Shore and Waves

by sniggles

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Human, Sad
Length: 2667

A descriptive short about spiritual escape and realization.

Layla, a pegasister, experiences spiritual disconnection, and finds answers to the problem of her brother getting bullied for his love for ponies. Not plot-heavy, just an abstract piece.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-21 23:43:29 UTC

Layla

Grain upon grain of sand flows through my hands as the wind in the west whips up, stinging the naked form of my arm. The urge to let loose an abhorred spell of coughing is rising up to the surface. I hope against all hope that something, a beacon of hope somewhere, pops up to guide me through this tempestuous gale. I can't control it anymore and start coughing, sending spit into the wind. I've never sincerely believed in a faith before, but I started praying to whatever robed, white, unstained deity that lay in the sky, for liberation. With only a measly blanket around me, I clutched it tightly against my nearly naked body as I staggered across the ice cold sands. I shuddered as I felt the first few fat raindrops on my skin, premonition to the pelting storm that was to come. I was never a strong girl. Mentally, sure, I had a tough exterior that was hard to crack; I avoid emos like anathema and could put up with the worst fedora-wearing cynics real life and the Internet had to offer. But physically, I was not well-endowed (nor was I interested in training up my strength), having to skip many a class due to some ailment; recently, I was less strong, thanks to a new poisonous form of indulgence that I have been partaking in. The habit takes me places, and anyplace is better than the real life, I suppose. So anyway, I shouldn't have been out here on a beach that was fast approaching high tide. My eyes widened in their sockets as the sudden advance of the first wave covered the grey sky in a torrent of blue.

>*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*<

I was in Equestria. I had no idea why, nor did I have an idea how I knew that. I wasn't a pony, still a human, as I wiggled my toes and fingers and stood up on my feet and observed my surroundings. I was flanked on all sides by greenery but it couldn't have been the Everfree forest; it wasn't offering the humidity of a tropical forest and the relatively sparse canopy and cone-shaped trees hinted that this was a coniferous environment. I was standing, barefoot, on a pile of yellowed leaves. It's crisp and clear as morning. No birds, no crickets, no bloody cicadas. Just the rustling of leaves and the sweet scent of... maple? I heard hurried footsteps, which got louder as time ticked by. I told myself that it could be dangerous. There was no weapon in my vicinity that I could pick up to defend myself with.

From between two trees emerged a unicorn that every brony can recognize: Twilight Sparkle. She had a kindly smile, which dissipated my initial fears instantly. Suddenly, the ground beneath my feet started disappearing, like the ground got soggy and a quicksand spit suddenly opened in the midst of the earth, and I felt my dream and Twilight Sparkle receding. I struggled, but it was no use. Twilight, however, was calm and collected, using her horn to levitate me off of the wormhole and to her side. I felt no mud clinging onto my body, dismissing the notion that it was a real quicksand pit.

Twilight gave me that warm smile again as she walked me through the forest, her firm magic keeping me afloat and warm through the stinging chill of the forest wind. As we cruised through the forest, there was chirping, and it was melodious, as if there was a conductor with a baton directing the song of birds. It wasn't heaven, but if it was, I wouldn't complain.

Twilight started asking questions. Questions about my family, studies and life in general. I didn't find it in the least awkward, somehow, and answered them fluidly as if I was talking to my friend.

My little brother, he's a brony. I love him more than anything in the world. What? That's right, you heard me. More than anything, Twilight. Because of him, I tried out the fandom and wasn't disappointed. I'm his big sister, best friend forever, so we stick together through thick and thin. Like... like you and Shining Armor. But, you see, he's young. He's got a whole future ahead of him. I can't bear to see him like how he is now, beaten up and all, in a hospital. It's... it's your fault. He's scarred.

Almost instantly, Twilight released her magic and let me fall to the floor. I picked myself up and stared straight ahead at Twilight, trying to find a hint of remorse or sorrow in her expression. There was none, just a nonchalant stare.

It's all sunshine and roses for you. He thought that life was like that, too. Now his innocence is gone, it's gone. I sound mushy, but it's pretty terrible to see when you're the sister of someone who gets beaten up for his interests. Even more so when you share those interests, and when the whole world is against it, including your parents. What should I do?

Twilight moved her head to look at something behind me, like there was a stirring in the woods. The birds stopped singing, opting to fly towards the sky instead. Equestria suddenly became 10 times warmer. The brown trees that surrounded us suddenly shifted to red. Fire, ash and embers consumed the world as I gave an unearthly wail, turning everything, finally, to black.

>*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*<

I gasped as I found myself in a bed in a musky log cabin. There was rain pattering against a window above my bed. I saw a fire, crackling and lively in a wooden fireplace, and I could smell the strong scent of maple. I sat up, immediately pushing off the warm covers and stood up, stretching, and found out that the dull clothes on my body were foreign. I panicked a little and looked around for other signs of life; damned I was if I was 'rescued' by a man. Soon enough, I heard footsteps and immediately buried myself into the covers of my captor's bed, keeping silent. There was only the crackle of the fireplace, onslaught of the rain outside and the sound of footsteps becoming progressively louder.  In a few seconds (through squinted eyes, I could see), my captor revealed himself to be a middle aged man, dressed in army fatigues and a fat cigar in his mouth. However, once he entered the room, he immediately put it out and dragged a chair from another room. I could feel his eyes on me as I pretended to sleep.

"Give up yer act, little missy," he said in a thick Scottish accent, "I can tell these things. You're not asleep, are ye?"

I turned my head, eyes wide open as I saw him. He wasn't the most handsome of men, with a head that looked like it could have been the base of a mane of blond hair but was now well trimmed to an extremely short length. His face held a wideset jaw and  his eyes were small, and his nose was stout. The two of us stared at each other for a long time, until he cleared his throat.

"Don't worry, miss, I haven't done anythin funny. I had ter dress ye, but that was about it," he said, unblinking. I couldn't help but immediately take his word for it. Silence again.

"So, uh, ye watched the latest episode?" he asked. Of what? I was tempted to say, but I was afraid. Of what, I can't currently remember. His hulking frame? The fact that he was a stranger? His fierce accent?

"Ye know what I'm talking about, missy. The ponies," he said with a warm smile, emphasizing on the syllable, 'po'. I chuckled a little at how funny it sounded. Then I said my first few words.

"Season 4... Episode 18?" I said meekly. He smiled and nodded.

"There ye go. Maud...?"

"Pie!" I said, warming up to his company. I proceeded to spill out all of my opinions on the episode. He contributed a fair share as well. It was curious that I'd end up in the company of a brony.

"Though this is probably the thousandth time, I think that Maud is hooves down, best pony!" he said cheerfully at last, baring his yellowed teeth as the two of us laughed through the night. Or was it the afternoon? I honestly couldn't be bothered with the basic facts.

"Alright, listen, kiddo," said the Scotsman at first, then he stopped for a while, hesitating a little. Then he continued. "Tell me your brony story."

"My... brony story?" I said uncertainly, though I could deduce what he meant. How I got introduced and absorbed into the fandom. It was weird, though, that he was the first one asking this. But it could have been weirder.

I started to recount as much as I could, the words rolling out of my mouth like it was thoroughly rehearsed. Finding a toy in my brother's room. The initial teasing. The fun we had watching episodes together. The bliss we'd feel through the years, which wouldn't dissipate even when he was 15. The disapproving look of my parents. The dreaded headlines. Him, with tubes coming out of weird places on his body while he rested on a bed. Glue-sniffing. Running away from the disapproving stares of everybody, just wanting an escape, like Fluttershy in Hurricane Fluttershy.

The Scotsman was attentive, and when I ended, he gave a sigh and immediately started on his own story. I couldn't believe it. 2010 to 2011, he was introduced to the show as a joke. This joke grew on him, and soon enough, he was hooked and watching through as many episodes as he could. His relatives would laugh at his interests, but he'd eventually grow numb to their teasing; fact is, he was quite proud of being in the fandom and his confidence even won himself a few fellow bronies. Then, he voluntarily enlisted to aid in the conflict in the Middle East, to the dismay of his relatives and friends. It was easily his most regrettable yet most cherished moment of his life. He learned of many characters, the mentally insane, the cynical and the constantly downcast. It sounded cheesy, but it was worth shining a beam of sunlight into their dark worlds, since he was taught that, in the face of adversity, it was better to laugh. When an often angered friend of his was dying in his arms, this friend coughed out blood as he smiled, and it was the most radiant one he'd seen on his face.

"And not once, did I compromise on my choices," said the Scotsman. He stood up and waved his hand, gesturing me to follow. I got out of the bed, feeling a lot colder with the covers off of me. I walked through the wooden hall of the cabin which led to the outside, and saw that the rain had stopped. A bright rainbow crested the sky and a cacophony of birdsong filled the air. He motioned his hand towards a series of cages with small birds in them. The sea was on one side of the cabin, while a forested area was on the other side.

"Ye see, I like to think that I'm a conductor of this fine choir here. Come on!" he said curtly as he pulled out a twig that doubled as a conductor's baton from his pocket. What ensued was an embarrassing display, as he attempted to make the birds sing according to his rhythm, and I couldn't help but giggle a little as his twig broke against a cage that he accidentally tapped against. The birds were definitely not complying, continuing to sing on their on accord.

"This tells us," he said, while laughing mirthfully, "that all of us can't be Fluttershys. But most importantly, we can't force things. We can't force the bird to sing. The bird believes in what it wants to believe, what it believes is right. Or at least that's what I'd like to think."

He then pulled out a key from one of his many pockets on his army slacks and proceeded to open all of the cages, one at a time. The birds merrily chirped as they flew off into the forest.

"Once ye make it obvious to your enemies that ye won't bend," said the Scotsman as he walked to his cabin, "ye will have true freedom."

"But, my brother!"

"His assailants will carry that error with them through their lives. Such a level of bigotry is... primitive. Surely even the numbest of skulls would get that to their heads. Anyway, damage's been done, though, nothing nobody can do 'bout that," said the Scotsman as he disappeared into the cabin, leaving me alone. One last sentence came from him.

"First priority is your brother. See him," were his last words to me as the cabin door shut with a bang.

>*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*<

There was a throng of people at the hospital, but I pushed them aside as I chided the counterperson on where my brother's ward was. Snapping up her words, I hurried as fast as my legs, which had carried me for at least a mile from the cabin, could support me. I arrived at the door and pulled it open to see my parents surrounding my brother, and they didn't look too happy. I had a dormant fear that they had scolded the poor boy on his interests, but I had a feeling that they wouldn't be that cruel. I pushed them out of the way and found him, still hooked up to tubes, still heaving shallow breaths, but thankfully, still having that radiant smile of his as I wrapped my arms around his body. My parents were stunned, but my brother returned the hug gratefully. It was silence as the two of us just lay there. Then he started singing something; it was quiet at first, but steadily grew louder.

"My big sister, best friend... forever," was his hoarse start.

"Like two peas in a pod, we do everything together," I continued. I hated being this sentimental, but I couldn't help but feel a little moisture in my eyes. This would be the last time, I hope. But still, I couldn't refrain from singing his favorite song.

"And 'cause she's not so far away..."

"I hope that I will stay," I said.

"My big sister best friend... forever," we finished. By then, it was just the two of us, alone in the room. My parents could be somewhere in the universe, shaking their heads, but for now, that didn't matter.

>*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*<

The last embers of the fire blew across the wind as I sat on the sand by the dying fire, watching the sun sink beneath the horizon. The wind whipped thorough my long hair as I stared at the exiting silhouette of my little brother, who had spent a brief moment with me for his birthday outing. I gave him a Derpy toy, which he took gratefully. Now that he's back in school, he'd become quite the socialite; on that outing we had, he had to leave early because there was a party to go to. Now it was just me and my thoughts as I laid on the sand of the beach. And the repetitive crashing of the waves that echoed like a gong in my head, continuing now and perhaps forever into the future. Undisturbed. Pure.

I would've liked to know where the Scotsman went, but unfortunately, there really seemed to be nothing where I last met him. But to quote his words, where he really lives wasn't really the main point. I stamped out the flame and made my way home as the night weighed in on me, the sound of waves getting fainter and fainter as I left the scene, but the thoughts of them rang ever louder in my head.