Here within the Dark

When the Sky Weeps

I’ve always disliked the rain. They say it rains to water the grass and other plants but it never looks like that. To me, the sky seems sad. The rain is the sky weeping for the ground that has left it. I feel for the sky. It sits above everything, alone and separate. The birds pass by only to return to the ground. The pegasi use the clouds in the sky to make their houses, even a city, only to ignore the sky, never once thinking about how alone it is. I am like the sky but I cannot weep. I cannot pour out my sorrow for being alone. When the storms come, that is the sky raging at its loneliness. The sun and moon beam down through the sky, always above it. The clouds pass under as it tries to hide itself from those who never look. The ground is so full of life and company, but the sky is alone. Even I do not see such solitude.

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Rain pours across Ponyville as the inhabitants rush to cover until only Blackwing is left standing alone, staring up into the sky as the rain pelts his face. The cold water chills his body but the pony never flinches. He stares at the dark grey clouds, watching the rain fall. If only he could weep as the clouds do and show the others the pain he is in. Yet the water dripping down his sorrowful face is the closest he can come to breaking the dam that holds back the tears of sorrow and pain. His gaze leaves the tearful clouds as he continues his lonely trek.

“How lucky the sky is to be able to show its sorrow,” he says aloud. “Yet even its mighty cries go unnoticed.”

Blackwing wanders through the now empty market square in hopes of finding even one stall still open and willing to sell. Each vendor is nowhere to be found leaving the stalls empty and abandoned. Despite being related to the weather, the weight of isolation stills presses down on the lone pony. Across the way, a small foal splashes in puddles as he plays while his older sister watches, even splashing on occasion herself.

“They all flee the weeping of the sky or dance in its sorrow,” Blackwing says to himself before returning to his search.

A large stall is finally found with a vendor within. But before Blackwing can enter, a sign is quickly put out to indicate that the stall is closed for sold out goods. The eyes of the owner hold the same look of disapproval that the pegasus bat sees in many others. He walks by without a word peering through a parting in the cloth covered opening to see a full stock within the rejecting tent. Blackwing says nothing as he turns away from the stinging eyes of despise. Even as he walks away he can feel the disapproval and fear from the stall owner.

He leaves the market square, having nothing to show for his efforts, and watches as a couple trots through the street. An umbrella hangs above the pair, held by the stallion’s unicorn magic. They smile and laugh as they hurry to flee the rain. As they pass Blackwing their attention never diverts from the other, never once looking at the poor misshapen pony soaked by the tears of the sky. The denial of even a glance slams into Blackwing like a violent kick to the side, nearly causing him to double over. Seeing their smiling faces, hearing their laughter, it is infuriating. Were they as kind as the citizens were told to be, they would have taken pity on the poor pony soaking in the rain. But these two never even noticed him.

Rage builds within the pegasus bat who struggles to control it. Every day, the rage builds. Every day, the well of sorrow becomes deeper. To judge one by sight alone. To ignore those in pain. This is not the town of friendship that all are told about. It cannot be if one is allowed to suffer so much without even a glance of care by even one other. Blackwing continues his trek with only the falling rain and the surrounding dark as his companions.

The path to his home is as harsh as ever. The solitude weighs down the pegasus bat while rain pelts his body, pounding on him like hundreds of hammers. The darkness that is loneliness is accented by the dark of the stormy day, causing near blindness. The mud covered pathway grips his hooves, forcing him to work harder for each step. The frigid wind chills his very core. Days of rain are always more lonesome than others.

When Blackwing finally reaches the door to his home, he fights against the bitter wind and beating rain to open it and enter into the confines of his lonely home. Inside, he can hear the wind and rain beat against the entire house, shaking its foundations. Lightning flashes in the sky as thunder roars. It is as if the sky is angry for losing its one companion. The only one to know the sorrow it feels every day.

As if feeling the same rage as the sky, Blackwing recites his daily ritual of violence. He screams out his rage, pounding his hooves against the floor. Water slings inside the entryway, soaking the sides and ceiling. As exhaustion takes its daily toll, Blackwing stumbles into the bathroom and stares at his reflection in the cracked mirror. Water drips from his face like tears. If only they were real tears. If only he could release the sorrow that is built up within and ease his pain. He gives a final violent scream, stopping just short of smashing the mirror for a second time. He dries himself off and slowly makes his way into bed.

Rain pours within the dream, drowning the world. Crowds surround him, but he cannot touch them or hear them. Likewise, they cannot touch him, hear him, or see him. In each vision the night princess is present but is always standing at a distance. Blackwing pleads for her aid.

“Why must I be alone? Why must I suffer so much pain and anguish?”

The azure princess says nothing. She turns leaving a glitter of tears in her wake. The soft crying fills the void that Blackwing now stands within.

“Come back! If you are so sad at my state then come back and do something! You know what I go through better than any pony else! Why do you still leave me alone in this darkness?”

His cries are in vain as the princess is now gone, leaving him alone in the black void. He lets out a violent scream, begging his sorrow and tears to flow. But only rage is found. Only his wrath will show. He drops down, covering his head with his hooves, pleading.

“Come back. I hate being alone. I want to feel the warmth of another. Come back. Come back…”