Memories

by Kleora

Rating: everyone
Tags: Tragedy, Slice of Life, Sad
Length: 1934

It isn't too bad some days. Some days Granny Smith can remember everything just fine, and those are the days her friends and family can smile real smiles. But deep down, they know it won't last. They know what comes after.

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It isn't too bad sometimes.

Sometimes Granny Smith can remember where she is, what she had for dinner, and what her grandchildrens' names are. She can carry a conversation and have a stroll around Ponyville without getting confused or muddled. And it seems like, for a moment, everything's going to be alright.

Big McIntosh, Applejack and Apple Bloom treasure those moments, but deep down, they know it won't last. They know what comes after the good days.

They know that time after time they'll get their hopes up, and that time after time they'll have them obliterated when Granny Smith looks at them all in confusion, her gaze utterly devoid of any recognition as her family's smiles falter and wither away around her.

And yet they still cling to those bittersweet moments, hoping one day that their dear granny will return to them, and things will be alright.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-16 21:40:03 UTC

Memories

Memories

           I reared up on my front legs with practiced ease and slammed by back hooves into the tough, gnarled bark of the Golden Delicious tree behind me with a grunt. A smile flitted across my face as the kinetic energy from my buck coursed through the tree and out through its apple laden branches, causing a shower of apples to rain down around me and land neatly in perfectly placed baskets.

I stepped back and waited a few seconds for the torrent of fruit to cease, but my eyes soon grew wider in astonishment as the baskets started overflowing, the apples tumbling onto the ground with dull thuds and rolling to a stop a few hooves away. I looked up at the tree in confusion as the torrent continued, there was no way it had grown that many apples.

I shouted up at the lush canopy above me, thinking it must have been my daughter playing tricks again. “Ambrosia? You better not be brusin’ and wastin’ all those apples just to trick me, young filly! You get down here right now!”

I wait for a reply, but none came. Instead, apples continued to stream down. Soon, I noticed they began piling up. They were rising higher and higher, not rolling away down the slope of the hill or getting crushed under the sheer weight of their siblings, but stacking up until they reached my ankles.

My breathing picked up a notch and I took a few shaky steps back, my hoof landing awkwardly on an apple and giving out. I fell to my side on the ground and apples rushed in to fill the space I had vacated. They were coming down even faster now, and I could feel my heart racing in my chest as I tried to kick them away and rise to my hooves. Every time I freed myself, more would rush in and impede my progress. I managed to fight my way to my knees, but the apples were accumulating too quickly and I found myself unable to move any more.  Regardless, I strained my muscles and tried with every last ounce of energy in my body to shift the mass of apples away, but to no avail.

They were at my chest now, weighing me down and putting a horrible pressure on my body. Breathing began to hurt, but I used each painful gulp of air to call for somepony, anypony to help me. Tears pricked at my eyes and flowed down my face as the apples crested over my back. My cries for help became incoherent and my struggles weaker. An apple fell in front of my mouth, followed by countless others that crept higher, until, finally, they had covered my head.

My chest was burning from the effort of drawing in air, and soon that too became impossible as the apples shifted and covered my mouth and nose. I screamed as best I could, my weak struggles doubling their feeble efforts as tears smeared across my face. My world was turning dark and hazy, and my head felt heavy. I stopped moving altogether and merely cried as my ribs creaked from the unimaginable pressure being placed on them and my heart stuttered. I closed my eyes in fear and hoped to Celestia that Ambrosia would be okay without both her mommy and daddy.

I could feel my body failing me, and with a final, strangled beat, I heard my heart stop and watched as my world went black.

________________________________________

I jolted up in bed, my mouth open in a silent scream.

What the buck was that?!

I willed my body to calm down and tried to return my breathing to normal. It was only a dream, I assured myself. There was no way that would happen in real life. It was just a dream. With a sigh I flopped back down onto my bed, letting my head hit the pillow with a ‘whump’. I stared idly at the ceiling for a moment before rolling over onto my side and closing my eyes. There was work to be done tomorrow, and I wasn’t about to let some darn dream keep me from my beauty sleep.

I shifted further down into the comfy blankets, only to stop suddenly and let a gasp of pain escape me.

My hip was throbbing something fierce, and I had no clue why. With a grumble I threw the covers back and glared at my body for disrupting my sleep.

My breath stilled and I gaped. My legs were those of an old mare's; coarse, pale fur with boney knees and thin, sagging skin, ankles and calves covered in a web of blue veins that crawled slowly up to my thighs. There was no power left in my decrepit hind legs, and I felt weak, helpless even.

My knees ached as I hurriedly climbed off the bed. My dull, cracked hooves hit the floor, and pain shot up my legs. I gasped, cringing as the feeling faded, leaving my shaking body to hobble around the room. I caught sight of a walker in the corner, and stumbled over to it, leaning thankfully against its metal frame as I made my way slowly to the door. I paused, a quaking hoof poised to open the door.

Where was I?

I glanced around the room again, this time trying to glean what little information I could that might tell me where I was.

This place… it was my room. This had always been my room, ever since daddy Melrose had built the farmhouse I had slept in this room. I stood stock still by the doorway, looking around in confusion while something tickled at my memory, it's home, I thought with a start, but it felt wrong.

I walked hesitantly through the door, shuffling across the hall and down the stairs to where I knew the bathroom would be waiting. I stopped sadly in what was now the living-room. Everything was different; memories of long gone shadows from tattered books piled everywhere, worn old blankets heaped on the sofa, and tacky yellow daisy wallpaper danced in my vision.

Gone, all of it. But where had it gone?

Where had I gone?

I could recall the homely, welcoming feel of the house, the spicy aroma of apples and cinnamon wafting from the kitchen, the scampering of little hooves on the floor above, but where had all those things gone? I stepped forward, calling out softly in the hopes that someone may hear and explain to me why my home had been defiled.

There was no answer.

I made my way to the bathroom, my bladder taking priority. Opening the door I looked at the pale blue room within. A large mirror hung above a gleaming white sink and a pearlescent white toilet sat against the opposite wall. An odd looking shower was installed between the two. Ignoring the toilet, I rushed forward to the mirror as fast as I could, my heart thumping in my chest and I stared at my face in horror.

My hair, normally a pale blonde had turned a dull white, framing my hollow, sunken eyes and gnarled, wrinkled face delicately. I tentatively touched my cheek with a knobbly hoof, finding it leathery and unpleasant. A small sound escaped me as I stared at my reflection.

"Hello," a voice said hesitantly behind me. I whirled fearfully around to find a strong looking red stallion watching me carefully from within the doorway, a look of concern painted across face.

“...J- Jazz?” I stuttered disbelievingly. “You’re- But you’re dead… I s- saw- I k- know…”

The stallion cringed, responding in a careful, gentle voice, “I’m not Jazz, I’m Big McIntosh.”

I shuddered as grief overcame me for a moment and hung my head. “Oh, I- I had thought you were my husband for a moment… Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Where are my manners? My name’s Granny Smith.”

“It’s a pleasure, Granny Smith.” Big McIntosh said tightly, tilting his head in acknowledgment to the elder mare.

“Now,” I began, “can I ask what you’re doing in my home?”

“I live here, Granny. I’m, ah, I’m Ambrosia’s son. My younger sisters, Applejack and Apple Bloom live here as well, but they’re outside workin’ right now…”

“You- You’re Ambrosia’s son?! But- She’s only a filly! Now that just ain’t possible.”

Big McIntosh’s expression grew sadder. “No, I’m tellin’ the truth, ma’am.”

“I can’t say I believe you. Where’s my daughter, anyway?”

“She’s not here right now, ma’am.” he replied, his words taking on a morose tone.

“Now don’t you go sayin’ that, I’m sure she’s ‘round here somewhere. Tell me, where is she?” adrenaline spiked in me and my heart began beating faster.

I had to find my daughter.

I started pushing past him to get outside, but the sad baritone of his voice stopped me.

“Ambrosia passed away eight years ago givin’ birth to Apple Bloom, Granny. And her husband Rome followed her almost a year later after a long bout o’ cancer. I’m sorry you have to hear this Granny, I am, but…”

A tear welled up and dropped down my creased cheek at his words and I paused, looking around confusedly. “I- I- ...where am I?”

He smiled weakly. “You’re at Sweet Apple Acres; at home.”

I looked up at the red stallion and cocked my head to the side. “Who are you?”

His eyes tightened and began glistening. “I’m Big McIntosh, ma’am.”

“Oh. How nice. If you could excuse me now, I’ve got to tend to the trees. They don’t like it when you diddle dally and leave the apples hanging for too long.” I started walking past Big MacIntosh, only to be stopped by a bulky foreleg.

“Granny, please. You’ve got to stay inside and rest. Applejack and I can handle the farm. You just- You just concentrate on getting better, okay?”

This stallion seemed concerned for me, but why would he want me inside the house and not outside working? I needed to get to harvesting before the apples went bad, and here he was stopping me. The nerve of him, I thought. Outwardly, I said, “Getting better? Why would I need to get better? There’s nothing wrong with me, I’m fine. And who’s this ‘Applejack’?”

“No, no. Your body’s fine, but, please, just go lay down. You need rest.”

“I told you, I’m fine! Who are you to tell me what to do?!” I grumbled at him, confused as to why he was so insistent.

“I’m your grandson, and until you’re better, your well-being is in my hooves! Now, go. Lay. Down. Please!”

“Grandson?” I gawked, absolutely floored.

Big McIntosh sighed heavily. “Granny, I know you can’t remember things very well right now, and you’re confused, but it’s okay. I am your grandson; Ambrosia’s son, and I’ve gotta take care of you, so please don’t make my job harder than it needs to be and just go rest for a while.”

Against my will a yawn forced itself from my mouth. “I… well, I suppose I could go for a nap…”

“Thank you, Granny.” Big McIntosh said. Gently, he rested a hoof on my shoulder and showed me to a large, worn looking rocking chair.

“Thank you, Big Mac.” I said gratefully as I took a seat and leaned back with a sigh. Weariness overtook my body and I found my eyes closing of their own accord. The last thing I saw was my dear grandson smiling warmly at me as my eyes fluttered shut.

Within moments I was asleep and dreaming of apple trees.