The Tangerine Bear
At first glance I could tell that there was something wrong with it. From its sunken in, half-faded eyes, to its fraying stitches that hung from holes like dead skin clinging to ancient wounds. The stained, tangerine coat of the stuffed bear was faded and the fur mangled and dirty-looking. The mouth was a ditzy smile sewn in with black yarn, and though this was most likely meant to instill a warm and welcoming feeling, no part of this bear made it look anything resembling happy, and it only seemed to draw my eye the way a cadaver lying in the middle of the road might.
My wife, Sunshine, had a different outlook, as she cradled the bear like an injured infant, her mothering instincts possibly played a hand in her eventual purchase of the sickly creature. Of course I didn't voice my opinion, for disdain towards an inanimate object meant to entertain our newborn colt was ludicrous. Hearth's warming Eve was tomorrow, and though my wife and I had little money, we thought that our son deserved a present regardless of our lack of opulence.
When we returned home, thanking Sunshine's mother for watching Hope, we quickly ran into the bedroom. There, my wife began to cheerfully package the small bear in an old horseshoe box, and wrapped it with newspapers we used for lighting fires. She was an excellent craftspony, and being a unicorn swiftly created an origami bow from mostly pink-colored comic strips to top the present. It was a tad extreme for a three month old who still nursed, but it was important to us both, and Sunshine's excitement kept me blissfully ignorant to such insignificant features.
By this point, I had almost forgotten about my withheld feelings toward the bear, for all I saw was the present, and as I imagined Hope's face lighting up as we opened the box and gave him the gift inside, I decided that it was better off that way. It was silly to care so much about a stuffed bear, anyway.
The next morning, Sunshine and I woke up bright and early, looking at each other with sly smiles and quietly exiting the bed. She went to retrieve the present and make some coffee while I woke Hope up. As I made my way down to the nursery room, however, I heard giggling from within. I pushed the door open and entered, and what I saw drained the color from every inch of my shaking body. There was my Hope, playing with a ratty, tangerine bear.
I stood there in bewilderment until Sunshine trotted in, asking me where the present was. She looked over at Hope, saw the bear, and began to boil.
"You gave it to him without me?" She yelled, turning red while tears welled up in her eyes. She looked angry enough to kill somepony, but a deep sadness also showed itself, too, like a young filly who had lost a game at the fair and was all out of money, and so she went home with no prize.
I realized how much this meant to her, but I had nothing to do with it! I tried to calm her down, and explained that I didn't give him the present. I swore to Celestia that I would never rob her of an opportunity to see her son happy, and she finally calmed down enough to ask me a logical question: "Then who did give it to him?"
I was stuck again, like that physical paralysis from when I first saw the bear in my child's hooves had transferred to my mind. When Sunshine and I got married, we promised no secrets, and that meant no lying, even for the benefit of the family; if we had something to say, we said it. However, I had nothing to say! I had no idea how the bear had managed to get into Hope's crib, and while he blissfully played with the catalyst of our matrimonial discourse in the other room, I decided that I had to lie, but not for the sake of the marriage, it was to give Sunshine an answer rather than simply telling her the truth that begged more questions than I could answer.
"I did it," I said, nearly biting off my tongue while I fought to not grind my teeth to dust as I lied through them, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. I'm so, so, so, so very sorry."
It took some time, but love conquers all, and by the grace of Celestia, Sunshine managed to forgive me. She still wanted to do something for Hope, and so I gave her a day all to herself to spend with him.
I left for work in the blistering cold, dressed in a coat and scarf that flapped like a crow's wing in the wintery tempest which swirled through the streets of Ponyville. Through this squall, I managed to entertain one single thought: that bear, the one that had appeared in Hope's crib, was it dangerous?
Arriving at work, I removed my frosted coat and scarf, and hung them to dry on a rack aside the door. I worked on my papers for several straight hours, but got little done, as my mind was consumed by the carnivorous thought which dominated my subconscious and frequently slipped back into relevance. It was like a floodgate trying to hold a wave of molten lava, it took little time to erode and overcome the obstacle and invade my thoughts yet again.
I began to nervously tap my hooves. I wondered if everything was okay at home, and eventually decided to end my breakdown and just call her. I used a phone booth outside, slipping in one of my carrying bits and dialing our home number. I waited, listening anxiously to the monotone humming which rung quietly in my ear.
Eventually, the line picked up, and I asked Sunshine if she and Hope were okay. She told said that everything was fine, and they were both okay.
"Why?" she asked, "is everything all right?"
I told her everything was fine as well, and hung up. For a few moments I just stood there, wallowing in my own stupidity. Yes, the bear incident was strange but it wasn't as concerning as how badly I had let it affect me. Perhaps I hadn't forgiven myself for lying to Sunshine, but it was for a good reason! It was to end the conversation and protect her image of me! I would sound insane if I told her I thought the bear was alive, for that's what I had begun to believe. Perhaps it wasn't literally alive, breathing and what not, but it was frighteningly apparent that something wasn't right with that toy.
I exited the booth and walked back inside the office, my concerns simmering down and finally releasing their tenacious grip on me. Perhaps I was just stressed, not just over the fight with Sunshine but with the new reality of being a father. It was something that had never occurred to me, perhaps this was nothing more than stress and trepidation of parenthood finally getting to me. I was already a father, but the future was unpredictable and dangerous, and I wanted Hope to grow up right. Could it all have simply been a product of stress? Hell, had I even truly been responsible for giving the gift to Hope? This was a possibility, as I had absent-mindedly done foolish things before, like saying something rude to a pony at work that I meant to say only in my head. Yes, it could have been that... right?
I finished my work a bit late thanks to my prior occupations, but eventually I arrived home around 12:00. The lights were all off, but upon turning them on, I found a thick line of red marker scrawled messily across the wall, leading into the shadowy hallway. What had Sunshine and Hope been up to, exactly?
I dropped my keys into the bowl atop the cabinet, removed my winter garbs and walked over to the hallway to investigate. It was strange how the lights had been shut off, usually Sunshine left them on for when I arrived home. She wouldn't turn them off since he hadn't know I was going to be late, so why now were the lights all shut off?
As I entered the hallway, running my hoof along the wall for a switch, it met something plastic. I flipped it, and what the light illuminated made my stomach churn and caused a mass to form in my throat. I felt sick, and as I looked on at where the marker had led me, I began to wonder if my speculations about the bear were right.
