You'll Be In My Heart

by TheExhaustedBrony

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 2375

An interview with a troubled stallion

They say that after spending enough time with someone, you'll never forget them. No matter what, they'll always be with you. However, this brings up the question one must ask. How long is enough to even remember their face?

Submitted for the 31shotober challenge! (The first one actually submitted in October...)

Published 2013-10-01 18:30:03 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-01 18:30:03 UTC

You'll Be in My Heart

Today, I am meeting with A stallion who's been known throughout Ponyville for being socially reclusive and claims to have had a wife that mysteriously disappeared from Equestria. He was once a very proud pony who had connections with many wealthy mares and stallions in Canterlot, Manehatten, and Cloudsdale. The purpose of this interview is to hear his side of the story.

I knocked on the door to his house. It was a fairly decent house. To be honest, based on the stories I've heard about his house falling apart, I'd expected his house to do the same.

"Hello? Who's there?" An old voice called from inside.

"Sir, my name is Professor-"

"Go away!" He interrupted, "I have no use for anypony anymore! Especially you educated folk!"

I've come too far to let this moment slip by, "Sir, I'm here to ask you some questions-"

"Oh yea? About what?" He interrupted again.

"About your wife." There was silence for a few moments and then I could hear the faint sound of hoofsteps slowly approaching the door. I heard the sound of a latch being undone and the door creaked open to reveal an earth stallion that appeared to be in his early eighties. He looked very tired and looked like he just stopped caring about life.

"What about her?" He asked.

"Well, I heard many stories about you. They all say that you're crazy and that you had an imaginary wife. I am here to ask you some questions about her. I want to hear your side of the story."

The stallion scowled, "what's it mean to you? Why do you care? You're probably just here to humiliate me!"

I shook my head, "no sir, that's not true at all. I believe that love is something that one cannot just simply make up and based on what I've heard, you loved your wife very much. I believe that she existed and I want to know more about her." My heart was racing. This could go one of two ways. Either he'd agree to tell his story, or he'd be offended and my openness would be a deal-breaker.

He scanned my face with his eyes. What is he doing? What's he looking for?

"Alright. You aren't like the rest of 'em. Come in, come in." The stallion stepped back and motioned for me to enter.

As I stepped through the doorway, I felt relieved that I earned his trust.

"Come, let's have a seat over there." The old man pointed towards a parlor with two very nice chairs separated by a medium sized coffee table. On the table sat a half-empty bottle of an unlabeled drink, I assume it's alcoholic, and two glasses.

He sat down and motioned for me to sit as well. I reached into my bag and got out my tape recorder.

"What's that thing?" The man asked cautiously.

"It's a tape recorder. I want to make sure that I can document our conversation for future reference." I plugged the microphone jack into the device and walked over to my host, "now, I'm just going to have you clip this onto your shirt so that the machine will be able to hear what you say," I fastened the clip to the stallion without any sign of defiance. Once it was secure, I went back to my seat and sat down. The seat squeaked as it formed around me. There was a moment of awkward silence. Neither of us knew exactly what should be discussed first. During this time, I looked around the room to see many shelves lining the walls. Every item on them looked like a dust bomb that would go off at the slightest breeze. One item in particular caught my attention. In between the collection of dusty books was a wooden box. It seemed a little out of place and I was about to ask him about it but he had begun talking,

"It's that time of year again," he looked out the window, "I hate winter wrap up. I can't stand it. Its not that I don't mind the snow disappearing, don't get me wrong, it's just that the day after it is when most ponies begin spring cleaning."

"Do you note like cleaning?" I asked, slightly puzzled by the randomness of the topic.

"I love when things are neat and tidy, but what makes my heart ache is the nostalgia that comes with digging through the physical reminders of my past. When she left me, I burned all the photos of us together. How could I have been so stupid? I was confused, angry, sad, all of those emotions took over my body and forced me to do something irrational. I still have the music box that I bought for her when she agreed to be my wife. That's my only reminder of her existence."

"Could you elaborate?"

The man took a deep breath and shook his head, "I don't like looking at it. I hate knowing that its there. I tried to get rid of it, but as I held it over the garbage bin, my body wouldn't let it escape from my hooves." He be tarted staring at his hooves with a look of disappointment, "So now, it just sits on that shelf, collecting dust, haunting me ever still. I should have kept the photos and tossed out the box. Maybe then, I'd have more happy memories because I would remember what she looked like. I can't remember her name, her cutie mark, or even what type of pony she was. Did she have a horn? Did she have wings? Neither? Both? I ask myself this every time I wake up."

"You wake up?" This is starting to get much more interesting. Despite the presence of this sad old man in front of me, I couldn't help but feel a little happy inside.

"In my dreams, I find myself standing on the grassy edge of the beach, looking out over the water. From there, I see, out of the corner of my eye, a pony dressed in a beautiful white dress with a matching sun hat. I can hardly make out what her face looks like from this distance so I move closer. She sees that I'm approaching her and she smiles, but with each step I take, her face gradually distorts and by the time I'm close enough to touch her, she's unidentifiable. I find myself frozen, unable to move. She puts her head right up against mine and whispers something to me. To this day, I still don't know what she said because its always drowned out by the ocean waves and the wind rushing between us."

I raised an eyebrow, "Unicorns and Pegasi are both uniquely distinguished by either a horn or wings that protrude from the body and are easily noticeable? Could you not tell what race she was?" Now I've heard of how dementia and Alzheimer's disease affects memory, but to not know what type of pony someone is even by looking at them?

"What? No, I couldn't tell the race. The hat would prevent me from seeing the horn and the dress could be covering up what could be wings and her cutie mark. Even though I can't tell you what she looked like, I can tell you that she was beautiful. Sometimes I wonder what she must have thought of me and how I looked. Hehe, look at me. I'm eighty years old and I'm thinking about my appearance? Ha! I know I definitely changed since I married."

I found myself constantly looking up to the box on the shelf. I just had to know what it's significance was.

"I see you've noticed that there music box, eh?" He must have noticed my constant back-and-forth gaze.

"Does the music box still work?" I asked.

"You want to hear that music box, don't ye? Well, it's hard enough as it is to talk about this subject with you, if you catch my drift?"

I nodded. It makes sense that he may not be willing to spill his heart out to me, we've only just met. I've earned only a little bit of his trust.

"What was life like during the time she was with you?" I changed the subject.

"I was well respected throughout the community when she was still with me. When she left, I threw all my esteem away in my depression. What makes you so interested in this old man's story anyway? Don't you have your own woman to be with?"

"I have a wife and a son. We live in Canterlot." I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and hoofed it to him. He opened it to see the pictures of my family, "My wife, Rose Quartz, took my son, Deep Blue, to see my brother and his wife in Manehatten while I am here in Ponyville. We've been married for about thirteen years now."

"I see, I see. You have a beautiful wife and son, "he said, still looking at the pictures, "Listen to me when I tell you this. Never go a day in your life without looking her straight in the eyes." He tossed my wallet back to me and i carefully put it back in my pocket, "I was married for not a very long time and I didn't realize that I could forget her face. We were so close, I couldn't imagine that it was necessary to do something as mundane as staring at your wife." He sighed.

"Did you not look at your wife much?"

The old stallion leaned forward, "Not as much as I should have. I regret it. I mean, look at what it's done to me? I loved her. If I had shown it more, maybe she'd still be on this earth."

"Did she pass away?"

"No."

"Did she run away? Perhaps to be with another stallion?"

"No damn it!" He slammed his right hoof on the table, "she wouldn't do that! She just disappeared one day and nobody seemed to remember her ever existing. I don't know what others have told ya, but that's the truth!"

I quickly realized that I should probably keep the questions about him to avoid provoking him.

"How did that make you feel?"

"What?"

"What was it like when you found out that nopony seems to remember your wife?"

"I felt..." He paused, taking a deep breath, "I felt as if a part of me was taken away with the intention to not let me see it again. My own parents didn't recall the wedding and my wife's family denied ever having a daughter." He put his hooves over his eyes and began to sob, "you must think I'm even more crazy now, don't you?"

My heart began to ache. Seeing this sad man was hard enough, but now I'm sharing his experience. I can only imagine what his heart must have felt every time he asked someone about his wife only to be told that they don't know what he's talking about.

He reached for the bottle and poured himself a glass of the drink. Whatever it was, I could almost feel my nose hairs singe it was so strong. He shakily brought the cup up to his lips and took a big sip. He then brought the glass up to his eyes and gently swirled the contents around the edges,

"I shouldn't be drinking this." He poured the rest of the drink onto the floor, "it clouds my mind."

"Clouds your mind?"

"There are times when I spend all day trying to recall her face. Then, there are others where I try to forget about her completely. I do this with the assistance of that blasted drink!"

"Why do you want to forget? Weren't you in love with her?" This is interesting. It seems that a part of him wants to live a normal life without being haunted by his past, but another wants him to hold what's dear to him close.

"Yer damn right I was, and still am. It's just that..." He paused, "it's hard. Hard knowing that there's someone in your life, but you don't know who they are. All you know is that they exist, and that's it. Sometimes I just feel like it'd be best if I just forgot about my despair, y'know?"

My mind went back to the mysterious box sitting on the shelf, "What about that music box? Have you tried opening it?"

"No," he shook his head, "I can't bring myself to do it. I never thought my heart could take the emotional stress if I heard it play."

I'm close. He seems more comfortable with talking to me about the box. I have to keep pushing on! "Wouldn't it be worth the risk? Have you ever considered that the music box could be the final piece of the puzzle?"

"Yes, I have considered it, but I was too afraid to at the time."

"Will you open it soon?" I asked trying to hide my excitement and remain professional.

"During our conversation, I have been studying you. When you asked to hear the music box earlier, I didn't trust you one bit. I figured you were just another colt looking for a chance to get the scoop of a lifetime, as they say. Now I see what you really are." He stood up and walked over to the shelf, "I believe that you truly are interested in what I have to say and you want to get to the truth as much as I do." He returned with the music box and set it on the table, "Are you ready?"

I nodded.

He wound the music box ten times. He carefully opened the lid and a song started to play.

When the music stopped, we both just sat in silence. Tears were flowing down the old man's face.

"I know now..." He said shakily.

"What? What is it?" I found myself leaning forward in my chair, anxiously awaiting his response.

"I now know what it was that she's been whispering in my ear every night..."

"What?"

"She said, "you'll be in my heart, always..."