Behold, my absolutely unedited and uncorrected story, written on impulse. Enjoy.
*The above statement was true when I said it, which was on the day of submission. The spelling/grammar should be immaculate now. Enjoy!*
Big Macintosh rested back on his flank beside Granny Smith, who rocked rhythmically in her rocking chair. The creak and craw of the wooden pegs mingled gently with the sound of the rustling leaves of the Apple family orchards. Celestia's radiant sun hung low over the horizon, taking on a deep shade of amber that held strong resemblance to that of Applebloom's eyes. The orange sunlight that reflected off the snow-capped mountains around Ponyville gave the grass and clouds a look like that of straw.
Big Mac's iconic "eeyup," broke the silence that he enjoyed surrounding himself with. The rest of the Apple family had grown accustomed to him being a stallion of few words, but Granny Smith understood the value of silence just as well as he. Sealed lips often said more than words ever could, and Big Macintosh always seemed to be full of something. Granny Smith peered at him from the corner of her eye, catching a glimpse of a familiar sparkle in his own as he looked to the apple trees under which he spent most of his days.
Big Macintosh rose to his hooves and cantered slowly off of the deck and down the dirt path to the orchards, passing wooden pails and apple crates that had been tossed aside. As if on cue, Granny Smith ceased her rocking and leaned backward in the decrepit chair, drifting off to sleep in a matter of seconds.
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Applebloom stepped out onto the deck in time to see her older brother cantering off into the orchard. She opened her mouth to ask Granny Smith where he might be going, but said nothing. The senior mare was enjoying a nap, a happening that was becoming more and more frequent with each passing day. She needed her rest.
Applebloom tossed her head, pushing a lock of her mildly unkempt mane from her eyes. She too started down the path to the orchard, hoping to find where Big Macintosh would go each afternoon. He would be gone for hours, and Applebloom was itching to learn what he was up to. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo would not accompany her; It would be just her this time.
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Big Macintosh cantered softly between the trees of his beloved orchards. He had been walking for over an hour, and it was still daytime when he entered the treeline. When he emerged on the other side of the massive orchard, the moon would be hanging low on the horizon. It was by that moonlight that he would come to this edge of the orchard to do what he loved doing most, even more than providing for his family.
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Applebloom had trouble keeping up with her brother, but was too determined to figure out what he was always up to this late to give any attention to her aching legs.
After what felt like forever, he finally stepped out of the orchard. Applebloom came to the treeline but stopped behind a particularly large apple tree, afraid that he would see her. She watched as Big Macintosh walked to the top of the hill that sat itself ten yards from the treeline and sat back on his flanks. The slope of the hill prevented Applebloom from seeing what he was doing while his back was turned, and so she waited patiently, hoping for something to happen.
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Big Macintosh fell back onto his flanks beside a rectangular stone, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly as he looked up the the Equestrian moon. He then changed his focus to the stars around it, and then to the scarce grey clouds that hung in the sky.
Anypony in their right mind would take Big Mac to be a stallion of simplicity, what with how quiet and calm he was. Everypony was right about that, but none were entirely sure of how right they were. He reached over and tilted the rock with his hoof, revealing a small cloth satchel. Inside was a rugged book the size of an ordinary picture frame. On the spine were two copper bands, and on the cover was a unicorn, clad in gold. There were many copies of "Predictions and Prophecies" scattered about Equestria, but none quite like this one. The pages were entirely blank.
That is, until Big Macintosh got a hold of it. Inside the pouch beside the book was a metallic quill and inkwell. It was with these tools that he regularly wrote the thoughts and poetry that came to mind as he sat in the lunar landscape that he was now in. Big Macintosh took a moment to flip through the first section of the book at random, rereading several poems and unfinished stanzas that he had accumulated over the years. A particular poem was written on Hearts and Hooves day, although he couldn't work up the courage to give it to Cheerilee.
"Some thoughts come strongly, largely, and purely,
while others come close, but escape so nearly.
I love my songs, but my focus is shattered
by writer's block; Still, this has not mattered,
for beside me today was that lovely Miss Cheerilee."
Big Mac let out an agitated sigh. He liked the sound of his poems, but they didn't always seem to come out right. Either they wouldn't rhyme the way he wanted, or when they did, the words just didn't fit together. He tossed his head to rid himself of the unpleasant thought and looked back down to his book. Turning the page twice, he happened upon another poem that just wasn't good enough, even if he wanted to share it with anypony.
A pretty thing, the giant moon.
At her radiance, I always swoon.
I gaze upward at her pale face
as she looks back at the pony race.
Her lunar majesty will be gone soon.
He decided that nopony would ever read this one because it sounded weird, but it still held some feeling for Big Mac. He had nothing to be ashamed of, but he didn't anticipate getting any enjoyment out of the attention that he would get should anypony find out that he was a poet. His words and his thoughts were company enough for him.
By this night, his book had not been filled even by twenty percent, and he flipped to the most recently written-on page. It contained one poem in particular that he loved, but he was also bothered by it. It needed one more line... Something special, and something unique. It had to be something that meant a lot more to him than anything else.
I trek through life, soft and slowly,
living softly, meek, and lowly.
Headfirst I take my situations
without need for compensations.
Some days are warm, nice, and happy,
While others are cold, hard, and sappy.
This is my life, and I'm proud to live it,
but I want something more for which I would give it.
I have my goals, hopes, and dreams,
but I'm not important enough to me, it seems.
I am full of strength, but my heart stays weak
so long as I hold to this empty streak.
I need something to live for... With which to spend my time.
I need something to work for, for which to write this rhyme.
To protect and nourish,
to guard and make flourish...
It was this last stanza... No, it didn't need one more line, it needed two. Big Macintosh left the inkwell unopened as he looked once more to the moon. He liked the moon, because it was just like him. It was big, pleasant, and hardly ever said anything...
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Applebloom was becoming tired, and along with being nearly exhausted, she was getting cold. Big Macintosh looked like he was doing nothing, and she felt like her trek through the trees was a waste of time.
He probably won't turn around, she thought as she stepped around the tree. Sleep tried to grasp her just long enough to make the filly loose her balance and trip, letting out an abrupt yelp as her chin and chest landed on the grass. She immediately looked up at Big Mac, hoping that she hadn't heard him. He did.
Without turning, Big Macintosh said quietly, "Appleblossom? Is that you?" Even though she was still frightened that he would be mad at her, she couldn't help but smile. Nopony knew about it, but that was kind of a pet name that he kept for her. He only said it when they were alone, and it made her feel close to him.
"Uh... Yeah, Big Mac?"
"Come here, would you?" Applebloom gulped as she rose to her hooves. She stepped slowly up the grassy slope to stand beside her brother.
Big Macintosh didn't look at her for a long time, perhaps a minute or two. He just kept looking at the moon. Applebloom could see from his right side the white speck in his shiny eyes.
The cool night air stabbed at her again and she shivered, her teeth chattering loudly. Big Macintosh's ears twitched at the noise and he looked at her, his hoof extended. He didn't have to say anything. Applebloom stepped closer and dropped to her flanks beside him, leaning into him for warmth. Her brother wrapped his foreleg around her, still looking at the moon. He wasn't angry at all.
Applebloom's shivering ceased, and she soon fell to a deep sleep in the half-embrace.
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Big Macintosh looked down at his open poetry book, then to his little sister, and back again. Maybe I'll write the last two about her, he thought with a grin.
He lifted the book and brought it around him, holding it in front at an odd angle due to his arm being around Applebloom. He grabbed the quill with the foreleg that held her and wrote:
I need something to live for... With which to spend my time.
I need something to work for, for which to write this rhyme.
To protect and nourish,
to guard and make flourish...
Something to lift before I meet my doom.
Ain't I a silly filly? I have my Applebloom.
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Applebloom kept still, but opened one eye to learn the cause of the shifting that had awoken her. Big Mac held a book conveniently in front of her face and was writing something. The moonlight lit the pages well enough for her to make out a column of beautifully crafted letters that formed a poem.
What Applebloom saw totally changed how she looked at her brother from now on, and she almost let out a loud "awwh..." He really was a big softy, just like Granny Smith said he was. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep again for Big Mac's sake. He might be really embarrassed if anypony found out that he liked poetry. Applebloom let out a soft sigh and leaned into him more.
Big Macintosh looked up again to the moon, and once more down to his sister. A look of contented peace had crept upon her face, as did his own.
Big Mac set the book, quill, and inkwell in the hollow and replaced the stone above it. Leaning awkwardly to the side, Big Mac pulled Applebloom onto his back and began his pilgrimage back to the house.
As he stepped back into the treeline, before he made the long walk through the darkness, he mouthed a single, loving word:
"Appleblossom."
