The Apple "Family"

by TheFIMguru

Rating: teen
Tags: Braeburn, Big Macintosh, Human, Applejack, Gore, Apple Bloom, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Granny Smith
Length: 1088

Even though he's the most able quarter of the family of mobsters, Mac doesn't feel as big as his name would suggest. He's tired of mopping up the mess of his family and is now dead-set on making it change.

Even though he's the most able quarter of the family of mobsters, Mac doesn't feel as big as his name would suggest. He's tired of his life being paved with the bodies of his family's enemies and tired of being the janitor moping up the mess of his Grandmother.

Just something I wrote when I was under the influence. I've got plenty of good ideas for this, but not very much time. I'll get round to writing again soon enough. I didn't see any point in it just sitting gathering dust, so I thought I'd use it to show I was still alive. Also, if you spot a better piece of cover art be sure to tell me. That'd be swell.

Published 2014-05-31 16:20:05 UTC
Last updated 2014-05-31 16:20:05 UTC

Prologue- Always the same.

It never changes. This life paved with blood and bones never will.

It’s always the same.

“Tell me, son… What do you think morals are good for?”

The boy fidgeted in his chair, clawing at the dried blood on his hands as he stuttered out “Why, uh… Is this a trick question ma'am- sir- uh… Ma'am?”

He looked at the wrinkled pair of hands at the edge of the light, watched them shift slightly as owner chuckled.

“Cat got your tongue, boy?”

He flinched at the lack of confirmation and continued to fidget, scratching, clawing. “No, no, uh… Morals are good for helping you make decisions, ma’am.” The boy jumped as an especially large flake of dried blood came away from his fingers and hit the ground with the softest of thuds.

“That’s good, that’s good.” The hands began to shakily pour themselves a drink from the crystal bottle to the crystal tumbler. “But… Why do they help you make these decisions, hm?”

Flakes were raining from his paws, eyes darting to each new bloodied snowflake as they drifted innocently to the floor.

“Well, morals are like a code, aren’t they?”

The hand with the tumbler left the pool of light and disappeared into the dark. They boy of just sixteen years shifted in his seat, the lack of confirmation increasing the speed at which he clawed his hands raw, replacing red with red.

“Yeah, they’re like a code, and uh… By which to live by?”

“Very good, very good.” Silence lapsed over the table and all the boy could do was dumbly nod his head.

“Continue, boy.” That sent a shiver down his spine. Commands in the friendliest of tones were Grandmother’s specialty. I’d had to put up with that since I was his age.

“Yeah, uh… This code helps you make these decisions because… Because they represent how you live, right?”

No answer.

“Oh god…” He whispered to himself. “Yeah, if you live a good life, you wouldn’t steal, right? So, if you saw an apple pie, and you were really, really hungry, your morals would say ‘No, that’s a bad thing to do. That pie does not belong to you.’ and that’s a good thing, right?”

The hands moved with the rhythm of the owner’s chuckle again. “You’re starving, though, like you said. You’re very, very hungry.” The hand with the crystal tumbler absent-mindedly swirled in its tomb. “Without that pie, you’re going to die, son.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I need that pie. I need the pie.” He clawed at himself again.

“Yes, you do need that pie. See why morals are no good for someone like me?” The hand dropped the tumbler and pointed at the boy who promptly jumped out of his skin. “Do you see why they’re no good for someone… like you?”

He continued his spasmodic shufflings, shifting in his seat, still unsure. “Yeah, yeah, I see now.”

The blood from the body in the corner was had started to pool its way into the circle of light.

The boy flinched, unable to look away from the fresh wave of red lapping at the islands of fallen, crusted blood. “Can I, uh… Can I see my brother?” The wrinkled hands twitched slightly. “You got him outta there, didn’t you?”

No answer.

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… We’ve got your brother. He’s not far away.”

The boy wiped his forehead, replacing the sweat with yet more blood “Oh thank God. How is he?” The hands shifted again. She was losing her cool.

“...He’s better than he’s ever been.”

Silence filled the void between them once more. “Clack, clack, clack.” went the flakes of dried blood. “Click, click, click.” went the drips of his own.

“Can I, uh... Can I see him?”

“Very soon, very soon.” The hands refilled the tumbler once more. “Now then, tell me… How’s your momma been keeping?”

This question startled him. “Oh, she’s good, she’s good. Fine. Fine, but a little lonely since me and my brother left, you know?”

The boy flinched again as the tumbler was set down on the table.

“That’s good, that’s good. Have you…” The right hand waved as the owner fumbled with her words. “spoken to her recently?”

“No ma’am, I haven’t… But she expects it, you know? Heh, me and my brother are very busy with you now.”

It was the hands’ turn to flinch.

“She… Doesn’t know about us, does she?”

“Oh no, no, not at all, wouldn’t-” He gulped “Wouldn’t dare tell her about you. Or anyone, anyone. Not- Not anyone, ma’am” He was panicking now.

“That’s good…” The wrinkled hand retracted into the dark without the tumbler this time. “That’s very good.” The tip of a silver barrel entered the circle of light and sparkled slightly. “You can go see your brother now.”

I closed my eyes.

BANG! Plink, plink.

I sighed.

Silence once again.

The fresh trickle of blood down the boy’s face slowly became a river as the flood-gates that were his skin and bone opened up.

“Mac… Take him outside. Oh, and the brother in the corner too; he’s starting to smell a bit.”

A new circle of light appeared as a cigarette was lit, revealing a face behind it with no remorse.

“Take their wallets too… That’s your pay for today.”

As I grabbed the one in the chair by the arm she grabbed mine. “You’re a good boy, you know that?” I looked into her cold, dry eyes. “A very good boy… You’d make your parents very proud.” She grinned a toothless grin at me before reclining back into the darkness to indulge herself in the inhalation of some more death.

I dragged the bodies outside to soak in the rain, leaving their pockets untouched. I did not want their filthy, filthy blood money. I did not want this life.

I spent the rest of that night crying in my room.

It never changes. This life paved with blood and bones never will.

It’s always the same.

Author's Note

Just as the description says, this is just a little drunk project of mine. I will continue it at some point. Not long until I get some free time. Only a couple of weeks. Anyway, you know the drill by now, I don't think there are any errors but if you spot one don't be shy to point it out in a comment..

Cheers for all your support. That's all for now, folks. This is TheFIMguru, signing off.