My Dear Shy - Rick's Lament

Chapters

Log Two - Chapter One
Log Four - Chapter Three
Log Five - Chapter Four
Log Six - Chapter Five
Log Seven - Chapter Six
Log Eight - Chapter Seven
Log Nine - Chapter Eight - Part One
Log Nine - Chapter Eight - Part Two
Log Ten - Chapter Nine
Log Eleven - Chapter Ten
Log Twelve - Chapter Eleven
Log One - Prologue
Log Three - Chapter Two

Log Two - Chapter One

So it's been a full week after the remembrance of my dear Shy...

Work has been dull, as per usual. The workers went about their usual routine with chitter-chatter, as I completely isolated myself at my desk in the meanwhile. They had no clue what had been going on in my life. If only they knew; if they discovered the unbelievable truth, then I'd be the talk of the town. More than that, actually. I'd be the talk of the century; I'd be the talk of the whole world. There, however, are consequences for these types of things: the government, the FBI, and worst of all... the press. The press are first what attract the unwanted attention. When word about it begins to spread around so damn fast, you'd know the government and FBI would do something about it. I mean, it's out of the ordinary when you discover an alien from a whole different world. Of course the FBI would abduct them for unknown reasons.

Saying 'unknown reasons' would be such an understatement. I'm fairly aware what they would do if they had known and kidnapped my dear Shy. Though I don't want to. It's unbearable to think what horrors they'd do to her...

I forgot to include on my previous entry that tomorrow after Celestia appeared on my television screen that I went to work and met a rather angry Tina whom I forgot to inform if I was available on that day. I simply had told her I had to do something important (nothing, really. It was a lie to avoid encountering any trouble). That in turn earned an understanding from her, so I was fortunate I dodged a bullet there. She had then asked if next week would suffice. I supposed it didn't do any harm if I went out to eat. A straight, non-romantic, going out to eat date. Nothing else. Complying to her request, Tina was truly excited and hugged me out of pure joy. Not only was that strange, but it surprised me how she acted from my response.

Sure she viewed me as a friend, yet I couldn't say the same for me. Again, I don't see why I should see her as a friend, even if she got me this job as a journalist. Nothing personal, but I'm just a particular cynical person with a particular normal job and a particular hobby of watching cartoons. It's just who I am. I guess it's the way how I was raised is the reason why. Growing up with an abusive foster mother and father would definitely influence that kind of behavior.

Enough about that, though. As I was saying; turns out when I told Celestia that I would manage if I kept the memories of my dear Shy, things are not going as swimmingly as I believed they would. Every day, of that week, I just couldn't stop thinking about her. Every night, of that week, I couldn't stop dreaming about her.... How can I forget such a sweet and angelic face of hers? The feeling of her soft, silky pink tail and mane. Her quiet, yet beautiful, voice. It ails me that I can't do anything about it. I have to force myself to press onward, relishing every speck of detail of the heartwarming moments we shared with each other. She helped me become a better person, and made me realize there was more meaning to life than anything in the whole world. Though now... I'm back where I started; back to square one.

But I know for certain that she's happy now. She's back where she belongs; with her true friends who are probably also happy to see her again. Me? I may not be happy about losing her, but I can be happy if she's happy. And I think that's a good enough reason for me to go on. She would want that. She would want me to go on even if she remembered, too.

I can hear the grandfather clock's rhythmic chimes. Guess that means it's time for bed. Won't be looking forward dreaming my dear Shy again. I will, however, be looking forward to the date with Tina. Then again, who wouldn't look forward to a free dinner?

Log Four - Chapter Three

Two whole weeks after the remembrance of my dear Shy...

Nothing new or exciting has happened throughout this boresome week. Two days ago I've caught a minor case of the cold and still am sick to this day. It's not really too major; only a stuffy nose and a sore throat, is all. I'm not sure how I got it, to be honest. I haven't made any direct contact except in the restro-... Oh for bloody sakes! Now that I recall, I have a hunch it may have been one of the employees of the department who could have been down with the flu.

I frankly remember that I drank six cups of coffee in one setting. I mean, if I have to sit on a computer chair for hours straight until work is over, I definitely would want a nice fresh mug of black coffee nearby as my fuel to keep my brain's engine running. It was then evident that the coffee went through me fast, and I therefore had to make an immediate short trip to the restroom. I've indeed washed my hands, but I guess some repulsive oaf thought it'd be an excellent idea to come to work when he has a flu. Yeah, why not we infect the entire damn floor while we're at it?! I'm sure the boss also would enjoy catching the flu. Except he hasn't. I know this because he called me just yesterday. Sounds as fluid as a healthy horse (just a figure of speech).

...I don't know why I used that kind of metaphor. I suppose it's my dear Shy.... I keep reminding myself the dreaded truth that I won't be able to see her again despite the actual fact that they have a cartoon show. It's... not the same. One time when I reached a hand over to the screen (in pathetic hopes to again feel her magnificent soft fur) all I felt was nothing but the cruel hard surface of a television monitor screen... It's utterly grimacing having to watch your daughter without her acknowledging your existence. Kind of like how a mother or father were unfit as parents to raise a child and just give him away to a new foster family (an abusive foster family who should burn in hell for the abusement they've given to that poor child!). At the very least the former parents could have left a memento explaining why. Because without any knowledge of the reason is going to leave that helpless child endlessly wondering why they up and abandoned him! Did they ever consider the possibility that that child will grow up to be a distasteful dick who despises everything and everyone around him! They should be hanged for doing such terrible thing!

Now that my anger has settled... I'm going to go lie down for a while.

"A... ah-choo!"

Log Five - Chapter Four

I have just woken up after having an horrific nightmare; a nightmare so twisted I can't comprehend why I dreamt it in the first place.

I'd rather not want to talk about it, but I feel that I should write it down as it could be some sort of correspondence.

The dream began with me standing in an oblivious grove. Surrounded in complete and utter blackness. I couldn't decipher where I was, or what forest this was. All I knew was that I was bewildered and lost. No matter how much I walked or ran, I always ended up back to square one. This was the kind of nightmare I dread most. You never know what could happen when you least expect it. The thing was was that nothing happened. For the remainder of what felt like an hour, I was still mindlessly wandering these unknown woods. That was... until I encountered a familiar shadow figure just beyond a few feet from where I stood. I continued taking a cautious step by step until the figure was visible to see. The figure had a butter-yellow coat with a pink mane and tail, it was enough to identify who it was. It was certainly my dear Shy, just standing amongst the misty darkness which surrounded the entire area around us.

With another step, the sound of a twig snapping underneath my foot alarmed the mare to quickly turn around toward the noise's whereabouts. At first I expected a deformed face with eyes gouged out like from what you see in a horror movie, but this wasn't the case. She was precisely like she was when I last saw her; those blue sparkling orbs, her soft and pointy yellow ears, and last but not least her beautiful face. The only wrong thing I noticed was the look of fear in her eyes. It was as if she was blankly staring at a monster.

I took a split moment observing my body, and strangely enough I was also the way I always was. Again, what shocked me the most was that shadows were bleeding from my body. Almost like ink in water.

Perhaps this was the main reason Fluttershy was acting so afraid and reluctant.

As I took one last step, I knelt down to one knee with an open palm stretched out. "Flutter...shy..." I said with a deep and dark voice that even I had an unsettling chill going up my spine.

Fluttershy stared at me dumbfoundedly. She seemed to know it was me, but in a way she was timidly hesitant to make an approach. Curiosity appeared to have gotten the better of her as she faltered step after step until she was barely inches away from my hand. I reached my hand out further, and in turn it earned a small flinch from her. She almost took a hop back at my sudden movement, yet she retained her stance once I managed to connect my fingers to the surface of her face's left cheek.

I heard a swift 'brrr' out of her lips when my fingers made contact.

With a gentle, fatherly stroke of my hand Fluttershy was swarmed with a sense of longing and she returned the affection by rubbing her face against my bare and clammy palm. All of a sudden... I started losing self-control as the hand that was currently stroking her began working its way down towards her throat.

And that's when things were taking a turn for the worst.

The minute I realized I was losing my ability of self-control, it was too late as the hand swiftly grabbed hold of Fluttershy's neck and gripped the base of her throat so tightly that it was choking her to death. I slowly rose both to my feet, meanwhile lifting the helpless mare off the ground as she desperately squirmed to break free. I knew this was wrong. I wanted to cease this violent act I was committing. But I had no control whatsoever. Pretty much all I could do was witness my daughter's death before my very eyes. The worst of it was that I'm the one who's killing her....

Soon... her body weakened, and later her limbs went limp as her frantic squirming came to a deathly end.

I sensed the life was completely drained out of her, but apparently that wasn't enough as I made one final act of cruelty to assure she was gone for good. I-... my hand... no. No, it's too unbearable to finish. This was beyond gruesome than anything I had ever seen, even by human standard; I... squeezed my hand tighter until the bone in her throat made a loud 'crunching' sound.

And just like that... I released my grip and allowed her lifeless body to collapse onto the cold ground. At that moment, my eyes were leaking tears. I smeared a tear with an index finger, but I then saw that my finger was now coated in crimson. To a horrified conclusion, I realized I was crying out tears of blood...

Trembling down to both knees, sulking in bottomless regret, I stared up at the non-existent sky and let out a demonic bellow.

And that's when I woke up. Never, in my life, would I dare go back to sleep after having a nightmare such as that... What father would be demented enough to dream themselves killing their own daughter... What sort of message was it supposed to bring?

Log Six - Chapter Five

Three weeks after the remembrance of my dear Shy...

Here in the fall -- November it should be -- the weather schedule has been pretty awful for the past couple days. Nothing but hard, downpouring rain, wind and massive storm clouds -- all you can see is a dull grey sky. Chances are there might be a flash flood if this continues. Luckily, my house sits on top of a steep hill; I don't have to worry about a possible flash flood. Can't say the same for the city folk, though. They're probably going to need rafts and vests. Sucks to be them.

Here I'm writing this log entry in my journal, slightly depressed. Not even the misfortune for the people in the city seems to be brightening up this gloomy day. It's rather dim-lit in this office; all the lights in the house are off, all except this banker's lantern next to me, raining light down upon the journal I'm currently writing on. The pen's tip scratches the surface of the paper with each stroke, thorough so that no mistakes are to be made. I must be diligent, for the smallest screw-up can cause a few minutes into this log a waste of time; I would have to rip out a page and make a new one.

Tiny beads of sweat irritatingly trickle down the side of my sideburns, encouraging me to reach over a box of tissues I keep nearby in case stuff like this happen. Pulling off a single sheet of tissue, I gently wipe it across the left side of my face. Before I could clean the right side, a droplet of sweat parts itself and tints the corner of the journal's page with a fervent circular stain. As the paper soaks the substance in, I resume wiping away the right side of my face, relieved nothing got ruined or tarnished by that single droplet.

With one last careful stroke, the log for today is finally finished.

I close the cover and push myself away from the desk to stretch my aching limbs. Surveying my digital watch wrapped around my wrist, the glowing green numbers read 7:14PM.

Once more I stretch my arms as wide as they can go. "Man... I've been sitting here for a measly hour!" I say to no one present. Letting out an agonisingly slow and deep yawn, I stand up from the computer chair and hobble over to the window. The office's hardwood floor faintly creak with each heavy step I take; the only aggravating sound that echoes throughout the entire house besides the winds howling outside.

Halting at a few inches away from the maroon-colored drapes, two of my hands each grab an end and tug away from one another, revealing a vast field of waving wet grass and leafless maple trees beyond the window's glass. Focusing on one specific tree, I spot a lone yellow leaf still hanging on to a branch. It's so yellow and nice... almost like...

Just stop it, Rick. Just... stop it.

Ever since that nightmare, I try repelling the thoughts of her, praying in the later run I won't have to dream something that horrid ever again. In a way it helps, but every damn time I see something resembling to the color of her fur, eyes, or mane, reminiscence butts in along with grief.

Forcefully pushing those memories aside, I resume surveying the lonely leaf clinging on to its dear life as the wispy gusts threaten removing it from its rightful perch. With another sudden burst of wind, the force manages to tear the stem off the branch. The leaf glides elegantly through the air, never to be seen again. Almost like a memory that's almost forgotten. Shortly after that interesting observation, my eyes glance back at the maple tree which the leaf recently parted from.

The sight then causes a depressing frown to form and deepen across my expression. Crestfallen, staring down at the floor, I exhale a pitiful sigh and close the drapes.

Log Seven - Chapter Six

Five weeks after the remembrance of my dear Shy...

The once snoozing alarm clock reposed on the short white dresser left to my bed immediately awakens with an ear-wrenching siren precisely at six o'clock in the morning. Groaning, I drowsily rise out of my thick sheets and slam a flat palm on the device to silence the infernal sound. Half-awake, and slow like a sloth, I pull the sheets off of me and slide my legs over to the bed's end.

With a dull yawn, I mutter, "Another boring day on another boring year..."

I trudge toward the lavatory and gaze into the large mirror, where I see a reflection of my miserable self; my hair totally unkempt, some strands sticking out here and there, the perceptible wrinkles of crow's feet near my shadowy eyes and the sagging bags beneath them.

"Just another day," I repeat tiredly before reaching for the toothbrush sitting on the sink. After brushing my teeth, I head into the shower stall and twist the knobs. It's always nice having a warm shower. Just feeling the lukewarm water seeping into my body is enough to make me relax - almost enough for me to forget that awful nightmare. Almost...

Sadly, something like a shower isn't going to help me forget that. Why... Why would I dream of something so sadistic, so cruel, so malicious such as that; why would I ever have a single thought of intentionally harming Fluttershy? The one being that ever loved me.

"Why, damn it?!" In an outburst of emotional rage I smack one side of the wall. Not many can see it, but blending in with the water from the shower, streaks of tears trickle out of my eyes. I... "Why..." I croak sullenly, the shower's rushing water drowning out the sobs that break out little by little. My back against the wall, I place a hand over my eyes to mask the tears.

Sitting down, chin resting on my knees, the phone on the counter erupts into the mario theme. I know who it is, but I can barely bring myself back up. Hopefully he'll understand. Wait. No... No, he can never understand. No one ever will.

Ugh. Look how pathetic I am. I'm here in the shower sulking over what's already happened. This heartache will never cease. Not unless there's a way to change everything back. But there isn't. I'm not some superhero who can travel between dimensions. And we don't have the kind of technology to do that, too.

The pain in my heart intensifies. It hurts so much. So bloody much. Why, my dear Shy? Why did you have to leave me here all alone? Can't you see how distraught your father is? Can't you see your father wallowing in despair, wishing you'd return? Can't you see how unhappy I am without you? But wait... Weren't you happy with me here? Weren't you just plain happy without friends? That's... That's right. We were happy together, weren't we? We didn't need a friend. Or two. Or three. Or even a hundred. We were happily living together by ourselves.

Yes. I see. It wasn't that you had to leave. No. I finally understand what's going on. It's that Celestia and her student. They were all in on it. They couldn't stand watching a human raising a pony as a daughter. They only pretended to feel sorry for me. They... took you from me! Yes. They didn't care for me at all. It was you, that's all they were concern for! I could've done something - I could've just thrown them out, and none of this wouldn't have happened. But it's already too late; I can't undo all that's been passed.

My hand droops from my face, eyes narrow and fueling with risen anger. Tears continue to leak, nonetheless. This world... This reality that we call life we live in. It's all a mere illusion. Sometimes we fear if there truly is a hell. But I am here to say that the world we live in is truly...

"I really am in hell..."

Log Eight - Chapter Seven

Seventh week after the remembrance...

I'm not sure how long I can keep this up. This pain stabbing me in the chest, it's agonizing. Everywhere I go or see it makes me think about her.

Damn it all. Just damn it.

Celestia had to bound the blanket to me. Why she didn't leave everything as it was is beyond me; because of her foolish mistake, I'm left with these memories.

I continue lying on my antiquated brown couch, spinning Fluttershy's feather with my thumb and index finger, recalling the precious moments we spent together; recalling the years of my growing fondness of her company and kindness.

She was so beautiful and profoundly smart as a filly. Very naive, moreover, but smart nonetheless. I greatly admired her innocence, so much that I wished I had that.

Sadly that is far beyond my reach. Not even raising Fluttershy, or changing my ways, will consider me innocent. Not by a long shot.

I can't help but think about her, though. Yet at the same time I wish I could. While remembering her face brings a smile to my lips, it also hurts me inside my chest, where my heart is. This pain I feel... It hurts so very much; it's like my heart is made of fragile glass, and Celestia threw a stone at it, shattering into broken shards. It's making me nauseous, which explains why I'm lying down in the first place.

I idly glance at the yellow feather, letting time tick tock away the rest of the day until bedtime.

Cartoons have been becoming dull as of recently. I'm so downhearted that I just can't find the joy out of them anymore...

My dear Shy... I miss you so. It is with regret that I allowed Celestia to take you without having any second thought. I realize that after seven weeks now.

I cannot undo everything that's happened, but surely there is something I can do now that I have your feather in my possession...

Log Nine - Chapter Eight - Part One

The ninth week after the remembrance...

I... I feel like I'm starting to lose it. I mean, at first I thought it was just a one-time thing. I can't be more wrong. For the past subsequent week I've been having these recurring nightmares. Nightmares that were more morbid than the last.

The first one was unsettlingly harmless... It started with my vision being blinded by a thick coat of darkness. It went on like this for a while, that was until I began hearing someone screaming. It was indistinct, but it sounded like a woman shrieking in fear. It was reminiscent of... Tina's voice... She let out another shrilling scream, almost as if she was in pure agony. I opened my mouth to call her, yet no words flowed out. Just like that, pure, unadulterated silence. For some time I floated in the blank subspace, wondering what would happen next.

A reflection of my face then came into existence. The skin was pale white that of a skeleton, but what horrified me the most was that my eyes and mouth were stitched shut with thin, rusty wires. I tried to look away, though I was frozen in place and could only watch in horror as the wires slowly disintegrated into ash. Both the eyelids and mouth remained closed even after they were freed. I wanted this nightmare to end; I wanted to tremble; I wanted to shout, yet I was incapable of doing anything.

But God answered my plea as I finally woke up from my nightmarish prison shivering in cold sweat, gasping deeply for air. My eyes darted around the room dimly lit by the moon's silverish glow slitting past the window's blinds panickingly. The sheets and covers were sprawled across the floor probably due to the plausible result of me thrashing in my sleep. My hyperventilating lessened as realization kicked in. I laid back on the bed's headboard and assumed the fetal position, rocking back and forth. Never have I witnessed something inexplicably horrid to the point where it'd make me cry.

The worst of it all is that that was just the first of the six...

Log Nine - Chapter Eight - Part Two

The day after that first nightmare was exhausting; even when morning arrived I was still wide awake. Thoughts ran through my mind, thoughts concerning the nightmare and what the interpretation was because I sure as hell didn't know. Maybe it was a movie I once watched as a toddler? Perhaps a book from Clive Barker? Why? Because some of his books are disturbingly terrific, like Hellraiser. And I'll confess, he's nominated as my number one author behind Steven Spielberg. He's even part of the reason why I wanted to become an author.

Well, besides that, having to go to work drained proved to be burdensome, especially trying to keep up with the fellow workers. Tina, being the considerate member of the bunch, had asked me of my health when she noticed the bags sagging underneath my eyes. I blatantly replied to her that I stayed up late. So why did I lie to her and not tell her straight of what really happened? Even I was flummoxed on the matter.

I return home hours later, more tired than ever, the sky a hue of dark blue as the horizon's edges glimmered orange. I zombie-walk to the door and fish out the jingling keys from my pocket. As I flick through key by key, I stop to this black one with miniature skulls all over it. Some of the paint on the tip and cuts have been scratched off throughout the years of being used. I insert the key in the knob, twist counter clockwise, and the door opens with a click. Tucking the keys back into the pocket, I tread forward. The door fully opened, I glance down at the floor beyond the entrance only to let out a dejected sigh.

I close my eyes and shake my head before moving onward. I close the door behind, looking at the dark living room. So desolate... I always remember coming home to see the entire living room lit up with activity. The television would be turned on, with either Animal Planet or Cartoon Network showing. The lamps around each corner would be on to illuminate the colors of the walls and furniture. But now... Now it's dark and lifeless, like my heart. I shake my head again as I carelessly throw the coat into the shadows, making a somber beeline to the bathroom down the hallway.

With a flick of a switch the bathroom's lights shine on. I rest my hands on the sink, staring deeply into the mirror. My reflective doppelganger stares right back with depressing eyes. I can't help but feel sympathetic at my reflection's state. I reach my hand out and touch the mirror's surface. My reflection does the same. Our fingers connect, yet there's only bitter coldness when we made contact.

I retract my hand and breathe an inward sigh.

But something in the mirror's reflection catches my eye-Rapid flashes of colors bounce off the white walls outside the bathroom. The television must've turned itself on is what my mind speculates. But I tell myself that it's something else...

Tentatively curious, I exit the bathroom and creep towards the living room stealthily on my toes. Near the end of the corridor, I hug my back against the wall, sidling up and up until I'm at the corner. I tilt my head over to get a furtive peek at the living room. There, sitting on the floor before the flashing monitor, is the silhouette of...

Mystified, I whisper to myself, "My dear Shy...?"

She remains at her position, watching the blurry images on the television monitor. I opt that maybe the television is experiencing problems, but that's the least of my concerns. I rip myself from the wall and take cautious steps to the couch behind the coffee table. Still the pegasus is somehow oblivious to my presence. I don't know why I'm doing this. I have to remember that in reality that Fluttershy's gone. Perhaps this is a dream? Am I being delusional? Or am I, dare I add, just that crazy to create an imaginational copy?

Even with these worrisome thoughts, my heart beats with passion that overcomes all these concerns. I quietly sit on the couch, looking between the pegasus and television. My mouth opens, despite my brain telling me not to, and I timidly ask, "What'cha watching, hunny?"

"Courage the Cowardly Dog," Fluttershy answers without looking back.

That voice. How I've dreamt to hear it once again. My eyes slightly become watery as I hold a hand over my mouth in disbelief. Is this really happening? Am I that deranged? Who gives a crap. If I am going crazy, I might as well be going happy crazy.

"Wanna join me, Father?" Fluttershy offers.

I swallow up my urge from crying. "Sure, hunny," I oblige, wiping away a single tear streaking down my cheek. I hop off the couch and mosey on over to her side. Before I could sit down, the television's light reveals her face. My eyes widen in pure horror at her empty sockets where her beautiful eyes used to be, with trails of dried blood stained on her cheeks.

She snaps to me, and I can see shadows writhing in those sockets. "Come. Join me," Fluttershy repeats as menacing red pupils glow from within.

"Gah!" I yelp myself awake on my bed, beads of sweat across my forehead. I immediately jump out of bed and race to the living room. I lift the switch and the lights brighten the area, with no sign of the pegasus whatsoever. The television was off, and to that I sigh to myself in relief. However, I feel something cold and wet on my face so I sweep a finger across to discover tears.

Then the dream occurs to me, and I let out another flow of tears.

Log Ten - Chapter Nine

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Log Eleven - Chapter Ten

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Log Twelve - Chapter Eleven

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Log One - Prologue

It's been a day after the event when Celestia appeared on my television's screen. The day she revealed a horrific truth that the reason the blanket and the feather traveled back in time with me was that it was her exact doing. I was infuriated with mourning rage. Couldn't she have done it without causing too much pain already? First she took Fluttershy away, and then she discreetly cast a spell that caused the blanket (which so happened to withhold a piece of Fluttershy's feather) to travel back in time with me, thus triggering the fond memories.

The nerve of her...

When she showed herself to me from my television's screen after seeing that I remembered, she bestowed me a choice to compensate for the grief and sorrow she inadvertently caused: A chance to go and live in Equestria, to be once again reunited with Fluttershy.

I didn't expect to have been given an opportunity. I mean, going to Equestria? That'd be a brony's dream come true. Not to mention it'd be living the life of every child's fantasy. I had an intense moment thinking about those two choices. I really wanted to go there, I really did, but there were other concerns that were holding me back; what if things wouldn't go well as they had planned even if I did live on Equestria? Would I just be an abomination to their society? Would I even fit with their society? If I go there, I'd lose all the effort I've poured my life into here on Earth.

In conclusion, I chose to stay. But before Celestia had to go, I had to make one last request: I wanted Celestia to cast some sort of protection spell on my diary, allowing only those born from my seed to read its contents so that he/she can understand the true values of love and kindness.

Celestia, with gratefulness, gladly accepted to fulfill my request. The spell now permits only my first born to read my diary, and nobody else. Afterwards, Celestia just... vanished, never to be seen again.

And now I sit here, writing my journal, in my home's office with every traceable memory of Fluttershy and our bond that we once had. I'm sure I'll manage, but the question is... for how long?

Log Three - Chapter Two

A week and two days after the remembrance of my dear Shy...

I cannot believe how incredibly shitty yesterday was. The odds of a terrible weather, combined with a dash of traffic spelt out a recipe for a horrible starter for a date. Somehow, out of every empty day it has been for the past week, yesterday just had to be one of the busiest days we ever came across. Even the streets were overcrowded with bums, businessmen and other people that weren't worth the time describing. Yes, I considered the homeless people were worth noting and not the nameless.

I think Tina also thought it was the worst; she drove over to my house to pick me up, got stuck on a busy traffic so long enough that we got to the fancy restaurant -- which she generously reserved a spot for the two of us -- later than her estimated time. And to add salt to the wound, since we arrived there at such a late time than they were told we'd be, they decided to remove the reservation and open the slot!

Couldn't imagine how embarrassing it was for her, knowing she was the person who had planned everything ahead. But this was nothing what she was prepared for.

What was I supposed to do? Go to the restaurant and threaten the host to put the reservations back? Much as I want to, it probably wouldn't do anything to get our reservation back. It might, at the very least, cause me to lose my job if I so as much as dent my reputation. I mean sure, Tina had all this thought through and I'm sure it would've meant the world to her if I helped. But... my job matters more than anyone's life, and I won't let my rash actions be the purpose of losing it. Not to mention how I am so close from getting that promotion. If I get that promotion, my life will be set. If I lose it, all the years working my way up top will be all for naught.

To make it up to her... I made an opening for next week on my schedule. Tina may have not been pleased with what had happened, but I managed to brighten up her mood by saying that.

Prior to the date, I very much predicted that I would dream my dear Shy that night...

The dream was absolutely heart-breaking... It painfully pricked the very core of my soul, seeing it was a scene where me and Fluttershy were lying under the thick canopy of the closest maple tree, staring and naming the clouds our eyes could spot. Even in my sleep, I felt a single shed of a mourning tear leaking out of the corner of my eyes....