Wind

by maniactaxi

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, Slice of Life
Length: 4610

A short-sighted stallion tries to investigate a strange phenomenon in the form of an intense vision that threatens to throw both him and his sanity straight out the door.

Measure's never been much of a pony.
He's always felt like things around him were too dull, like they were supposed to be something more.

Measure periodically experiences a vision… of sorts. It's near impossible to avoid and can come around at any time. But it's not malevolent; it's a cheerful reality he's thrown into.

He attempts to investigate.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-19 03:59:04 UTC

Sunshine and Doubt

The Insistent ringing of the alarm echoed through the flat, breaking the veil of silence.

Sunlight was streaming in through the vermilion curtains, baking the worn-out leather on the couch. A chocolate wrapper dotted the dingy grey carpet here and there, and that special house smell we all know was stronger than usual.

In the tiny bedroom, a delicate hoof touched the "snooze" button. Eyes closed, and seemed to immediately reopen. "Ten minutes already?" thought the half asleep lump.

The creature let loose a gentle sigh.

Measure hit the "off" button and sat up slowly.

For Measure, morning was one of the worst times to think.

Everything bad about his day that he knew was inevitable seemed worse when the pony thought about it in the morning. The tasks to complete and places to go flooded his mind until he wanted nothing more than to sink farther into the mattress.

He often wondered if this kind of thinking was normal; he had never asked anypony. It certainly wasn't harmful, per say, but that was why he tried not to think at all.

Surprisingly enough, it usually worked.

Out of bed. Open curtains. Shield eyes. Bathroom, toilet, mirror.

Measure believed you could tell a lot about the type of day you were going to have by how you looked in the morning. Something about the curve of your mane or if one of your eyes was still half closed. He stared at the disheveled face in front of him.

Measure was a blue-green earth pony with a dark, dirty blond mane that he always combed neatly, but never too neatly. His cutie mark was a plain-looking screwdriver. When it had appeared (rather late too), he had pondered what this could possibly symbolize.

He was, in fact, very analytical, somewhat introverted, and unnaturally good at reading and drawing maps; unique traits, but not that corresponded to the image in question.

However, contrary to the mark, he was not at all adept at repairing anything with screws, much less any object at all.

Blame it on fate.

He was also better at figuring things out slow and logically than making a decision on the spot. But Measure had discovered long ago that cutie marks were almost never direct in their meaning.

Measure grumbled something to himself about an image on your flank controlling your life as he trudged out of the tiny room.

Kitchen, fridge, milk, food.

By this time, Measure was usually awake enough to take on the day. Not that he had that much to worry about in the first place; Measure loved his job. In fact, it was his dream job: Data and record handling at the local clinic. It was just so simple, yet enjoyable for him. It didn't require any creativity or imagination, just plain old concentration and patience. Nothing changed except the names and numbers. Same process, no surprises, and decent pay as well.

Measure was oftentimes happily skeptical as to how he had achieved his career goal so easily. Of course, a job like this was anything except uncommon, but he had been used to condescending parent-talk of how he would have to work hard to get the life he wanted. But, one newspaper clipping later, he was hired into the perfect "behind the scenes" job where he wouldn't have to argue with angry ponies all day; Measure had never been the social type.

He was quite capable of it, but oftentimes he saw no need for it.

For example, If a random pony on the street called hello, he would simply mutter a hushed greeting or half-raise a hoof. He found it annoying if somepony simply said hello with no other purpose in mind. Measure wasn't unfriendly, but he often seemed it since he was the type to not speak unless spoken to.

He was deep in thought when he realized he had his elbow in his cereal.

Measure tossed his bowl scornfully into the sink, put on his scarf ("Stallions can wear them too" he grumbled), and pushed himself outside, locking the door tightly behind him.

"At least Celestia is in a good mood", he thought optimistically, as he scanned the benign morning setting before him.

The grass was glistening with just the right amount of dew, and Celestia's golden rays made the thatched hay on the roofs of the other buildings glow.

There weren't many ponies about on his street, as they would all be in the market until late morning, shopping themselves dry.

He chuckled at the thought as he shuffled silently down the weathered steps of his flat and went on his way. But once again, his ever-questioning mind would not cease to pressure him.

He criticized his methods and constantly morphing personality. Why was he bitter and cold one moment and the next, all smiles? Why was he so plainly discontented with everything around him? Why didn't he find himself a special somepony and... no. Not today. "It's much too early for such things", he scolded himself. He had all he needed, right? A stable job, a roof over his head, and a quiet town to accompany it.

Maybe if he tried... what? Oh, yes, hello to you too Cheerilee. Why yes, he had heard about the hoedown at the Apple Farm next Friday. Maybe so, maybe not. Yes, you too, goodbye for now.

"Where was I?" he muttered, earning a couple of glances. "Right. Attitudes". The pony's brow was furrowed as he walked steadily through the bustling marketplace.

Measure had reached the clinic. It wasn't the worst place to work, situated near the edge of town in a quiet neighborhood where ponies didn't bother you if you didn't bother them.

The building was coated with white stucco, was relatively small and had only three stories, since it was just a county-wide clinic.

A bland sign was stuck into the ground in the front garden that read in blue letters on a white background: "Township of Ponyville Medical Clinic. Family run for 34 years."

The "3" was sagging slightly, as if it had been there for far too long.

Measure pushed open the door and entered the small lobby/waiting room.

It wasn't busy this time of morning, and only one doctor on duty, most likely already swamped with the morning routines.

In the lobby, there was only an exhausted-looking Berry Punch in a chair with her foal beside her, who was coughing unrelentingly. Measure gave them a wide berth.

"Morning, Red" he said neutrally to the mare at the counter as he sauntered in.

Nurse Redheart, with her perfectly straight nurse's cap and orderly but kind manner, gave him a knowing nod in reply and went back to filing.

Five years, Measure thought.

"Five years in this place, and I've barely talked to her besides some small chats about the news or where the extra staples are..."

"Pathetic."

"Hell, I barely even see the other employees..." he thought worriedly.

"Staying in that office all day, they must think I'm a cold-hearted jerk."

"Too cautious, that's what I am". The pony shook his head in an attempt to wash away the irksome thoughts.

Indeed, Measure was extremely careful about the types of ponies he associated himself with, due to certain experiences that he didn't much care to remember.

Of course, there wasn't anything wrong with Redheart, or for hardly anypony in town for that matter, but he made a silent pact to get to know her better... and immediately forgot about it.

Measure entered his humbly sized office and flicked on the light. On the distracting hardwood walls were a few cheap paintings that had already been in the office when it had been assigned to him, the kind that are just warm colors splashed onto a 30x30 canvas. A single, sad-looking "Employee of the Month" award from two years ago hung as well.

There were no personal pictures on his desk, only the usual office supplies in a neat row, and a small tin of peppermints that hadn't been touched. Measure opened the drapes only an inch, since his office faced the east and the sun wouldn't be gone until  around noon. He sat down at his desk and tried to fill in the infinitely small lines of some patient's dismissal papers with respectable mouthwriting, but it happened.

That one tiny thought in the smallest crevice of his brain that just wouldn't leave him alone. You see, Measure had a dream of sorts. But not just any dream, it was the worst kind; an impossible daydream that kept telling him it was possible. It distracted him, poked and prodded his sensitive nerves, taunted him, and then came back for more. He had promised himself not to let it in but...

"Buck."

Measure put down his fountain pen, pushed the mound of papers aside, and gave a long sigh.

It was going to be one of those days.

Fantasy

The Room faded, closing in lazily like a piece of burning paper. The lights seemed to dim, and even the sun withdrew it's beam from the window. Measure took a deep breath, let his eyelids fall, and lowered his head onto the cool wood of the desk.

This particular dream was so intense and material, but Measure couldn't work out why.

He had no reason to be experiencing it; he'd never had problems such as head trauma or insomnia, but still it plagued him at the worst of times.

First of all, it was... quite frankly, dumb.

Dumb and foalish, as Measure had told himself many a time. But it just seemed all too real, much too real to not be true in some manner.

The pony often seriously wondered if this was some kind of vision into another version of the world, where the containing circumstances were true. Measure knew he should probably see a psychologist about the whole of the ordeal, but, truth be told, he was too frightened of the pony in question (and possibly others) mocking him for it.

The vision commenced, the town landscape appearing out of nowhere and jarring his non-existant eyelids into squinting.

It was usually the same with minor differences each time. He would still be himself, but not quite himself. He felt brighter, more jovial. His mane was too neat, and he wore the kind of smile that was too wide to be purely happy.

Although there was no sound and the view was somewhat hazy, considering it was all in his mind, he could definitely see a good amount of differences. Once or twice he had seen the inside of his flat. It was bigger, as if it had been built for two.

Cleaner as well. There weren't any more wrappers on the shiny-looking carpet, or dishes piled in the sink. But the main detail always stood:

Measure was now a pegasus.

He saw through his his newly-rebuilt form's eyes.

He was trotting briskly through town, greeting ponies and them doing likewise with their silent lips. He felt his facial muscles contracted into a small but genuine grin that seemed to be dripping with that smug "Hey-I'm-an-approachable-guy" likeness that Measure despised.

Then, at the peak of it all, his wings unfurled and he took to the sky. He viewed with anticipation the wild blue sky ahead, like it was calling him; waiting to be discovered.

Measure couldn't exactly control his movements while in the trance, but at the same time he didn't feel surprised by any of them, like it was what he was supposed to do.

He felt himself flap harder, faster, climbing the with air currents and joining a few other pegasi out on the autumn morning.

However, Measure climbed past them, his pegasus instincts begging for more speed.

When he reached an ample altitude, the aquamarine pegasus paused to survey the aerial landscape around him.

He was just below the first cloud layer, the morning pegasi traffic and the town of Ponyville far below.

He spied the Everfree Forest, just outside of town, like an angry predator, dark and menacing, twisting off into the blazing horizon.

Measure took a moment to study the small, multicolored forms moving about on the inches-wide streets and avenues, disappearing and reappearing from the shops and homes with their ever so perfect hay-thatched roofs.

However, the pegasus quickly grew bored. His joints were literally twitching to be stretched and bent.

     Measure shut his eyes, silently counted to three, snap-folded his wings, and dived.

He felt the moisture of the occasional cloud, and could even smell a bit of the fresh batch of pastries the Cakes had just pulled from the oven.

But the Wind.

It was almost indescribable. It felt better than... well, a few things Measure could name.

It hit every part of his body at once, sliding across it and changing direction constantly, coursing through him and giving him even more adrenaline than he already had.

It pushed his fur back, cooling him just as fast as he was heated.

The air resistance did little to slow him, for his wings were flapping almost to the point of blurring.

It was at this point that Measure knew he was born to fly.

He opened his eyes, a difficult task against the air flow. He processed what was in front of him.

Not a few seconds away was terra firma itself, falling toward him tremendously fast. Measure calmly pulled up and curved upwards at a slight angle to the right. He had come quite close to a month in intensive care, but the thought didn't cross his mind.

A few ponies had seen the close call and were either stomping their hooves in excitement, looking up with shocked expressions and short gasps, or jeering at him for almost ruining their bone structure, as well as their day.

Measure was hardly aware of any of this and flew silently steady for a few minutes, reflecting on the dive. He cockily thought that maybe even the element of loyalty would be impressed. He had heard she was an incredible flyer, but the name eluded him. He vaguely remembered her being in the newspaper for something.

The dive had only lasted for a few seconds, but it seemed like forever more.

The newly rejuvenated pegasus descended and made a soft landing on a side street. He was just getting his bearings when he heard a voice, seemingly from all directions.

"Meeeaaasssssuureee......"

He didn't speak. He only looked around him and started cantering in a random direction. The voice seemed to be feminine, but Measure wasn't exactly concerned with that at the moment.

"Clooockkwooooorrrk  Meeeaaaaassssssuuuurreeee......"

He ducked into an alleyway. The speaker was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, an idea crossed his mind.

He banged his eyes shut once more, and thought of flying, flying straight out of reality. He felt the air grow warmer around him.

The ambient sounds disappeared.

"Measure? Alright there, bud?"

Measure forced his eyes open and his head up from the desk. He looked frantically around. His office; thank Celestia. He checked the clock.

Only 2 minutes later from when he had entered his reverie. He registered a form to his left.

"Rrr... Redheart?" His voice was croaky.

She cocked her head and gave him a concerned look. "Yeah, it's me alright. What happened here?"

"Wut?"

"You had your snout in your desk and your head in the clouds."

It all flashed back to the stupefied pony, and he chuckled at the irony of what Redheart had just said.

"Uhh.... well..."

Nurse Redheart stepped a bit closer and put a gentle hoof on Measure's shoulder.

"Mes, are you sure you don't-"

"Please don't call me that" Measure said curtly, turning slightly. It was a pet peeve of his.

"Right. Sorry."

Redheart kept the hoof on his shoulder, which he found uncomfortable. "I'm just a bit worried about you. You're usually fairly upbeat. But every day for two weeks you come in all down-looking and-"

"Red, I just- can I call you Red?" A nod.

"I'm just having a lot of personal... complications. I don't need to bother you with them, and I won't."

Nurse Redheart thought for a moment. "Well, I don't see it as a burden. I see it as you helping yourself to get something off your back which is so obviously troubling you" She threw him a small smile.

"Well, maybe we could start with you taking your hoof off my back" Measure half-joked.

"Right. Sorry." Redheart stepped back and grinned encouragingly.

They stared at each other in silence until Measure realized she was waiting for an answer.

"Oh! Oh yes, I suppose if you wanted me to.. um... talk to you.. I could do that." Measure said with a nervous chuckle.

"Good. We'll have to work something out later. Berry is just a little too paranoid about her foal's cold, so I should probably get back to-"

"Nurse?" Berry Punch's husky voice sounded from the lobby right on cue, along with more coughing. "I think Ruby needs a larger dose!"

Redheart rolled her eyes and turned to go. "Later then?"

"Later" Measure confirmed.

She closed the door soundlessly.

Measure the earth pony tried not to remember the vision, as he pulled the abysmal stack of papers toward him once again, but this time, he didn't feel burdened by it in the least. As he sighed, something suddenly occurred to him.

This was the first time the vision had actually been difficult to "come out" of; usually it just ended on it's own. It had also been more vivid, the colors had seemed to jump out more than usual and the crowd of ponies hadn't blurred together as much.

He entertained the thought for a moment, before catching himself being paranoid, and putting the thought behind a mentally closed door.

As he began to write, Measure the earth pony hummed an entirely made up, and off key, tune.

Light

Hours passed.

Measure felt an invisible weight lifted from his shoulders as he realized it was the end of the workday.

As he performed the evening ritual of putting his pens back in the cup perfectly straight, the heavy-with-ink documents in the "Out" box in the filing room, and locking his office, his thoughts drifted to what he had discussed with Redheart.

Did he really need help? Her help? Or somepony else's? For that matter, what did he need help with? He was fine, he told himself for the umpteenth time that day; all he was doing was worrying, and he was very tired of it too. He didn't need somepony interpreting his "vision", because it was nothing more than that. A silly dream. Still...

The earth pony clip-clopped out to the lobby. Half the lights were already off, throwing shadows everywhere but the reception counter. Nurse Redheart was just finishing tidying it of stray tissues and antibiotics spills.

Measure opened his mouth to say something, but instead decided he was too tired to talk. "Night" he said, without turning. He knew it was rude, but he needed to clear his head. Again.

"G'night, Mes" came the friendly reply. Measure pushed open the door and didn't bother to correct her as he cut across the stunted grass to the street.

Ponyville wasn't much for nightlife. There was only one club in town and it seemed to switch between a lounge and a disco on a regular basis. Tonight the latter seemed to be in action, as multicolored lights and half-drunk ponies drifted from the half open door, accompanied by muffled electro. It made Measure's head hurt just thinking about it. He wrinkled his nose, tightened his scarf, and hurried on.

He turned onto his street, where the only streetlight made the pony's shadow 30 feet long. Measure walked slower, savoring the cool, savory night air and the cozy lights and silhouettes visible through the curtains of houses. This made his thoughts drift to family, something he hadn't thought about in a long time.

He climbed the steps to his flat and tripped through the door, flipped the lights on, and made friends with the couch.

"Right. Family."

Measure hadn't grown up with much. He still knew every street in Trottingham, and remembered the flamboyant yellow house on the corner. He could almost hear his mother's voice: "Clockwork Measure, clean your room this moment!"

His family had been working class, both his parents musicians; it had never caught on with him. He'd had a few friends here and there, but nothing real. He had only one sibling, a sister, Honey Sprinkles. They used to be quite close, but lost touch a few months ago, when the dreams had started.

Measure had thought of calling her or visiting her at her home in New Hayshire. Last he had heard she was getting married.

He still felt dreadful for not going to the wedding, but he wasn't comfortable in groups.

"It's your own sister, for Celestia's sake!" he had thought. Shortly afterwards, he had stopped talking to her, too ashamed. It seemed now she was only a fictional character in a foal's storybook, or the kind of pony that is always talked about but never seen.

And so he had moved to Ponyville, to get away from the city, to find work, and, (he thought), find peace of mind. Perhaps he had, in a sense.

Sometimes, on slow nights, Measure would walk a mile or so out of town up a hill and tall ridge known as Starswirl's Peak, which was rumored enchanted by the legendary magician so that he would be able to pick magical herbs for new brews. Now, it was nothing but stubby grass and and a few white irises. At the edge was a long and yawning drop, with some large rocks barely visible below.

Measure would stand there, staring at the stars, drinking in the sky and thinking of the light that had waited so long just to touch his eyes at this very moment. It made him feel small. Tiny. Inconceivably unimportant.

But it also made his troubles feel the same way; tiny, temporary, and tethered only to here and now. He thoughtfully recalled something his mother had once said to him: "See those lights up there? They're far, ever so far away, and ponies are only now figuring out how big they are too. But when you think about what's out there, and how big it all is, you realize how small everything down here is, and how your problems can never last." Measure admitted to himself that he really missed his parents more than he remembered.

He hadn't quite understood it at the time, being only a young foal, but those last few words had glued themselves to his skull, and they had gotten him through some rough times too.

Measure would allow himself a small smile, as he would recline on the comforting bed of grass, undisturbed, staring and contemplating for hours on end. It made him feel like a geek, but he hardly cared.

As Measure sat there on his sagging couch, he remembered that he hadn't been up to the peak in a few weeks. Why not, he figured.

His eyes jerked to the clock. 21:48. Enough time, he reasoned as he counted to 10 and heaved himself up.

He quickly made a pot of cocoa and put some cookies out for later, when he knew he'd want them before bed.

The earth pony moved outside and shut the door behind him, not bothering to lock it this time.

He just needed to relax for a bit, he told himself as he set off at a leisurely pace. He'd not push himself down by worrying about silly things like work and what other ponies thought of him.

It reminded him of a certain mare at the local bakery, which he'd only visted once. He recalled her as being... "noticeable", he decided.

As he walked along the gravel trail, leaving the lights behind, Measure remembered his pact to Nurse Redheart, and immediately felt guilty about his exit from the clinic. He didn't have any friends here yet; he didn't want to mess that up... "Just like bucking grade school" he muttered glumly.

An alarm went off in his head; he decided not to dwell.

Come to think of it, he didn't really know anypony; they all knew him for some inexplicable reason. They all said hello like one would, but he hated having to give them a confused look and then quickly decide whether to return the favor or not.

Why couldn't friendships be natural, created and maintained by him?

Did everypony really just have to do this out of pity?

Was there nopony that liked him for who he was and didn't just feel sorry for him?

Were they all against him?

What if they were?

"why...why...why...whywhyWHYWHYWHY!" screamed his mind. The thoughts swirled around rabidly, growling, repeating and contradicting and making a vicious circle.

Measure calmly brought them to a halt, as he was used to this happening. Everything kept raising more and more questions, until nothing made sense. He knew it was foolish, and so he decided to focus on the goal ahead.

He walked solemnly in silence, and tried to wonder about something normal for a change. "What do other ponies worry about?" "What's for dinner? If it's going to rain next Tuesday? If my spouse is still next to me in the morning?"

He snickered lightly and pushed the obvious thought out of his mind, perhaps a bit too violently.

"I'm perfect by myself." "Besides, somepony else in that tiny can known as a flat would be too much."

"Much.... too.... much" he convinced himself firmly.

Hadn't he?

Measure had reached the base of Starswirl's peak. It looked steeper than he remembered, reaching up like a blade of prairie grass toward the moon hanging in the sky, seemingly just beyond the lip.

He smiled, just a bit, and slowly began the walk up. He took his time with each step, reminding himself that he was inches closer to the winking blips above him.

Without taking his eyes off them, he lay on his side and stared.

Just stared.

He let his eyes and mind get lost in the colorful ocean above him.

It was all there.

After a while they seemed to come together as a collective light, shooting from the heavens right into his eyes and filling him with their fiery stamina.

It made the pony feel lighter, and his mind began playing tricks on him by making him feel as if he was slowly tilting to one side. He closed his eyes, and savored the silence.

He felt as if absolutely nothing was, or could go wrong. The townsponies didn't matter... he'd figure it out.

Later.

So much later.

*********************

After a time, Measure opened his eyes, and checked the position of the moon. A full one.

Midnight.

The magic hour, some ponies said.

Measure slowly rose and walked to the lip of the peak. He peered down at the inky ocean of night for a moment, then turned around and looked towards the town, a few miles away. It seemed it was nothing more than a cluster of lights and rectangles.

Artificial.

The town faded from his view until there was nothing in it's place but the waving spring grasses.

Measure moved; a quick, easy motion.

And he was flying, flying faster than he ever had or ever believed he could.

It was so real.

And as he zoomed through the night air, he closed his eyes, and smiled.