Wildlife

On her way to the Ponyville Pharmacy, the white unicorn found herself walking passed the Royal Celestian Church. She passed it every time she had to refill her medicine. But today she stopped, surveying the plot of land in front of the building.
Vacant. It called to her though, and she went, sitting in the pew, where she did when she was a little girl, when it was important to go. It was important to learn the prayers of the princesses, and the sins that would send her through perdition. When Magnum and Pearl split up though, so did the church going.

Pearl never seemed to have time anymore to go to church, but occasionally, when she spent weekends with her father, they would still go, sitting in the normal pew, soundless and listening to the old pony’s preach. Sweetie would sing the hymns to loud, until eventually she was invited to join the choir. She never understood her parent’s divorce, but Rarity seemed too, and that’s why she started living there. Pearl drank too much sometimes, and yelled at Sweetie in a raging crescendo, before finding a decrescendo back into quiet murmuring. “Sweetie this is all your fault.” Her chest tightened, maybe that’s why she kept going to church, she wanted to be freed of her faults. That’s what the minister preached.

So she sang as loud as any of the other ponies, her skill level matched. At first she found joy in it. Especially when she got her
Cutie Mark there. Things were looking up for the filly. She thought that her mark would give her hope, give her life a purpose, and she promised, at her party to never forget the choir that she stared out in.

She never did. Sweeties Faith went on unwavering, but as she aged, turning to a teenager, then to a young adult she realized a troublesome issue, as weeks and months went on, the congregation found itself thinning, until eventually it was just her-a lone soloist, and the Apples, listening to the preacher pony.

Shortly after, it was just Apple Bloom and Granny Smith.

And then it was just Granny Smith. She hadn’t missed a service since Sweetie Bell had been born. And she never did. The last
time sweetie bell went to church, her voice quivered and shook, as they buried the old green pony after the service. Granny Smith's death changed Ponyville.

The minister pony retired after Granny Smiths Funeral. The church shut down a few months later. The doors were boarded up for a while, and then the space was rented for destination weddings, but lately she hadn’t seen anyone there. None of it mattered though, she was here now. The air was thick and heavy as she choked out a sob in response to the desolation of that holy place.

Her faith was gone now though, and she knew it was bad, she remembered the disappointment in her family when they found out she didn’t praise the sisters, nor the other alicorn royalty. But she didn’t see a reason too. Pearl didn’t go to church, and Rarity hadn’t since she stopped going to school. Rarity told her, going to church was one thing, but not believing was something else.

But she didn’t care, and sometimes Sweetie Bell thought about what it would be like if there wasn’t a sun or a moon, and she thought the order of that might be something she could get used to.
She sits in the church for a long time, starting at the large wooden sun that hung above the pulpit. Her chest feels tight again, and she can’t contain herself, she opens herself up in the church, and cried until her head pounded against itself, desperately trying to void itself of the situation.

Someone else In the form of a large Red Stallion, raking away leaves, and smoothing the gravel with a big plow greeted her when she left.

“Big Mac?” She asks, surprised. The Red Pony looks up at Her, he’s almost surprised by her looks, the decay that had befallen her since he had last seen her. “What are you doing her Mac.”

The red stallion doesn’t say anything, instead works on pulling weeds for a few moments, hoping she would leave it alone. He tried to change the subject, “Sweetie Bell, ‘ave you been okay lately?” His words are a low and concerned, “I here Miss Rarity frettin’ bout yah to AJ.”

Sweetie bell feels her stomach plummet, ”What do you mean fretting, I’m perfectly fine.” She knew she couldn’t lie in front of a church. “I just worry bout yah Sweetie, Yah know E’ryone is talkin’ bout yah.” Her teeth grind roughly against each other, and Big Mac goes back to raking now, making the pile orderly.

His eyes look tired. He looks tired, and as he sees Sweetie Bell walking away, he feels the need to answer her question. “Ah just think Granny Smith would like it best this way.” Sweetie turns around puzzled, “Hm?” she inquires.

“Well that’s why Ah’m here. I think Granny Smith would want the church lookin’ nice”
Sweetie sometimes wondered if anyone wanted to love her the way Big Mac loved his grandmother. If anyone would come and rake her leaves-clearing her head of the muck. If anyone would take the time to pull the weeds from her mind.

Big Mac’s words churn in her head. Granny Smith probably would want to church being at its best, she was at near the matriarch of the church, not just the apple family. Sweetie bell had tried in her diary to blame Granny Smith for her lack of faith, she had tried to justify her despair on the death f her best friends grandmother.

“Dear Diary
September 1rst.

Granny Smith’s service was today, and Apple Bloom looked so sad. I don’t think I have ever seen her cry that hard. I don’t really understand, but Diary, I don’t think im going to sing in the choir anymore. I was never doing it for me was I, I was always doing it for Granny Smith and Apple Bloom, because they are my friends, and I cared about them. But not anymore. Bloom told me today she was moving, and I told her how it seemed so damn coincidental, that if the old hag hadn’t bit the dust, Bloom wouldn’t be leaving me. She knows about what happened with Feather Weight, and yet she’s selfish to the point of leaving.

This is why the princess’s aren’t special. They can raise the sun and the moon, and maybe they are decedents from our creators.
But how are they different then us? I think it’s that they don’t feel like we do. They don’t have to.

Maybe if the princesses rose spirits and hope and dropped the sadness would be in a different position.”

Sweetie Bell’s recollection of this moment made her think about the church more, and she was surprised when she heard the talk after she picked up her meds. Filthy Rich was talking to some other pony, one with a thick Manehatten accent, and they laughed with each other, drinking outside of Sugarcube corner.

“Yes” the wealthy stallion said to the stranger. “I think that would be a beneficial use for that lot” The stranger seems overjoyed,
“Perfect, Perfect.” He starts. “That old church has been there too long, Mr. Rich, I’m glad you think the Manehatten Bankers Association could put it to the use it needs to be at.”

Sweetie Bell cried when she got home.