Where Does the Wind Come From?
Author's Note
Before reading this, know that it was written based on a certain song. Specifically, Dust in the Wind by Kansas. Because of FiMfic's rules I couldn't include the song lyrics in the story like I wanted to, but that's neither here nor there. If you want the full effect of the story, when the characters mention a song pull it up in a youtube tab and listen to it.
Dust in the Wind
“Mom?” I called quietly as I entered the room. Quiet, steady beeps filled my ears and the overpowering scent of pure cleanliness assaulted my nostrils.
The mare in the small bed shifted, her grey mane falling away from her face as she turned to look at me with her glossy eyes. She smiled at me. “Hey, sweetie.”
I gave her a wobbling, warm smile in return as I cantered over, sitting myself down on a chair next to the head of her bed. I had worn a permanent impression into the cushion. “How have you bee?”
“Oh... fine,” she said in her usual, care-free way, though I could hear her wheeze despite how hard she tried to hide it from me. “I'm still alive, so there's something.”
I give a chuckle. Or maybe it was a sob. I couldn't tell the difference. “I swear, you're going to beat Death himself.”
She laughed, the breathy sound turning to a cough half way through. “Not likely, at this rate. But you never know. If a pony can become a princess, then maybe I can beat old age.”
“Maybe you can become a princess, and live forever,” I said, unable to find the strength in me to smile, or even half-believe in what I'd said. She doesn't either, but she still smiles.
A moment of silence passes, filled only by the steady beeping that seemed to follow my thoughts no matter where they went. Eventually I gave up and focused on it, my heart beat lining up with every sharp beep that sliced through the air and burrowed down into my very soul.
“Remember, when you were just a foal?” She asked me, eyes closed. I knew she wasn't in the room with me anymore; she was in whatever memory she wanted to remind me of.
I placed a gentle hoof atop hers. “You'll have to be more specific, mom.”
“Back before you could even read,” she said. I frowned; there was very little I could remember that was before even then. She continued before I could ask her to. “You were always so curious. Remember, when you used to ask me where the wind came from?”
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I though I'd lost that ability long ago. “I... no, I can't.”
My mom frowned, but only for a second as she pulled herself deeper into her memory. “Me and your father would be sitting on the couch, your brother off doing whatever your brother did, and you'd jump up into my lap. Using the biggest eyes you could muster, you'd look up at me and ask; 'mommy, where does the wind come from?'”
I felt her hoof squeeze mine. No doubt she could see my wide, curious eyes plane as day, even now, all these years later. She smiled. “And I'd say 'well honey, nopony really knows where the wind comes from, but you want to know what I think?'”
“What do you think?”
“I'd tell you, 'I think the wind comes from big – no, giant – ponies, laying down and sleeping far over the horizon. I think the wind is those giant ponies snoring, and when it's not windy, it's because they're awake.'”
Despite myself, I smiled. “Did I buy it?”
She laughed, this time cutting herself off before her coughing could. “Buy it? Honey, until you learned the truth you used to tell everypony you could that the wind came from giant ponies snoring. Of course, as soon as you learned the truth, you gave me this glare. As though I'd just told you Santa Hooves wasn't real.”
“What did I do?”
“You stormed on up to your room, slammed the door – nearly gave your father a heart attack – and wouldn't come out. You were only just old enough to start school, but you had one heck of a temper when you wanted to.”
“I wonder where I go that from,” I interjected rhetorically. Mom chuckled.
There was a spike in the beeping's pace, and I flinched, leaning over the bed. Her eyes were still closed, but I could tell she was having problems breathing. I was about to call for a doctor when the beeping evened out again, and her breaths came easier. She opened her eyes and smirked at me. “Not yet,” she said, winking. “I have one more story left in me.”
I shook my head. “Well, you wouldn't want to waste it now, would you?”
“Would you rather I spent it on the doctor later tonight?” She asked, raising her eyebrow. When I said nothing, she nodded approvingly. “Like I said, you locked yourself in your room, good and tight; chairs, books, anything and everything you could moved was piled in front of your door.”
Without saying anything, I looked at her, silently asking her to continue. She didn't. For a long moment, she just lay there, shallow breathing ruffling her blanket. Eventually, she said, “I didn't force you out. I sat myself down outside your bedroom door, leaning up against it, and starting singing.”
My eyes widened as I realized something. “I do remember that... it's foggy, but I remember the song.”
“I should hope so,” she said with a smile. “It always was your favourite. I sang it to you every night before bed from the time you were born until you started kicking me out of your room so you could read. In fact, that day was the last time I ever sang you to sleep.”
I sniffled. Without realizing it, tears had started rolling down my cheeks.
“I sat outside your door, and I sang to you,” she paused, taking a breath, before humming quietly. That tune that had ingrained itself in my memory from before times I could remember. Then she started, words I barely remembered but knew by heart.
“I could hear you in there, starting to move stuff away from the door. I sang; loud enough for you to hear me. Before I knew it you had opened your door. I fell back, and you looked down at me with tears in your eyes. You started yelling at me, telling me I lied to you.”
“You did,” I pointed out matter-of-factly, though my mom didn’t seem to mind as she nodded.
“Yes, but how would a filly your age understand how convection currents work? Even then, you didn't understand them, you just knew what I told you wasn't true. I didn't answer, instead I just kept singing.”
This time, I beat her too it, singing the chorus softly. She nodded her head, humming the tune I knew too well. “What did I say?”
She continued humming instead of answering. Soon enough I starting singing again. Finally, she whispered, “You just sang with me, and by time we were done, you were asleep in my hooves. I leaned down and kissed you, and put you to bed."
I started humming when she started talking, and when she went quiet I sang, and she hummed. Reaching over, I ran my hoof through her stringy, grey mane. Slowly, her humming faded and was replaced by a solid, constant tone coming from the heart monitor.
After that everything passed by in a blur. I called the doctors in, still humming as they went about doing what they could. One of them looked back and me and shook his head, and I nodded, starting to sing again as he looked at the clock and announced; “Twilight Velvet, time of death, January 6, 5:42 PM.”
They wheeled her out of the room, and I sat back down in my chair, singing quietly to myself.
“Princess?”
I looked up, stopping my singing as the doctor leaned his head in the room. “Yes?”
The brown coated unicorn hesitated a moment before stepping into the room and bowing his head. “If you could come with me, please.”
I nodded, standing and stretching my wings. With a hum of energy from my horn I wiped away my tears. “Where to?”
“Just down here, Princess Twilight,” he said, leading me out of the room. Before I left, I glanced out the window, watching the trees sway silently in the wind, blowing dust along with it.