Reaper Mare

Applejack sat in her room, running her hoof along the blade of her Scythe, careful to avoid the incredibly sharp edge. The crystals within the black blade glittered like stars and the metal was polished to a glassy finish.

She looked out the window, at the sun that never set, and wondered how long she had been here. In lieu of a clock, she could tell by the passage of day and night, but the sun in Death's Realm remained forever fixed at ten o'clock. Granted, Death could move it if it wanted to, but it rarely did. It was a bit jarring and, for a while, she wondered how if she would be able to sleep, but she soon found that she no longer needed sleep. She never felt tired or hungry or thirsty.

Unfortunately, she was still able to feel bored.

She wasn't used to being this idle. On the farm, there was always something that needed to be repaired or harvested or sewn or sold or delivered. There wasn't a moment to catch her breath, much less get bored.

She hopped off of the bed and trotted to the center of the room. Death didn't have anything for her to do. Perhaps it wouldn't mind if she left for a little bit. She thought about leaving a note, but figured that, if it wanted to find her, it would. Besides, she wanted to see if Dash was doing any better.

She brought up a memory of the farm, picturing the barn with the neat lines of apple trees, their fat fruit ripe for harvesting.

Swinging the Scythe, she opened a rift and stepped through...

...into rolling green grass.

The color was as jarring as the sudden absence of touch. She walked around, looking at the scenery.

She trotted down the lane to the main road and spotted Apple Bloom coming her way, drawing a small cart. She looked older, but hadn't grown any. It was as if all of the youth had been sucked away from her.

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo crested the hill behind her and charged down, pouring on the speed to catch up with her.

“Apple Bloom!”

The filly turned at their shouts and waited for them to catch up with her.

“We heard.” Scootaloo gasped as she fought for breath. “Say it's not so!”

Bloom nodded. “Ah wish it wasn't, but this farm is too big for two ponies to work alone.”

“You could hire ponies to work it with you.” Sweetie suggested.

Bloom pulled a thick length of wood from the back of the cart, stood it on its end, and pushed it into the ground.

“Dontcha think we've explored that option? We've been barely keepin' afloat for years. We could keep goin' after Granny passed, but, without Applejack, we just can't keep up.”

“Where are you going to go?” Scootaloo asked.

“Mac's found a job in Manehatten doin' construction. We'll be stayin' with Aunt and Uncle Orange until we can get somewhere more permanent. Don't worry 'bout us. We'll do okay.”

She pulled a second, shorter, length of wood from the cart, set it perpendicular to the first length, near the top, and hammered the two together.

“What about this place?”

Removing a thin, square board, Bloom hesitated. “Ah guess somepony will pick it up sooner or later.” She lifted the square board by the attached ropes and hung it from the second board, completing the sign.

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle came forward and embraced her. “We'll miss you.”

“Aw, c'mon guys, don't be like that.” Bloom objected. “We're just goin' out to Manehatten. Once we get settled, ya'll can come visit us whenever ya want. Ah'll be comin' back every now and then and we can always write to each other.”

“Still, it won't be the same without you.”

Bloom shrugged. “Ain't much Ah can do about that.” She hitched herself back up to the cart. “Sorry, girls, but Ah gotta finish packin'. Mac and Ah are leavin' in a couple of days.”

As the trio parted ways, Applejack got her first good look at the sign Bloom had hung.

FOR SALE.

Macintosh was selling Sweet Apple Acres.

She couldn't believe her eyes. Never, in a million lifetimes, did she suspect that Macintosh would do that. This is where their parents and Granny were buried. Hay, she was willing to bet she was buried here too. Granted, the farm had taken a bit of a financial hit in recent years, but that was just temporary. It was to be expected in the agricultural business. When that happened, you tightened your belt and rode it out.

She turned around and marched back to the house. Rainbow Dash could wait. Dead or not, she was about to tell Macintosh precisely how she felt about his sudden lack of spine.

Once she was through the front door, she took a good look at her home. The heirloom furniture had been carefully disassembled, labeled, and set aside to be packed. Boxes were neatly stacked along the walls, labeled for the mover ponies.

Upstairs, she could hear Mac and Bloom talking quietly. She took the steps two at a time.

“Do you want it?” Mac asked.

“Ah have mah own bed.” Bloom replied.

“Ah know, but you're getting a bit big for that one. Better somepony use it. Ah'd hate to see it go to waste.”

“It's her's, not mine.” Bloom objected.

“She ain't using it anymore.”

“That don't mean her stuff should become mine.” She replied, heatedly.

As Applejack stepped over the threshold, Winona leaped to her paws and dashed out.

“Now look, you've gone and made Winona upset.” Mac chastised. “Go and get her before she gets too far. Whether you want this bed or not, Ah'm gonna have to take it apart anyways to get it outta here.”

Bloom got up and left while Mac fetched his screwdriver. His face screwed up in concentration as he worked the tool.

“Ah want to know what ya'll think you're doin'.” She declared as she marched up to him. “Ah never thought you would even consider sellin' this farm. Mac, this farm's been in our family for generations. Countless Apples are buried here. Ya'll can't just up and sell as if it all means nothin'.”

Mac ignored her and continued with his work. The screw he was working screeched as it moved for the first time in a quarter of a century.

“Macintosh, Ah'm talkin' to you! What have ya got to say for yourself?”

Mac continued to ignore her.

Here she was, watching the world she loved fall apart and unable to do a thing to stop it. Anger and frustration built within her as she tried and failed, time and again, to get her brother's attention. Finally, she swung at the screwdriver. Her hoof connected and knocked it from his mouth, sending the tool flying across the room.

They stared after it with identical expressions of shock. She was able to directly manipulate things only in Death's Realm. The fact that she had done this went beyond significant.

He got up and fetched the tool. “Musta bit too hard. Yeah, that's what happened. Lost my grip or somethin'.” He muttered as he returned to his work.

“Horseapples, you lost your grip.” She griped. “Ah knocked if from your mouth.”

The screw was nearly out.

“Macintosh, don't you dare. Papa built that bed and you ain't gonna trash it.”

He continued turning.

“Macintosh, you listen to me.”

He ignored her. She could feel the anger and frustration building up again.

“Macintosh!” She bellowed at the top of her lungs.

He froze. The screwdriver fell from his slack jaw. His eyes were the size of dinner plates while his pupils looked like pinpricks. Tremors ran along his frame as his ears swiveled constantly.

“Ah-Ah-Applejack?”

He had heard her. He. Had. Heard. Her.

This went beyond anything she thought was possible. Since she could move things and be heard, perhaps she could be seen as well.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. She didn't know how it could be done, but she figured anything was worth a try at this point. She tried picturing herself standing next to him, just appearing out of thin air.

“Ah'm right next to ya. Just look up, Ah'm right here. Look up and see me and stop messin' with mah bed.” She muttered.

A final shudder passed through Macintosh's body. “Ah'm hearin' things. It's the stress. All the stress from the move and tryin' to keep the farm runnin'. Ah ain't getting enough sleep.” He sighed as he set his tools aside. “Ah just need a good rest. That's all. That'll get me situated and Ah'll stop hearin' voices.”

He got up and left the room. She followed.

“You're not getting rid of me that easy, big brother. Ah can go so many places now.”

He entered his bedroom and shut the door. She walked through it.

Most of Mac's things had already been packed up. He slept on a thick quilt on the floor. He lay down and rested his head on a pillow.

“Just need a nap. Then Ah'll be fresh as a daisy.” He said with a yawn as he closed his eyes.

She decided to try an experiment. She leaned down and tried to take away his pillow.

Nothing. Her teeth went right through it.

She thought about Mac selling the farm. Apple Bloom leaving her friends. The farmhouse, with its decades of memories, falling into abandonment and disrepair.

And she felt anger and frustration.

She leaned down, took hold of his pillow, and yanked it away.

His eyes opened with an almost audible pop. He stared at his pillow, now a solid pony-length from its starting point. What he didn't see was Applejack holding it.

“Whatcha gonna blame this one on, big brother?” She teased before tossing it away.

He watched it sail across the room before softly impacting the wall.

Mac began to hyperventalate. His eyes rolled wildly as he searched for the tell-tale signs of hidden wires.

“Ah don't know who's pullin' these horseapples, but they'd better stop before Ah get really angry. Ah know Ah should have been there. She'd still be alive if Ah had been there. Dontcha think Ah know that?!” He ranted at the ceiling.

Applejack took a few steps back.

“Ah could have brought Apple Bloom along. She ain't much younger than Applejack was when she made her first trip. Ah could have brought Bloom and been there and protected them and everythin' would be alright.

“Ah gotta do it. Ah gotta sell the farm. We took out too much money to keep it rollin'. The bank's after it now. Ah had to so somethin' or Bloom and Ah would be on the streets. Ah can't let that happen. Ah can't fail again. Ah had to do somethin'!”

Applejack felt sick with shame, tormenting her brother over something he tried his hardest to avoid.

“Ah should have known better. Mac would never sell the farm unless he had no other choice.” She mumbled, staring down at the broken, sobbing pony at her hooves. He looked pitiful, still beating himself up over her death. “Ah understand and Ah'm sorry, big brother. Ah know ya tried your hardest. Ya did your best, can't nopony fault ya for that.”

She turned and trudged away. “Ah'm sorry. Ah'll leave ya'll alone now.”