Cloud's Odyssey

The waitress wanted to know if I wanted anything to drink during the train ride. I politely pass up the offer, already having my fill of cider before the way here. She leaves to the next booth with a smile on her face, and I turn my attention to the magazine I carry on my hooves, the Equestrian Inquirer. I wouldn’t call the articles interesting, they’re mostly about the Canterlot elite and their shallow lives, nothing I could possibly relate to. It’s just something to draw my attention while the train transports me from Baltimare to Ponyville.

The ride to Ponyville from what was used to be my home is an eight hour trek. The reason I’m on this steam powered locomotive is because Baltimare was getting too crowded for me. The ponies moving in my neighbor were of the weird, artsy, beatnik variety. I don’t like those ponies, not one bit. They’re always giving me those disapproving looks whenever I walk into a coffee shop I have been visiting for seven years. Always telling me I couldn’t understand the deeper meaning of that piece of compiled garbage they call “modern art.” Ever since they moved in the property values of the homes in my particular neighborhood had gone down. Also, my old job was getting on my nerves. I work at a horseshoe factory, where my boss would yell at me for every small mistake I made, not to mention the hours were too long and the pay was tedious. On my last day at that factory, I told him straight to his face that I quit. I told everypony at that factory that I never wanted to see any of them again.

A couple of weeks prior to this train ride, in a sense of misplaced rage, I wrecked my living room and flooded the bathroom, to the confusion of my neighbors. They stood outside, mouths agape, eyes on me, staring and judging me. Once I opened the front door to my house and asked them what they wanted from me, they ran like they were fillies who just saw Nightmare Moon. I packed my things, left my house without notice, and making an eight hour journey across the country to a town where I knew nopony, nor do I have a place to stay.

Looking back now, I should have thought this through.

It doesn’t matter now, what happened is in the past, and now I’m moving toward my future. Hopefully history doesn’t repeat itself. I don’t know much about Ponyville, but I do know that it is the hometown of Princess Twilight Sparkle. I heard that it is a relatively nice place to live, save for all the monster attacks that happen regularly. I don’t mind monsters, I had my fair run-ins with huge creatures, it’s just my new neighbors that I’m worried about. Will they be those small towns types that avoid anything that is different? Or will they be those creepy neighbors that put on those fake smiles, each one of them hiding a dark and terrible secret?

Fifteen minutes later the engine starts and I can feel the train move on the tracks. The train station vanishes and leads to the perfect view of the skyscrapers of Baltimare, the sunlight bouncing off the glass windows. This is the second train ride I have ever taken in my life. The first time was when I was a colt scout and my scouting division had a field trip to the Manehattan Museum of Natural History. Up to this point I never enjoyed leaving my home. Visiting another place is just hard work for me. I have to keep up with everything, make sure nothing is lost, all while my anxiety rises. I even had a hard time trying to pack my belongings the weeks before.

As the train picked up speed, the buildings of Baltimare became smaller and smaller each passing second. We cross a bridge over the Cimarron River and into a long dark tunnel. The sounds of the engines and the steel wheels screeching on tracks vibrate off the walls. After prolonged darkness, the train reached the other side, as if I had just entered the afterlife. The iron and steel metropolis is completely gone, the scenery replaced with an ocean of grass dancing in the wind. I see my reflection being submerged on the passing grass.

My initial thought during the first part of the ride is how am I going to adjust to my new life in a small town. I’m not a small town type pony, having been growing up in the city since colthood. No matter how peaceful or quiet this town may be, the hussle and bussle of the city life and the clamoring of hoodlums on street corners will always be apart of me. As much as I disliked the ponies that intruded on my uneasy solitude, I fear that I might slowly lose my mind if Ponyville will just be too perfect for my tastes to endure.

I ride through grass, wheat fields, mountains, and other small towns, but I don’t bother to check my watch. I figured that the more I wanted to know what time it was, the longer the train ride will be. I just sit back and let the gallery of nature pass me by. It took me a while to actually noticed, but I forgot I was still holding the Equestrian Inquirer in my hooves. I placed the magazine on the empty seat next to me. Why would I want to read about those rich, pampered, self-absorbed ponies that probably never had to do any work in their superficial lives? I’ve never been to Canterlot, but there is nothing on this earth that would make me want to go. I don’t care how much culture Canterlot has, I refuse to surround myself with those ponies with their noses raised up in the air, ignoring my existence and silently judging me based on their preconceived notions about humility.

I couldn't tell if it was noon yet, but the sun is at its highest point in the sky, so that gave me an idea of what time is was. A red maned waitress carrying a cart filled with snacks approached my booth, which slowly got my attention.

“Would you like something to eat, sir?” she asked sweetly.

I nod and say, “No thanks, I don’t have that much of an appetite.” She smiles and continues with her business. That was the second conversation I had with somepony today, and it was small talk about food. I enjoyed sitting alone for the most part, but I desperately needed somepony to talk to, especially on a long train ride like this. I look at the empty seat next to me and I imagine that somepony had just entered my booth and occupied it. I try not to actually shake the imaginary pony’s hoof or engage in a conversation if I didn’t want to look like a fool when the next train attendant stops by my seat. I don’t know who would worthy to actually sit next to me, but I’ll take anypony to accompany me at this rate. I’ll take one of those artsy, beatnik types that brag about their modern art collection and jazz records. At least I’ll get some kind of amusement while listening to their gibberish.

The train ride continues and I still find myself sitting alone. I never been much of a social pony growing up, not that I cared. I had my own circle of friends during my school years, but that’s all behind me now. I’m an adult stallion, I, well, I did had a job, and I have responsibilities that pertain to myself. If somepony came inside my booth at this very moment, I would have to depend on him or her to start the conversation, because I have nothing interesting to say. The horseshoe factory I used to work at is nothing to write home about; the city that I used to live is not that outstanding in the least; my family is pretty boring, especially my dad, who just won’t shut up about the Wonderbolts and how great they are. The only thing in my life that is remotely interesting is my former beatnik neighbors. Who in their right mind would be up at three in the morning playing the bongos and reciting awful poetry?

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” a voice behind me asked. The question alone was a surprise to me. I did a double take at the pony in front of me who asked the question. He was stallion - a unicorn to be exact - who I could imagine was slightly taller than me, his coat was a bright shade of yellow and a soft and smooth green mane that covered his right eye.

“No, go ahead,” I answered. He nudged past me and became the new occupier of the empty seat. He set his briefcase by his legs and laid back with a face that looked of satisfaction and accomplishment.

“Going to Ponyville?” he asked me.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

I take a moment to think about what I’m going to say. Then I answered, “To start my life over, I guess.”

“Ah, the classic story of searching for the Equestrian Dream,” he chimed.

“Well, it’s not exactly like that. I’m only moving to Ponyville to get away from my neighbors. They’re really annoying. Every Wednesday and Saturday nights, they’re up at least three-thirty in the morning playing the bongos and listening jazz. I even had to call the police to complain about the noise at one point,” I explained.

“Beatniks.”

“I know. Why are you going to Ponyville?”

“Me? Well sir, I’m a traveling salespony,” he said, “I go from town to town attempting to separate ponies from their hard-earned cash.”

“Oh. What do you sale?” He carried a mischievous smile on his lips, and his horn levitated the briefcase and placed it on his lap. He unlocked it and magic engulfed the contents of what was inside. “Shoes?”

“Not just any shoes. These babies are vintage, All-Equestrian, Chuck Neighlor Converse Shoes. You can’t deny that these are classic legware. At this day and age, you can’t find these anywhere else.”

“I haven’t worn those since I was a colt,” I said.

“That’s why they’re classics. If you ask me, they are indeed the coolest shoes ever made. They’re the kind of shoes you can wear anyplace you go. I mean, look, they come in all different colors: red, blue, yellow, orange, and my personal favorite… black.”

When I saw the pair of the black converses floating in front of my eyes, I was enthralled by its charming simplicity. The white laces hung over the neatly stitched black surface like how a young colt would wear it. The shoe was in itself a design of perfection. The young stallion sensed that I was mesmerized by the legware and he nodded his head in approval.

“You’re right, they are cool,” I said with a slight chuckle.

“I knew you’d be interested.”

“How many have you sold so far?”

“From what I can tell, I say… at least one hundred and thirty,” he answered. I couldn’t tell if he was sure of himself or not, or if that was the exact number of shoes he sold, but I don’t think he actually cared. He was just a stallion trying to make a living in the world. I could relate to somepony like that. “You looking at that magazine?” he asked me. He pointed at the Equestrian Inquirer and I nodded no. The unicorn let his magic hover the magazine in front of his face. It was only a minute later when he started laughing at what he was reading.

“What’s so funny?” I asked confusingly.

“The ponies they feature in this magazine. Look at the title of this article,” he said showing it to me. “Celebrities, They’re Just Like Us. No they’re not just like us. If they were just like us, then they would be the ones sellings these shoes. I don’t live in a big fancy mansion with twenty butlers and maids. I don’t attend fancy dinner parties or go to art galleries. Or play that game… what’s the name of that game they play all the time?”

“What game?”

“You know, that game. It’s like golf, only with a mallet.”

“You mean croquet?”

“Yeah that’s it.”

“Have you been to Canterlot before?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Yep. Like I said, I’m a traveling salespony. I go where the shoes take me.”

I think about the next question I’m going to ask him, but I had a hard time getting it out because I silently laughing to myself. After holding my laughter back, I finally asked him, “Have you ever tried to sell shoes to the high class ponies?”

“One time,” he answered. “Just one time.”

“Where?”

“At the Grand Galloping Gala a few years back. I got dressed all nicely and what not, and tried to sell as many shoes as possible. I swear, I can’t fathom how anypony would not want converses like these. Imagine those fancy posh ponies wearing Chuck Neighlors at the Gala.”

“That is what I want to see.”

“For all that’s worth, at least I wasn’t the only pony failing to make a profit at the Triple G's.”

“There was another?”

“Yeah. Some mare was trying to sell apples and apple related products - like apple pie, apple strudel, apple fritters, you name it. I didn’t know I had competition until after the Gala, but by then it was too late. It ended when some pegasus got crazy with the animals in the garden.”

“I heard about that, it was all over the newspapers.”

“And that was last time I… wait, hold on,” he suddenly said.

“What?”

“Now I remember… I don’t believe we ever got each other’s names. Lemon Tart,” he said as he extended his yellow hoof.

“Cloud,” I said, reaching out my blue hoof at him.

“Cloud? That’s it, nothing else?”

“Well, yeah, that’s it. That’s what they called me since elementary school and it just stuck. That and on the count of my cloud cutie mark,” I said, showing him the simple image of a cumulus cloud on my hindquarters. He lowered his neck and squinted his eyes, closely examining my cutie mark.

“Cloud. Alright then.”

The train crossed another bridge and entered a second tunnel. The darkness blanketed the entire cabin, so much so that I couldn’t tell if I had my eyes closed or not. Light appeared from the unicorn next to me much to my relief. It was not enough to fill the entire booth with light but was enough to see our colored faces.

“So Cloud, what do you plan to do once you arrive in Ponyville?”

“Find a job for starters, something to get back on my hooves. And, oh I don’t know, maybe… maybe Ponyville might help me get a second chance at pursuing my dream.”

“And that dream would be…”

“I’ve always wanted to be an author, and write a bestselling book.”

“An author? You trying to write the Great Equestrian Novel?”

“I’m guessing you’re going to sell as many shoes as possible once you arrive in Ponyville?”

“You betcha! I will not rest until every stallion, mare, and foal in Ponyville have vintage Chuck Neighlors on their legs! Mark my words, and you mark them well.”

The golden sun and the blue sky returned its light to our cabin. Conversing with Lemon Tart extinguished my fears of starting of new life in a new town, if only for a short while. I saw in the young stallion the kind of energy and enthusiasm I hope to meet again the moment I step out of this train. Right when I had finally found my peace of mind, I grew anxious again. I knew the moment when we stop at Ponyville, Lemon and I will have to go our separate ways. Due to his profession, he never stays at one town for long. In the back of mind, I wish we could spend more time together before he goes to the next town. Already I was beginning to feel like I had just lost a good friend as quick as I found one.