Life Is a Pigsty

by SonicRainboomGirl

Rating: teen
Tags: Granny Smith, Sad, Applejack, Apple Bloom, Big Macintosh, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 1884

Applejack has always worn her ratty old hat proudly. Behind every item that carries with it sentimentality, there is a story.

Applejack has always worn her ratty old hat proudly. Behind every item that carries with it sentimentality, there is a story.

Published 2014-03-24 05:30:06 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-24 05:30:06 UTC

Life is a Pigsty

Life Is a Pigsty

The intense heat of summer was sweeping in, and the apple trees had never looked greener. Applejack found the orchards to be her very own wonderland. All day long she'd run through soft dirt and toss clumps of fresh-cut grass in the air. Nothing smelled better than that grass. Lying on the ground and leaning on trees, the bugs never bothered her.

Applejack would often lie down on a blanket in the orchard, looking up at the apple trees. The wind blowing through them soothed her. The whooshing sound fascinated her. It tickled her ears and sent tingles down her spine. She would stomp on the apples that fell and watch them crumble beneath her hooves. She could sleep for hours in the cool shade, or race her siblings as fast as she could. Wind would whip through their manes, and it smelled of sweet apples.

Applejack's daddy, a very honest pony, always broke up fights between the siblings. Applejack usually started them, and she never seemed to run out of energy. She always wanted to tussle, but she was obedient enough to listen to her parents as well. Apple Bloom was very young, and Big Macintosh was awfully gentle. She knew when to stop when it came to their fights.

Applejack just loved her daddy. He was tall, strong, and interesting. He had an orange body like herself, and a bright red mane that always looked incredible in the sun. He was a very reasonable stallion, and ran the family farm with pride. He was different from other adult ponies. He took Applejack seriously when she talked to him, never talking down. When she didn’t understand, he politely explained. Applejack adored him.

Every night the Apples sat around an old wooden table for dinner. It had been there for generations and you could clearly see little marks of where ancient Apples had missed their target and cut the table up. They ate classic meals: steamy grits, thick mashed potatoes, cheerful green bean casserole… no matter what they ate, Applejack always took seconds. Thirds. Even fourths. She had a ravenous appetite.

One day at the dinner table after a rather long day of playing outside, she asked her daddy about a hat. It was a shabby old hat, brown and worn in places. It was extremely soft, and her daddy wore it always.

“Well, Applejack,” he began, “this hat belonged to mah father. He wore it to protect his face from the sun while apple-buckin’ in the fields.”

That’s all that needed to be said. From then on, Applejack felt like that hat was a crown. As she grew a bit older, life around the farm began to change. There was a lot more responsibility on her shoulders. Her father started to show her and Big Macintosh how to apple-buck. Applejack had the best kick. It was strong, fast, and it kicked apples from the trees in no time.

“You’re a natural!” her father would say, high-hoofing her, “Ah was a natural, you know.”

Big Macintosh was not so much of a natural, but Applejack’s daddy helped him along. Soon the two siblings were apple-bucking together.

Applejack’s next responsibility was tending to the pigs. They were relatively big creatures compared to Applejack. The work was difficult, and Applejack always dreaded her duty. She fulfilled it because she cared about the well-being of the farm, but she didn’t like it at all.

The pigsties were always loud, stinky, and dirty. Her hooves soon would be covered in mud, feed, and manure. As she raked away, the smell of it all made her stomach grumble in discomfort. She always had to pull the heavy rake with her little mouth, dragging it with much difficulty. Sometimes her feet would slip on the messy floors of the pigsty, and she would fall. Washing the pigs always soaked her, as they fussed and squirmed. They would squeal with outrage when she first set them in the water, and struggle. It was always a battle of wills and bodies. Applejack always tried to win, but wasn’t always successful.

Granny Smith, her father’s mother, came to visit. Applejack would never forget the first time she saw the old mare. She was like a little pea; she had a small, green, wrinkly frame. Applejack didn’t take kindly to her at first, because she didn’t trust her completely. Granny Smith always shooed her away. She wasn’t privy to all information as a filly, but she knew there was something wrong. Granny Smith had never visited before, which made Applejack think she didn’t care.

“I want to see my daddy!” Applejack said to her mother one day. Her father had been cooped up in his room, keeping to himself.

“You can’t right now, sweetie,” Her mother said gently. That’s all the answer Applejack ever got. It was never the right time to see her beloved daddy. He must have been sick, she decided, really sick and contagious. Applejack kept to herself most of the day. She didn’t want to trust Granny Smith, and no one else had answers. She cleaned the pigsties and apple-bucked all day. A young filly, she thought this would help the family’s predicament.

Applejack’s mother had tears in her eyes when she approached the little filly one day. She was shaking, and her voice was cracking. Applejack didn’t read the body language at all. All she knew is that she finally had a chance to see her daddy! She raced into the house, still covered in muck. She ran up the stairs, down the hall, and she burst into her father’s bedroom.

“Daddy!” she shouted, and ran forward. Granny Smith was kneeling by the bed in tears, holding his hoof with her own.

“Applejack…hi darlin'…” the words were slurred. Applejack stood where she was. Her father looked pale, and he broke into a fit of coughing. She stepped forward, only to notice blood in his handkerchief.

“Applejack…” he said, “I love you.”

His breathing was very shallow, and his voice sounded shaky.

“What’s goin’ on, daddy?” Applejack asked, confused and afraid. She was so young. Losing her daddy had never been an option.

“Ah’m afraid ah’m not doing so well, lil’ sugarcube,” he said, smiling at her.

“Are you goin’ to die, daddy?” Applejack asked, knowing that the answer was no in her gut. Right?

“Yes…” her daddy replied, coughing from his belly once more. More blood flowed out of his mouth, beginning to trickle a little. Applejack gasped, very afraid. Tears began to make her vision blurry. This wasn’t real.

Suddenly her mother and her siblings burst through the door. Her mother was still in tears, and looking over at Granny Smith Applejack could see her whispering prayers to herself. Big Macintosh stood by his father stoically, swallowing sobs forcefully. Apple Bloom, still so very tiny, leapt onto the bed and snuggled into her father’s forelegs. She rested her head on his shoulder and wept openly. Applejack looked over to see her mother a heap on the floor.

“What is it, daddy? What’s takin' you?” Applejack asked, feeling this was much too sudden.

“The doctors say its consumption. Ah just think there’s somethin' tellin' me that my time is up here. It’s time to go, lil’ one.”

“No it’s not!” Applejack protested, speaking the truth.

“You’re right, Applejack,” her father chuckled, then coughed, “always the honest one. Ah love you all. Take care, young in’s. Your ma and Granny Smith are here now. It’s just too strange… even now, in the final hour of mah life, Ah’m fallin’ in love again. Ah love you all.”

Apple Bloom wailed and told her father several times that she loved him too. Applejack just didn’t want him to go yet. She felt like she had unanswered questions, but they wouldn’t leave her lips. He hugged Apple Bloom, and then shuddered. A spattering of blood leapt from his mouth, and he fell dead.

The next day Applejack did not get up to wash the pigs or clean their sties. She sat in her room, crying on her bed. Her favorite person in the whole world had just passed away, and the only thing she could feel was pain. Her throat was closing tight every time she tried to breathe, and her ringing headache only fueled further tears. A knock came at the door, and she squeaked a reply.

In walked Big Macintosh. He was never much of a talker, and for once Applejack was grateful. He climbed onto the bed with her and they just hugged, crying for the loss of their beloved daddy.

“Ah wonder… who will break up our fights now?” Applejack tried to joke, but it wasn’t very funny.

“Ah’ll do it,” Big Macintosh promised her, whispering. Applejack accepted his offer in her head. She knew he could do it.

Granny Smith quietly entered, and Applejack felt like life had cheated her. It had taken away her beloved father and given her a wrinkly old mare that never told her anything. Her father had taught her everything she knew. In Granny Smith’s hoof was the old brown hat, ugly and beautiful at the same time. It smelled like her father. Applejack’s lip quivered at the scent of sweet apples and the tears came again.

“This was my husband’s,” Granny Smith began, “and your father’s. It’s truly a tragedy that I had to watch both of them pass away before my own eyes. My love and my son.”

The old mare trembled and looked at the floor. She was regaining her composure. For once Applejack began to understand the suffering Granny Smith had been through. She wasn’t cold. She was just afraid of getting hurt again. She must have felt bad for taking so long to meet her grandchildren. Applejack stumbled forward and hugged the old mare, immediately loving and trusting her.

“Ah love you, Granny Smith!” She hoped it would make a difference to the old mare. She hugged little Applejack back, and then patted her gently back towards the bed. Secretly, it meant the world.

“Big Macintosh,” Granny Smith said, “I’m sure your father would have wanted you to have this hat.”

Big Macintosh took up the old hat. Applejack watched, stunned. Big Macintosh put it sheepishly on his head, and at that moment he truly looked like a majestic Apple stallion. He fit right into the mold. He looked like his father and he looked like his grandfather. Applejack believed that he could lead the family onward from tragedy. But as soon as it was on and Applejack’s hopes raised, he took it off.

“It’s not right…” Big Macintosh commented and then held the hat out to Applejack.

“What in tarnation?” Applejack refuted, startled.

“Daddy would have wanted you to wear this hat, Applejack. You embody the spirit of this family. You’re a leader. You love the farm. You’re brave, tough, a darn good apple-bucker…well, sis, you’re the one who should wear the hat.”

Applejack looked to Granny Smith for validation, holding the soft fabric in her hands. It was worn from so many years. Granny Smith nodded. Applejack placed the heirloom on her head, and smelled sweet apples. Just like her father, she was falling in love again.