Daring Do and the Hollow House
It was an epic journey of wits and endurance. There were sinister foes, traitorous locals, and that ever-present sense of danger, but I shrugged them all off. I always do. Now I return to my private house, victorious—tired, sore, and filthy—but victorious nonetheless.
Standing before it, my house doesn't strike one as a spectacular structure. Modest, really. But you can't beat the location—smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. It's where I write about my ventures under the pen name, "A. K. Yearling," and unwind after my awesome adventures. I used to call it home.
That seems so long ago.
I hesitate once my hoof touches my door handle. Weary as I am, some part of me cries out against my entry. With a sigh, I force through that blasted trepidation and march forward. As soon as I'm inside, I toss my pith helmet onto a nearby table.
"I'm back!" I find myself calling out.
Only silence greets me in turn. I just can't seem to break that insufferable habit. It only reminds me of better days.
"I'm back!" I call out, entering my home. Instantly, two hooves snake around my neck.
"'Bout time you got back!" that succulent voice rings in my ears as a flurry of kisses pelts my cheek.
I can't help but to grin as I pull her to me.
I can't help but to sigh as I throw my pack onto my kitchen table. Nopony greets me anymore, but it's not like that's a problem. It's not like I've never been alone before. I have been now for so long.
I run a hoof through my oily, grey mane. The grimy texture alone screams for me to take a shower, but I have other priorities. My thirst draws me to the sink. The few dishes that have survived a dozen ransackings sit there in a pool fetid water.
How long was I gone this time? A week at least. Probably more. Washing the dishes and clearing out rotten food from the cupboards wasn't going to be fun, but they'd been waiting this long—a little more time to rot wouldn't hurt.
Turning on the tap, I gulp straight from the faucet. As my thirst diminishes, I take the opportunity to run the cool water over my head. It felt heavenly.
After indulging myself for a short time, I withdrew and whipped my head around. I turn off the water, mildly regretting flinging water everywhere. It was just more stuff I was going to have to clean.
I miss coming back to her. I never had to worry about food going rotten and dust and grime piling up. It was always clean and... warm.
"I'll bet you're famished, Daring!" she says, smiling at me—those emerald eyes dancing. "Why don't you hop in the shower and I'll fix us a nice meal. I just can't wait to hear all about your adventure this time!"
Clean and warm. I could use that shower about now. Throwing my shirt haphazardly to the floor, I trot into the bathroom. In but a moment, I relish the steamy water falling over me. The heat seeps into my sore muscles, gently drawing out the aches and pains from my adventures.
At least this decadent indulgence hasn't vanished in her absence.
I sigh, pressing my face against the cool side of the shower. I may still have this luxury, but I don't have her. Did I really make the right choice?
"What? You're going out on another adventure?" she indignantly shouts at me. "I was just fillynapped and now you're going to go cross those same ponies again? Don't you care at all about me?"
"Of course I care!" I say, stomping a hoof. "I rescued you last time, and if they're foolish enough to try it again, I'll just save you again. There's nothing to worry about." I adjust my hat before pointing to the door. "If I don't go out there and stop them—"
"Then somepony else will!" she says, stepping between me and the door. "You don't need to do this anymore, please! We can just make up Daring Do stories; you don't have to keep risking your life—our lives—like this! Please, Daring…"
I frown at her. "I have to go," I say with all the seriousness I can muster. "It's more than me and you that's at stake."
"No." She shakes her head, glaring at me. "That's exactly what's at stake. I won't go through that again, Daring—I can't. You have to stop going on these adventures!"
"It's who I am!" I say, stepping by her and towards the door. "I'm Daring Do! Adventuring is who I am. You know that."
"I mean it," she says, her voice low and grave. "If you go out that door, I won't be here when you return."
"I have to go," I say, stepping through the door.
I bang my head against the shower wall. Idiot! Why in Equestria did I think she was bluffing? My bullheadedness is as much an asset as it is a curse. It has saved my life—the lives of many—countless times, and it took from me the thing I treasured most.
Shutting off the water, I give my hide a hearty shake to throw off the excess water before stepping out. Halfheartedly drying myself with a previously discarded towel, I trot out and nearly immediately freeze in my tracks.
Right there. Just a few paces away from the door. That's the last time I ever saw her. That memory is seared into my mind, haunting me—taunting me. Every once in a while, at a time like this, a different sort of memory eludes me. When did I last tell her that I love her?
I can't remember.
Tearing myself back to the present, I slog on by and head upstairs, dripping water all the way. I just have to sit down and write out my latest adventures. That's all. Something to rip my mind away from here. Away from this hollow house that haunts me with my regrets.
Maybe if I just get my mind off it, more pleasant memories will come back to me. Those memories where she is smiling, and kind, and loving—those echoes of happiness long since past.
If only I could really believe the lies I keep telling myself...
