the cheque in two, slide it into my pocket. I look at my apparel, less than adequate. Tanned ugg boots and a pair of plain old blue jeans. The bottoms look scuffed and the leggings are a little worn through but I'm comfortable with that I guess. At the very least I know that the upper-class society I used to cherish would scorn me for wearing such... such... Clothes. There's no real point in trying to figure out what fancy word to use, in the end; they're all just clothes. The back alley is pretty trashy, smells the same too and it's rather wonderful; beats having to smell pretty all day to be honest. I wonder, do I belong here with this trash? It feels comforting enough, welcoming and homely just like the rest of the filth I called society. This is what it feels like to shower in diamonds, completely and utterly painful. The rush of society, people, adapting and evolving to things that barely exist for more than a minute; it's disgraceful. I'm disgraceful. "Hey, Rarity!" I want to clasp my hinds to my ears, hold them there and ignore the rest of the world but my morals get the better of me. Turning, I suddenly regret my feelings noticing my little sister in the distance. She runs towards me with a worried look on her face, asks: "What's wrong?" I give her a feigned smile, reply: "Nothing dear, everything went swimmingly and I have my pay, so we can move on out if you want to." She grabs my hand, happily pulls me along with her as she leaps into a hyper stride. "You'll never guess who I say today!" She exclaims in a peppy voice and I can't help but feel different, a little lighter. "Who?" I ask, leaning in I poke her in the arm. "Pinkie Pie!" She squeals, the name echoes through the alley and catches the attention of a few bystanders who were casually chatting away. "Really? That's astounding, how is she?" I at least try to act like I'm interested, but- "She looks like she's doing okay," There's a short pause, then: "But I think she's lonely." We stop just outside the exit of the alleyway and into the semi crowded streets. "I think you should go talk to her before, be friends again?" The suggestion was nice, really it was but I just didn't feel up for it. There's something that holds me back, maybe a pent up desire of some sort, a thought that sits in the back of my mind that silently rejects her presence. I look at my sister with caring eyes, gently shake my head. "Honey, that's probably not the best idea right now." "Please stop with the pet names, it's really disturbing." "Alright then, Sweetie Bell. Let's get to the train station and go back home-" Sweetie interjects with a long hard sigh, "But before that we should get something to eat, I'm absolutely famished!" (And ten grand richer!) but then she jumps up in utter glee. "We should go to this place, it's really nice I saw it on the way here; c'mon!" I stop solid in my tracks, grip Sweetie's hand and though she pulls, she doesn't offer much against me. "What does Pinkie Pie do, as a job that is?" "Uhh, bakery like in Ponyville. Why? I thought you weren't interested in her." "Well I'd just like to know is all, also, where are we going?" "To Pink-" "No." A foreboding tone overwhelms me, breaks my composure. "Why would you do that to me? Why would you take me to the one person I don't want to talk to!" "You wanted food, I wanted to see Pinkie Pie!" "Sweetie, I've already explained to you-!" "No," she throws her arms back, starts her tantrum. It's always like this, no matter how hard I try for her, she just wants to argue. "No, you just can't get over what happened in the past! Things happened and people left, get over it! At least there was one person who cared and that was Pinkie!" I lose myself, she pushes me to my breaking point and the next thing I know there's a look of terror in her eyes; her lips quiver and she starts to cower while raising her arm up, but it doesn't help her as I give my little sister one solid slap across the face, forcing her to the ground. Shock and terror are the only things present in those eyes of hers, no tears, just: shock and terror. "It hurts when you do this, Sweetie! You always take it too far and you think that you're the only one who's hurt whenever things like this happen, but have you ever considered your sisters feelings, my feelings?!" "No!" She screams, kicking at me. "You don't have any feelings, you always work and you don't have any friends!" "I don't have any friends because they left me!" My voice becomes hoarse, I struggle to keep up but I continue fighting, I argue till I'm right and I argue till I'm in tears; until she's in tears, because that's how it has always been. "Why can't you understand that? I gave up on them because they gave up on me!" There's a shudder in my voice, the words quake as the pour from my lips, roll off the tongue. We've gathered quite the audience today, haven't we? Oh well, at least it isn't anyone I really know. People, no matter where, no matter when, they'll never step in; always too afraid to get into matters that they don't think they can control. I hate that about people. "No they didn't! No one left you, they left to pursue their dreams! Which didn't mean you had to crawl into a hole and forget about the world!" "We're going home, right now! Nothing more needs to be said, if you want to eat; get something on the train with your own money." "But I don't have any money!" "Then you'll starve!" I pull her by the gruff a few meters and I don't relent as she scuffles her feet trying to get a good foothold before shaking free. "I don't want to fight anymore, just please listen to me," I beg, holding my hands together in the hope for mercy. She holds her cheek: "Hot," winces, lowering her hand a look of anger and pain burns me, froths from her eyes an engulfing flame. A small trickle of blood runs down like a little red tear, her cheek almost on the verge of swelling. "Unforgivable." It's a whimper, a shuddering and deathly whimper and as she walks away I reach out to her, manage to grab her shoulder. "Please stop." Whether or not my words were heeded, I don't know, but at least she submits. My little sister has a fiery temper and though she tries to hide it, she's an open book for me to read, just with a few missing pages. Prying my hand away she continues her silent strides, her dress waves with every step, her hair mirrors those movements. I wait for a few seconds, creating a safe and comfortable distance between us before following. I think about Sweetie Belle, when I slapped her the only words going through me head were: Please stop. Please stop. Please! But I wanted to keep hitting her, I wanted to see her in tears, in blood... There lies regret within me, the action replays itself over and over again in my head that I start drowning myself in them. "Sweetie Belle, I'm sorry..." There's no way she would've heard that, not at that volume, from this distance. "Is there ever going to be a time when we stop this arguing?" Author's Note Chapters 4 and 5 will be posted when 6 is complete. Also, constructive criticism and blah, blah, blah...
Money Makes The World GoMoney Makes The World Go: Money. Everything in a place with nothing, it is the life source of our community and It's earned through work and work alone. I said work, not labour. Larceny is still technically work, isn't it? You have to put a lot of well-placed effort into the skill of stealing yet it hardly pays off when you get caught. I'm not a thief thankfully, I prefer to earn money in more legitimate manner: Goods Distributer. I sell off items and stocks, even during these testing times. I run a bakery and sell off quality and quantity, sometimes both of them combined, but not usually as It isn't often you get a well-paying customer, but like I said: it can't be helped in these times. I work 9 to 5 all day everyday, making and baking; well, on the exception of this week as it would seem that sales are dying down. If only Celestia would do her job and keep the economy afloat rather than spend it all on glamour, none of which are actually parties; otherwise I'd have been rich a long time ago. "Pinkie, you have another request from Canterlot and two more from Ponyville," A familiar tongue calls out from the back. Those are the first orders this week, thank f-... *Goodness. "Oki Doki, thanks," I respond, testing the floorboards. "These are going to need to be replaced," muttering, I turn to the door as a new face enters the store. Greeting the male, I'm met with a dull grunt as he continues to browse the shelves at the opposite side of the room. He takes little interest in what's actually lying in front of him, and pays more attention to the things further away. I'm not sure if he knows I'm watching him though, but he'll get more than an earful if he tries to steal from me. Clattering comes from the kitchen, a couple of pans had been dropped but even still, such disturbances wouldn't distract me. Giving a disgruntled sigh, the young man finally loses all interest and decides to leave, while doing so; I wave him off as he slams the door behind him. "Another one?" Clover asks, emerging from the room behind me. I nod, "Yup, another one." Disappointment fills the room. Another unsuccessful attempt at local sales. The only things that are keeping us running are our discreet connections with the nobles in Canterlot. Pretentious Douche Bags, Clover calls 'em. I'd rather she didn't say that though. I mean, one of my friends is the one keeping us up; but that's where she gets me. "Some friend she must be if she decided to take your boyfriend." Some friend I must've been to drive her there. What I did to spite her was all just a prank, a harmless prank but faults on my part lead it to become a stupid little lie and that lie... That lie cost me dearly... "C'mon, we've got to go... Y'know, take a stroll around the streets." I give her a discerned look, gesture toward the sign hanging loosely above the door. "Oh. Come. On," rolling her eyes in utter disbelief, she struts her stuff imitating a pompous little girl she used to know. She tends to do that when she's angry, act like the one who picked on her when she was little. "Look, I've got to take care of the store, but you can go have twice as much fun to make up for the fun I won't have," laughing nervously, I quickly retreat to the kitchen and grab myself a cupcake hoping that she'll just leave, but she doesn't. There's a sterness in her voice as it creeps through the still air, from one room to the other. The store to the kitchen. "You can't dwell on things like that. It's bad for your health. I remember a time you were the happiest girl I'd ever met-" "I really don't think it's worth sharing nostalgic times right now..." Dismissing any sort of notion she might've got. "I just want to be alone, is that too much to ask for?" I bite into the savoury, spit it out in the bin next to me. Stale. She says nothing more and I hear her slowly walk out the front door, creaking shut the glass window shudders as it clicks into place. Finally Alone. The room feels so macabre, like a medieval kitchen made of stone and wood. It's a mess, the whole thing. The benches are covered in ragged towels and dirty utensils, it's a wonder how anything actually gets done in here... Wait, I should know how everything gets done in here, it's my kitchen and my mess. My other friends do next to nothing when it comes to contributing to this shop of mine. I make a mental list to myself: Dishes, Snacks (Delicious Snacks,) and a nice quiet story. I go over that list, come across something I hadn't thought of in a while. Change. I've changed since I moved away from Ponyville, from my friends. Well, they changed first but who am I to complain? Rainbow Dash got bored with life in the backwater town so when she achieved stardom she left without hesitation. Applejack sort of remained on the farm but would disappear every now and again to her cousins in Appleoosa. Twilight was offered a position in some college very far away, then transferred to Canterlot shortly after. Rarity isolated herself to the comforts of the boutique, sooner attending her work than having fun at parties. Fluttershy also consoled herself, but in a more lonely and sad manner. Don't get me wrong, I tried to cheer her up but she simply wouldn't budge. And finally, me... I was reluctant to change, I remember being the me I was till the very end, till things died down, so then I moved here with Clover and her little sister. Both of them students. I don't really hear from them anymore, but that's the price you pay for having such loosely tied friendships. Easy come - Easy go. What a naive life I lived, making people laugh and suddenly they become my friends? No, I did try and talk to them, I sung for them and I did everything else that was necessary to maintain that friendship. It wasn't my methods but time that made me lose them. Time and change. "Alright Pinkie, you need a pick-me-up. Hot cocoa for a cold winter day?" Pushing myself gently away from the wall, I toss the cupcake into the bin and start up the jug. I hear a distinct jingle, so I turn and rush out to the front. "Good afternoon," she says, but I don't catch a glimpse of this customer anywhere. I try to set some sort of composure, but the nervousness sinks in and I can't help but tremble. "A-afternoon, do you-" "You're scared because you can't see me? I'm behind the far aisle, I'm also a little short," then popping out from the corner comes a familiar little girl. "Still recognize me?" She asks. I almost jump back, seeing that oh so familiar lavender and pink streaked mane. "Sweetie Belle?!" I gasp, jumping over the counter I give her a hug while barely containing my excitement. Returning the embrace for a short while, we release each other and I laugh. "I scared you, didn't I?" She giggles, throwing a playful nudge at me which I deflect with minimal effort. "Yup," I admit shamefully. "What're you doing here by the way?" "Sis has some sort of business here. Fashion or something... Also, heard that you opened a bakery here." "Where'd you hear that?" "Someone recommended it, a girl named-... Clover?" I give her an assuring wink, "A weird girl, wouldn't ya reckon?" "So you know her," A sudden realization overtakes the calmer intonations. Nodding happily, I return to the counter, invite Sweetie Belle over and pass her one of the pies on display. "It's cold, but it'll do. Berry Pie, not too bad to be honest." "Doesn't look like your best creation, honestly. You should've stayed in Ponyville." Twirling the savoury in hand she gives it a good prospect before taking a slow, cautious bite. "I disagree. I stayed my time and had to leave," grabbing another pie from the diplay, I too begin eating it. Cold and crumbly, the shell is so brittle that it breaks, almost melts as my teeth sink in. "N ee waesh, ah koodn't- *swallow* - just open another store in Ponyville, too much competition against the Cakes. We'd be divided." Sweetie, who has a few more lessons in social etiquette finishes her mouthful before speaking. "True, but still, you did have friends there. I was there. I'm sure Rarity could've hired you as a model or something." "No," Shaking my head I take another bite, look around the run down room. "Ahm nawt th modehlin tahyp." "Why don't you eat first, then speak. Rarity would be disgusted." "But you aren't Rarity," I retort. "Fair point, speaking about Rarity, I should probably get back to the station." Then taking a napkin from beside the display case and a pen beside the order bell, she writes down a number. "Call us if you need anything or-... Y'know, want me to come over and visit sometime. We could catch up or something." She looks like a nervous school girl giving away her number to a boy, leg slightly cocked her tip toes pressing against the ground. "You mean not having to do chores for Rarity," I joke, having a good laugh. "Yeah, something like that." Fiddling with the pen a little, she hesitates to leave. Something's on her mind, clearly. "Well, see ya!" I wave, giving her a little shock. Dropping the pen she pushes the number towards me then makes a hasty dash out. I have a small relapse of the moment she pushes away the pen and notice something. She's upset about something. "See, the world does care about you Pinkie!" My mind screams at me, but I ignore my mind because sometimes it gets on my nerves. Making a quick sprint into the kitchen, I take a look around to see a steaming jug in the middle of the bench. "Cocoa, I've come for you!" I cry out as I take long valiant strides to the cupboards. Old wooden things they are, like the rest of this place but atleast it all matches up. It all matches up in a crumby broken down way. Opening the door I stretch my arm up to the farthest shelf and let my hand do a little scouting. Jam, Cup, Spice - I really should organize this place a little better - ah, there it is: cocoa. Flicking it toward the edge, the tin spins around but I feel it coming my way and as it finally reaches the end I knock it off and catch it with both hands. Success! Setting the tin down by the jug I make my way briskly toward the fridge and give that a good browsing. Dissappointed, I find half the stuff in here a day away from being off or already off. "Time to do some major tidying up," I mutter to no-one in particular. Milk? Yes. Off? *Sniff* HELL YES! Tossing the milk into the trash, I rub my nose hoping to recover from the putrid smell. "Damn girl, you really need to clean things up," re-arranging my mental checklist, I begin prioritizing and adding things in. Cocoa? Dishes, Fridge and Cupboards, Groceries, Cocoa and Story... Sleep! A tiny glint catches the corner of my eye, grabbing my attention immediately. It's a knife, a tiny glimmer reflecting off the blade throws my mind into reminiscence. The thin sliver piercing flesh, the almost erotic feeling it gives as you drive it in, breaking the delicate skin. Biting my lower lip, I turn away and put myself back together but even still, the thought remains in the back of my head, itching. "You need to sort yourself out too because you're mind is going all sorts of crazy!" That's probably what Clover would've said if she knew what I was thinking, doing right now. Well it's true, I mean lately my mind has been all sorts of places bouncing back and forth. Just like people actually. They all just come and go... Taking a short leisurely stroll into the back department, I open up the deposit box and check the cash. Wow, we're too poor to afford a lock for our deposit. Lame... "Three Hundred, Four, Five, Seven... Twelve?" Sudden regret fills me and even though I know noone is listening, I still fear that if I count aloud, someone will hear. I remove a bit of cash and stow the box back in it's place. Beneath a few pieces of paper in the lowest recesses of these confined shelves. We're barely scraping by, what the heck?! Maybe if I convinced Clover or her sister to get a job then maybe... But I doubt they will, lazy bums! One more time. Clean up. Groceries. Talk about Jobs. Snacks. Sleep... "This is going to be a long day," I sigh.
Here To StayHere To Stay: Roaming aimlessly, I happen upon a little duckling stranded and alone in the middle of the park. Crouching down I reach out, calmly talking to it, luring it in when a stone suddenly pelts the back of my head. "Ow, what the-?!" I grab myself, pulling the hood down over my face I duck and run. I hear laughing as I run, then: "That's right, you better run! We won't let you hurt that duckling like you did..." I can't hear them anymore, but now I've been driven further into the park, further into isolation. I manage to cross a puddle along my path and take a long hard look at myself. The concrete grey hoodie is filthy and my jeans - well they were blue when I bought 'em - are somewhat faded, mud stained and smell of trash. Homelessness is a pretty hard lifestyle, but then again, beggars can't be choosers. Apparently. There's a little story about me that circulates through Ponyville, and though I disapprove it doesn't stop the whispers. They even made it into a limerick of sorts. "One girl and many pets, In one day, a lifetimes debts A crime committed by one insane, One is never the same again, One girl and no pets." It's popular but also banned because of its vulgarity thanks to the mayor. I'm grateful that at the very least, even if I can't be trusted that what little integrity I have left, can be respected. I hear the cawing of birds echo through the trees, the breeze whispering as it does. A sunny day to contrast against my feeling, warmth against lonliness and soft blues against earthy greys. Though, I'm used to being alone, used to not being in everyones way but today it seems like most other days that lonliness is just going to get the better of me. Pushing my feelings aside for a bit, I lay down on the grass and get myself a good view of the sky, unobscured by the trees that hum and groan as they sway from side to side. A few leaves tumble over me as a chill comes across, shoots straight through me like a million tiny ice like claws. Shivering, I lean up for a bit, locate the nearest tree and scuffle towards it. Tired, hungry and alone. Afraid, sad and angry. Emotion, thought and action. I wish I had only fought harder for myself, or that my friends- No, they're not my real friends. They didn't stick up for me when I needed them, talk to me when I was alone. They are not my friends. Reaching into my pocket, I pull a crumpled piece of paper from the folds and unravel it slowly, fingers fumbling as the cold renders my exposed muscles useless. Finally, after a few moments of pathetic struggle I manage to completely reveal the contents inside. A photo, burnt slightly around the left side. It was the only thing I managed to salvage what wasn't already on my own back. Looking at the picture brings back memories of us a friends, when Twilight was just a crazy book worm and Rarity a vain little princess. Pinkie was a crazy party girl and Applejack was rather settled, working hard on the orchard. But Dash, she was the one I focussed on the most, thought she'd stick up for me, hoped that she'd be there for me. She was afterall, the one who looked after me when I was young. I stroke the photo with upmost care, dragging my fingers across each of their faces, each but my own. A scorch mark runs through me and an empty hole where my face once was, had melted away. Rays break through the leaves, beam down on the photo and bring a strange warmth to the atmosphere. "Fluttershy," I hear someone call over my shoulder, the voice comes from behind the tree. "It's been a while, little butterfly." A deep and heavy accent, foreign but feminine. "Ze-Zecora?" I ask, peeping out behind me. "Take off that hood my dear, for me there is no reason to fear," Approaching me, she sits down next to me, takes interest in the photo as she leans in to closely examine it. "Such a time when you had these friends, too bad it all came to an end." "You're rhyme scheme is pretty bad, I think you're getting a little lazy," The insult comes so casually to me, from me and off me. A few years ago, I never thought such words would've come from my mouth but now they flow like water. Zecora appears a little offended, puffing her cheeks she lets out one long huff before: "Well why don't you try living in a forest by yourself then, I'm sure you'll find it easy." "Is that an invitation?" I ask, looking her in the eyes. A cool breeze brisks past us once again, my fringe falls apart and seperates into threads slightly covering my left eye. "Now don't get your hopes up," She begins, staring outward into the park. "I doubt I'll be allowed to under the current circumstances. Social outcasts should not band together, it only worsens our position." "Oh," I sigh, scrunching the photo back into a ball, stuff it into my pocket as a chill runs down me. "I'm sorry Fluttershy, really... But I can't provide you with the help you need right now. I can try discussing it with the Mayor, but I doubt-..." I stop her where she is, trying not to rise my hopes again. "It's okay, really. I've been living like this for a year now, I'm starting to get used to it." I admire the bangs around her neck, just two gold rings lathered in a long white sheet of hair which covers the slightly exposed shoulders, curves over her breast. "I like your clothes," I say, tone sheepish. "They look really nice." She reveals a khaki satchel from behind her, lies it down in front of me. "I was looking for you these last few days, this at the very least is what I can do," pushing the bag toward me I openly accept it. Undoing the few buckles to find a fresh set of clothes, a small loaf of bread and a flask. My eyes widen with hunger, gratitude, joy and saddness as I'm left absolutely speechless. "It's not-... No, don't cry," Reaching out she wipes my cheeks. When did I start crying?! "I'm not crying," I lie pathetically, sniveling a little. "See? Happy face," The smile feels weak, probably looks just as bad. "Yeah, not working sorry," Zecora replies, completely unconvinced. No surprises there. "I want you to get changed into these," Literally throwing the bag at me this time, I almost stagger back as I barely catch it. "Hand me those other clothes when you're done, okay?" I quickly lurch upright, bounce to my feet and find the nearest place to change in discretion. A few bushes stand out to me, but I realize that the surrounding area is far too open for my liking and the branches too spaced out. I then notice a stream of water passing through not too far from those bushes and a conveniently placed bridge, but I'd be standing in water so that won't work either. "Just go over there," I hear Zecora say, pointing out a nice outcrop of land surrounded by several well placed trees, oak by the look of it. "You'll be fine, people don't usually come this far into the park, that's to say it's too time consuming." Her tone is scary but I love it, such an exotic voice but it all sounds too good to be true; clothes, food and sympathy. There must be a catch. That's something about me I've realised. Trust doesn't come so easily anymore, but I'm becoming more and more attached to this generosity. "Thank you again." "Don't mention it." I make a quick break for it, running as fast as I can in fear of being seen. My heart pounds as adrenaline rushes through me, like old times. Times when I'd get scared of something like my own shadow, then dash to the nearest bush to get away or loud noises like thunder during storms. Everything scared me, but it helped that there was always something to hold onto during hard times. I manage to cross the field with a little breath left in me, panting I drop to my knees suddenly, sweat breaks out over me. I should really clean myself before getting into these clothes, damn it, what's wrong with me? "Damn it, what do I do now?!" I curse, see Zecora walking towards me. She's smiling, that grim but charming smile; it hasn't changed. I edge the lip of the bushes, poke my head out, "I need to wash myself down," I call out but my predicament goes unanswered till she arrives. "I'm not sure why I didn't think of this before, but what about the public bath house?" The idea shocks me, there's no way anyone would let me in there. Not after all the distrust the town holds towards me, but not only that; the absolute disgrace I'd have to face as I'm stormed with insults. "Don't worry, it's a public holiday today remember?" "Oh... Right, I knew that; yeah." Grabbing me by the arm she gently pulls me from the bushes, they rustle and snap as I trod clumsily through them. "Everyone should be here at the park by eve, that's when I'll take you in. Actually, there's someone there who has been wanting to see you, but too afraid to compromise her position if caught." "Who?" I ask, gripping the satchel. "Lotus, she's been waiting patiently for you to come on by." I give Zecora a curious look, "How do you know?" "I'm still welcome there of course, but I'm not appreciated by everyone who's still a little sceptical of me and my methods." Sighing, I sit myself down on the grass. "Will you stay with me for a bit?" She almost looks surprised, her expression quickly changing to a softer tone however. "Of course, it must be lonely wandering the streets," sitting down she wraps an arm around me, brings me in. "I wonder though, even after all of this, your teeth are still so pearly white." I find this a strange statement, something very odd to point out but comfortably reply: "Some people take pity on me, others mock me but they still leave me with atleast a little dignity. Though I don't know who, a toothbrush and a little tube of paste was left outside the bus shelter." "And you didn't find that suspicious?" I shrug, "Back then I was desperate, I threw myself on the ground and begged for someone, anyone to let me in." "You have been through some tough times," she pets my head and I lean in on her shoulders, nuzzle in. "I don't know why I didn't turn to my friends when I had the chance, I really don't..." Things happened like some sort of decline, like they just started rolling down one massive hill; endlessly. Into the pits of eternity, they all fell away and I felt nothingness fill me like a massive black ocean, it crashed and curled, drowning out everything I held close to me once, a long time ago. That's how I felt when they left me, when things changed so suddenly. My friends... "You didn't do it for them?" The question rocks me, my eyes shoot open as I break my lulled senses. For them? "I don't think that once, in that state did I ever think about their intentions." "What about Rarity, I know for certain that she still lives here." I shake my head, my hoodie scuffles a little. "Yes, she does still live here, but she cut our connection long before any of that. Have you-..." I feel Zecora nod, a quiet hum of affirmation confirms the answer before the question. "I've heard the stories; I shouldn't have asked." "No, you shouldn't have..." "It's tragic, really-" "I don't want to talk about it," Biting my lip, I restrain my next few words, revise and reconsider, then: "She might not be my friend, but I still respect her; Rarity that is." "Should I tell her that the next time I'm in?" I think it over, shake my head, "No, neither of us would profit from something like that." "You're still concerned about the outcome of others?" A leaf floats down in the wind, twirls gracefully before landing down by my feet. I stare blankly, but thoughts cross my mind, some trivial and others... These shoes, they're starting to hurt me, maybe I should check out the dump later on or something... Yes, I had delved as far as the dumps to get what I needed, a cesspool of waste becomes a wide open store for me to observe, take what I wish. What's that saying, One mans trash is another mans treasure? Whatever it is, I held to its letter. It isn't theft either since the dump is literally one huge heap of trash and it isn't owned by anyone, even the people who manage it. They just take note of the mess, make sure it isn't crowded and keep check of whether any vandals might come in and try something brash. What a wonderful green, the leaf, so green... "You're not hungry? You haven't touched your food yet," with her free hand, Zecora reaches around my front and I quickly pull her in, bury my face into her shoulder. "Please, please don't go!" My fingers grip the dress tightly, desperately. I want to hold onto her forever, the first known person to be compassionate to me and I don't ever want to let her go. It might've been unwise, it might've been sudden but my outburst had a reason behind it, pent up feelings. Gently but surely she pushes me away, lifts my face and stares deeply, sympathetically into my eyes. "You aren't alone," she pecks me on the forehead, brushes me down. The feeling of hands being where they are, where they were and where they're going feels all too familiar; a sign of comfort. "You really should eat though, at the very least." I oblige, wiping the tears away I fumble around for the satchel behind me and lift it around. Opening the lip I pull out the bread, find it's wrapped in a dry green leaf much like lettuce except it isn't crunchy. Snapping the cake in half I offer one half to Zecora who politely presses it back. "It's yours, you eat it." "Thanks again, really." I take a small bite and return my view to the leaf. It's crumbly, falls apart in my mouth... It's good! The sweetness runs through my mouth like a rush of sugar bursting from a sweet. "This is amazing," I gasp, gripping the bread in an attempt that I hope it never ends, this euphoria. I recognize something though, a familiar taste almost like I should know it. I take another bite, this time a little bigger. "Do you recognize it, the taste? A signature of someone you used to know." Swallowing the lump I reach into the bag and pull out the flask, quickly unscrew the cap and pour its contents into the lid. It steams, the liquid does and the smell of spice rings throughout. I throw it all down, ignore the heat of the broth as I make another move to the bread. "It's Pinkies' bread and I'll have you know that she's living in Manehattan. Apparently she owns a bakery there, sells goods every now and again." I stop eating, look up and ask: "Why are you telling me this?" She almost sounds surprised, replies: "Well, wouldn't you like to know how your friends are doing?" With the arm she had wrapped around me, she manoeuvres it down my body and places her hand against mine. "At the very least, know that they're happy. Whether it's because you didn't interfere or because they grew that way; they're happy." "They're happy, but I'm not..." "It's only natural, you're homeless after all. Homeless people generally aren't happy because they hold onto the things that made them suffer, can't get past them. If they could move on, don't you think that they could turn their lives around?" "I stink," Changing the subject, I quickly place the flask, sealed up in the satchel. "It's getting dark, I think I should leave now." "We should leave now, a great suggestion." Picking up the satchel she grabs my hand and pulls me up. "I don't know how you've managed to survive this long alone, kept yourself in shape but it's impressive; you must have quite the story to tell." "Maybe later," I swat it away.
The Rush vs The FlowThe Rush vs The Flow: The gowns here look simply magnificent, taking their rightful place upon the display racks as they should, thus I marvel at my creations with the upmost pride. I'm a little picky as to which dress is my favourite though, no thanks to my judgemental little sister who always likes to pressure me when I don't need it. "Rarity, oh miss Rari-ty! You've done another outstanding job if I do say so myself," I get a pat on the back, crude but gracious. "There's no need for flattery, Miss shores; honestly. These aren't really my best pieces," Gliding my fingers down the sleeve of the dress, I turn to Sapphire who's giving a glance at another piece of work. She purses her lips together, manoeuvres around me still keeping her hand on my back as if she was about to show me something. "Well, I must admit that these pieces are a little unique, at least in contrast to your other works." "The theme for this show was a little in the area I'm least experienced in," There's a sense of irony in that statement. "The streets-" "The streets? Darling you mean the Red Light District," she waltz' around me, "The theme is Taboo and you hit the right spots." (Only a whore knows how to design a whores' clothing.) I almost blush, a flush of heat runs through me. "Well I'm-" "Flattered?" Sapphires tone dulls down, the hype disappears and what's left is darkness; gravity. "Don't be, a compliment is a compliment so be happy with it, not flattered. Flattery means that you disagree, hold feelings against it." (You're a silly little girl with no sense of fashion, and those thin threads men call sexy are nothing but red strips of latex and a maids outfit. How pathetic!) I'm almost fuming, feeling the blood within me boil I hold tight my lips and clench my fists. "Easy to aggravate, that's new." (That's right, get pissed off and see what happens.) "Thank you for the chat, Sapphire." Emphasis, the key intonation of hatred. "It was wonderful spe-" Sapphire groans, pulls me away from the display. "Don't lie, it wasn't wonderful at all!" (You're falling for it, Rarity.) "I just want to go," Pulling away, I make my leave but a hand holds me back. "Get off me!" I spin around and lift my arm up, threatening to strike her. She almost looks genuinely surprised as she staggers back. "Whoa now girl, you get a hold of yourself!" She's trying to make me the bad guy here?! "How dare you! You come here, insult me, berate me and you think that you can make me the bad guy?!" I must have the entire backstage focussed on me now. Her composure returns, she acts cool saying: "I did no such thing, I simply complimented you..." "I'm going now, farewell Miss Shores." I wave, exiting the room and out the back. There was no response, at least from what I could hear; just the sound of hurried assistants and the clambering of other things. And finally I close the door behind me, refuse to step within that facility again but I do regret some of the things I said back there. Oh well, it's too late now. I'll just have to accept what's happened and hope things change. At least I have my money. Reaching for my pockets, I scavenge around till I find an envelope, a little scrunched but still viable. The lip of the envelope peels off as I slide my nail beneath, the glue audibly tears and with a satisfied feeling I pull the contents from the pocket. ^10,000.00 (EQB) It's quite a unique check, a symbol of our nations currency is printed in green at the right corner, two upright mares wielding a pair of banners, one in each mouth. "Luna est dominae - Sola est Dominae. Equestria est Dominae" printed beneath them, written in their shadows. It's quite a fancy check indeed, but what really matters is the digits written and hand signed for legitimacy. Photo Finish, what a stupid bitch... Reasons, what reasons? She's stupid and she's a bitch! I fold the cheque in two, slide it into my pocket. I look at my apparel, less than adequate. Tanned ugg boots and a pair of plain old blue jeans. The bottoms look scuffed and the leggings are a little worn through but I'm comfortable with that I guess. At the very least I know that the upper-class society I used to cherish would scorn me for wearing such... such... Clothes. There's no real point in trying to figure out what fancy word to use, in the end; they're all just clothes. The back alley is pretty trashy, smells the same too and it's rather wonderful; beats having to smell pretty all day to be honest. I wonder, do I belong here with this trash? It feels comforting enough, welcoming and homely just like the rest of the filth I called society. This is what it feels like to shower in diamonds, completely and utterly painful. The rush of society, people, adapting and evolving to things that barely exist for more than a minute; it's disgraceful. I'm disgraceful. "Hey, Rarity!" I want to clasp my hinds to my ears, hold them there and ignore the rest of the world but my morals get the better of me. Turning, I suddenly regret my feelings noticing my little sister in the distance. She runs towards me with a worried look on her face, asks: "What's wrong?" I give her a feigned smile, reply: "Nothing dear, everything went swimmingly and I have my pay, so we can move on out if you want to." She grabs my hand, happily pulls me along with her as she leaps into a hyper stride. "You'll never guess who I say today!" She exclaims in a peppy voice and I can't help but feel different, a little lighter. "Who?" I ask, leaning in I poke her in the arm. "Pinkie Pie!" She squeals, the name echoes through the alley and catches the attention of a few bystanders who were casually chatting away. "Really? That's astounding, how is she?" I at least try to act like I'm interested, but- "She looks like she's doing okay," There's a short pause, then: "But I think she's lonely." We stop just outside the exit of the alleyway and into the semi crowded streets. "I think you should go talk to her before, be friends again?" The suggestion was nice, really it was but I just didn't feel up for it. There's something that holds me back, maybe a pent up desire of some sort, a thought that sits in the back of my mind that silently rejects her presence. I look at my sister with caring eyes, gently shake my head. "Honey, that's probably not the best idea right now." "Please stop with the pet names, it's really disturbing." "Alright then, Sweetie Bell. Let's get to the train station and go back home-" Sweetie interjects with a long hard sigh, "But before that we should get something to eat, I'm absolutely famished!" (And ten grand richer!) but then she jumps up in utter glee. "We should go to this place, it's really nice I saw it on the way here; c'mon!" I stop solid in my tracks, grip Sweetie's hand and though she pulls, she doesn't offer much against me. "What does Pinkie Pie do, as a job that is?" "Uhh, bakery like in Ponyville. Why? I thought you weren't interested in her." "Well I'd just like to know is all, also, where are we going?" "To Pink-" "No." A foreboding tone overwhelms me, breaks my composure. "Why would you do that to me? Why would you take me to the one person I don't want to talk to!" "You wanted food, I wanted to see Pinkie Pie!" "Sweetie, I've already explained to you-!" "No," she throws her arms back, starts her tantrum. It's always like this, no matter how hard I try for her, she just wants to argue. "No, you just can't get over what happened in the past! Things happened and people left, get over it! At least there was one person who cared and that was Pinkie!" I lose myself, she pushes me to my breaking point and the next thing I know there's a look of terror in her eyes; her lips quiver and she starts to cower while raising her arm up, but it doesn't help her as I give my little sister one solid slap across the face, forcing her to the ground. Shock and terror are the only things present in those eyes of hers, no tears, just: shock and terror. "It hurts when you do this, Sweetie! You always take it too far and you think that you're the only one who's hurt whenever things like this happen, but have you ever considered your sisters feelings, my feelings?!" "No!" She screams, kicking at me. "You don't have any feelings, you always work and you don't have any friends!" "I don't have any friends because they left me!" My voice becomes hoarse, I struggle to keep up but I continue fighting, I argue till I'm right and I argue till I'm in tears; until she's in tears, because that's how it has always been. "Why can't you understand that? I gave up on them because they gave up on me!" There's a shudder in my voice, the words quake as the pour from my lips, roll off the tongue. We've gathered quite the audience today, haven't we? Oh well, at least it isn't anyone I really know. People, no matter where, no matter when, they'll never step in; always too afraid to get into matters that they don't think they can control. I hate that about people. "No they didn't! No one left you, they left to pursue their dreams! Which didn't mean you had to crawl into a hole and forget about the world!" "We're going home, right now! Nothing more needs to be said, if you want to eat; get something on the train with your own money." "But I don't have any money!" "Then you'll starve!" I pull her by the gruff a few meters and I don't relent as she scuffles her feet trying to get a good foothold before shaking free. "I don't want to fight anymore, just please listen to me," I beg, holding my hands together in the hope for mercy. She holds her cheek: "Hot," winces, lowering her hand a look of anger and pain burns me, froths from her eyes an engulfing flame. A small trickle of blood runs down like a little red tear, her cheek almost on the verge of swelling. "Unforgivable." It's a whimper, a shuddering and deathly whimper and as she walks away I reach out to her, manage to grab her shoulder. "Please stop." Whether or not my words were heeded, I don't know, but at least she submits. My little sister has a fiery temper and though she tries to hide it, she's an open book for me to read, just with a few missing pages. Prying my hand away she continues her silent strides, her dress waves with every step, her hair mirrors those movements. I wait for a few seconds, creating a safe and comfortable distance between us before following. I think about Sweetie Belle, when I slapped her the only words going through me head were: Please stop. Please stop. Please! But I wanted to keep hitting her, I wanted to see her in tears, in blood... There lies regret within me, the action replays itself over and over again in my head that I start drowning myself in them. "Sweetie Belle, I'm sorry..." There's no way she would've heard that, not at that volume, from this distance. "Is there ever going to be a time when we stop this arguing?" Author's Note Chapters 4 and 5 will be posted when 6 is complete. Also, constructive criticism and blah, blah, blah...
