Absent Finesse. I once asked my father why mom named me that, and he told me her mother and her mother’s mother had the name “Absent” and so I did. Finesse, because I would be skilled in… something. But he always called me “his Nessie.” They weren’t sure what it was I’d be skilled in though, because both mom and dad were so different.
Dad was a unicorn, and mom was an earth pony, and dad was sort of a jack of all trades. He was a general handyman, fixing little odds and ends all over ponyville. He was from Appaloosa, and often talked about how he missed the apple farms back home that he’d help work at in the fall.
And mom… she really never made much of herself. Dad fell in love with her and married her soon after they graduated highschool, and so neither of them studied at a big university with a career in mind. I mean, now dad’s working towards becoming an engineer, but back then they really didn’t have a plan in mind for how their lives would unfold. But dad wanted kids. He knew that. And mom said she did too.
And so, I happened. A healthy little filly foal. I was born at sunrise, in the summer. Dad says my eyes opened wide, and they looked up at him, and at mom, and he knew that I would be able to do anything I set my heart on in life. I had such potential. And he loved me so much. From the day he found out I was growing inside mom, he loved me. Seeing me for the first time is his favorite memory.
Mom was always a little… cold though. She was kind of jealous of me, of the love dad had for me. She would sometimes do little mean things, like accidentally tripping me when I was starting to walk, or hiding my favorite toys and telling me how I could find them if I wasn’t so stupid, or criticizing the things I would draw or make. And she would always tell dad I made it up, or that it was an accident, or that I just had an active imagination. And dad was in love with her. He said it made him blind.
Things got… worse. She did terrible things to me. She hurt me, because hurting me hurt dad. And every time, she said it was an accident. Or I had made it up. But scars don’t lie. And the truth eventually comes out. Confronted with it… She never loved him, she laughed. She never really wanted the responsibility of foals or a family, she said. And the love dad had for her died a lot. He started to be able to see.
We left to Appaloosa, and it was hard to start over. But we were happy. I was dad’s whole world. And I knew he would keep me safe. And we made a home for ourselves, and I made friends, and I got good grades in school-
And mom came to see dad. It had been a long time. She said she was ok now. That she had done a lot of thinking, she had seen a therapist, and she was so sorry. And dad loved her still. And so he sold our home, and moved back to Ponyville, and then my little sister was born. And we were still happy. For a while.
But mom wasn’t better. And she started hurting me again. And now my baby sister. Still jealous. Still cruel. And dad found out again. And this time, she was in trouble. Dad said he had loved her so much, but she had finally managed to kill all the love he had left for her a little piece at a time until it was all gone... I learned what a divorce was, and what criminal charges were, and mom went someplace where she would never hurt us again.
And we were happy. We didn’t move back to Appaloosa again for my sake, so I wouldn’t have to change schools again and have to say goodbye to my few new friends. Because dad loved me and my sister. And we were his world. He found work in town fixing things, and I grew up happy again.
And I found out, I was smart! I got perfect grades, and I could do almost anything I wanted to, if I put myself to it. Finding what I wanted to do was hard though, and so I wasn’t too surprised when I got my cutie mark tinkering with something. I said it was as confused as to what I was good at as I was, because it was just a plain hammer crossed with an art paintbrush. I’m good at making things. My talent is sort of knowing what somepony needs before they even know it, and I know how to make it. So I helped dad with fixing things on odd jobs, and I grew up… and up and up! I ended up as tall as he was.
By seventeen, I was a mare of a stallion’s height, with a cream coat and a dirty blonde mane that I kept long and free. About that time I found out I needed glasses like dad, which wasn’t so bad. I thought I looked good in them. I didn’t just help dad with his jobs, I was sent to do them on my own sometimes! We had a family business! And we were still happy.
But as I got older, I started feeling… lonely I guess. Dad loved me and sis with all his heart, but something was missing. I wondered if I was taking him for granted, or if I was being selfish wanting more, but there was a place in my heart that was empty. And that feeling got stronger over time. And now I’m twenty-two. And this is where my story starts.
Song in my heart: Final Fantasy Main Theme
“R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ing!” screamed the alarm clock. I grumbled and rolled over, thinking about just slamming my hoof down on it and ending my scheduled suffrage once and for all. Then I almost fell back asleep, coming to again with a start because of that sudden falling feeling when you almost fall asleep but don’t. I sighed, and instead of smashing the little belled demon I concentrated on it, and a faint violet glow moved the little switch that stopped the tiny hammer from banging at the twin bells atop the timekeeper.
I reveled in the following silence, stretching out beneath my Ponemon sheets, my back hooves extending past the foot of the bed. I stared at the ceiling and tried to remember what I had dreamed about. I was with somepony special… I had never had a real special somepony, but somehow my subconscious had put together one. I couldn’t remember what he looked like, I never could. But he was always the same. I knew little things. He was shorter than me, but that’s no surprise. He wasn’t from Ponyville, or Appaloosa. From far away. He was very kind, and would always defend those who needed it… He loved animals. He preferred nature to the city, and lived in an amazing place of beauty and life… Sounded like a dream for sure.
I went on to think about what was on the to-do list today. First off was to have breakfast. But second, dad was sending me out on an important job. He had ordered some parts for a job from a specialty shop in Canterlot. He had got a letter yesterday saying they were in and ready for pickup, and instead of having them then mailed home he was having me go get them. He wanted me to have the experience of going out to the big city on my own for a change. He trusted I would get the job done, and I knew I could handle it. Of course, I hadn’t been to the city on my own before… I was pretty nervous I guess.
But it had to be done, and I might as well have fun doing it! I figured I would stop by the comic book store I knew of and browse a bit while I was there, and I would probably have something tasty at the malt shop dad would take me and sis to when he took us with on business before coming back home. I’d have liked to have walked in the Canterlot Gardens, but I already planned to lollygag enough and I didn’t want to push it.
So, I got up and out of bed, started humming a tune that was stuck in my head, and brushed my mane and teeth and put my glasses on and smiled at myself in the mirror and told myself that today would be good.
I came downstairs, the smells of breakfast carrying me to the kitchen. Sis was at the table, not having lounged as long in bed as I had, and dad was finishing up some Fancy toast. I set the milk and syrup on the table and sat down, exchanging morning greetings and thanking dad for breakfast. Sometimes I felt like a bit of a bum, not having my own home, but I worked and paid part of the bills and did my fair share around the house; I earned my keep.
Breakfast was had, was delicious, and it was time for me to head out! Dad gave me the money and reminded me one more time to get a receipt, which I told him I remembered. He chuckled and shook his head, then kissed me on the forehead and wished me luck. And I was gone. Down to the train station, on the train, took a nap, and woke up drooling a little and in Canterlot.
I wasn’t much of a pony for the city. Not then, at least, and still I prefer a less urbanized setting. As I got a ways from the station, the city got bigger. The buildings soared overhead, the streets were crowded (tall as I am, I saw clear over most ponies!), and everything seemed designed to distract you or make you forget your way.
I charged my navigating spell and pressed on, the magic acting as an enhancement to my memory and intuition. It didn’t put an arrow over my head telling me where to go, but it made me think I knew how to get there. And there I did get.
I arrived at the store, picked up the parts, and paid the mare at the counter. I headed out, my mind set on that comic store, when comics made me think of ink which made me think of paper which made me think of paper and ink which made me think of writing and paper and buying and- the receipt! I forgot to get the receipt!
I started back, when I looked to my left. There were some steps that lead up to an important-looking building… some sort of courthouse or something? The wide steps let out onto the sidewalk where I was standing, and coming down the steps right towards me was somepony that had me rooted to the spot.
He had a coat white as clouds. Wings like Pegasus himself. A wavy golden mane that flowed over the side of his face. A wreath of leaves behind his ear. He wore sandals the likes of which only pure-blooded pegasi wore. And he had a cutie mark, carved into his chiseled marble flank, of a winding snake. And I knew him.
No I didn’t. Did I? I had never met him. But… I felt like I knew him. Like he was my best friend from ages ago. Did I not remember? What was his name… I couldn’t remember. But I was so happy to see him! I don’t think I could smile any wider as he came closer, starting to look at me. He must have been my best friend or something, surely. And then my smile started to fade.
He got closer. But he didn’t smile back. His eyes were cold. His elegant face was blank. He didn’t know me. We had never met. He got closer and my heart started to hurt. And then he stopped in front of me, and I started to hope. I opened my mouth to say something- anything. And then he spoke. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice sounding like it was normally used for class and charm, “But you are in my way.”
And then my heart froze over. And I stepped aside. He passed me and didn’t look back. Why did I think I had known him? Well, because I had. Hadn’t I? I thought back, and I would have remembered a pureblood pegasus like that. Only they have bright white coats and blonde manes like that. So what made me think I knew him? Because I had. Why did I keep thinking that?
I went back and got the receipt. I skipped the comic store and the malt shop, and went back home. I didn’t sleep on the train. I just thought. I came home, gave dad the parts and receipt, and he chuckled at how I came home on time, and how he expected me to be gone the whole day running about the city. I did my regular chores around the home, ate dinner, and went to bed.
The pegasus I had met that day never left my mind. I don’t know who he was, my brain told me that. But I knew who he was. My heart told me that. As I was falling asleep that night, I tried to make sense of it. Did I just forget that I knew him once, and he did too? No, because he didn’t recognize me at all. So my heart knew him, but not my brain? Then… did I know him before? Ages ago? Maybe I did know him, the me that is, a life ago. But the he that is hasn’t met me yet. My soul knew his on sight. But his did not… so then… there’s a him that I do know? Or will eventually, to him. His soul must be younger than mine… Or something.
I remembered how it felt when I knew he didn’t know me, and it hurt worse. I thought about it until I slept, where dreams picked up and kept going where my imagining left off. And there he was again, that pony of my dreams. And he had a white coat, a golden mane, and elegant, strong wings. And we were working together in a field… the soil was rich and dark, and in the distance was a simple house with a barn to its side. Our house. I was working the plow, and he was putting down seed behind me.
And he spoke, his voice heavy with a Trottingham accent, “Tell me again, about the story of the Night Princess?”
I chuckled, having told this story more times than I could count. “You really like that one, don’t you?” I sounded similar, but had something else mixed in.
He spread more seeds with a rough scoop fashioned from wood. “I know you do. And the way you tell it, it’s like it actually happened,” he said with a wink.
I stuck my tongue out at him before grunting under the plow, my frame smaller but stronger. I was an earth pony. “It did happen,” I chided him. “My ancestors have passed down the stories for generations.”
“I’m just teasing,” he quipped. “I believe you if you do.”
I rolled my eyes and shot him a sly look before starting. “Back hundreds of years ago, there were two princesses. The one we know now was in charge of the sun alone, but another pony cared for the moon, stars, and all the night sky. She-”
A sudden ear-numbing “cr-CRACK!” cut me off, and I felt something whip hard at my throat, right above the harness. I staggered to the side, looking behind me in agitation to see what went wrong. One of the straps that was fastened to the plow must have snapped, but that wouldn’t have… Then I saw the red tinted splintered wood on the end of a strap, and felt the cool flow of something down my body. I looked further back, and my pegasus was rushing to me. I felt weak, and had to lay down.
He was saying things, things I can’t make out. Our rich earth beneath held a fast-growing puddle of crimson. I looked into his deep blue eyes, afraid. I was cold. He held me, my vision fading. His voice was all I had left other than cold. I wasn’t alone.
“R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ing!” screamed the alarm clock. I switched it off without complaint this time. I lay in bed in a cold sweat. Everything in that dream was so clear. It felt so real. And it felt like a little part of something I shouldn’t have seen. Like it always had. It was my earliest memory. I hadn’t thought about it in years… But I knew why my subconscious brought it up now. It was the pony I met yesterday. He was the stallion from my memory. From the dreams I kept having. But he wasn’t. He was… different. A bit younger. My age. Mane was different. Voice was off. But it was him. Just a different him.
I got out of bed, washed my mane and brushed my teeth, and I looked in the mirror. On my throat was a faint scar that nopony knew how I got. I’d had it since I could remember, and I knew mother wasn’t responsible for this one.
I went down stairs. I knew what I had to do. I knew I sounded crazy. At least I thought I did. But he was out there. The real him. My him. And I knew if I looked, I would find him. I knew it.
Song that happens to come to mind: David Bowie - Ashes to Ashes
