A single tear falls to the ground, as a young filly refuses to read the headings on the gravestones in front of her. She never knew them, she was too young. Being only about three, she had very, very few memories that she could confirm were real, and not just her imagination trying to make her feel better, or a dream. She always thought that maybe her sister was wrong, maybe they weren't gone. But, this was the reason that her sister brought her all the way to Fillydelphia. So that maybe she would get some peace. But, as she sat there, tears streaking her face, she felt anything but peaceful. She wouldn't look at the names on the headstones, she couldn't. Maybe if she didn't, then it wouldn't be true. She couldn't believe this to be true. But, still as clear as day, she remembered the story of how they got to be this way. That story brought her so much sadness, so much hate. But still, it came to her mind.
Crimson looked up to her older sister. She was five years old, and her sister had brought her here for a reason. Crimson usually doesn't get to go in Arsonya's inspiration room. They moved around a lot, but it was better then staying with Auntie Sweet Mint. She made them go to bed when Celestia still hadn't lowered the sun, and every time Crimson tried to eat an apple, she'd take out her meter stick, saying that sophisticated ponies don't suck apples dry. She always went straight for the wings, and Crimson was glad when Arsy took her away in the night. But now, they sit in the fourth house that year. Last time it was Crim's fault they had to leave, but her sister wasn't mad at her. They were in a two room apartment in Neighbraska. She watched as her sister took out a photo of two ponies. One was mare with a red coat with a fiery orange mane. The other was a stallion with a softer orange with a blood red mane.
"Arsy, who are they?"
She watched as her sister wiped away a tear, although she was too young to see just how sad she was.
"Mom and dad."
Crim cocked her head, a bit confused.
"You have a picture? Why? Didn't they leave us with Auntie?" Jus the thought of her Aunt brought back a little pain to her wings.
"No, Crimson, they didn't leave us with her."
Now Crimson was as confused as ever.
"Where are they? Are they still on vacation?"
She didn't notice her sister cringe. Her sister then sighed and said,
"No, they never were on vacation. I didn't know how to tell you this, but now I think you're old enough to know.. That their dead."
Crim stared at her sister, and looked for any signs of a joke. As far as she could tell, she was telling the truth.
"No... Y-y-your lying! Their, their..."
Crim collapses in her sisters arms, tears streaming down her face
"How? How did they?"
Arsonya sighed, and began the story.
"They went to the bank. It was a beautiful day, too beautiful for later's events. They needed to take drop off some bits, and we were with them. You were a little filly, sitting there in your stroller, happy as any young foal would be. The city was mainly batponies and pegasi, not too far from Cloudsdale. I was about eleven, and we were behaving, and being quiet as Mom and Dad stepped up to the teller's window. A couple stallions charged in, demanding everyone to give them all of their bits. Everyone complied, except for mom and dad. They... They refused. The onlookers were shocked, and scared for them. They didn't want to give them any of their hard earned bits. They fought them for awhile, until one of them brought out a knife. He... No, IT. IT SLIT OUR MOMS THROAT. RIGHT IN FRONT OF US."
Crim noticed her sisters hair tinging black, and became fearful.
"No, no, Arsy, please calm down, b-before Arrow comes."
Her sister breathed in deeply, and her hair returned to its normal, vibrant, fiery orange.
"Sorry, its just... No, I'll finish. After that... that monster killed her, dad's red eyes turned black, and his red mane turned black, too. He leapt at the stallion, and starting sailing punches. But the other one... He shot him with a new technology in Equestria, meant for the military. I found my fear transform into pure hatred. I jumped at him, my hair streaked black, and my eyes pure black, something I guess I inherited from dad."
"That's where Arrow formed?"
Arsonya nodded her head yes, and continued her story.
"Yes Crim. She was created from pure anger and hatred. Arsonya has fangs, as you know. I used them to bite him. His hooves, his sides, his neck... I went straight for the neck. I punctured it multiple times. He lay unconscious soon, and I probably would have continued if I hadn't heard you crying. The other stallion, he had grabbed you, and was holding the knife to you. I think he was trying to threaten me, and it worked. You were swaddled up, and he stupidly help you towards his neck. You sunk your baby fangs into his neck. You saw me do it, and I think that you knew that he was bad. We taught you early on only to bite apples, not ponies. But you, you.. You bit his neck, and dragged your fangs across his neck. You slit his throat with your bare teeth. The other ponies called the police, but they were too late. Soon after, we were sent to our only remaining family. She was hard on you especially, because she feared you. If you did that as a foal, then she can only imagine what you'd do at an older age. You know the rest."
We sat their crying in each other's forelegs the rest of the night.
I looked up, and for the first time I read the names on the graves.
Burning Flame, and Burnt Apples.
Or, as I would call them, Mom and Dad.
I cried some more, and grabbed my saddlebags. I feel around the inside of it, and my hoof grasps it. I hold it in the moonlight.
It was the knife that killed my mother.
It looked like any other kitchen knife. The only difference is that it holds so much sadness, so much hurt, so much anger. I nick my hoof, drawing a bit of blood.
It was still sharp. As sharp as the day I found it in Arsonya's dresser drawer. It now has some of my blood on its surface.
I was sure of what I was gonna do. It would hurt, but then I'd feel tired, and fall asleep. I hold it at the surface of my skin, over my wrist, where my hoof met my leg. I'm just about to slide it across the surface, when a voice interrupts me.
"I don't recommend that."
I turn around to face an orange pegasus with a purple mane. She also has some blood on her, and looks like she was hit by a carriage driven by some minotaurs. I don't care, though, and say,
"Why would you care? You don't even know me."
"That may be true, but I know you'll regret this decision."
I sigh, and set the knife beside me.
"Oh yeah? And why's that?"
"Well, there's gotta be somepony that needs you around."
"Only my sister, Arsonya."
I put the knife back in my saddlebags, and turn around to thank the filly for talking me out of it, only to find her gone. There was no trace left of her, like she was never there.
I walk back to the hotel where I'm staying.
I don't know if she was real, my imagination, or a ghost, but all I know is that I owe her my life.
And that I finally said good bye to my parents.
