Hard times

          Section-2 A Cruel Past

    Pure dumb luck. It is of pure dumb luck that she survived the fall. Down she fell though an aged wooden roof into a hay loft full of half decayed hay. Though the hay cushioned the fall it did by no means leave her intact. The fall had left her unconscious and with minor injuries.

    She woke in a daze many hours later. She attempted to raise a hoof to rub her head but was jerked back by her shackles. Having all her natural abilities, with the exception of walking, stripped from her did not sit easy on her mind. She tried to scream out in anger but the pain quickly stopped her. The stitching at her lips began to tear at the attempt and blood slowly trickled out. After a moment she regained her head and stood up. Stepping slowly she searched the premises for something to remove her cuffs. Nothing could be found to break the chains, the only thing she found was a small staircase leading to the ground level. Nearing the steps she began to grow light-headed, the fall may not have left any external wounds but the internal wounds had begun to take there toll and the concussion was going to try to bring her down in any way it could. She began to stagger and the staggering lead to her meeting the ground level face first. She stood up once more and could feel blood seeping from a small cut across her forehead. Looking around the room she saw it, her salvation. A pair of bolt cutters hung on the wall just across the room. Still slightly light-headed she decided she better take it slow but her body refused to cooperate with her mind. Hastily she tried to take off in a full strint towards the cutters. This time lucky played on her side but at a cost. She jerked her front legs forward, the force jerked a hoof out of the shackles but she fell to the floor. Her face landed hard and flat on the ground. The impact caused her mouthed to ooze blood. The pain forced her release a tear and a groan. Though it cost some bloodshed, having just one free hoof made things go by so much smoother.

    Holding the bolt cutters in her hooves she thought to herself. 'First things first.' She slid the cutters up her neck and under her collar. She squeezed the handles and with sparks and the crunching of metal she was free from her magical restraints. As the device fell to the floor she took the cutters in an aura and began to do away with her shackles one by one.

    "I hate those damn collars!" She proclaimed to herself. After the statement she heard a noise. "Hello? Anypony here?" She called into the darkness. "If somponys' their you better show yourself!" She called as she raise the bolt cutters. Ready to swing at any moment the thought to herself. 'I truly hope those old stories are false.' The old stories of which she remembered were ones on terrible creatures, hideous, deformed, mutated, ponies that had gone mad and would attack anypony on sight. How could she forget such tales for they were the tales of the high council. They were commonly known throughout the families of the city and there only purpose, to spread fear of the old outside, but no matter how hard she told herself that it was all just lies and nonsense she couldn't take her mind off of them. Out of fear her breaths grew shorter and more rapid. "Come out dammit!" She barked into the shadows. Suddenly she threw the cutters into the dark, they flew through the shadows and hit something metal. The clatter of metal rang out and echoed on the empty walls followed by the sound of somthing wood breaking. She cringed a bit the saw it, out of the shadows came a rather sizable rat. She watched the rat scurry away as the slowly walked to were the sound came from. Into the darkness she stepped. Fully into the dark the wondered, blind to what lied ahead. Unable to see she considered going back but another side of her coaxed her to continue. A cold chill ran its fingers down her back away she walked. Suddenly she stopped. She bowed her head and began to focus. After a short moment her horn began to glow intensely. "Ah much better!" She said happily. The glow from her horn softly illuminated her surroundings in a dull light. She continued through the darkened section of the room until she discovered a large pair of doors in the floor.

    She examined the doors. They were probably beautiful once but now they had fallen into disrepair. A large hole had formed in the wooden doors but not due to decay. The hole looked as if it was a sign of forced entry. Directly behind the door was a pile of metal milk barrels. She thought to herself if it was the cause of the clattering earlier. That though brought up another idea. 'If that's what caused the noise then where are the bolt cutters?' Her thought lead her to the only answer available, the hole in the door. She assumed that the door broke under the weight of the cutters falling but she only had one way to be sure.

    She approached the doors not wanting to go down unarmed, unfortunately her only means of defence was through the doors. She hesitantly began to open the door with her magic. As she lifted it up the door collapsed under its own weight and fell away. She looked through the doors and down a dark starecase. Not being able to see the end gave her little motivation to continue but her need for the cutters urged her to keep going. She started down the steps slowly, making sure not to fall. At the bottom of the steps she found the tool but something just out of her horns glow caught her attention. "What is that?" She asked herself. She squinted her eyes to try to see the object but to no avail. Her curiosity began to push her to satisfy her wondering. She walked forward slow and quietly. The walked to the object and picked it up. It was an old journal with a single word scrolled across it. 'Applejack' She saw that it was locked and decided to hastily open it. She put the bolt cutters to the lock and with one shattering crunch it opened. She sat down and began to read from somewhere in the middle.

     "~December, 27 2018~

      Dear diary, things are getting worse the buildings are still going up. BigMac and Applebloom aren't doin' so well, there both sick and the doc don't know it they'll get better. As for me I had to resort to sellin' my body just to keep the farm afloat and Grannysmith'$ passin' just made matters worse. I don't know what to do anymore."

    She skipped a few pages and continued to read.

    "~January, 4 2019~

    Dear diary, Applebloom died today. I held her in my hooves and watched her die. There was nothing I could do to stop it, I felt so powerless. The doc still don't know it BigMac'll make it or not. I feel so alone."

    She turned to the next page and kept reading.

    "~January, 5 2019~

    Dear diary, Applebloom'$ funeral will be held next week, I don't thing I can bring myself to go. BigMac has finally beat the sickness and is back up and kickin'. Now that he's better he can help me with the applebuckin', I could use his help now more than ever. A mare I met on the street told me she had a solution to all my problems, she handed me a needle full of something then asked me to perform some services. After I sold myself to her I went home. I was curious about the needle and what was in it so I decided to shoot it up in the cellar tonight"

    Continuing to the next page.

    "~January, 6 2019~

    Dear diary, whatever was in the needle made me feel amazing! Even though it only lasted a short while it made me feel better that I have in years. I have to get more!"

    She decided to skip a few more pages.

    "~May, 4 2019~

    Dear diary, BigMac found out about my addiction. I've started feeling paranoid for some reason. The buildings out in Canterlot are finally done. I wonder what they built up there. Rarity and RainbowDash died today. I'm starting to feel depressed."

    Once more she skipped a couple of pages.

    "~May, 9 2019~

    Dear diary, My depression is getting worse. Applebloom, Grannysmith, BigMacintosh, Rarity, RainbowDash, and PinkiePie, all died. I can't take it anymore! I can't stand to lose anypony else I care about. I am gonna go down to the cellar tonight and kill myself, consider this the suicide note.

               Applejack Ω"

    She stared at the single hoofprint on the page. She shut the book and stood up. "2019? That can't be right.  That's only fifty years ago, Canterlot's buildings have been up longer than that. Haven't they?" As she pondered the thought until she heard a noise. "Hello?" She stepped forward and saw the skeleton of a pony leaned up against the wall. Though the flesh and organs were long since decayed a wide brim hat remained. She collected the hat in her aura and as she did so the bones collapsed and clattered together on the dirt floor. She noticed a very old looking needle lying on the ground adjacent to the bones. "Well I know how she killed herself now." She said to herself. She looked around the room for anything else that may prove useful. To her luck she found something! An old worn set of saddle bags was hung on a small hook that jutted from the wall. She quickly retrieved the bags and fastened them around her. They were dusty and slightly moth eaten but they would serve good enough for now. She magically placed the journal and hat in the bags thinking that at least the journal might come in handy later. As for the cutters she decided to keep them out just in case, after that she made her way back upstairs to leave.