Painting With Her Eyes Closed

    After what had happened, Pinkie Pie ran, and she didn’t stop running until she was back at Sugarcube Corner.  Realizing that it was not safe to stay, she started to gather some essentials and packed a pair of saddlebags.

    Just before leaving, she turned round to take one last look.  Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, it hit her… it was really happening.  She was about to leave behind everything she knew and held dear.  In that instant, the puffiness in her hair simply died, and it fell limp to the side of her head.  The moment passed when the urgent need to leave reasserted itself.

    Pinkie was now heading out of town at a brisk trot, and the occasional gallop, all the while trying to avoid being seen by bystanders.  If somepony were to see her, they might figure out where she was going.  Before long, her pace had slowed down significantly.  The panic-stricken run had taken a lot out of her, and she was now carrying a considerable amount of extra weight.  Also the town of Fillyshire was several miles away, so she really needed to pace herself.  Gummy was left behind, but she knew they would go to her house, and that Fluttershy would probably take care of him.

    On her way out of town, the sky continued to dim and lights in the street were all lit.  Then not long into her journey, she was guided by little more than the moonlight itself.  The road curved and swayed, and seemed to go on forever.  She was so desperate to keep going and get as much distance between her and Ponyville as possible, she was not aware of how fatigued her legs had become, or how much she had slowed down.  Then with very little warning she started to waver, like she was about to collapse at any moment.  She barely made it to the short grass before her legs gave out, and she dropped to the ground.  The decision to stop and rest had now been made for her.

    While on the ground, she wriggled out from the saddlebags and pulled out a drink.  Since it was dark and she was in the middle of nowhere, she finally managed to convince herself that she was safe, for now at least.  Shivering from a chill breeze – which would only get colder as the night wore on – she reached in the bag and pulled out a scarf.

    After about half an hour, Pinkie got up again feeling some strength had returned to her, and the long walk continued.  It was only after another hour of slow walking when she had to stop again.  This time, she was overcome with tiredness, and before she knew it she had dozed off.

    Pinkie was stirred by the sound of a passing cart, and she looked to the horizon to find that the sun was starting to emerge.  It must have been a good few hours later.  By the time she reached Fillyshire, some of the early workers were up and about.

    However, seeing this made her realize something.  Preoccupied with simply getting away, she neglected to think about what she would do when she got there.  Pinkie would need a place to stay, and a job so she could support herself.

    She spent close to an hour walking around town and waiting for places to open.  And now it was time to start searching for spare accommodation and work.

    The first place she checked was a clothes store, but they apologized and said they didn’t have any job openings.  Next was a book and calligraphy store, but the owner said he wanted someone with knowledge of the things they sold.  On her way, there was a colorful confectionary store, but the sight of it was just a painful reminder of what she had just run away from.

    Doubt was starting to sink in, but she had to keep trying.  Then she came across a hardware store, with a sign outside that said “Mrs. Plough’s Tool Shed”.  Looking in the window, there was a help wanted sign.

    Inside, it was kind of dark and dusty.  After a few moments of glancing around at the high isles of tools and equipment, she was approached by a kindly grey brown mare.

    “Why hello there,” she said, “how may I help you?”

    “Yeah, I’m interested in the job opening,” Pinkie replied, tilting her head slightly towards the door.

    “Oh, of course.  I’m the owner, Mrs. Plough,” the mare said with a smile.  “So, can you tell me something about yourself?  Like, have you worked in a store before?”

    “Yeah, though I used to sell cakes and stuff.”

    Mrs. Plough looked at her for a moment with a thoughtful expression.  “You know, it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re running away from something.”

    Pinkie’s flinch and averted gaze pretty much confirmed it.  Then again, she was a pink pony with balloons as a cutie mark, and used to sell sweets… and was now trying to get a job at a place like this.  Not to mention the saddlebags and harried look on her face.

    “Don’t worry I’m not going to pry.  If you really are interested in this job, I’m willing to give you a work trial.”

    “Wait, just like that?  How do you know I’m suitable?” Pinkie asked.

    The older pony smiled and said, “I’m usually a good sense of character.  You seem like the kind of pony who is not averse to a little hard work.  Besides, the point of a work trial is so I can see for myself.”  She threw a glance at the doorway leading to the stockroom.  “And I’m sure my assistant looks forward to getting an extra pair of hooves around the place.”  She leaned a little closer, and in a hushed voice remarked, “Quick word of warning.  He’s a good worker and all, but he does have a bit of a clumsy streak.”

    As if on command, there was a loud noise from the back, like a box had fallen and spilled a pile of small things on the floor, followed by a male voice calling out, “My bad!”

    “Anyway,” she said as she went back on topic, “can I assume that you’re still looking for accommodation?”

    Pinkie nodded sheepishly.

    “Well I can help you with that too,” she piped up.  “We have a deal with the local letting agency – actually something a lot of businesses here have – if I employ you, I can also arrange a place for you to stay.  As part of the offer, you would get a small discount, and rent would be deducted from your pay.  So, are you interested?”

    “Yeah, that would be great,” Pinkie responded with a touch of enthusiasm.

    “I’m glad to hear it,” the grey brown mare said.  She went and showed her around, explaining some of the things she would be doing, and said that work would start the following day.  However, with so many high shelves, she suddenly felt a longing to be a pegasus pony.

    Afterwards, Mrs. Plough got her assistant to take Pinkie to the letting office, to make the appropriate arrangements.  She saw that he was a white earth pony – albeit a little marked and scuffed – with a short and slightly scruffy mane that was a pale brown color.

    As they left the store, he said, “So, you new around here?”

    “Yeah, I just arrived actually,” Pinkie replied.

    “I thought so.  I’m sure I would have noticed a cute pony like you around…”  He suddenly stopped.  “Err, I mean,” he fumbled with his words, “so… what’s your name.”

    “Well, my name is Pinkamina Pie… but you can call me Pinkie, I suppose.”  She was surprised by the sudden reluctance she felt to share her shortened name.

    “Pinkie Pie, that’s a nice name,” he said brightly.  “Mine is Topsy Turvy.  So, where did you come from?”

    “I used to live in Ponyville… but I’d rather not talk about it,” Pinkie replied, with a pained expression.

    “I, I’m sorry,” Topsy tried.  Pinkie just gave a shrug and they headed on.

    Once the boring bureaucratic part was sorted at the office, she was taken to her new apartment.  She put the saddlebags down and made a few cursory glances around.  There was a sitting area with a couch, a kitchen at the back, and the bedroom door to the left.  Along a small corridor, there was a door that led down to a basement.

    “Would you like some help with unpacking or something?” he asked.

    “No, I’ll be fine,” Pinkie said, “besides, you should probably get back to the store now.”  Just as he was turning to leave, she added, “Thanks anyway.”

    This will do just fine, she thought to herself.  After another moment of thought, she let out a giggle and said, “He said I was cute”.  Thoughts of the clumsy pony and his kindness had cheered her up a little, for now at least.

    And so her new life in Fillyshire began.

    When Pinkie fell asleep on the couch after returning home from work, it marked the end of her fifth full week.  Sometimes she disliked the monotony of the work, but she appreciated having something to focus on.  It helped to distract her from certain unwelcome memories.  Except days like this when those thoughts and memories almost seemed to be calling out to her, making it difficult to ignore.

    During her free time, she wanted to find something to occupy herself.  Also, the best way to move on was to make something for herself here.  One day, the idea of art piqued her interest, and then she remembered that the Book and Calligraphy store had a stock of art supplies.  So one day she returned to get some things, including a set of paints, a few brushes (and one of those things to strap to her hoof, so she could hold them), among other things.  At first she used simple parchment to practice and to get the hang of it.  Then a few days ago, she bought a full-sized canvas to work on.

    Pinkie was aware that since leaving Ponyville, she never heard that white noise again.  She never did figure out what it was, but was just glad it was gone.  Unfortunately, as one odd occurrence stopped, another one took its place.  For over a week now, Pinkie noticed that she was starting to sleepwalk.  Not only that, but some of her pictures… she had no recollection of painting them.

    By the time Pinkie Pie woke up, it was late in the evening, and the sky was a fiery hue as the sun got ready to set.  She slid herself off the couch only to find her limbs hadn’t quite woken up, and she collapsed to the floor with a thud.  If she wasn’t fully awake before, she was now.  As she was getting up, her stomach started growling at her for not eating anything after getting back home.

    “Okay, I hear you,” she mumbled while walking into the kitchen.  She found some dried alfalfa left over, and there was still a bottle of carrot juice.  There’s barely anything left, she thought to herself, better go get some stuff tomorrow.

    After munching some hay and drinking her vegetable juice, she headed down to the basement.  There were paints, paint brushes, a mixing pallet and a small metal can with cleaning solution sitting next to the painting stand.  Also scattered around were sheets of parchment with crude (but gradually improving) pictures.  Some of the pictures had unpleasant imagery.  There was a picture of a colorful building in flames, and another of a pony being chased and tormented by something unseen.

    When Pinkie looked at the pictures, there was something off about them.  She didn’t know if it was caused by the lighting, or something wrong with the paint, but the pictures had a peculiar haziness to it.  As well as this, she remembered running out low on colors which she didn’t recall using much of.  Looking at the pictures, she paid attention to the more eerie and vivid ones.  It started to bother her because these were the ones that she could not recall doing.

    She picked up the canvas and placed it on the stand, but before starting to paint she picked up a sketching pencil and affixed it to her hoof strap.  One thing she learned was that it was useful to start with a basic sketch, to sort out the layout and proportions.

    The following morning, unable to put it off any longer, she went to the grocery store.  Strapped around her neck was a shopping basket, and she wandered through the aisles.  On her way around she got a bag of oats, some bunches of fresh alfalfa, and a few other minor things.  When she was done, she put the basket on the counter.

    “Oh, hey Pinkie,” the pale green unicorn assistant said brightly as she started levitating the items into bags.  This was where she did most of her food shopping, and some of the assistants had gotten to know her.  “If you’re interested, there’s a special offer on mixed flowers.”

    “Maybe another time,” Pinkie replied, her mind drifting elsewhere.

    “Hey, have you heard about the issues with the local pegasi?” asked the assistant.

    Pinkie Pie gave a shrug.

    “It seems that they have been neglecting their obligations, like barely bringing any rain, which is why this place has been so dry.  I’m telling you, if they don’t get their rears into gear soon, it’s going to start affecting our supplies.”

    On her way home, the pink pony noticed a familiar sweet smell in the air.  It was coming from the confectionary store a few doors down.  She walked over to the window and looked inside.  One of the ponies inside was placing a new tray of something down behind the glass counter.  Seeing them suddenly stirred a memory inside her, and her hair puffed out slightly.  They were apple and cinnamon muffins, like the ones that were at the picnic.

    That picnic.

    Pinkie’s hair fell back down, and she walked off trying to occupy her mind with something else.  Well, the initial sketch for her new painting was complete.  It took longer than she thought, but today she could finally start with the actual paintwork; that was something to look forward to.

    When she got home, her plans changed when she suddenly felt the need just to lie down and rest.  So she had a drink of water and went to lie down on her bed.  It didn’t take long for her to doze off.  Her dreams were strange; she was aware of things happening, but it was like being stuck in a cloud and everything was obscured and blurred out.

    She woke to the sound of her alarm clock, but the sound was faint.  When Pinkie opened her eyes, she found herself on the couch.  No biggie, must have just forgotten to turn off the alarm, and did a bit of sleep walking.  As she got up off the couch, she looked up at the clock on the wall.  Sure enough it was her regular wake up time, and then she saw the section underneath which rotated through the days of the week.  What she saw made her heart jump.

    “Monday?!” the pink pony gasped.  “But… how could I possibly lose an entire weekend?”  She dreaded to think of the implications.  But if it really was Monday, she ought to get ready for work.  When she went to make breakfast, she did a quick inventory and found that much of it had been eaten – easily a couple of days worth.

    When Pinkie Pie got to work, she was hoping to see the Saturday shift store assistants.  No luck, unfortunately.  The mare store owner gave her a welcoming smile and said, “Good morning, I hope you enjoyed your weekend.”

    Speaking of Saturdays, this was a fairly busy day for the Tool Shed, and to make it worse, it was clear that the ponies working that shift were not doing so well with keeping up.  This left Pinkie with a lot more work when she came back on the Monday.

    She walked through the store room, thinking of the time it would take to straighten the place up.  Topsy came up beside her and said, “Yeah I know.  Those weekend ponies say they can only work Saturday, but I bet Mrs. Plough is glad it’s just the one day.”

    “Pffft, like you’re one to talk,” the pink pony jested.

    “Hey,” her white assistant protested, “I may… occasionally mess the odd thing up, but at least I make an effort to straighten it out.  But this-” he regarded his surroundings, “This is just plain sloppy.”

    “Then I guess we better stop yakking and get to it,” Pinkie commented.  She went to a wall with deep shelves and started to straighten up some boxes on the floor.

    “So umm, how was your weekend?” Topsy asked.

    Not stopping what she was doing, Pinkie shrugged and said, “Nothing much really.”  Not like she could elaborate even if she wanted to.

    As the assistant stopped to think about what he himself had done, he noticed something.  “Been doing some painting recently?” he asked, and suddenly the pink pony became rigid.  “Emm, I’m just asking because I noticed a spot of paint on your foreleg.

    Pinkie lifted each foreleg in turn, and noticed there was a spot of blue near her right hoof.  “Yeah, I guess I was.”

    Topsy laughed a little.  “You should have seen me when I tried to use paints in school.  It was not a pretty sight.”  His amused expression faded, as if to say, perhaps it’s best that you didn’t.  “Anyway, don’t suppose I could take a look at one of your pictures?”

    “No,” she replied, a little more firmly than she intended.  “I mean, I’m just starting and I’m not very good at it.”  The last thing she needed was for him to see those pictures.  Goodness knows what she had painted this time.  It was probably safe to assume that it didn’t follow the outline that she drew.  Before she knew it, they’d all be watching as she was taken away by ponies in white coats.  Perhaps saying things like: I always knew there was something wrong with her.

    “Is something wrong?” her colleague asked.

    It snapped her attention from the paranoid thoughts.  “No, it’s nothing.”  When she turned to him, she saw him look closely at her face.

    “Oh, I see another spot of paint on your cheek.  Just a small one, let me just…” he moved closer and reached with his right hoof.  Pinkie was aware that his face was just inches away from hers, and it felt like room had gotten a little warmer.  Just then, he stepped back and said, “Okay all gone.”

    “Umm yeah,” she replied, looking a little self-conscious, “I guess I’ll get back to what I was doing.”

    Later that day, as she headed home anxiety welled up inside her.  There was the anticipation (and fear) of getting back and having a look at what she had painted during those lost days.  Pinkie took hesitant steps down the stairs and sure enough, work had been done on the canvas.  Large sections were still incomplete, but she did see that it had a lot of shade and was portraying an eerie environment.

    As she looked at the painting, she was unsettled by the dark imagery that was forming, but there was something else.  Deep inside, she felt a strange longing for the picture to be completed.  What was so important about this painting?  The more that Pinkie thought about it, the stronger her curiosity became.

    The days continued to pass, and she was losing a couple of hours each day after work.  By Thursday evening, the painting was getting close to completion.  The picture was of a stormy sky, and dark menacing shadows in the background.  In the centre of the picture was a group of ponies.  They looked distressed and roughed up, and there was a sense of despair and fighting for a lost cause.  But just like some of the other pictures, it had that same haziness to it.  This disappointed her a little, as she hoped it wouldn’t happen with a proper canvas.

    She decided to tidy things up a little, and put the brushes in a can filled with fresh cleaning solution.  After she was done, the pink pony suddenly became aware of how tired she was.  She let out a wide-mouthed yawn, gave her legs a long stretch and got ready for bed.

    Pinkie Pie found herself in her basement, only things were different somehow.  The first sign was that her hair was full and puffy again.  She looked to the painting, but it was covered in a sheet.  She slowly approached, but just as she reached her hoof out, there was a ringing sound from upstairs.

    She turned towards the sound and headed up.  When she passed through the door, her surroundings suddenly changed.  It took a moment for it to register, but she was standing on the shop floor of Sugarcube Corner.  Thinking about this place would normally provoke painful emotions, but this time it was calming and comforting.

    There was that familiar ringing again, and she looked to the door and saw Twilight entering.

    “Hey Pinkie Pie,” she said with a smile.  She appeared to be happy to see her, but why?  “You coming?”

    “Where?” Pinkie asked warily.

    “You know, the get together at the library.”

    Deciding to play along, she followed Twilight.  After some walking, she found herself entering the library and everypony else was there.  Looking around, she saw Fluttershy and Rarity sitting and chatting away, and Applejack was at a table picking out one of one of the sweet treats (some of it looked like it was from Sugarcube Corner).  Pinkie turned toward the stairs, and she let out a startled gasp when she saw Rainbow Dash walking down.

    Dash noticed this and gave a little chuckle.  “Wow Pinkie Pie, it looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”  She then walked past to where the others were.

    Looking at them, Pinkie found her suspicions and apprehension slipping away.  The raw desire just to be there with them was overriding all competing emotions, and so she joined in.  They were all being nice to her, as if nothing had happened.  Even Rainbow Dash was there.  She started to feel happy and at peace (it seemed so long ago since she last felt this way), and she didn’t want it to end.

    That was not to be.  The ponies started to fade, and the music and talking was becoming distant.  “No, I don’t want to leave,” she pleaded.  The light was dimming, and her hair started to fall flat again.  Before she knew it, the room was dark and she was alone.

    “No.”  It came out as a faint whisper.  Pinkie was lying in her bed, still gazing at where her friends were just moments ago; replaced by a dark silent bedroom.

    While she lay there, a sound from outside caught her attention; the sound of heavy rain.  She slumped out of bed and approached the window, pulling aside the curtain a little with her hoof.  Looking outside, she saw the dry surroundings being drenched, and it reminded her of somepony else used to bring the rain.  She lowered her head in sad resignation, and a faint rumble of thunder rolled through the night sky above.

Author's Notes:  That brings us to the half way mark, and I hope you stick around for the remaining two chapters.  By the way, the exchanges between Topsy and Pinkie, it was just something I added during a redraft (meh, I just thought it was cute).  It won't be turning into a full-bown ship or anything (hence why I didn't add the tag).