The Language of Stars
© Scribbler, April 2014
Originally written July 2013
“Mommy, is it time yet? Can I do it now? Can I? Can I? Can I?” Dinky’s excited squeals grew in pitch, correlating with the height of each bounce. She brandished a marker pen like it was a sword and she a warrior ready for battle.
Derpy smiled. “Okay, muffin, but remember what your teacher said. You have to practise staying inside the lines.”
“I remember!” Dinky chirruped. She dragged over a chair, clambered onto the seat and braced one hoof against the kitchen wall as she scored a large ‘x’ across today’s date on the calendar. She jabbed the pen tip at the next box along, wobbling a little in excitement. “It’s nearly here! It’s nearly here!”
“Careful!” Derpy tried to help her down, worried she might fall.
Dinky waved her away. “I can do it!” She managed to clamber off without cracking her skull or breaking any bones. She even dragged her chair back to the table where they had just finished breakfast, little mouth clamped firmly on the wicker back.
Derpy surveyed the red ‘x’. “I know it’s nearly here. I put the reminder on the calendar in the first place, didn’t I? Did you remember to pack your homework in your saddlebags?”
“Yes.” Dinky resumed her bouncing. Honestly, sometimes it seemed like she had springs in her hooves. “But Mommy, you don’t understand, it’s tomorrow!”
“Uh-huh. Now go and clean your teeth before school.”
“But Mommy –”
“Do you want to be known as the birthday girl with rotten teeth?”
“Nu-uh!” Dinky hustled off to prevent such a disaster.
Derpy was able to keep her smile intact until her daughter had left the kitchen. Only then did her expression slip and her eyes skew. They always did that when she was stressed or preoccupied. She closed them briefly, reopening them one at a time. She refocused on one spot with some difficulty, concentrating hard. The one spot, of course, was the calendar. Her gaze was drawn inexorably to it – especially the big red circle around tomorrow’s date and the words ‘Dinky’s Birthday!’ in her own hoofwriting.
How did it get here so soon? she wondered. It seemed like only five minutes ago it had been Hearth’s Warming and she had been slipping gifts under the tree at the last minute. She had only just made it. She prayed she would pull off the same miracle today. Hearth’s Warming was a special time of year but it didn’t compare with the importance of a birthday to a young filly.
Soon enough, Dinky was back with minty fresh breath and saddlebags in place. Rather than let her mother put them on, there were dents in the straps where she had tugged the strap tight with her own teeth. The saddlebags were bright pink with little hearts and flowers painted on the sides. Nopony could tell they were secondhoof unless they were really looking hard. Carrot Top had done a brilliant job decorating them. If she hadn’t gone to work on her family’s farm, she would have made a fantastic artist – even if she had only fitted on ‘Property of Dink’.
“All done!” Dinky declared.
“All ready!” Derpy replied, her cheerful veneer sliding into place with practised ease.
Dinky scrunched up her face. “Did you remember to put on your mail bag?”
“Uh … whoops.” Derpy fetched it from its home on the peg beside the front door. She had started putting it there when Dinky suggested that seeing it on her way out would make her forget it less often. Thus far it had worked, but they still played out their practised lines every morning like clockwork: breakfast, calendar, homework, teeth, mailbag.
Dinky arrived at school with time to spare. Nonetheless, Derpy hurried to the dispatch warehouse where the mail for her morning route would already be waiting. Ponies on the night shift would have sorted it in the small hours of the morning, when most of Ponyville and the other surrounding towns were still asleep. Ponyville was such a small town that the warehouse catered to both it and the other settlements in the area. Derpy may not always get it right when it was her turn on weather duty but she would defy any of the professional weather ponies to find their way around the streets of Coltchester or Haystackton with only thin morning sunlight to guide them.
“Morning, Hooves,” called one of the other mail ponies. “You’re in early.”
“Hi, Salvo. I’m collecting my wages before instead of after my shift this week.” Derpy gave the friendly stallion a cheerful grin. “I have someplace to be this afternoon.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Uh-huh. It’s my daughter’s birthday tomorrow and I need to get her a gift.”
“Seriously? You’re cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?”
Tell me about it. “I guess so. Better make every second of the morning route count, huh?”
“You said it. Tell her happy birthday from me if I don’t see you tomorrow.”
“Will do!” Derpy bade him goodbye and circled down to the smaller entrance that led to the canteen, bathrooms and latticed pigeonholes where ‘ground troops’, as they often referred to themselves, received notices from head office and their immediate superiors. It was also the place where every month a small brown envelope was placed with what they had earned ready for them to collect.
The envelope was, indeed, already waiting for Derpy. She pulled it free gratefully, thinking of the doll she had seen in the toy shop window last weekend. Dinky had paused to look longingly at it, but had known better than to beg her mother to buy it, and other foals might have. She never questioned why she didn’t have as many toys or treats as her classmates. She accepted that there wasn’t as much money in their household and never asked for more than she knew Derpy was able to give. Even when they had to each rehydrated alfalfa three nights in a row, which neither of them really liked, Dinky never had a tantrum or refused to eat it. That fact alone made Derpy want to buy her daughter every conceivable luxury a little pony could ever want.
She tore open the envelope and stared in dismay at the numbers typed at the bottom of the sheet. No, there had to be a mistake. She shook her head, as if her eyes had skewed again and when she had them matching again the number would change to what it should be. However, it didn’t.
Derpy immediately flew to Coryphée, the pony directly above her in rank. Coryphée didn’t have the answer, though her expression made Derpy suspicious. She said she would find out what was going on and disappeared into her cubicle to call head office. She emerged a few minutes later, grim and obviously wishing Derpy would spontaneously vanish in the next ten seconds so she wouldn’t have to pass on the bad news.
“What is it?” Derpy demanded. “What have they shorted me by so much? Is it a clerical error?”
Coryphée shook her head. “No, Hooves, it’s not an error.”
“But it’s less than half of what it should be!” Derpy’s voice grew shrill with emotion. How was she supposed to pay the rent on their house with so little money? How was she to feed her daughter or herself? What about Dinky’s birthday?
“It’s, uh … it’s docked. Your wages have been docked.” Coryphée looked deeply uncomfortable. “To pay for the damages you incurred this month.”
Derpy’s heart sank. “B-But … so much?”
Coryphée nodded. “They say they sent you a letter just after you had that big crash two weeks ago. It explained what they were going to do.”
“I … I …” Derpy remembered a let sitting in her pigeonhole but she had been more concerned with what it said about the Equestrian Royal Mail graciously allowing her to keep her job at all. She had missed or wilfully not seen the part about how and why she had been allowed to keep it. Only now did the words spring back into her mind. Her heart sank into her stomach and sizzled in the acid there. She felt sick. “But Ms. Coryphée, it’s my daughter’s birthday tomorrow. Without my full wages I … I’ll only just meet my rent and food costs this month. I can’t afford to buy her a gift …”
Coryphée clearly wished she was anywhere but there. “I’m sorry, Hooves, I truly am. If I’d had a leg to stand on I would have fought for you but …” She trailed off, shrugging.
Derpy nodded and hung her head, the better to conceal the tears welling in her eyes. Unable to talk, she wordlessly excused herself and flew disconsolately to the warehouse where her morning mail load awaited.
What am I supposed to do now?
Dinky skidded into the house, laughing riotously. “And then Truffle Shuffle told the class about how for lunch on Saturday his mom made him a sandwich so tall she had to stick a knitting needle through the middle to keep it from falling over! And he ate the whole thing! Well, apart from the knitting needle, but he ate all the sandwich and it made him feel really sick and he threw up everywhere and it was really icky and full of –”
“Sounds like an interesting show and tell,” Derpy remarked, interrupting before Dinky could wax lyrical about the contents of her classmate’s vomit.
“Uh-huh.” Dinky’s little chest swelled. “And I told everypony how it’s my birthday tomorrow, and Ms. Cheerilee said they’ll have to sing ‘happy birthday’ to me and later! Later! Later!” She jiggled from hoof to hoof, repeating herself to make sure her mother was paying the proper amount of attention. “I saw Apple Bloom passing what looked like a note to Sweetie Belle, and Ms. Cheerilee saw it too, only she didn’t say anything, and it went all around the class, only it didn’t come to me, and I reckon it was a birthday card they were all signing!”
“Well, don’t get your hopes up, muffin, just in case it wasn’t.”
For the first time since Derpy picked her up from school, Dinky’s effervescent mood faltered. She stared at her mother, face falling into a suspicious frown. “What’s wrong, Mommy?”
“Nothing’s wrong, muffin.”
“Nu-uh.” Dinky shook her head. “You say that but your eyes are all sad, like something’s wrong.”
Derpy had been making a special effort to keep her wandering gaze under control but apparently had failed. Either that or Dinky was far more perceptive than even she had realised. “I … I’m sorry, muffin, but …”
When Derpy didn’t continue, Dinky took a step toward her. “Did … did something bad happen?” Her eyes rounded. “Is Sparkler okay?”
Derpy thought of the teenage unicorn neighbour who had fallen hard for Dinky when they first moved to this house. Sparkler had become something of a fixture in their lives as she substituted her own warring parents for the relative normalcy of the Hooves household. She had even enrolled herself and Dinky as a pair in the Sisterhooves Social earlier that year, much to Dinky’s delight and Derpy’s relief. Dinky would be devastated if anything had happened to her.
“No, muffin, Sparkler’s fine. In fact … um, how would you like to have her come over and … and stay the night tonight? It could be a birthday sleepover.”
“Really?” Dinky breathed. “Can I go and invite her now?”
“Sure.” Derpy blinked at the rush of air that accompanied Dinky’s swift exit and gallop down the garden path to get to their neighbour’s identical house.
Derpy took the opportunity to hang her mail bag on the peg and extract the small chunk of wood hidden inside. She had fetched it from the edge of the Everfree Forest that afternoon, desperation giving rise to a desperate idea in her mind. She slipped the wood into the kitchen and hid it beneath the sink, moments before Dinky’s excited laughter sounded from the doorway.
“Mommy! Mommy, she said yes!”
“Ms. H?” Sparkler’s recognisable alto accompanied Dinky’s squeals. “Is it really okay if I stay over?”
Derpy went to the doorway. “More than okay, sweetie. We’d both be delighted to have you stay for dinner and a sleepover. Although …” She scrunched up her face. “I’m afraid it’s rehydrated alfalfa again.”
“Oh, Mommy.” Dinky stopped bouncing. “Is that why you looked so sad?”
Derpy grasped at the excuse, thin as it was. “Yes, muffin, that was it.”
Sparkler returned home while Derpy placed the ugly green alfalfa pellets into a saucepan of boiling water. In the short time it took the pellets to unfold into swirling green fronds, Sparkler was back bearing two large plastic bags and a cheeky grin.
“What’s a sleepover – a birthday sleepover – without a few snacks?” She shot Derpy a wink that was far too old for her and presented Dinky with a bag of already popped popcorn liberally doused in sugar. She also brought out a gigantic bag of chips, a bottle of soda and a family pack of miniature candy bars more often seen on Nightmare Night. At Derpy’s expression, Sparkler explained, “Sometimes, when my mom and dad get really bad, I don’t like going downstairs for dinner so I eat up in my room. It’s okay, I didn’t steal any of it. I used my allowance to buy it.”
“I wasn’t going to accuse you of anything like that, sweetie,” said Derpy. The backs of her eyes stung. She tried to blink the sensation away. “This is incredibly generous of you.”
“Aw, it’s nothing.” Sparkler’s cheeks flushed. “Especially not for a birthday girl, eh, Dinkster? Hey, you want to stay up until midnight to welcome your birthday in properly?”
Dinky jumped up and down like she was on a trampoline. “Do I ever!”
“Just remember you two still have school tomorrow,” Derpy warned. She felt mean at bringing logic and reason into things when they both looked so happy.
“Ah, we’ll be fine.” Sparkler waved a hoof. “I promise.”
“Yeah,” Dinky agreed eagerly. “I promise too!”
Dinky looked at her daughter’s smile. She thought of the piece of wood under the sink and resolved to make sure it stayed there tomorrow when Dinky unwrapped her gift.
Giggles echoed through the floorboards of Dinky’s bedroom. Derpy used them as a yardstick for how distracted the two fillies were. Inviting Sparkler over had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, partly to please Dinky, partly to keep her thoroughly distracted for the evening. Satisfied that they were occupied and that Sparkler was aware Dinky was not to come down, Derpy went to the closet under the stairs.
She eased the door open gingerly in case anything had fallen against it from the other side. As with most houses, it contained a multitude of items that defied categorisation and so had been shoved into the closet during whatever tidy-up consigned them out of sight. What Derpy wanted, however, had not been shoved hastily aside but put there deliberately. She had hidden the waterproof roll beneath Dinky’s new-born things when they moved in and, despite never having fetched them out again, knew exactly where to go now. She dragged out the roll and carried it to the kitchen table.
She stared at the unassuming blue cloth for a long time. Longer than she should have. To most, it was nothing special. To her …
She shook her head, took one end in her mouth and carefully unrolled it. A selection of shiny tools clinked and clanked into view, each as bright as if it had just been polished. Well, they would be. After all, he had only finished cleaning his kit the day before –
The world fractured into blurry pieces. Derpy swiped a hoof across her eyes. This was no time to get sentimental. Yes, they were his tools. She had known that when she made the decision to bring them out. She had steeled herself against the wash of memories seeing them would provoke. Wasn’t that why she had put them away in the first place; because seeing them and knowing he would never use them again hurt too much?
Stop being stupid and weepy, she chastised. Get over yourself already. This is for Dinky, remember?
He had taught her a little of his trade. She had marvelled at the speed and deftness of his hooves, especially for a unicorn. In her experience, unicorns relied on magic and rarely developed manual talents. Yet he had been able to create, fix and craft wonderful things as well as any earth pony – had even gained a cutie mark to reflect his defiant talent. He had always rebelled against the norm, so it should have come as a surprise to nopony when he chose a wall-eyed freak over every pretty pony in town who would have swooned at his hooves in an instant.
She picked up a lathe, recalling its name with some surprise. Apparently not everything he had told her went in one ear and out the other. She put it down and reverently took the hammer in both hooves, turning it over to inspect the tiny imperfections that told of the life it had once lived. These were not the tools of somepony who only used them for a bit of DIY. These were the tools of a working pony; well-worn, well-loved, old but cared for.
She struggled to fetch the chunk of wood from under the sink. The tools rattled together when she thumped it down on the table. Lastly she brought out a sewing kit and a bundle of yellow wool she had been saving to knit a scarf for Dinky when Autumn switched to Winter. Slowly, with hooves that were not at all quick and possessed so very little deftness, she started to carve.
It was laborious work. Her hooves developed blisters quickly but she pushed on. Every giggle from upstairs strengthened her resolve. His words floated back to her through time and memory, patchy with time but guiding her on some of the ways she was going wrong. She tried to set her mistakes right, yet she kept making them. At one point she thought she had wrecked all her efforts by accidentally splitting the entire thing in two. Luckily all she did was chip off a badly formed ear.
After a couple of hours she leaned back in her chair and surveyed the fruit of her labours. To say it was substandard was like saying Nightmare Moon had been a little bit naughty. The head was a misshapen mess with uneven eyes and only one ear. It had four legs, at least, but they were curved so badly they looked like they had rickets. The whole carving listed drunkenly to one side, one hind foot cut at an asymmetrical angle. For a beginner, it was a promising start. For a birthday gift, it was a monstrosity. It didn’t look anything like the doll in the toy shop window that Derpy had been trying to imitate.
She picked up the yellow wool, intending to thread it through the holes she had left along the neck to imitate a mane, but stopped. What was the point? This was a terribly idea from start to finish. She couldn’t give Dinky this.
Yet what other option did she have? She couldn’t give her daughter nothing, either, and their finances simply didn’t stretch to gifts. Maybe next month she would be able to afford something recognisably gift-like, but next month would be too late.
I’m always a day late and a bit short, Derpy thought with sudden, awful bitterness. She tried so hard. Why did everything have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t she catch a break for once? The feeling rose up inside her like nausea from rotten alfalfa.
“Happy birthday, Dinkster!” Sparkler’s voice rang through the floorboards, accompanied by the sound of a small filly jumping up and down on her bed. “Hey, whoa, careful! You’ll go through the floor!”
The clock in the hallway chimed midnight. He had made that clock. It was a beautiful, delicate thing that always made Dinky laugh and grab air with her fat little hooves as a foal.
Derpy listened until the twelfth chime ended. Then she levered herself out of her chair and went to the window. She gazed up into the night, not for the first time wondering why she seemed to have been singled out to bear so many burdens in life. Nopony else had such repetitively bad luck. Nopony else had so many trials put in their way. Nopony else had to face them alone, either. She had Dinky, and now for all intents she had Sparkler, but some days … or some nights … not even that was enough.
“Why did you have to go?” she whispered, so softly even she could barely hear it. “Why did you leave me?”
The sky outside gave no answers. It never did. However, this time it did at least spare her a passing bit of attention and threw two spangles of hope in her direction. They rocketed across the sky, two shooting stars, so bright they left green streaks across her vision.
“Make a wish,” whispered a voice – a memory – she had not heard in so very, very long. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll come true.”
“I wish we could have a foal,” her old self replied, optimistic in the way that only the young and stupid are allowed to be. She could mimic that optimism these days but that was all it was: mimicry. She had learned not to put too much faith in the future. That way it hurt less when it let you down or took away the thing that had made you happy in the present.
“It worked before,” she murmured. “Dinky’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I know I don’t deserve a second wish, so I won’t make it a big one. I … I just wish I could make her birthday … not a disaster.” Derpy closed her aching eyes. “That’s all. I just want her to be happy and not disappointed on her birthday. Is that so much to ask for?” She shook her head vigorously. “Ponyfeathers, what am I even doing? I’m an adult. I should start acting like one.” She pushed away and turned from the window. “And adults don’t make wishes on stars.”
She returned to the kitchen table, took up the tools and went back to work.
Some think stars are burning balls of gas burning billions of miles away.
They are wrong.
Some think they are purely decoration in the night sky.
They are wrong.
Some think they are something else; something that only the ponies with intimate knowledge of the night’s embrace can ever understand.
They are right.
Shooting stars carry inside the echoes of wishes that have been wished upon them. Tonight, two of them whistled through the heavens, transporting theirs to one who understood better than anypony what it was like to want something so badly it hurt. Most of the many wishes they carried were already fading by the time they reached her, but tonight one in particular stuck out like a piece of broken glass; sharp and yet strangely beautiful.
The one who heard the stars’ chittering smiled.
Derpy blinked awake slowly.
“Whu...?”
Sunlight stabbed into her eyes. She shut them against the glare, reaching for the blankets to cover her head. When she met something hard she frowned, cracking her lids to see a hammer beneath her hoof. She sat bolt upright in alarm, chair legs squeaking as they shot backwards. She had fallen asleep!
“Oh no!” She hadn’t finished in time! She had only shut her eyes for a moment because they ached from threading all that wool. It hadn’t even looked good anyway. How could she have fallen asleep? “No, no, no, no, no!”
Hooves clattered on the staircase. “Mommy? Are you down here?”
Derpy leapt up. “Uh, don’t come in, muffin!”
“Why not?”
“Just, uh … don’t come in yet.” She cast about wildly. Maybe the carving looked better in daylight. Maybe it wouldn’t be the horrendous mess she remembered. Maybe –
She froze.
“Mommy?”
“Ms. H?” Sparkler added when Derpy didn’t respond. “Are you okay in there?”
“Mommy? Mommy!” Dinky called in growing alarm.
“I … I’m fine, muffin. You can … come on in now.”
Dinky rushed through the kitchen door and halted by using her open mouth as a wind sock. She gaped openly at the table. “Mommy it’s … it’s me!”
“Wow, Ms H, that’s really cool!” Sparkler exclaimed.
“It’s me as a doll!” Dinky said excitedly. “Can I touch it? Is it for me? Is it?”
“Um, yes, and of course you can, muffin, just be careful.”
“Oh wow, the legs are articulated.” Sparkler poked at one, which bent at the joint just like the real thing. The whole doll had been painted and threaded with such fine detail that it really did look like the actual Dinky. “That is so cool, Dinkster!”
“Did you make this, Mommy?” Dinky breathed, eyeing the carpentry tools neatly replaced in the unrolled toolkit. They gleamed like Derpy hadn’t spent half the night hacking away at a block of wood.
“I, uh …”
“Is this why I wasn’t allowed to come downstairs for a drink of water last night? I tried to, but Sparkle jumped in my way and said I wasn’t allowed. When I tried again, she tackled me and made me drink soda instead. It made my mouth all yacky and I had to brush my teeth all over again.”
“Heh.” Sparkler rubbed the back if her neck. “Sorry I wasn’t more subtle, Ms. H.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Derpy said distractedly. “You did a great job. Honest.”
“So what’s in the box?”
Sparkler’s question inspired Derpy to look at the kitchen counter. She had been so distracted by the doll she had completely missed the tall cardboard box next to the sink. It was plain white with no distinguishing markings or logos; no hint at what it contained. With no idea what to expect anymore, Derpy approached carefully, flipping back the top with suspicion that morphed into a fresh wave of shock.
“It’s a cake!” Sparkler cried. She peered over Derpy’s shoulder and clapped both hooves over her mouth. “Wow, Ms. H, sorry! Did I just spoil the Dinkster’s surprise?”
“N-No,” Derpy stammered. “Not at a-all.”
“Let me see! Let me see!” Dinky crowded them both, dragging over a chair so she, too, could look inside. She gaped at the two tiers of pink icing that had slewed to one side on its half collapsed base. Across the top in wobbly white icing were the words ‘Happy Birthday Dinky’. “Oh, Mommy!” She all but leapt off the chair to tackle her mother in a hug. “I love it! Can I have cake for breakfast?”
“Better not, Dinkster. You don’t wanna be feeling all pukey and yucktastic on your birthday, do you?”
“Aw.” Dinky’s face fell. “I guess not. But I can have some after school, right? Right, Mommy?”
“Sure, muffin.”
“Oh!” Dinky’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ as a sudden thought occurred to her. “We have to cross off the day on the calendar!”
“I can do it for you, Dinkster –”
“No, me! I want to do it!” Dinky hopped off her chair and hastily dragged it to the calendar. Once up on it again, however, she turned to Sparkler. “Um … can you pass me a pen, please? I forgot it.”
As the two young unicorns giggled through the tiny but significant act, Derpy lifted out the small note she had spotted inside the cake box. It was slightly stained with pink frosting but the writing inside was still legible.
‘I hope this is sufficient. I did my best but I am not good with cakes. Generally my sister eats them before I can complete any kind of elaborate decoration. However, I am assured that the taste is pleasant, even if the appearance is lacklustre. The doll was fun. I have not stretched my magic to such intricate work in centuries. I hope your daughter likes both.
P.S. Wishes on stars are my jurisdiction. There is no limit to how many things a pony may wish for while I am in charge. Please remember this in future.
“Hey, Ms. H, are … are you okay?”
Derpy turned around, hiding the elegantly penned note behind her back. “Me?” she sniffed. “I’m fine, never better.” She tucked the note under the corner of the cake box and crouched with hooves spread wide. “Come here, muffin, and give me a special birthday girl hug.”
“Mommy!” Heedless to anything except how happy she was at that moment, Dinky threw herself into the embrace. “I love you, Mommy.”
“And I love you too, muffin.” Derpy buried her face in her daughter’s mane. “With all my heart.”
FIN.
Author's Note
Wow! I actually wrote something of my own instead of just reading other people's words on YouTube!
This was originally written while I was on holiday last year. It sat untouched on my hard-drive for the longest time until recently, when I decided it was high time I went back and tidied it up. The story was inspired by the image included at the end: 'Wishes On Stars Are Her Jurisdiction' by Harwicks Art.
And for those who are wondering why I didn't include a Luna character tag ... well, that would have given away the ending, wouldn't it? ;)
