Opal: A two part story about death

by Spaz-TanukiWolf

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad, Tragedy
Length: 2173

This story deals with the concepts of death, how it can make a pony think, drive a pony crazy, and make them believe strange things.

During a busy spell at the boutique, Opalessence falls ill. Rarity does everything she can to help while recalling how much time she spent neglecting to pay attention to Opal. During this time, Rarity questions whether or not she's a good friend. Eventually she ponders what life is all about.

What will Rarity do with a second chance?

The second chapter will be up sometime in the next couple of weeks. This story is supposed to be some kind of sad. If you don't like sad or tragic stories, maybe this isn't the story for you. I apologize. I have nothing against Opalescence or Rarity.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-03-07 19:40:01 UTC

Part 1: Opal falls ill

At the height of a rather hot and humid summer the Carousel Boutique was bustling with orders from Canterlot. An up-and-coming playwright hired Rarity to make all of the costumes for his play, several high class ponies were preparing for a decent sized ball that was coming up soon, and the daughter of a Baron needed a special gown for her cute-cinera.

Fabric was strewn about several dress-forms, tables and racks. Rarity's jewel chest was wide open, filled with beautiful sparkling minerals. Rarity was sweating over her sewing machine when she completely ran out of space in her craft room. Little by little, buttons, needles, lace and other supplies made their way into the living room. After every table was full, Rarity made her way to the couch. She intended on using it to lay out a piece of fabric to see if it looked good enough for a filly's one-of-a-kind gown, but Opalescence was already there, presumably cat-napping.

"Opalescence, I don't have the time for this, darling," Rarity said, her nostrils flaring slightly. "Shoo, Opal! I need the space, now!"

Opal did not budge. Despite Rarity's loud and insistent tone, Opal refused to even open her eyes. "Typical," Rarity thought. "That cat is more selfish and melodramatic than anypony else I've ever met... except perhaps maybe Prince Blueblood." Rarity managed a small chuckle and gave Opal a nudge, but the cat refused to move. On further inspection, Opal had a thick clear mucus on the fur on her back, as if she tried to bathe whilst dehydrated. Rarity furrowed her brow and looked cockeyed at Opal. "I don't have the time to give you a bath, Opal. Quit getting into messes" Rarity’s horn lit up and slowly Opal was levitated from the couch. Opal remained limp.  Rarity dropped her fabric and shook Opal.

"Opal, wake up!" she cried.

Opal's eyes opened to a squint, and she managed a small squeak of a meow. Rarity sighed softly, having believed for a short moment that her pet, no, her friend was...

Rarity placed a hoof to Opal's head, then her belly. Rarity could feel heat emanating from Opal. "Oh my. You're sick. I'm sorry for treating you so harshly, darling, I've just been so stressed," Rarity said as she stood there with her cat in her hooves. Rarity hoof carried Opal to the kitchen, and placed her in a dish tub. Rarity ran cold water in the sink and sprinkled some gently over her pet. She then opened a window so a breeze would blow over Opal.

Over the next hour Opal developed a low and constant wheeze. The noise alone was enough to make Rarity shed tears. The vet's office was already closed for the day, and the only thought in Rarity's mind was keeping her friend alive until morning. On any other day she would have taken Opal to Fluttershy, but Fluttershy was with Twilight in the Crystal Empire, exploring the library's section on rare and mythical animals. The next pony who came to mind was Apple Jack, but she was busy on a trip to Appleloosa.

Opal refused to drink water from her bowl. Rarity even tried pouring her a small amount of milk, but Opal just turned her nose to it. Rarity walked quickly to the kitchen, her ears flat to her head and her eyes glossy. She grabbed a glass of water and a straw, and then returned to Opal. She then slowly dripped water into Opal’s mouth.

As the hours went by, Rarity’s eyes became more droopy, and her movements more slow. She slowly walked to her room. Rarity lay silently in her bed, unable to sleep. The only thoughts running through her mind were about all the times she had just ignored Opal. How many times had she come home, made some dresses and went to bed without so much as seeing Opal? Had she ever forgotten to feed her? No, that couldn't be, Rarity wasn't negligent per say, she just didn't spend enough time with Opal. She was going to make amends. After these orders were filled, Rarity would close the Boutique for a few days, buy Opal some new toys, and spend some one-on-one time with her cat.

In the middle of this thought, opal hopped up onto the bed, and curled up in a small ball leaned up against Rarity. Twilight had told her once before about hospital cats. Apparently, there were some cats who could predict death, and would curl up with patients who were about to die. There were also accounts of cats near death who would curl up with their friends when it was their time to go. Rarity’s ear fell flat and tears glistened in her eyes as she sat up. Immediately she picked Opal up in her hooves, "No, you will not curl up with me now. You aren't dying now." She burst into tears as Opal replied with a weak wheeze.

After sitting in bed with her cat in her hooves all night, Rarity shot up and almost smiled when she saw the sun rise. She rushed downstairs with her cat in her hooves. Opal was wheezing louder now, meowing as if she was gasping for air. Rarity didn't even bother putting her cat into a cage. She just wrapped Opal up in a towel and carried her all the way to Dr.Goodall's office. The doors of the vet's office flew open with a loud "Woosh!" as Rarity burst through the door.

"You have to see, Opal now! Something is just terribly wrong," Rarity shrieked, as a whiff of antiseptic and wet dog hit her nostrils. Rarity was lead into a small vet's office where she waited for Dr. Goodall. Rarity’s ears were flat to her skull, and her eyes had wet bags beneath them. Time passed slowly as she waited for the doctor. She shifted weight from hoof to hoof, balancing with Opal in her arms while the table in front of her remained bare. By the time the doctor entered the room, Rarity’s face was stained with tears. The first thing doctor Goodall did was weigh Opal.

"Oh dear," Goodall stated bluntly, "Opal, you've lost weight. Only 7.6 pounds. Albeit a generally healthy weight for your breed, that's too much weight to loose so quickly"

"7.6 pounds?" Rarity’s eyes opened wide. "But last time we were here she weighed nearly 11 pounds."

Goodall continued with the observation, making small inquisitive noises and sighs occasionally. Her eyes shifted between the cat and the pony. "I need to take a blood sample, is that alright?" Dr.Goodall asked, and Rarity nodded her head yes. Goodall took the sick cat into the back.

Rarity rocked back and forth, biting her lip. Terrible thoughts fluttered through her mind. Every moment the doctor wasn't back put another terrible thought into her imagination. Rarity began to gnaw at her front hoof. She was no longer crying, but her face was matted with dried tears. Rarity’s gaze seemed to focus through the wall when the doctor came back in. Goodall then hoofed Rarity a mostly limp Opal.

"Our in house lab can only tell us so much. But, we did do a blood smear, and Opal had no white blood cells left. I can't say for sure why. It could be cancer, most likely feline leukemia. There's also the possibility that there was a faulty negative on her kitten FIV test. I think it would be cruel to start her on any anti-biotics since we can't say for sure what it is. Usually in a situation like this I would say send the blood to a better lab to see what's wrong, but I've never seen a cat with literally NO white blood cells before. Do you understand what I mean?" Dr.Goodall was looking directly into Rarity’s eyes. Rarity just stared at her with a raised brow.

"So, we're going to do some more tests? To see what it is. Then we can give her the right medicine?"

"No, Rarity," Dr.Goodall sighed. It was never easy giving bad news. "Ponies ... and cats, need white blood cells to fight off infection. Everypony has them. When you're sick your white blood-cell count goes down but you still have them. What I'm saying is that Opal has been VERY sick for a VERY long time, but cats are good at hiding it, so nopony noticed until it was... too late. So you can come back when you're ready to give her some medicine to stop the pain that she's in." The doctor waited a few moments to see if Rarity had any questions, but after several moments of silence she decided it was best to leave the room.

Rarity was left alone with her dying cat. How could she have not noticed Opal lost so much weight or that she was this sick? Rarity sat there crying and blaming herself as she held her cat in her arms. Opal's wheezes had turned into bellowing screams that came from deep in her throat. It was at that moment Rarity could feel how much pain her friend was in, so she decided it was time. Rarity’s expression became blank, but then she uttered a weak smile. She kissed Opal on the forehead, and said a few sweet happy lies about death. She spent a few moments gently stroking Opals fur, and hugging her as close as she could. Eventually, Rarity knocked on the door where Dr. Goodall stood on the other side with a full syringe.

Later that afternoon, a small brown paper wrapped "package" sat on the couch where Opal was when Rarity first noticed she was sick. Rarity was frittering away picking up all of her dress-making supplies. "Clean.  I must clean.  It needs to be clean," Rarity chanted as she completely ignored the "package" on the couch. Little-by-little every supply was put back into its place, and a few half-finished garments rested upon their forms. The boutique was almost as clean as the day Rarity first opened it. The same could not be said about Rarity, whose mane was a frazzled mess. Purple locks of hair pointed in every direction, and her tail was all matted into one large ball behind her rump. Her coat was grey with dirt and sweat.

Rarity sauntered from her home and business, finding herself at the front door of Sugarcube Corner, asking for Pinkie. The Cakes looked at each other and back at Rarity, too polite to ask about her new disheveled look. Pinkie ran down the stairs quickly, shouting, "VISITOR~ I have a visitor~. Who is it? Who is it? WHO IS IT!? "

Pinkie stopped in her tracks and her eyes focused clearly at Rarity’s face, "OhMyGosh, Rarity! What happened? Did you fall in a well? We HAVE to start a ‘cover all wells for pony-sakes’ committee this INSTANT!" Pinkie quickly turned to go get poster making supplies for her new committee.

Rarity stopped her in her tracks, loudly and monotonously stating "Shovel."

"What?" Pinkie shifted her gaze back to Rarity, her curious expression making one eye appear comically larger than the other.

"I need a shovel," Rarity once again spoke with no inflection in her voice.

"Now Rarity, I don't think violence is any way to tell this well's owner that he needs to cover it up."

"No, Pinkie. I just need a shovel. Since you seem to have one of everything, I thought you would have a shovel. I can't get one from Applejack because she's visiting Appleloosa," Rarity said, trying to convince the Pinkie that's all that's wrong. "I'll be super happy if I get a shovel. Please."

Pinkie ran upstairs, and came back shortly with a shovel, too confused and stunned to question the matter further. She was, however, already making plans to talk to four certain someponies about what the hay was going on.

Rarity walked with shovel in hoof through the blistering afternoon heat. Her hoof-steps were visibly wet with perspiration. She arrived at the Boutique and walked around back. Picking a spot beneath a tree, Rarity thrust the shovel into the ground by hoof. She kept digging, only stopping every few thrusts to wipe the sweat from her eyes with her hoof. After two hours in the sun, Rarity was burned red and developed blisters on her hooves. Her hole was complete at roughly three feet deep with a two foot diameter.

She dropped the shovel next to the hole and walked slowly inside. Rarity stepped into the shower, rinsing off the dirt and sweat that accumulated in her fur.  She didn't spend much time drying off and simply pulled her mane back with a tie. Quietly, she picked up the "package" she had been ignoring from the couch. Leaving the parchment around it, she hoof carried it to the hole. Rarity dropped the "package" into the hole, and looked down inside as she whispered nothing more than "I'm sorry." Then she began to refill the hole.