Incident on a Forest Road in Equestriaby MaxmantaChaptersPart 1Part 2Part 3EpiloguePart 1Incident on a Forest Road in Equestria by Maxmanta How do you explain to your adopted daughter that you weren’t always the humble grape farmer that she knew you as? Or that you didn’t always go by name of Berryshine? How do you tell her that, a lifetime ago, you were the number one bare-hoofed prize fighter in all Equestria? You don’t. Not yet, at least. Maybe later, when she’s older. Or, better yet, when I’m old and frail and being fed through a tube. That way, I can have closure. At any rate, not for a long time. Nopony in Ponyville knows about my past. My best friend, Carrot doesn’t even know. But I’m sure she has her suspicions. She isn’t the brightest pony in the herd, but she’s not stupid. How do you explain away your string of bad relationships that always end up with the guy knocked out on the front lawn with his ribs kicked in? Or how about the drunken losers that recognize you from way back and challenge you to a leg-wrestling contest or a brawl right there on top of the bar? My first response is to brush them off, tell them they’re mistaking me for some other mare. If that doesn’t work, all that’s left is to give them what they want. I say to them, “Listen, muleass. In my prime I could smack you silly and drop kick you out the door before the foam on my cider even subsided. But I’m not in my prime any more. So if you want to start something, now’s your chance. I’m old and drunk and falling over myself so, maybe—maybe—it’ll be fair fight.” I say it real slow-like. It sounds more menacing that way—like Clint Clydesdale. Usually, they back down. If not, I show ‘em where Berry Punch got her name. I try to keep my past a secret from the other townsponies, so I try not to attract much attention. Carrot has been my best friend ever since I arrived, years and years ago, in Ponyville. She has this wild poof of orange hair and her cutie mark is a bunch of carrots, which labeled her as a farmer. I come from a farming family so we immediately hit it off. She had just bought a small house on a few acres of good farm land and she needed a house mate to help pay the lease and with the farming. I needed a place to stay and a job. I moved in the next day. It worked out great. She grows these fat, delicious carrots in her garden. Enough for the two of us and plenty left to sell. Me, I was able to put in a tiny vineyard. I sell most of them in town. The rest get stomped into wine. Ponyville is something on the rustic side and doesn’t have a more modern postal system. Attempts had been made to introduce one, but between a nearly blind letter carrier and one cross-eyes mailmare, modern postal delivery hasn’t quite caught on here. So, letters and other pieces of mail are posted every Wednesday at the Ponyville post office. Not knowing many ponies outside of Ponyville, I don’t get very much mail, so I don’t visit the post office very often. Anyway, Carrot came practically bouncing up to me in my tiny vineyard one day, gushing that a letter had been posted for me, and a fancy one at that. I couldn’t imagine who it was from, so my enthusiasm didn’t nearly match hers. But I went into town anyway and found my letter. It was fancy, alright—carefully mouth-written in fine calligraphy. My sister Sherry’s oldest daughter was graduating from Phillydelphia A&M with a degree in agriculture. That would make her the first in a long line of Berrys to graduate from anything more prestigious than some horse college. She said it would mean a lot to her, personally, if was to come for the ceremony. I loved my sister. Though I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years, she was the only one in my family that hadn’t written me off a long time ago. I checked my wardrobe, or rather, the pile of soiled overalls I picked my daily work outfits from. I had a floppy sunhat that seemed presentable enough, but by itself, it wouldn’t do. So I emptied my bank account and change jar into a saddlebag and made my way to the only dressmaker in town. Rarity—the mare that runs Carousel Boutique—halted me before I could step one hoof into her store. “You will NOT enter my shop until you’ve cleaned yourself up, Miss Berryshine! Tracking dirt everywhere…it’s an abomination! Oh! And you reek of wine and liquor! You will NOT come back until you have made yourself presentable!” In spite of Rarity being the snooty little bitch-nag that she is, she was right, I had been drinking since ten that morning. I drink every day. I know it’s not good for me and surrounds me in a cloud of liquor fumes, but it gets me through the day. Besides, I got it under control—nothing hard until after eight in the evening. So I wandered into the Ponyville Day Spa and spent a good chunk of my wad making myself “presentable.” When I entered, the two twins that ran the place spoke to each other in this weird mushy-sounding language, each trading glances at me. I hoofed over a small pile of bills to them. “The works,” I muttered. At the sight of the money their mood went straight from desultory to downright ingratiating. They practically dropped me into a bubble bath and scrubbed me from head-to-hoof, shampooed and conditioned my main and tail. After leaving the tub, I felt ten pounds lighter from all the dirt and grime I had shed. A hooficure and makeover later and I was one hot-looking mare, if you don’t mind me saying so! Even miss prissy-pants Rarity was impressed, and gushed an apology for her previous remarks, even offering a modest discount off of her latest fashions. After making a selection and some slight alterations I emerged wearing a plum colored dress that matched my eyes perfectly. As a further act of contrition, she added a matching purse. With her proffered discount, I was left with enough for a train ticket and a stool at the dining car bar. I got a lot of appreciative looks from the stallions (even a few mares!) as I boarded the train to Phillydelphia. I guess ponies are funny like that. They start getting randy for you if you’re actually covering yourself, and my new dress was getting me a lot of attention. I wiggled my flank a little as I boarded the train, to the delight of the stallions in line behind me. A chug of smoke, a puff of steam, a gentle lurch later, and I was already at the bar and enjoying my favorite pastime. Making wine is fun, it’s also how I make my living. Drinking is funner, and it’s how I spend a lot of my money. I checked the label of the proffered bottle. It was a local brand. Just for laughs, I asked him if he had any Berry Farm ’77. It was my family’s best vintage. He looked surprised. “We don’t have anything like that, miss!” I smiled to myself and asked him to leave the bottle. It was a cheap brand—but not so cheap as to make me seem cheap. I drained the bottle and asked for another. “We haven’t even left the station, ma’am! You may want to pace yourself.” Why do stallions always feel a need to protect pretty mares from themselves? “Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. I can hold it.” I fluttered my eyelashes. “I’m sorry, you misunderstand! I meant about your bar tab. At this rate you’re going to owe quite a sizeable sum of bits!” I was immediately embarrassed. I guess I had gotten a little too used to the attention I was getting. I hoofed another chunk of my money over to him. “Will this keep me going?” “If you stick with this particular vintage, yes. Quite a while.” I must be getting old, and sometimes what seems like a blessing can be a curse. By the time the conductor came around, I was feeling pretty buzzed. And that usually means I’m very buzzed. “Excuse me, ma’am?” The conductor—a short stallion with little pince-nez glasses and muttonchops decorating his cheeks—was holding out his hoof to me. “Oh! You want to dance? Well I’m afraid my card is full!” For some reason, I thought this was funny and laughed and banged my hoof on the bar. “No! Your ticket, please!” I guess I didn’t smell as good as I looked. He winced l and crinkled his nose at me. “Relax! I know…I got it right here!” I tried my best to stuff my face into my purse and come up with my ticket, but I ended up on the floor of the train instead. Thankfully, my ticket fell out and landed next to me. As I giggled like an idiot, the conductor wordlessly picked it up, stamped it, and dropped it on my tummy. I heard some whispers and some ponies shook their heads in disapproval. “Enjoy your…ride…ma’am.” Part 2By the time the train pulled into the station, I was where I was at usually much later in the day—rocked off my flank and barely able to stand on all fours. I don’t remember much about the ceremony, except about how I kept embarrassing myself, wondering when the drink cart was coming by. Ponies telling me to act like an adult and to quit being such a mule. I remember Sherry’s name being announced. I remember cheering, calling her name, and hoping up and down on my front hooves. I stumbled and have no idea what happened next, but I found myself sitting on my flank in the dirt outside the school gymnasium, with some other pony’s fur under my hooves. I had taken a few licks myself, but at least it looked like I gave better than I got. Every long-term drunk has some story (or, if you’re like me, maybe a whole bunch of them) of where some invisible line gets crossed. And whatever happens after that, you’ve give anything to take back, for it never to have happened. Maybe, if you’re lucky, your memory of what happens is blotted out, and all you have to deal with are maybe some angry stares and maybe pay a fine. Alcohol can be merciful that way. That’s if you’re lucky. Me, I wasn’t so lucky. I remember exactly what happened after that. The graduation was over and ponies had been spilling out of the auditorium. I got myself to my hooves and noticed the angry and indignant stares from ponies that passed. “Auntie Berry! Auntie Berry! Over here!” I had to rear up on my hind legs to see her. Probably not a good idea in the state I was in. I stumbled and almost fell over again. I righted myself just as Sherry and Merry came up to me. Merry was delighted and was practically bouncing on her hooves. She still had her cap and gown on and was carrying her diploma in a new saddlebag. My sister, Sherry, was holding back. She didn’t look very happy to see me and didn’t say anything. Merry came up to me and nuzzled me on the cheek. I nuzzled her back and ignored my sister. Merry had grown since I’d last seen her. She was a full grown mare! “Look Auntie Berry!” Merry reached back and pulled her diploma from her saddlebag and she held it in her mouth for me to see. They had apparently paid extra for framing. It was beautiful! The frame was carefully polished silver and the diploma was protected behind a pane of glass. I don’t know why I did what I did. I should’ve just left her hold onto it. Instead, I sat back on my haunches and reached out for it. Sherry took a step forward. “Berry…no.” I heard her but I ignored her. I took the diploma in my hooves to study it more closely. My vision was blurry and I just wanted to bring it closer to my face. But I lost my balance. I put one hoof on the ground to right myself, and Merry’s diploma, that she had worked four years for, tumbled to the ground. That was the moment I’d give anything to have back. The frame hit the ground and shattered. For a moment, I just sat there as if staring would somehow reassemble the shards of glass. The diploma seemed intact, but the frame was destroyed. The mirror-polished frame was ruined where it had hit the ground. It was a thing of beauty and I had destroyed it. “Auntie Berry…” I was afraid to face Merry. “I’m sorry…” “Auntie Berry…” I could hear her starting to cry. I don’t know which was worse—the sound of the frame breaking or the sound of my niece crying. Thankfully, my sister came up and stood between us. “Go wait in the carriage, Merry.” I watched a crying Merry disappear into the crowd. What was the big deal? I was sure they’d replace it. I turned back Sherry. Ready again to apologize and promise to pay for a new… …but I was greeted by Sherry’s hoof right across my jaw. I didn’t see it coming and I took the full force of her punch, with only my inebriation to soften the blow. Thank Celestia she wasn’t wearing shoes! All four legs of mine buckled and I landed flat on my tummy. I, the Great Berry Punch, just got flattened by her younger sister! Now, she was practically standing over me. “You’re nothing but a lush! A worthless drunk!” She pounded a hoof on the ground with each sentence. “You embarrassed Merry! You embarrassed me! You’re an embarrassment to the family!” “I…I…” I looked around for something, anything, to divert her rage away from me. I saw families passing us by in a hurry, each one pretending not to notice. I sat on my flank on the floor and hung my head. I sniffed, I choked, and though I tried to hold it back, I started to sob. Big, fat, drunken tears of anguish. “I’m sorry…I’m sure they’ll give her another one. I’ll explain…” “Forget it! Just stay away. Stay away forever!” Sherry picked up her daughter’s diploma and walked away, into the crowd. I caught a last glimpse of her face. She no longer looked mad, but wore a weird, neutral expression. Like she was looking at a bug, trying to decide whether to squish it flat. I don’t know how long I sat there, tears in my eyes and chocking back ragged sobs. I don’t even know why I sat there for so long. Maybe I saw it as penance. Maybe I was hoping someone would take pity and try to comfort me. But no one stopped. Eventually, the crowd thinned out and I was alone. I heard the train whistle so I hoisted myself up and trudged back to the station. It was getting dark and there weren’t many other ponies around. Good. I didn’t want anypony to see me. I was a wreck. My mane was a mess and my new dress was stained with tears, wine, and vomit. I boarded the last car where I could be alone for the trip. My purse was gone and I didn’t have any money, but maybe I’d get lucky and the conductor wouldn’t come back this far. If not, maybe my pathetic act would get me a free pass. Maybe I’d have to resort to threats. The whistle sounded and the train lurched. The station, and then the Phillydelphia scenery started to pass by—for good. I was never coming back. Soon we left the city and entered the countryside and my mood started to improve. Pinchy would be asleep but Carrot would still be up with a hot toddy, or maybe a pot of spiced wine, waiting. She’d ask what happened to me and I’d tell her what I always told her: that I got drunk and made a complete mule of myself. She’d laugh and we’d sip drinks and I’d lie about how wonderful everything went. Carrot was like that. Sometimes I’d wish she was my sister. But then I think about what I put my family through and I’m glad she isn’t. I couldn’t wish that on her. In spite of all that had happened, I smiled. I must have dozed off because my next memory was of the conductor standing over me. “May I have your ticket…ma’am?” It was the conductor from the first trip--no doubt pulling a double shift. Same round pince-nez glasses and same muttonchop sideburns. And the way he said “ma’am” indicated that he recognized me, and wasn’t none too happy about it. What did I ever do to him? There were other ponies around, watching. Some were holding diplomas—nearly identical to the one I had ruined. I’m sure the conductor had heard the whispers of the drunken mare who had ruined their graduation. I stood, stumbling to put words together. “Oh! Well…uh. You see…my purse…” “That’s none of my concern, ma’am. If you can’t pay then you can’t ride. Oh well…in for a dime, in for a dollar. I’d give him a little shove to show him I wasn’t in the mood. I’d promise to pay him triple on my next ride, and that would set things right. No so. From out of nowhere, two of the biggest, meanest-looking stallions I had ever looked upon flanked the conductor. And the expressions they wore said that their intentions were just as ugly as their faces. A change in plan was definitely in order. “You’re either going to pay me now, miss, or you’re going to have to get off the train.” To push the issue, the two big guys stepped forward and stood between me and the conductor. I looked out the window. The scenery was moving by pretty fast and the ground looked pretty hard. I doubted they were going to stop the train and allow me to disembark in a ladylike fashion. Quickly, I put a plan together. I put on the sweetest, most innocent air I could muster. “I’m afraid I simply don’t have any money. I’m sure we can come to some…other...arrangement.” I didn’t know if I would go through with it, but it turned out to not even matter. “That won’t do miss.” The two stallions advanced. Plan ‘B’ came into effect. I brushed my hoof under the chin of the bigger stallion. “Don’t you even want to know my name, sweetness?” I may be old and rough around the edges, but I can still put on the charm if I want to. I wiggled my flank and let my tail swish back and forth. I took a look at his cutie mark. It was a sledgehammer. The other guy’s was a bundle of TNT. Not good. The big stallion looked me up and down while his friend checked out my ass. I actually thought they were going for it. But the big guy narrowed his eyes. “And what’s your name?” He wasn’t buying my act, but it gave me the opening I needed. “It’s Berry…” Fighting in a ring ain’t like fighting in the real world. In the ring, there are rules, and nothing happens until both parties are ready. Out here, anything goes. If it’s gonna’ happen, it’s gonna’ happen. Ready or not. Talking only puts off the inevitable. If a fight is coming, don’t delay it. Hit first. Hit fast. Make it count. And hit last. “…PUNCH!” It was a good hit. It got him right in the mouth and he went down like a sack of oats. I may have even broken his jaw, with no damage at all to myself. Hoofs are good for that kind of thing. That left the conductor and his other goon. No amount of training or skill can fend off a bums’ rush. The element of surprise was gone and the bruiser was on top of me, pinning my hooves to the floor. I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw, ready for the beating that I knew was coming. Instead, he hoisted me up and tossed me out the door, that I’m sure the conductor was gracious enough to hold open for me. I bounced off the ground and tumbled. They didn’t even slow the train down. My dress tore while dirt and shards of glass got matted in my fur. When I finally stopped I didn’t even open my eyes, I just lay there, spread eagled on the ground, and groaned. I was getting too old for this crap. When I finally opened my eyes, I watched the last train to Ponyville disappear into the distance. Some ponies just don’t know how to treat a lady. Part 3It was not a good situation, but when you’re as much of a lush as me, you learn to think on your hooves. And face it, as bad situations go, this one was not unmanageable. Equestria isn’t huge. I figured if I kept an even trot, slowing now and then to rest, I could be in Ponyville by early afternoon. It was warm and clear out, and maybe the hike would do me some good. Clear my head or some nonsense. I watched the stars, trying to remember the names of the constellations I learned as a filly, but I had forgotten them all. They just looked like a random jumble of lights in the sky. I started off at an easy trot. I knew Rarity could fix my dress for me. I wondered what kept Carrot’s mane so poofy. I studied the moon, wondering if Princess Luna was out there, watching over Equestria as ponies slept. I never placed much stock in things like that. Maybe other ponies have some mystical fascination with the royal sisters, but I doubt they do much more than sleep and stuff their faces with cake. I kept my thoughts occupied with anything I could—anything so I wouldn’t have to think about the look on Merry’s face. The punch from Sherry was a distant memory, but the scene where the diploma shattered kept replaying itself in my head over and over again. I watched the sky. If I couldn’t remember the constellations, I thought I’d made up a few of my own. At first, they came easy. Myrta the Mule. Colliander the Changeling. Persephone the squid/octopus/thing. Sorry…I am not a clever pony. As my head cleared, it became harder and harder. Most of my creations centered around one star in particular. It was larger and brighter than any of the hundreds of others I could see. And unlike the other stars, which were stationary, this one seemed to move. Was it a comet or a falling star? I doubted it. It seemed to be pacing itself alongside me. Maybe some Pegasus was just messing around with me. It gave me hope, maybe she’d help me out and give me directions to the nearest pub, where I knew somepony would take pity and buy me a drink or two. But the light kept pace with me and I started feeling uneasy. I kept thinking it was a Pegasus pony, but as the minutes went by I found it harder and harder to convince myself. I got the idea in my head that something was watching me. Studying me. I stopped at that thought. Something…not somepony. I didn’t know why, but a wave of panic swept over me. I trotted faster, then broke into a full gallop. The forest was dense on both sides of the railroad track. I wanted to run into the trees and hide. Anything to get away from the…whatever it was…but I would get lost and somehow the thing would find me. The light kept up with me and I had no idea how far it was from me. I glanced back and forth between the train tracks and the light. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew that it wasn’t anything natural. I wanted to get away from it or for it to just leave me alone. The forest opened up a bit, and I was in a clearing surrounded by trees. I didn’t know if I should follow the tracks through the clearing, or change direction and try to evade my pursuer. When I turned my head to it, it immediately changed direction and came straight towards me. I stopped and stared straight at it, convinced it was about to swallow me up. But I threw myself to the ground at the last second and it passed just a short distance over my head. It was round and huge and made of metal, reminding me of a castle turret. It passed over me with only a faint whooshing sound. As it pulled up and off I into the distance I could make out a row of windows around its edge. Inside, it was brightly lit, and I could make out…figures…of some kind standing at those windows, watching me. I lay there for a bit, pressed to the ground and shivering in fear. I was exhausted. How long had I been walking? I didn’t know, but my hopes of reaching Ponyville by afternoon was diminishing. When I was finally able to lift myself from the ground I scanned the sky. It was clear. I was relieved but still very uneasy. I quickly crossed the rest of the clearing and, surrounded by the relative safety of the trees, slowed to a trot. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, I saw a light around the bend in the tracks. I didn’t know of any stops between Ponyville and Phillydelphia, but maybe I could get some rest. Maybe even some food if somepony took pity on me. Boy, was I wrong. An object was sitting there, blocking the tracks and making passage around it impossible. The object—I can’t think of any other word to describe it—looked like a smaller version of the one that had passed over me earlier. Figures—unpony-like things—stood on their back legs in front of it. There were three of them in all, and they were facing me. I got the feeling I was somehow expected. They were waiting for me. Like I said before, whatever they were they weren’t ponies. But, then again, neither are a lot of the creatures of Equestria. These were far different from anything I’d ever seen. They stood and moved about on their back legs. Their balance was perfect and they didn’t stumble at all. They had no fur…or manes or tails for that matter. Their heads and bodies were a smooth pale gray and they stood on legs that looked way too thin to support them. Their faces were flat with no snout whatsoever and with only a tiny slit for a mouth. But the strangest, and most frightening thing about them were their eyes—pure black and almond shaped and without any sort of emotion whatsoever. I was scared, frightened. I should have bolted away from there in an instant. Instead, I stood transfixed by those hollow, soulless eyes. Berryshine… They called to me, but not with words. Somehow, I was hearing them inside my head in perfect ponyspeak. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female. It was soft, like a whisper inside my head. Maybe the concept of gender had no meaning for them. You will come with us. Enter. I looked at the object blocking the tracks and noticed a ramp leading into it. Entering that…thing…was the thing I least wanted to do. But I found my resolve weakening. Suddenly, entering the object seemed like the most harmless, most natural thing in all of Equestria to do. I took a step forward. I came to the foot of the ramp and looked up into the craft. It had obviously come from very very far away. Inside, it was not brightly lit, but I caught glimpses of all kinds of machinery. And there was a smell—a smell like nothing I had ever encountered in my life. It was like a like a mixture of things that I did not know any of the names of. It was that smell that broke me out of my reverie. I stopped. Berryshine…enter. I had no idea of what their intentions towards me were, but it was nothing good. I faced the leader, or the one whom I thought was the leader and shook my head. “No.” I said it as defiantly as I could, but I squeaked it out like a frightened school filly. Ponies can be pretty damn stubborn. It’s hard to get somepony to do something she does not want to do. I hadn’t noticed before, but the three beings held small silver wands in their…not hooves but hands. Like the hands of a dragon. But unlike the thick, muscled hands of a dragon, theirs looked small and delicate—long gray things that reminded me uncomfortably of a spider. The wands made a buzzing sound and I found myself lifted off the ground. I struggled as best I could, but I could barely movie. Though nothing was actually lifting me, I was levitated up the ramp, through an open door, and into the craft. The inside of the craft was filthy and in disarray. The floor and walls were dirty and bits of machinery were scattered along the circular wall. The only light in the room was from a lamp suspended over an antiseptic-looking metal table. It was towards that table that these…things…levitated me. I felt dazed, so I put up no resistance as they levitated me onto the table. They turned their wands off and I was plopped unceremoniously on the table. It was cold—like one you’d find at a doctor’s office. Their next act really frightened me. Two of them put their hands on me and quickly stripped my dress off, leaving me naked. I don’t know why that would bother me so much. Ponies spend most of their time naked, right? Maybe an affectation or two—like a tie or hat or something. But removing and discarding my dress left me completely alone and vulnerable. I couldn’t stop it. I started to cry. It took almost all of my energy to speak. “What do you want from me.” I was squeaking like a newborn foal. Just some tests…tissue samples. Do not be afraid. You will be unharmed. “Please…” But it was that obvious what I wanted didn’t matter to them. They put those horrible hands on me again. With my eyes closed it felt like bugs going through my fur and over my skin. It didn’t hurt, so I calmed down a little. Eventually I opened my eyes. Their “tests” seemed benign enough—fur and mane samples, filings from my hooves, swabs from my mouth. I actually began to relax a little. They poked and prodded here and there. Honestly, it seemed no worse than a routine medical physical. Two of them performed their tests which the third—the “leader” I mentioned earlier—seemed to stand back and observe. It didn’t become uncomfortable until they inserted a thin needle into my navel. I cried out in pain, but the leader waved his wand over my face and the pain disappeared. They said they wanted to see if I was pregnant. After a silent look between the three of them they turned to me. “Am I?” I doubted I could be. I hadn’t been in a relationship for a long while. Something about relationships and me just doesn’t work. For a moment, my head was filled with some strange static. No. You are not. I looked around the room as best as I could. That wasn’t much there that looked interesting, or that I would understand. Everything was just a tangled mix of wires and bits of metal. Little pieces of junk was scattered across the floor and piled up in corners. Stuff that would’ve fascinated pony scientists for decades—maybe even hundreds of years—was just useless junk to them. When it broke or when they had no more use for something, they just chucked it into a corner. Like my dress. I finally spotted something I thought I could recognize. “What is that?” I nodded toward a drawing or painting on the wall. It looked some kind of abstract art. It was a jumble of lines and dots and circles. I wondered of the dots and circles were the stars I had been watching earlier. My hosts—I don’t know what else to call them—didn’t even raise their heads as they whispered. It is a map. “Oh! Can you show me where you’re from?” The two of them working on me shared a glance at me, then at each other, then back down to their work. The leader whispered to me. Do you think you could find your own home on it? “Well…no. Of course not.” Then how would pointing out our home on it be any help? My head was filled for a moment with that strange static again. I got it. It was a joke at my expense. Two scientists sharing a laugh over their helpless lab subject. I was hoping to have something, some kind of proof of this experience. Something to show it wasn’t just another one of Berryshine’s wild, drunken tales. I thought about asking for some bit of the junk that was just laying around but I was afraid that it would just give them more amusement at my expense. “Will I at least have my dress back?” Despite its condition, it was still my most treasured item. They could do what they were doing to me all they wanted, as long as I left with my new dress. Again, they wouldn’t even look up. No. “What possible use could you have for my dress?” They didn’t answer. They just kept working. Pinching, prodding, poking. For some reason, I didn’t actually feel violated until that point. Not my dress…I wondered. How could this get worse? It was a question nopony should ever ask. I can always get worse. With their wands, the three of them levitated me up again. For a brief, naïve, minute, I thought they were about to release me. I found myself wondering if I should even try telling anypony this story. But instead of floating me out the door and down the ramp, they turned me around and dropped me back on the table on my belly. Worse yet, they were using their wands to hold me down. I wasn’t just being held in place, I was being forced down onto the table! My head was filled with the static I had heard earlier. I realized this was their language when not using Ponyspeak. Whatever they were saying, they did not want me to understand it. Some of the force pressing down on me let up and I was able to crane my head around. The leader had turned off his wand and turned to the wall. In it, some sort of iris opened, and the leader withdrew some kind of…I didn’t know what it was but I didn’t want it anywhere near me. It looked like a metal snake with a little nozzle on the end. It squirmed and twisted like it was alive, and like everything else in the place, it was dirty and vile to look at. “You are not bringing that thing near me!” I heard more static in my head. It was more intense now. The leader was bringing whatever it was closer to me. Close to my…down there. I struggled against the force of their wands. “No! Let me go! This place is disgusting! I HATE YOU!” I couldn’t lift my hooves, so I fought back with the only thing I had left—my tail. I don’t know much about science, but though I was all but immobilized, I was still able to thrash and snap my tail around me. It was a pathetic, last defense against what I knew they were about to do. But even that didn’t last long. A second one switched off his own wand and was then clutching my tail with both of those hands, and lifting it over my back. The leader brought the thing closer to me. Now, there was only one of those wands holding me down. I wasn’t exactly free, but I’m a strong pony and I was free enough to almost get my hooves under me. Berryshine…stop “It’s Berry PUNCH, you muleass!” With every ounce of strength I had, I lifted my back hooves and thrusted them right back into the leader’s ugly, bug-eyed face. It sent him flying back across the room and he smashed into a pile of machinery. I may have killed him. I didn’t care. The one holding my tail forgot about me and tried to go for his wand. I didn’t let him. I dropped him with one good shot to his chest. The last one still held his wand, but it may as well as been a roll of flypaper. In a second, I was on all fours and ready to kick some flank. A LEFT! AND A RIGHT! And he went down like a sack of carrots. I hurried to the exit, but before I reached it, I grabbed my dress in my teeth. I looked down at the leader as I passed him. My buck had left two deep hoofprints in his face that I doubted would ever heal completely. That…machine…whatever it was, hung limply, with no more life in it than any other piece of garbage around the place. “What’s my name?” He looked dazed, and that big gray head of his just rolled back and forth and his too-skinny neck. Berryshine. I shoved him to the ground, pressing a hoof deep into his chest. “I SAID ‘WHAT’S MY NAME?!’” Berry Punch. “You’re damn right!” I gave him a last shove to the ground. Their bodies felt like clay. I ran as fast as I could from the craft. After a while I slowed and resumed my course towards Ponyville. It was still the middle of night, so maybe I’d make it home for breakfast. As I walked, I heard a whooshing sound from behind. The smaller craft had lifted off. High up in the sky, it attached itself to the larger one—the one I had first spotted. Together, the zipped off into the night sky, out of sight. EpilogueI didn’t arrive back in Ponyville until early the next morning. Carrot—the wonderful pony that she is—still had the porch lights on for me. I entered without a word and I found her curled up on her old couch, snuggled with Pinchy. I gently nuzzled Pinchy and lightly hoofed past them and slept in my own bed. I slept for longer than I ever have and didn’t wake up until late that afternoon. I opened my eyes and found myself staring into Carrot’s. She was holding my soiled and torn, brand-new dress in her mouth. She dropped it and it fluttered to the floor. It landed in a clump and I just sat and stared at it as it lay there. It was once purple and beautiful and it was now just a dirty pile of rags on the floor. I didn’t want to look up but I knew I had to. Carrot looked furious but when my eyes teared up and I started to sob, she softened. She bent, took my dress back in her mouth and placed it on the bed next to me. I kept my eyes on the floor. Carrot placed her hoof under my chin and lifted my eyes to hers. She said to me, “I don’t know what happened to you, Berry, but I think it was something very very bad. I want you to tell me about it, but I want it to be the truth. And after that, there’s another discussion we have to have.” Well, I told Carrot the truth, just not all of it. I told her about my alcoholism and about how I ruined my niece’s graduation. About how I got tossed from the train, and how I had to walk home. I left out the…other stuff. I could tell she was suspicious, like she knew I wasn’t telling the whole story, but she let herself be satisfied. After that, we talked for a long time. I promised to stop drinking. I meant it. It was morning by that time, and Pinchy came into the room and put her forelegs around me. “Mommy! I missed you so much!” “I missed you too, dear!” Carrot smiled and left us alone. My dress? Rarity was horrified when I showed it to her, but she said of course she’d fix it. She did, and it looked even better than new. My sister and niece? Well, it took a while, but they forgave me, too. Family is like that. I quit drinking for the most part. It was tough. I couldn’t sleep for a few nights and I spent a lot of time dry heaving into a toilet. The shakes were bad, too. But it all passed and I sleep soundly now. I still get hammered now and then, but instead of waking up and drinking to take the edge off, I take my punishment as nature intended. I never saw those creatures again, and I doubt they’re very interested in seeing me, either. They’re on my mind a lot, though. I wonder what other kinds of creatures are out there and what they’re like. Have they met each other? Do they do the same kinds of things to other ponies, or even to each other? The thought frightens me, and keeps me up alot at night. So I’ll leave you with this: if you’re ever alone at night, and you get the sense that you being watched, and there’s some star in the sky that looks like it has no business being there, I got bad news for you. It just may be one of them. But if it is, and one of them has two hoofprints permanently embedded in his flat face, you just tell him that Berry Punch sent you. That just may just be enough to scare ‘em off!
Part 1Incident on a Forest Road in Equestria by Maxmanta How do you explain to your adopted daughter that you weren’t always the humble grape farmer that she knew you as? Or that you didn’t always go by name of Berryshine? How do you tell her that, a lifetime ago, you were the number one bare-hoofed prize fighter in all Equestria? You don’t. Not yet, at least. Maybe later, when she’s older. Or, better yet, when I’m old and frail and being fed through a tube. That way, I can have closure. At any rate, not for a long time. Nopony in Ponyville knows about my past. My best friend, Carrot doesn’t even know. But I’m sure she has her suspicions. She isn’t the brightest pony in the herd, but she’s not stupid. How do you explain away your string of bad relationships that always end up with the guy knocked out on the front lawn with his ribs kicked in? Or how about the drunken losers that recognize you from way back and challenge you to a leg-wrestling contest or a brawl right there on top of the bar? My first response is to brush them off, tell them they’re mistaking me for some other mare. If that doesn’t work, all that’s left is to give them what they want. I say to them, “Listen, muleass. In my prime I could smack you silly and drop kick you out the door before the foam on my cider even subsided. But I’m not in my prime any more. So if you want to start something, now’s your chance. I’m old and drunk and falling over myself so, maybe—maybe—it’ll be fair fight.” I say it real slow-like. It sounds more menacing that way—like Clint Clydesdale. Usually, they back down. If not, I show ‘em where Berry Punch got her name. I try to keep my past a secret from the other townsponies, so I try not to attract much attention. Carrot has been my best friend ever since I arrived, years and years ago, in Ponyville. She has this wild poof of orange hair and her cutie mark is a bunch of carrots, which labeled her as a farmer. I come from a farming family so we immediately hit it off. She had just bought a small house on a few acres of good farm land and she needed a house mate to help pay the lease and with the farming. I needed a place to stay and a job. I moved in the next day. It worked out great. She grows these fat, delicious carrots in her garden. Enough for the two of us and plenty left to sell. Me, I was able to put in a tiny vineyard. I sell most of them in town. The rest get stomped into wine. Ponyville is something on the rustic side and doesn’t have a more modern postal system. Attempts had been made to introduce one, but between a nearly blind letter carrier and one cross-eyes mailmare, modern postal delivery hasn’t quite caught on here. So, letters and other pieces of mail are posted every Wednesday at the Ponyville post office. Not knowing many ponies outside of Ponyville, I don’t get very much mail, so I don’t visit the post office very often. Anyway, Carrot came practically bouncing up to me in my tiny vineyard one day, gushing that a letter had been posted for me, and a fancy one at that. I couldn’t imagine who it was from, so my enthusiasm didn’t nearly match hers. But I went into town anyway and found my letter. It was fancy, alright—carefully mouth-written in fine calligraphy. My sister Sherry’s oldest daughter was graduating from Phillydelphia A&M with a degree in agriculture. That would make her the first in a long line of Berrys to graduate from anything more prestigious than some horse college. She said it would mean a lot to her, personally, if was to come for the ceremony. I loved my sister. Though I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years, she was the only one in my family that hadn’t written me off a long time ago. I checked my wardrobe, or rather, the pile of soiled overalls I picked my daily work outfits from. I had a floppy sunhat that seemed presentable enough, but by itself, it wouldn’t do. So I emptied my bank account and change jar into a saddlebag and made my way to the only dressmaker in town. Rarity—the mare that runs Carousel Boutique—halted me before I could step one hoof into her store. “You will NOT enter my shop until you’ve cleaned yourself up, Miss Berryshine! Tracking dirt everywhere…it’s an abomination! Oh! And you reek of wine and liquor! You will NOT come back until you have made yourself presentable!” In spite of Rarity being the snooty little bitch-nag that she is, she was right, I had been drinking since ten that morning. I drink every day. I know it’s not good for me and surrounds me in a cloud of liquor fumes, but it gets me through the day. Besides, I got it under control—nothing hard until after eight in the evening. So I wandered into the Ponyville Day Spa and spent a good chunk of my wad making myself “presentable.” When I entered, the two twins that ran the place spoke to each other in this weird mushy-sounding language, each trading glances at me. I hoofed over a small pile of bills to them. “The works,” I muttered. At the sight of the money their mood went straight from desultory to downright ingratiating. They practically dropped me into a bubble bath and scrubbed me from head-to-hoof, shampooed and conditioned my main and tail. After leaving the tub, I felt ten pounds lighter from all the dirt and grime I had shed. A hooficure and makeover later and I was one hot-looking mare, if you don’t mind me saying so! Even miss prissy-pants Rarity was impressed, and gushed an apology for her previous remarks, even offering a modest discount off of her latest fashions. After making a selection and some slight alterations I emerged wearing a plum colored dress that matched my eyes perfectly. As a further act of contrition, she added a matching purse. With her proffered discount, I was left with enough for a train ticket and a stool at the dining car bar. I got a lot of appreciative looks from the stallions (even a few mares!) as I boarded the train to Phillydelphia. I guess ponies are funny like that. They start getting randy for you if you’re actually covering yourself, and my new dress was getting me a lot of attention. I wiggled my flank a little as I boarded the train, to the delight of the stallions in line behind me. A chug of smoke, a puff of steam, a gentle lurch later, and I was already at the bar and enjoying my favorite pastime. Making wine is fun, it’s also how I make my living. Drinking is funner, and it’s how I spend a lot of my money. I checked the label of the proffered bottle. It was a local brand. Just for laughs, I asked him if he had any Berry Farm ’77. It was my family’s best vintage. He looked surprised. “We don’t have anything like that, miss!” I smiled to myself and asked him to leave the bottle. It was a cheap brand—but not so cheap as to make me seem cheap. I drained the bottle and asked for another. “We haven’t even left the station, ma’am! You may want to pace yourself.” Why do stallions always feel a need to protect pretty mares from themselves? “Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. I can hold it.” I fluttered my eyelashes. “I’m sorry, you misunderstand! I meant about your bar tab. At this rate you’re going to owe quite a sizeable sum of bits!” I was immediately embarrassed. I guess I had gotten a little too used to the attention I was getting. I hoofed another chunk of my money over to him. “Will this keep me going?” “If you stick with this particular vintage, yes. Quite a while.” I must be getting old, and sometimes what seems like a blessing can be a curse. By the time the conductor came around, I was feeling pretty buzzed. And that usually means I’m very buzzed. “Excuse me, ma’am?” The conductor—a short stallion with little pince-nez glasses and muttonchops decorating his cheeks—was holding out his hoof to me. “Oh! You want to dance? Well I’m afraid my card is full!” For some reason, I thought this was funny and laughed and banged my hoof on the bar. “No! Your ticket, please!” I guess I didn’t smell as good as I looked. He winced l and crinkled his nose at me. “Relax! I know…I got it right here!” I tried my best to stuff my face into my purse and come up with my ticket, but I ended up on the floor of the train instead. Thankfully, my ticket fell out and landed next to me. As I giggled like an idiot, the conductor wordlessly picked it up, stamped it, and dropped it on my tummy. I heard some whispers and some ponies shook their heads in disapproval. “Enjoy your…ride…ma’am.”
Part 2By the time the train pulled into the station, I was where I was at usually much later in the day—rocked off my flank and barely able to stand on all fours. I don’t remember much about the ceremony, except about how I kept embarrassing myself, wondering when the drink cart was coming by. Ponies telling me to act like an adult and to quit being such a mule. I remember Sherry’s name being announced. I remember cheering, calling her name, and hoping up and down on my front hooves. I stumbled and have no idea what happened next, but I found myself sitting on my flank in the dirt outside the school gymnasium, with some other pony’s fur under my hooves. I had taken a few licks myself, but at least it looked like I gave better than I got. Every long-term drunk has some story (or, if you’re like me, maybe a whole bunch of them) of where some invisible line gets crossed. And whatever happens after that, you’ve give anything to take back, for it never to have happened. Maybe, if you’re lucky, your memory of what happens is blotted out, and all you have to deal with are maybe some angry stares and maybe pay a fine. Alcohol can be merciful that way. That’s if you’re lucky. Me, I wasn’t so lucky. I remember exactly what happened after that. The graduation was over and ponies had been spilling out of the auditorium. I got myself to my hooves and noticed the angry and indignant stares from ponies that passed. “Auntie Berry! Auntie Berry! Over here!” I had to rear up on my hind legs to see her. Probably not a good idea in the state I was in. I stumbled and almost fell over again. I righted myself just as Sherry and Merry came up to me. Merry was delighted and was practically bouncing on her hooves. She still had her cap and gown on and was carrying her diploma in a new saddlebag. My sister, Sherry, was holding back. She didn’t look very happy to see me and didn’t say anything. Merry came up to me and nuzzled me on the cheek. I nuzzled her back and ignored my sister. Merry had grown since I’d last seen her. She was a full grown mare! “Look Auntie Berry!” Merry reached back and pulled her diploma from her saddlebag and she held it in her mouth for me to see. They had apparently paid extra for framing. It was beautiful! The frame was carefully polished silver and the diploma was protected behind a pane of glass. I don’t know why I did what I did. I should’ve just left her hold onto it. Instead, I sat back on my haunches and reached out for it. Sherry took a step forward. “Berry…no.” I heard her but I ignored her. I took the diploma in my hooves to study it more closely. My vision was blurry and I just wanted to bring it closer to my face. But I lost my balance. I put one hoof on the ground to right myself, and Merry’s diploma, that she had worked four years for, tumbled to the ground. That was the moment I’d give anything to have back. The frame hit the ground and shattered. For a moment, I just sat there as if staring would somehow reassemble the shards of glass. The diploma seemed intact, but the frame was destroyed. The mirror-polished frame was ruined where it had hit the ground. It was a thing of beauty and I had destroyed it. “Auntie Berry…” I was afraid to face Merry. “I’m sorry…” “Auntie Berry…” I could hear her starting to cry. I don’t know which was worse—the sound of the frame breaking or the sound of my niece crying. Thankfully, my sister came up and stood between us. “Go wait in the carriage, Merry.” I watched a crying Merry disappear into the crowd. What was the big deal? I was sure they’d replace it. I turned back Sherry. Ready again to apologize and promise to pay for a new… …but I was greeted by Sherry’s hoof right across my jaw. I didn’t see it coming and I took the full force of her punch, with only my inebriation to soften the blow. Thank Celestia she wasn’t wearing shoes! All four legs of mine buckled and I landed flat on my tummy. I, the Great Berry Punch, just got flattened by her younger sister! Now, she was practically standing over me. “You’re nothing but a lush! A worthless drunk!” She pounded a hoof on the ground with each sentence. “You embarrassed Merry! You embarrassed me! You’re an embarrassment to the family!” “I…I…” I looked around for something, anything, to divert her rage away from me. I saw families passing us by in a hurry, each one pretending not to notice. I sat on my flank on the floor and hung my head. I sniffed, I choked, and though I tried to hold it back, I started to sob. Big, fat, drunken tears of anguish. “I’m sorry…I’m sure they’ll give her another one. I’ll explain…” “Forget it! Just stay away. Stay away forever!” Sherry picked up her daughter’s diploma and walked away, into the crowd. I caught a last glimpse of her face. She no longer looked mad, but wore a weird, neutral expression. Like she was looking at a bug, trying to decide whether to squish it flat. I don’t know how long I sat there, tears in my eyes and chocking back ragged sobs. I don’t even know why I sat there for so long. Maybe I saw it as penance. Maybe I was hoping someone would take pity and try to comfort me. But no one stopped. Eventually, the crowd thinned out and I was alone. I heard the train whistle so I hoisted myself up and trudged back to the station. It was getting dark and there weren’t many other ponies around. Good. I didn’t want anypony to see me. I was a wreck. My mane was a mess and my new dress was stained with tears, wine, and vomit. I boarded the last car where I could be alone for the trip. My purse was gone and I didn’t have any money, but maybe I’d get lucky and the conductor wouldn’t come back this far. If not, maybe my pathetic act would get me a free pass. Maybe I’d have to resort to threats. The whistle sounded and the train lurched. The station, and then the Phillydelphia scenery started to pass by—for good. I was never coming back. Soon we left the city and entered the countryside and my mood started to improve. Pinchy would be asleep but Carrot would still be up with a hot toddy, or maybe a pot of spiced wine, waiting. She’d ask what happened to me and I’d tell her what I always told her: that I got drunk and made a complete mule of myself. She’d laugh and we’d sip drinks and I’d lie about how wonderful everything went. Carrot was like that. Sometimes I’d wish she was my sister. But then I think about what I put my family through and I’m glad she isn’t. I couldn’t wish that on her. In spite of all that had happened, I smiled. I must have dozed off because my next memory was of the conductor standing over me. “May I have your ticket…ma’am?” It was the conductor from the first trip--no doubt pulling a double shift. Same round pince-nez glasses and same muttonchop sideburns. And the way he said “ma’am” indicated that he recognized me, and wasn’t none too happy about it. What did I ever do to him? There were other ponies around, watching. Some were holding diplomas—nearly identical to the one I had ruined. I’m sure the conductor had heard the whispers of the drunken mare who had ruined their graduation. I stood, stumbling to put words together. “Oh! Well…uh. You see…my purse…” “That’s none of my concern, ma’am. If you can’t pay then you can’t ride. Oh well…in for a dime, in for a dollar. I’d give him a little shove to show him I wasn’t in the mood. I’d promise to pay him triple on my next ride, and that would set things right. No so. From out of nowhere, two of the biggest, meanest-looking stallions I had ever looked upon flanked the conductor. And the expressions they wore said that their intentions were just as ugly as their faces. A change in plan was definitely in order. “You’re either going to pay me now, miss, or you’re going to have to get off the train.” To push the issue, the two big guys stepped forward and stood between me and the conductor. I looked out the window. The scenery was moving by pretty fast and the ground looked pretty hard. I doubted they were going to stop the train and allow me to disembark in a ladylike fashion. Quickly, I put a plan together. I put on the sweetest, most innocent air I could muster. “I’m afraid I simply don’t have any money. I’m sure we can come to some…other...arrangement.” I didn’t know if I would go through with it, but it turned out to not even matter. “That won’t do miss.” The two stallions advanced. Plan ‘B’ came into effect. I brushed my hoof under the chin of the bigger stallion. “Don’t you even want to know my name, sweetness?” I may be old and rough around the edges, but I can still put on the charm if I want to. I wiggled my flank and let my tail swish back and forth. I took a look at his cutie mark. It was a sledgehammer. The other guy’s was a bundle of TNT. Not good. The big stallion looked me up and down while his friend checked out my ass. I actually thought they were going for it. But the big guy narrowed his eyes. “And what’s your name?” He wasn’t buying my act, but it gave me the opening I needed. “It’s Berry…” Fighting in a ring ain’t like fighting in the real world. In the ring, there are rules, and nothing happens until both parties are ready. Out here, anything goes. If it’s gonna’ happen, it’s gonna’ happen. Ready or not. Talking only puts off the inevitable. If a fight is coming, don’t delay it. Hit first. Hit fast. Make it count. And hit last. “…PUNCH!” It was a good hit. It got him right in the mouth and he went down like a sack of oats. I may have even broken his jaw, with no damage at all to myself. Hoofs are good for that kind of thing. That left the conductor and his other goon. No amount of training or skill can fend off a bums’ rush. The element of surprise was gone and the bruiser was on top of me, pinning my hooves to the floor. I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw, ready for the beating that I knew was coming. Instead, he hoisted me up and tossed me out the door, that I’m sure the conductor was gracious enough to hold open for me. I bounced off the ground and tumbled. They didn’t even slow the train down. My dress tore while dirt and shards of glass got matted in my fur. When I finally stopped I didn’t even open my eyes, I just lay there, spread eagled on the ground, and groaned. I was getting too old for this crap. When I finally opened my eyes, I watched the last train to Ponyville disappear into the distance. Some ponies just don’t know how to treat a lady.
Part 3It was not a good situation, but when you’re as much of a lush as me, you learn to think on your hooves. And face it, as bad situations go, this one was not unmanageable. Equestria isn’t huge. I figured if I kept an even trot, slowing now and then to rest, I could be in Ponyville by early afternoon. It was warm and clear out, and maybe the hike would do me some good. Clear my head or some nonsense. I watched the stars, trying to remember the names of the constellations I learned as a filly, but I had forgotten them all. They just looked like a random jumble of lights in the sky. I started off at an easy trot. I knew Rarity could fix my dress for me. I wondered what kept Carrot’s mane so poofy. I studied the moon, wondering if Princess Luna was out there, watching over Equestria as ponies slept. I never placed much stock in things like that. Maybe other ponies have some mystical fascination with the royal sisters, but I doubt they do much more than sleep and stuff their faces with cake. I kept my thoughts occupied with anything I could—anything so I wouldn’t have to think about the look on Merry’s face. The punch from Sherry was a distant memory, but the scene where the diploma shattered kept replaying itself in my head over and over again. I watched the sky. If I couldn’t remember the constellations, I thought I’d made up a few of my own. At first, they came easy. Myrta the Mule. Colliander the Changeling. Persephone the squid/octopus/thing. Sorry…I am not a clever pony. As my head cleared, it became harder and harder. Most of my creations centered around one star in particular. It was larger and brighter than any of the hundreds of others I could see. And unlike the other stars, which were stationary, this one seemed to move. Was it a comet or a falling star? I doubted it. It seemed to be pacing itself alongside me. Maybe some Pegasus was just messing around with me. It gave me hope, maybe she’d help me out and give me directions to the nearest pub, where I knew somepony would take pity and buy me a drink or two. But the light kept pace with me and I started feeling uneasy. I kept thinking it was a Pegasus pony, but as the minutes went by I found it harder and harder to convince myself. I got the idea in my head that something was watching me. Studying me. I stopped at that thought. Something…not somepony. I didn’t know why, but a wave of panic swept over me. I trotted faster, then broke into a full gallop. The forest was dense on both sides of the railroad track. I wanted to run into the trees and hide. Anything to get away from the…whatever it was…but I would get lost and somehow the thing would find me. The light kept up with me and I had no idea how far it was from me. I glanced back and forth between the train tracks and the light. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew that it wasn’t anything natural. I wanted to get away from it or for it to just leave me alone. The forest opened up a bit, and I was in a clearing surrounded by trees. I didn’t know if I should follow the tracks through the clearing, or change direction and try to evade my pursuer. When I turned my head to it, it immediately changed direction and came straight towards me. I stopped and stared straight at it, convinced it was about to swallow me up. But I threw myself to the ground at the last second and it passed just a short distance over my head. It was round and huge and made of metal, reminding me of a castle turret. It passed over me with only a faint whooshing sound. As it pulled up and off I into the distance I could make out a row of windows around its edge. Inside, it was brightly lit, and I could make out…figures…of some kind standing at those windows, watching me. I lay there for a bit, pressed to the ground and shivering in fear. I was exhausted. How long had I been walking? I didn’t know, but my hopes of reaching Ponyville by afternoon was diminishing. When I was finally able to lift myself from the ground I scanned the sky. It was clear. I was relieved but still very uneasy. I quickly crossed the rest of the clearing and, surrounded by the relative safety of the trees, slowed to a trot. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, I saw a light around the bend in the tracks. I didn’t know of any stops between Ponyville and Phillydelphia, but maybe I could get some rest. Maybe even some food if somepony took pity on me. Boy, was I wrong. An object was sitting there, blocking the tracks and making passage around it impossible. The object—I can’t think of any other word to describe it—looked like a smaller version of the one that had passed over me earlier. Figures—unpony-like things—stood on their back legs in front of it. There were three of them in all, and they were facing me. I got the feeling I was somehow expected. They were waiting for me. Like I said before, whatever they were they weren’t ponies. But, then again, neither are a lot of the creatures of Equestria. These were far different from anything I’d ever seen. They stood and moved about on their back legs. Their balance was perfect and they didn’t stumble at all. They had no fur…or manes or tails for that matter. Their heads and bodies were a smooth pale gray and they stood on legs that looked way too thin to support them. Their faces were flat with no snout whatsoever and with only a tiny slit for a mouth. But the strangest, and most frightening thing about them were their eyes—pure black and almond shaped and without any sort of emotion whatsoever. I was scared, frightened. I should have bolted away from there in an instant. Instead, I stood transfixed by those hollow, soulless eyes. Berryshine… They called to me, but not with words. Somehow, I was hearing them inside my head in perfect ponyspeak. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female. It was soft, like a whisper inside my head. Maybe the concept of gender had no meaning for them. You will come with us. Enter. I looked at the object blocking the tracks and noticed a ramp leading into it. Entering that…thing…was the thing I least wanted to do. But I found my resolve weakening. Suddenly, entering the object seemed like the most harmless, most natural thing in all of Equestria to do. I took a step forward. I came to the foot of the ramp and looked up into the craft. It had obviously come from very very far away. Inside, it was not brightly lit, but I caught glimpses of all kinds of machinery. And there was a smell—a smell like nothing I had ever encountered in my life. It was like a like a mixture of things that I did not know any of the names of. It was that smell that broke me out of my reverie. I stopped. Berryshine…enter. I had no idea of what their intentions towards me were, but it was nothing good. I faced the leader, or the one whom I thought was the leader and shook my head. “No.” I said it as defiantly as I could, but I squeaked it out like a frightened school filly. Ponies can be pretty damn stubborn. It’s hard to get somepony to do something she does not want to do. I hadn’t noticed before, but the three beings held small silver wands in their…not hooves but hands. Like the hands of a dragon. But unlike the thick, muscled hands of a dragon, theirs looked small and delicate—long gray things that reminded me uncomfortably of a spider. The wands made a buzzing sound and I found myself lifted off the ground. I struggled as best I could, but I could barely movie. Though nothing was actually lifting me, I was levitated up the ramp, through an open door, and into the craft. The inside of the craft was filthy and in disarray. The floor and walls were dirty and bits of machinery were scattered along the circular wall. The only light in the room was from a lamp suspended over an antiseptic-looking metal table. It was towards that table that these…things…levitated me. I felt dazed, so I put up no resistance as they levitated me onto the table. They turned their wands off and I was plopped unceremoniously on the table. It was cold—like one you’d find at a doctor’s office. Their next act really frightened me. Two of them put their hands on me and quickly stripped my dress off, leaving me naked. I don’t know why that would bother me so much. Ponies spend most of their time naked, right? Maybe an affectation or two—like a tie or hat or something. But removing and discarding my dress left me completely alone and vulnerable. I couldn’t stop it. I started to cry. It took almost all of my energy to speak. “What do you want from me.” I was squeaking like a newborn foal. Just some tests…tissue samples. Do not be afraid. You will be unharmed. “Please…” But it was that obvious what I wanted didn’t matter to them. They put those horrible hands on me again. With my eyes closed it felt like bugs going through my fur and over my skin. It didn’t hurt, so I calmed down a little. Eventually I opened my eyes. Their “tests” seemed benign enough—fur and mane samples, filings from my hooves, swabs from my mouth. I actually began to relax a little. They poked and prodded here and there. Honestly, it seemed no worse than a routine medical physical. Two of them performed their tests which the third—the “leader” I mentioned earlier—seemed to stand back and observe. It didn’t become uncomfortable until they inserted a thin needle into my navel. I cried out in pain, but the leader waved his wand over my face and the pain disappeared. They said they wanted to see if I was pregnant. After a silent look between the three of them they turned to me. “Am I?” I doubted I could be. I hadn’t been in a relationship for a long while. Something about relationships and me just doesn’t work. For a moment, my head was filled with some strange static. No. You are not. I looked around the room as best as I could. That wasn’t much there that looked interesting, or that I would understand. Everything was just a tangled mix of wires and bits of metal. Little pieces of junk was scattered across the floor and piled up in corners. Stuff that would’ve fascinated pony scientists for decades—maybe even hundreds of years—was just useless junk to them. When it broke or when they had no more use for something, they just chucked it into a corner. Like my dress. I finally spotted something I thought I could recognize. “What is that?” I nodded toward a drawing or painting on the wall. It looked some kind of abstract art. It was a jumble of lines and dots and circles. I wondered of the dots and circles were the stars I had been watching earlier. My hosts—I don’t know what else to call them—didn’t even raise their heads as they whispered. It is a map. “Oh! Can you show me where you’re from?” The two of them working on me shared a glance at me, then at each other, then back down to their work. The leader whispered to me. Do you think you could find your own home on it? “Well…no. Of course not.” Then how would pointing out our home on it be any help? My head was filled for a moment with that strange static again. I got it. It was a joke at my expense. Two scientists sharing a laugh over their helpless lab subject. I was hoping to have something, some kind of proof of this experience. Something to show it wasn’t just another one of Berryshine’s wild, drunken tales. I thought about asking for some bit of the junk that was just laying around but I was afraid that it would just give them more amusement at my expense. “Will I at least have my dress back?” Despite its condition, it was still my most treasured item. They could do what they were doing to me all they wanted, as long as I left with my new dress. Again, they wouldn’t even look up. No. “What possible use could you have for my dress?” They didn’t answer. They just kept working. Pinching, prodding, poking. For some reason, I didn’t actually feel violated until that point. Not my dress…I wondered. How could this get worse? It was a question nopony should ever ask. I can always get worse. With their wands, the three of them levitated me up again. For a brief, naïve, minute, I thought they were about to release me. I found myself wondering if I should even try telling anypony this story. But instead of floating me out the door and down the ramp, they turned me around and dropped me back on the table on my belly. Worse yet, they were using their wands to hold me down. I wasn’t just being held in place, I was being forced down onto the table! My head was filled with the static I had heard earlier. I realized this was their language when not using Ponyspeak. Whatever they were saying, they did not want me to understand it. Some of the force pressing down on me let up and I was able to crane my head around. The leader had turned off his wand and turned to the wall. In it, some sort of iris opened, and the leader withdrew some kind of…I didn’t know what it was but I didn’t want it anywhere near me. It looked like a metal snake with a little nozzle on the end. It squirmed and twisted like it was alive, and like everything else in the place, it was dirty and vile to look at. “You are not bringing that thing near me!” I heard more static in my head. It was more intense now. The leader was bringing whatever it was closer to me. Close to my…down there. I struggled against the force of their wands. “No! Let me go! This place is disgusting! I HATE YOU!” I couldn’t lift my hooves, so I fought back with the only thing I had left—my tail. I don’t know much about science, but though I was all but immobilized, I was still able to thrash and snap my tail around me. It was a pathetic, last defense against what I knew they were about to do. But even that didn’t last long. A second one switched off his own wand and was then clutching my tail with both of those hands, and lifting it over my back. The leader brought the thing closer to me. Now, there was only one of those wands holding me down. I wasn’t exactly free, but I’m a strong pony and I was free enough to almost get my hooves under me. Berryshine…stop “It’s Berry PUNCH, you muleass!” With every ounce of strength I had, I lifted my back hooves and thrusted them right back into the leader’s ugly, bug-eyed face. It sent him flying back across the room and he smashed into a pile of machinery. I may have killed him. I didn’t care. The one holding my tail forgot about me and tried to go for his wand. I didn’t let him. I dropped him with one good shot to his chest. The last one still held his wand, but it may as well as been a roll of flypaper. In a second, I was on all fours and ready to kick some flank. A LEFT! AND A RIGHT! And he went down like a sack of carrots. I hurried to the exit, but before I reached it, I grabbed my dress in my teeth. I looked down at the leader as I passed him. My buck had left two deep hoofprints in his face that I doubted would ever heal completely. That…machine…whatever it was, hung limply, with no more life in it than any other piece of garbage around the place. “What’s my name?” He looked dazed, and that big gray head of his just rolled back and forth and his too-skinny neck. Berryshine. I shoved him to the ground, pressing a hoof deep into his chest. “I SAID ‘WHAT’S MY NAME?!’” Berry Punch. “You’re damn right!” I gave him a last shove to the ground. Their bodies felt like clay. I ran as fast as I could from the craft. After a while I slowed and resumed my course towards Ponyville. It was still the middle of night, so maybe I’d make it home for breakfast. As I walked, I heard a whooshing sound from behind. The smaller craft had lifted off. High up in the sky, it attached itself to the larger one—the one I had first spotted. Together, the zipped off into the night sky, out of sight.
EpilogueI didn’t arrive back in Ponyville until early the next morning. Carrot—the wonderful pony that she is—still had the porch lights on for me. I entered without a word and I found her curled up on her old couch, snuggled with Pinchy. I gently nuzzled Pinchy and lightly hoofed past them and slept in my own bed. I slept for longer than I ever have and didn’t wake up until late that afternoon. I opened my eyes and found myself staring into Carrot’s. She was holding my soiled and torn, brand-new dress in her mouth. She dropped it and it fluttered to the floor. It landed in a clump and I just sat and stared at it as it lay there. It was once purple and beautiful and it was now just a dirty pile of rags on the floor. I didn’t want to look up but I knew I had to. Carrot looked furious but when my eyes teared up and I started to sob, she softened. She bent, took my dress back in her mouth and placed it on the bed next to me. I kept my eyes on the floor. Carrot placed her hoof under my chin and lifted my eyes to hers. She said to me, “I don’t know what happened to you, Berry, but I think it was something very very bad. I want you to tell me about it, but I want it to be the truth. And after that, there’s another discussion we have to have.” Well, I told Carrot the truth, just not all of it. I told her about my alcoholism and about how I ruined my niece’s graduation. About how I got tossed from the train, and how I had to walk home. I left out the…other stuff. I could tell she was suspicious, like she knew I wasn’t telling the whole story, but she let herself be satisfied. After that, we talked for a long time. I promised to stop drinking. I meant it. It was morning by that time, and Pinchy came into the room and put her forelegs around me. “Mommy! I missed you so much!” “I missed you too, dear!” Carrot smiled and left us alone. My dress? Rarity was horrified when I showed it to her, but she said of course she’d fix it. She did, and it looked even better than new. My sister and niece? Well, it took a while, but they forgave me, too. Family is like that. I quit drinking for the most part. It was tough. I couldn’t sleep for a few nights and I spent a lot of time dry heaving into a toilet. The shakes were bad, too. But it all passed and I sleep soundly now. I still get hammered now and then, but instead of waking up and drinking to take the edge off, I take my punishment as nature intended. I never saw those creatures again, and I doubt they’re very interested in seeing me, either. They’re on my mind a lot, though. I wonder what other kinds of creatures are out there and what they’re like. Have they met each other? Do they do the same kinds of things to other ponies, or even to each other? The thought frightens me, and keeps me up alot at night. So I’ll leave you with this: if you’re ever alone at night, and you get the sense that you being watched, and there’s some star in the sky that looks like it has no business being there, I got bad news for you. It just may be one of them. But if it is, and one of them has two hoofprints permanently embedded in his flat face, you just tell him that Berry Punch sent you. That just may just be enough to scare ‘em off!
