The Allfathers Station (2nd Person)

Chapters

1. Rusty Trains & Cigarettes
2. Chow Mein & Scotch
3. Cartoons & Laundry
4. Convenience Stores & Swing Sets
5. Juice Boxes & Ghosts
6. Bowling Balls & Visitors

1. Rusty Trains & Cigarettes

“Number B-27: Geisbrecht to Allfathers, now arriving.”

The familiar howl of the subway coming to a slow stop interrupts the benign conversations that surround you. The screaming brakes give you nostalgic comfort, just as they did so long ago when you would will the day away with your late beloved. As the pneumatic doors slide open, the mandatory accompanying warnings rattle over the loudspeakers:

“Upon exiting, please stay clear of the doors” The pre-recorded, female voice crackles in its monotonous tone. “All passengers leaving from Allfathers to Masters please wait until the doors are clear before boarding, thank you.”

Hordes of faceless bodies exit the train and begin their routines of modern, urban survival. Some stay and converse with others, while those with other plans ascend the concrete stairway to the city streets and out of your life. You sit back and relax on the hard, wooden bench, sighing deeply to clear your head. The elderly man on your left gives you a quick glance before getting up to forever exit your existence. You wonder for a second just who he was and what his story might have been: Was he perhaps a grandfather; waiting to pick his grandson up from his first train ride? Maybe he was a writer, looking for the inspiration for what would be the next best seller. You will never know, as he has left both the station and your life forever.

“Number B-27: Now departing from Allfathers to Masters, please stay clear of the closing doors.”

The pneumatic doors of the subway close once again with a calming hiss; its new passengers now in tow. It departs with a final screech before leaving the station for another part of the city. You let the nostalgia wash over you as the train rings down the cement tunnel, remembering how the mechanical scream punctuated your then-lover’s acceptance to your proposal. Generic elevator music begins to play over the old loudspeakers once again and quickly regulates itself to a white noise in your head, becoming one with your river of empty thoughts.

Hours seem to pass like minutes as trains come and go, bringing with them more faceless bodies and empty souls. Your pack of cigarettes slowly diminishes as you waste away on the wooden bench, only getting up to stretch your legs and work the cramps out of your rear. This is what your weekends have consisted of for the last three years: Simply watching the trains pass by like grains of sand in the world’s largest hourglass. You wish you could stop wasting your life here, but there are so many memories in these concrete walls that you would feel as though you were abandoning it, and her, otherwise. As you light your last cigarette, the loudspeaker crackles to life once again:

“Number BC-688: *static* to Allfathers, now arriving.”

You take a confused look at the corroded loudspeaker hanging over the tracks: You don’t remember ever seeing the BC-688 in the three years you’ve been here. The howl from the mysterious subway sounds different from the others, not so much new as much as otherworldly. With a final, metallic cry the train comes into view:

Age is the first word that comes to mind when you look at the train. A heavy collection of rust seems to have entangled it like the web of an iron spider and the graffiti on its side is old and faded, untouched by a delinquent hand for several years. It almost feels as if this is a train from another point in time, neither the past nor the future, but an era that may have existed alongside your own. You normally wouldn’t have cared about this strange subway, but a part of your mind, the part you’ve always ignored in favor of logical thought, sees something else on this aged vessel.

You rise from your bench and take a long drag of your last cigarette, savoring its hickory-like flavor as it slowly kills you from within. As you meander closer to the elderly train, you notice that the station is suddenly void of life, almost as if this place had closed years ago and you were trespassing within its condemned passages. Even the loudspeakers that have been operational since before you were born have gone strangely silent, leaving you feeling alone with this railway-bound time capsule.

The doors stutter open with not the usual hiss, but with a rusty metal screech, making you cringe slightly as you wait to see who could possibly be getting off. No people emerge from behind the doorway, there is only silence. You stare at the open doors for what feels like the longest time, waiting for someone, anyone, to exit. That’s when you hear the sounds of tiny footsteps.

They are distant at first, echoing with strange acoustics from behind the rusted door like hollow shoes on thin metal. Every step grows louder until it reaches the door with a pause, as if their owner was hesitant to leave the train. You stand and wait in silence as you take another long drag from your rapidly deteriorating cigarette. As it burns down to the filter, that’s when you finally see her:

The Little Pony

You cannot believe your eyes as the pale olive equine steps out from the doorway and into the station. She stands no bigger than a housecat with youthful eyes of brilliant gamboge. Her amaranth mane is layered in a way that reminds you of young, southern belle and is accented with a large crimson bow that adds a girlish appeal to her tiny frame. A torn piece of paper hangs from her mouth, torn and covered in stains as if it was hastily written by someone with little time for proper stationary. Her tiny hooves echo through the silent station as she slowly scans her area, seemingly ignorant of the only man that stands but a few feet away, staring intently.

You are too dumbfounded to speak, not sure if the pain medication you took earlier was perhaps laced with something as a cruel joke. You toss the burnt filter of your cigarette aside as she notices you with a smile upon her face and trots to your position. She sits at your feet, much like how a hound would, and motions to you with the letter in her mouth. It takes a second before you realize that she is attempting to give you the paper as you try to keep your jaw from dropping. You slowly reach down and take the paper from her mouth with your shaking hands, feeling as though you shouldn’t touch the strange creature, lest she were to give you an unknown disease.

The paper is faded and yellow with age. You feel as though it will fall apart in your hands as you take in every word of its roughly scribbled lettering, all whilst keeping an eye on the little filly:

“To whom it may concern:

I have little time left on this world, as our inevitable discovery has come to fruition. The pony that hopefully stands before you as you read this, is the only family I have ever known on this lonesome planet. I have done my best to protect her from the cruelty of this world and now it is your turn to do the same. I do not expect you to fully understand yet, but know that while I do not know who you are directly, I’m sure that you will find her a decent home and a loving family. My last action on this planet is that I leave my beloved daughter in your care as she is now your own.

I will love you forever, my little Apple Bloom

-R”

You read the letter over and over, looking for anything that may lay between the lines, perhaps a telling to an elaborate prank or some sort of publicity stunt hosted by the subway station. The filly patiently sits and waits as you scan every inch of the letter, no doubt aware that her presence would be first seen as an anomaly. You sigh and pocket the letter before staring deep into the wide eyes of the smiling pony, pondering what your next course of action should be. To your surprise, she suddenly begins to speak in perfect English with a young, Missourian accent:

“So whut’s yer name, mister?”

You simply stare in disbelief at the olive filly, unable to find the words to respond to her simple question. You look about the empty station for the hidden camera or the television host that will jump out and tell you that you’ve been had while the little pony giggles at your confusion.

“Mah name’s Apple Bloom, mister. Mah daddy said that somepony would be waitin’ fer me here.” She states matter-of-factly before continuing. “Are you the one that’s gonna take me to mah new home?”

You scratch your head, still confused as anyone would be in this situation, trying to find a response that would sate the pony’s question. The empty station feels even more silent than before as she awaits your answer. You think back to your late wife and her unattainable dream one last time as you finally respond to the innocent pony’s query:

“I-I guess I am…” You answer not as confidently as you would have hoped.

Apple Bloom’s eyes go wide with joy as she immediately stands and nuzzles her head against your leg. You awkwardly react by petting her on the head like you would a small dog, feeling foolish afterwards for what you think is probably degrading her.

“Ah can’t wait to see mah new home! Are we goin’ now?! This is gonna be so much fun, living with mah new family!” She rambles excitedly.

You wonder how she can leave her old adopted father behind so easily and accept you, no problem. Does she even remember him? She mentioned him before, maybe she didn’t understand the letter, or perhaps she couldn’t read. These thoughts swirl about your head like angry mosquitoes as you slowly ascend the stairs from the station into the late autumn afternoon, letting Apple Bloom take her time as she struggles up the steps.

“Wait fer me!” she cries out as she lifts her tiny frame over another step. “Mah legs ain’t as long as yers!”

You look back at the little pony as she muscles her way up the concrete steps, appreciating her determination. Eventually, without saying a word, you gently lift her by the sides and carry her up the stairs, cradled in your arms. She laughs as you sweep her up and exit the stairway, making you smile yourself. While you’re not really sure of just what you’re getting yourself into, you certainly know it’s going to be interesting. As you bring the giggling Apple Bloom to your car, you wonder if perhaps this is a strange gift being sent from your beloved up above…

2. Chow Mein & Scotch

A northern wind rushes past you as you reach street level, chilling you through your thin jacket and making Apple Bloom shiver in your arms. You hold her closer to cover more of her tiny body with your sleeves, hoping to cease her quivering as you walk through the frigid gust towards your old automobile. You fumble about your pockets for your key ring, bypassing receipts, business cards and various bits of junk too precious to throw away, yet not important enough to care about. The familiar jingling reaches your ears and you pull the ring free, letting the slowly setting sun glint for a second off of your metal bowling ball keychain. You open the rusty passenger side door of your faded grey 89’ Sprint and clear the discarded junk you were too lazy to throw away before from the seat into the back, making empty promises to clean it away later.

You place the olive filly in her seat and pull the safety belt over her breast, buckling her safely in place before getting into the driver’s seat. As the engine struggles to life, the radio crackles over the cheap speakers with the local radio personality:

“KRDL, Kurdel 109! We spoil music for everyone!”

Apple Bloom looks about the vehicle with genuine excitement, straining under the seatbelt to see every angle of the rusty transport.

“Ah’ve never been in a carriage like this before! “ She exclaims while bouncing in time to the fuzzy rock music droning almost inaudibly from the ancient radio. “How does it move without any ponies pullin’ it?”

You smile at Apple Bloom’s innocent question as you put the vehicle in gear, creating a cacophony of groaning and grinding before pulling onto the street and away from the station. Her eyes go wide with the sensation of speed, looking out excitedly at the various people, stores and vehicles that line the streets with childlike wonder.

“I guess you’ve never been in a car before?” You ask as Apple Bloom scans the cars whizzing by at the stoplight.

“No, never." She replies, not taking her eyes off of the screaming police car that rushes past. “Ah never saw any of these things when Ah lived with mah Daddy!”

Your thoughts go back to the letter from her Father, wondering just who he was and why he would leave his daughter alone on that mysterious train.

“Who was your Dad, anyway?” You ask, instantly regretting it as Apple Bloom’s look of innocent joy turns to confusion and sorrow.

“A-Ah cain’t remember…” She replies, looking at a discarded hamburger wrapper on the floor of the passenger seat.

“But… Didn’t he put you on that train and give you that letter?” You continue to press with equal parts curiosity and regret.

“Yeah… A-Ah mean Ah think he did…”

You decide to stop questioning the pony, feeling increasingly guilty for pushing her like that. You decide to take her mind off of her former Father by changing the subject:

“My name’s Todd, by the way.” You say with hopeful optimism.

“Whut?”

“Todd Smith, you asked for my name back at the station and I… err… forgot to tell you.”

“Oh…” The fillies smile returns as she mulls her new caretakers name over. “Well that’s a nice name, Mister Smith.”

“Just Todd is fine.” You correct her with a grin. “Mister Smith sounds so… impersonal.”

Apple Bloom watches the road with less excitement then before as you turn down your street, the novelty of the sights probably waning with time. You slowly pull to the side of the road in front of a large apartment block with a flickering neon sign giving a clear indication of the buildings less-than-stellar quality:

“Redford Street Arms”

You pull the parking brake as the Sprint chokes and grinds itself to silence, something you’ve gotten used to since you bought it from the Armenian couple living next door to you. You unbuckle Apple Bloom from her seat and open her door before getting out yourself and stretching in the golden sunset. A pain shoots down your bad back as you stretch, instantly making you hunch over in pain. You thank whatever invisible force watches from above that you’re home as you hobble to the door your key in hand and Apple Bloom at your side. She looks at you with genuine worry in her gamboge eyes as you fumble with your keys; still griping your back in pain.

“Are ya alright, Todd?” She asks as you open the door with visible pain on your face. “Whut’s wrong with yer back?”

“I’ll be fine.” You groan, trying to sound tougher than you really are. “I just gotta take my meds and I’ll be fine…”

You hold the buzzing door open for Apple Bloom as she wanders inside, the innocent wonder returning to her eyes as she looks about the dingy lobby. She follows a cockroach that skitters across the old, tacky carpet while you check your mailbox in hopes of finding some good news for once instead of just the usual bills and useless flyers promoting deals on toilet paper and how you can buy two bags of chips for the price of one. It’s just that as you tuck your mail in your jacket and limp for the elevator.

Before you can press the button to call the homeward lift, the doors open to reveal a pair of gaudily dressed young men with a woman who would look more at home in a trashy hotel than your cheap Apartment… Actually, she looks like she would fit right in at your Apartment considering the other walks of life living here. The trio talk to each other in an eastern European language you cannot recognize, speaking at a machine gun pace that makes your head hurt. Apple Bloom gives up on the cockroach in the lobby and walks over to your side, beaming at the chattering threesome with a look of pride over being with her new caretaker. They stop talking when they notice the colorful filly at your side with looks of confusion and amusement:

“Ehh… Nice dog…” One the men states, lifting his sunglasses for a better look at the little pony.

“Ah’m not a dog, Ah’m a pony!” She replies with annoyance in her voice.

The man with the sunglasses sniffs and wipes his nose before emitting a hearty laugh, probably thinking whatever substance he ingested had begun to take effect early. The other two soon follow suit as they exit the elevator, looking like they might double over in laughter at the anomaly in the lobby.

“Alright then, little pony, you stay cool, yes?” The bespectacled leader chortles in a lightly teasing tone as he leaves the Apartment with his entourage.

You enter the now empty lift with Apple Bloom right behind you and press the button for the ninth floor, letting the sliding doors creak to a close and separate you both from the dingy lobby. Her knees buckle as the elevator begins to rise with a look of panic on her face.

“It’s alright Apple Bloom, we’re just going up.” You reassure her while stifling a giggle.

She seems visibly shaken as the elevator comes to a stop, probably feeling sick to her stomach from the movement. The doors creak open once more and expose you to a hallway with cream colored walls and the same tacky carpet as the lobby, reeking of cigarette fug. Apple Bloom hesitates for a second as she tries to rearrange herself to the unmoving floor but soon follows you into the hallway. As you both walk the halls in silence, the sounds of various people talking, dogs barking, radios being played far too loud and pipes from above, rattling with rust and age ring from behind closed doors. These sounds have been a part of your life since you started living here, 3 long years ago. Every voice is named with your own simple titles and every creak in the floor is committed to memory. The sound of Apple Bloom’s muted hooves on the carpet are a strange comfort, something new to fill these halls of nostalgia.

Your door comes into view soon enough: Room 921 on the left. You struggle through your ever increasing back pain and unlock it, letting the smell of your own vices wash over you as a reminder of what your life has become. Apple Bloom follows you inside and looks about the simple Apartment. It is as normal as any single bedroom apartment can be: A dirty, white carpet covers the floor up to a simple half divider that lets you distinguish the living space from the kitchen complete with the same cream colored walls from the hallway. An old, blue, three person couch sits against the divider and faces a coffee table across from the television. To the right of the couch is a large window that gives you a good, if not inspirational, view of the never ending city, its various towers and skyscrapers creating a peaceful urban ambience in the setting sun. The kitchen is simple enough, with an old stove and fridge side-by-side on the green laminate floor. A round, wooden tables sits covered in scattered papers and bills, having lost its use as a dining table long ago.

“Home, sweet home…” You mutter to yourself as you always do upon entering your destitute abode.

Apple Bloom looks about in amazement at her new home as you head over to the coffee table and grab a small, orange pill bottle alongside a dirty glass.

“What chu’ got there, Todd?” She asks with intrigue as you take a pair of tablets and the foggy cup to the kitchen counter.

“It’s, uh, my medicine… for my back.”

A fancy bottle of Scotch sits beside a few dirty dishes, the only thing that really stands out amongst your pile of filth. You fill the glass halfway and swirl the amber liquid for effect, looking for imperfections behind the fog. Satisfied with its appearance, you take the tablets into your mouth and balance them on your tongue. A quick swig of the Scotch easily chases them down your gullet, warming your body as it comes to a stop in your stomach. You finish the glass and shudder as the painkiller cocktail begins to take effect, making you feel pleasantly lightheaded.

“So, you thirsty, Apple Bloom?” you ask as you pour yourself another glass of Scotch, feeling giddy as you look forward to the pleasant night ahead. “I don’t have much, but there’s probably something here.”

You open the fridge and look about for something you might serve to a child, finding only a carton of 1% milk that will expire in two days next to a box of leftover Chow Mein.

“How does Milk sound?”

“That’d be great! Ah’ve been thirsty since Ah got here.”

Apple Bloom crawls up with some effort onto the chair, grunting as she positions herself comfortably at the table. She can barely see over the edge, but soon rears up to balance herself on her front hooves. You pour some of the 1% into a plastic cup and place it in front of her, complete with a bendy straw found at the back of the cupboard.

“Thank ya, Todd” She acknowledges in a recited schoolgirl-like manner before happily drinking down her Milk.

You take a sip of your Scotch as you grab the Chow Mein from the fridge, giving it a sniff to see if it’s still good. After confirming it’s at least not growing anything, you obtain a pair of plates from the cupboard and spoon out equal portions for the two of you. You place the cold noodles in front of Apple Bloom, her milk now finished, and get a fork for yourself.

“It’s not much, but it’s supper…”

The olive filly grazes the synthetic Chinese food with a smile on her face, not caring that it’s almost stale. She is simply happy eating a meal with her new caretaker in her new home. You barely touch your food, opting to simply drink your Scotch and let the painkillers take a hold of your body. You silently watch her eat, trying to think of a conversation topic that could be shared with a tiny, prepubescent horse.

“So… You’re a pony, huh?” You ask, knowing full well the pills have properly mingled with the alcohol.

Apple Bloom looks up from her Chow Mein as a few loose noodles hang from her lip.

“Uhh, Ah guess Ah am… An’ yer a Human?” she jokes at your drunken question.

“As human as I can be.” You respond plain facedly. “So where are you from anyway, Apple Bloom?”

She slurps the rest of her noodles before looking out the window longingly.

“Ah’m from a place called… it’s called…” She wracks her brain, trying to remember where she came from. “Ah cain’t remember…”

You figured this would be her response, how can she remember where she’s from if she can’t even remember her father putting her on a train.

“It’s alright, kiddo, this is your home now.” You remind her in an effort to raise her spirits.

She gives you a weak smile before motioning to your uneaten Chow Mein with a glint of hope in her eyes, hoping to change the subject.

“Are ya gonna finish that there, Todd?”

You place your plate on top of hers and finish the rest of your Scotch with a hard swig, shivering at the hard liquor’s aftertaste. As Apple Bloom finishes your food, you stumble over to the old couch and pull out the hidden bed.

“This’ll be your bed, s’that alright?” You slur to the little pony, feeling properly wasted from the heavy mixture.

“That’ll be jus’ fine.” She responds with her final mouthful of cold noodles.

A simple quilt and couch pillow make up the rest of the rusty bed. You take seat on it to keep yourself from falling over, unsure of what Apple Bloom thinks of seeing you like this. She finishes grazing her first meal in her new home and returns to you with a loud yawn, looking very much tired. Without getting up from the bed, you lift her in your arms and place her down with her head against the pillow. You pull the patchy quilt over her body, gently tucking her in for her first night in her new home.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” You inform her while motioning to your tiny bedroom past the kitchen. “Sleep tight, Apple Bloom.”

You run your hand through her soft, amaranth mane, gently giving her head a comforting scratch.

“G’night Todd, Ah’ll see ya tomorrah.” She yawns back before closing her eyes for the night, quickly drifting off to sleep.

Her soft snoring is a strange comfort that floats through the room, making you wonder what the future is going to bring for you and Apple Bloom. You sigh deeply before rising awkwardly to your feet, trying not to trip over your own shadow in your drunken stupor. You ease yourself into the kitchen and take two more tablets from the orange bottle, downing them with a long swig from the bottle of Scotch itself, not bothering to use the dirty glass on the table. With your final drink of the night out of the way, you stagger to your bed with the grace of a tornado in a trailer park. Without even entertaining the thought to getting undressed, you fall face first onto your unkempt, double bed and pass out for the night…

3. Cartoons & Laundry

You groggily wake from your stupor, feeling like you just had a 60 mph makeout session with a Truck. Your eyes slowly flutter open and you are met with a large, innocent pair of gamboge orbs, staring intently with a childish grin. You quickly snap awake in shock from the unexpected invasion of privacy in your normally empty Apartment.

“Mornin’ Todd, Did ya have a good sleep?!”

You stare for a second at the invader before remembering your impromptu adoption last night. Rolling onto your back, you relax and sigh, staring at the white ceiling.

“Ugh… Hey Apple Bloom…” You respond in a haze, your hangover well and truly in effect. “It could have been better…”

Apple Bloom ignores your implied need for privacy and steps up onto your chest, making you grunt in displeasure.

“C’mon ya silly filly, we cain’t do anything unless ya wake up!”

You look up at the little pony staring down at you from upon your chest, her earlier grin replaced with an expression of annoyance. You sigh once more before attempting to sit up, knowing you aren’t going to be allowed another moment of reprieve until you give in to her demands. Apple Bloom jumps off of your chest, bounces on the rusty bed and heads for the door, giving you a quick look before exiting to make sure you don’t go back to sleep. You rub your eyes and yawn, making your sensitive head hurt. You look over to the alarm clock on your bedside drawer: 8:30am

“…Seriously?” You mutter to yourself. “This is my only Sunday…”

You force yourself out of bed, attempting to make as little noise as possible to avoid aggravating your hangover further. The spare pack of cigarettes on the nightstand has never looked so inviting as you light up your morning vice, hoping the nicotine can clear your hangover enough to at least be somewhat manageable. After getting up, you hobble over the piles of dirty clothing until you reach the wooden doorway to balance yourself, thanking the invisible force above that the living room window faces to the west. Apple Bloom sits on the floor, looking impatient, yet happy to see you out of bed. You scratch your belly and yawn before going to the cupboard to find something for breakfast.

“You want some cereal or something, kiddo?”

“Sure do, whatcha got?” Apple Bloom responds as she walks over to you, hoping to see what’s in the cupboard.

The only thing you can really find that a child might like is a box of organic cereal you bought a couple weeks ago with a picture of a content looking Gorilla. You wonder silently to yourself if the Gorilla has any problems at home to deal with as you dig out a plastic bowl from the second cupboard and the milk carton from the fridge. You prep Apple Bloom’s breakfast, finishing the milk, and take it to the living room to set it on the coffee table. Clearing her blanket and pillow off of the fold-away, you reset the bed into the couch and take a seat, beckoning her to your side. Apple Bloom happily scrambles onto the couch and you place the cold cereal next to her, prompting her to hungrily graze from the bowl.

“I gotta go take a shower now, You like cartoons?” you ask, searching for the remote.

Apple Bloom looks up from her cereal, confused.

“Whut’s a cartoon?”

You turn on the old television and look for something that might keep Apple Bloom entertained while you clean yourself up to meet the day. Soon enough, you find a colorful looking animation that puts your hangover into overdrive:

“Sugar. Spice. And everything nice. These were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect little girls. But Professor Utonium accidentally added an extra ingredient to the concoction... Chemical X!”

Apple Bloom’s eyes go wide with excitement as she is hypnotized by the action onscreen, milk dribbling down her chin and pooling on the couch cushion. You smirk and pat her on the head before getting up to do your own morning routines.

Returning to the kitchen counter, you grab the still-open Scotch bottle from last night and pour a quick shot into your usual dirty tumbler. Popping a tablet from your prescription bottle, you wash down another soul-cleansing cocktail, slamming the glass on the table as you grimace from the alcohol. You take the final drag from your cigarette, looking back to Apple Bloom to find her still entranced by the television. Satisfied, you awkwardly stumble to the bathroom and start the shower, stripping down as the water heats up. The boiling hot water pounds on your head, slowly massaging the hangover away in coalition with the painkillers. While running the cheap 2-in-1 through your hair, you hear the door slowly open, followed by the sound of hooves on laminate.

“Apple Bloom, is that you?”

“Well a’course, silly. Who else could it be?” The young, Ozarkian accent returns with a laugh. “Ah jus’ gotta use the little fillies’ room.”

You remain silent in the shower as you ponder just how a tiny horse is going to use a human sized toilet until you are met by a familiar flush, followed by the hoofsteps heading out the door. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sudden shock of cold water rushing from the showerhead, thoroughly sobering you up from your hangover and releasing a string of profanities from your mouth.

After getting dressed in your hooded pullover and cleanest pair of sweatpants, you return to the living room to find Apple Bloom has resumed sitting on the couch, still watching cartoons.

“Hey Apple Bloom, I gotta do the Sunday laundry. You want to come along?”

The filly remains silent.

“…Apple Bloom?”

She is thoroughly under the televisions spell; her eyes glazed over while the colorful action burns itself into her brain like something out of a sci-fi movie. You shake your head and collect the laundry from your room along with your spare cigarettes before heading for the exit to the hallway.

“I’ll be in the basement if you need me, alright?”

“…Whut? Yeah… okay…” She replies, not taking her eyes off of the screen.

You sigh and exit the Apartment, wondering if showing her the magic of television was such a good idea…

You descend in the hallway elevator for the laundry floor, still feeling good from your breakfast cocktail despite the sobering shock courtesy of Apple Bloom. The laundry room is one of your favorite places in the building with the smell of chlorine and bleach giving you a sense of cleanliness that clears your head and warms the soul. You light a cigarette and let it hang off of your lips, puffing away as you load your clothes into the washing machine, not really bothering to separate the lights and coloreds. You finish and take a seat to enjoy your vice while the old machine rattles away. Suddenly, an older male voice emits from your left.

“Well now, fancy meeting you here.”

You turn to face the voice, surprised you didn’t notice the owner before. An elderly man sits next to you, his clean-shaven face is clearly marked by the ever advancing ravages of time, yet it remains strong and healthy. His dull, brown eyes look both stern yet understanding, hidden behind a pair of silver, half-moon glasses and a clean cut of grey hair sits neatly under his black trilby to complement his grey turtleneck sweater black jacket. Upon his jacket lapel, an intricate pin shaped like a stylized sun made of polished gold and ivory with a brilliant ruby dotting the center catches your eye. While the stranger looks like a nice enough person, you can easily tell he’s not a tenant of Redford Street Arms.

“Not to be rude, but do I know you?” You ask the stranger, taking another drag of your cigarette.

“You don’t remember me?” He returns with a chortle, as if you just told a lighthearted joke. “Allfathers Station, I was sitting beside you yesterday, remember?”

You wrack your still-fuzzy memory of yesterday, the painkiller cocktail not helping in the slightest. Eventually, the image of the Old Man leaving the station comes into view.

“Yeah… I remember you.” You acknowledge, feeling foolish for not recognizing him. “What brings you to Redford?”

“Oh, just visiting a friend.” The Old Man repeats his kindly laugh. “You might know her, a real interesting character…”

The way the stranger trails off his last sentence puts you in a state of unease, it almost feels like he’s trying to get you to confess something.

“Doubt it; I don’t really know anybody here.” You try to sound nonchalant, but a twinge of nervousness escapes with your words.

The Old Man shifts his weight on the bench, letting the light reflect off of his lapel pin.

“Really now?” He replies with skepticism.

“Uh… Yeah, sorry mister…?”

“Marshall, Joseph Marshall” He holds out his hand in a friendly manner to shake yours.

“Todd Smith.” You reply flatly, ignoring his outstretched hand as if it was holding something foul.

Marshall pulls back his hand, trying to remain oblivious to your passive animosity

“You got a family, Mister Smith?”

His question catches you completely off guard

“No, not anymore.” You answer, feeling like this is more of an interrogation than a friendly meeting between strangers “I had a Wife, but she passed away a few years ago.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry to hear that…” He apologizes in a genuine tone. “…Any children?”

“No… We tried, but... she was…”

You think back to the day when the Doctor informed you of her condition; how she would never be able to bear children. You remember how she cried in your arms through the night and how you could barely console her through your own tears. The memory cuts you like a dull blade, making you want to deck the inquisitor in the mouth.

“I understand…” He cuts you off to save you from saying that horrible word.

He gives you a long stare before asking his final question with a wry smile:

“Have you ever… Adopted?”

You don’t know what this man’s deal is, but you know that he’s referring to little Apple Bloom, still watching cartoons in your Apartment and completely unaware of the tension forming below her. You try your hardest to remain calm as you stare him directly into his warm, brown eyes and respond:

“No… I have never parented any children... in any form…”

You simply stare at each other, letting the washing machine be the only noise in the room. Seconds pass like hours until a harsh buzz emits from the machine, interrupting the impromptu staring contest. You are the first to break the silence:

“I should get that…”

You stand up from the bench to take your wet clothes from the machine, putting your back to Joseph.

“I’ll let you get to your laundry then, Mister Smith”

You turn around to face him once more, only to find his place on the bench completely empty, as if he had suddenly vanished into the aether. Not a single trace of him remains, making you nervous as you slowly collect your clothes and place them in the dryer.

You have a very bad feeling that Apple Bloom isn’t safe without you…

4. Convenience Stores & Swing Sets

The hum of the dryer does little to calm your nerves as you think about the mysterious Mister Marshall. Did he really know about Apple Bloom? Maybe it was just an interesting coincidence. While you normally wouldn’t care about the filly’s presence being known, something about the stranger makes you worry for her safety. Deciding to forgo the usual rule of “Never leave your laundry unattended”, you make tracks for the elevator, leaving the contents of the dryer to the mercy of the next ne’er do-well looking to score some work jeans and ripped t-shirts.

You mash the elevator call button repeatedly, as if that will encourage it to move faster in some way. When the doors shudder open, you are met once again with the eastern European trio from the day before, dressed just as loudly if not more so.

“Heeey, it’s pony man, yes?!” The leader of the group loudly asks while his two cohorts talk rapidly between themselves, sounding like a pair of squawking birds in a busy cage.

“Yeah, hey…” You quietly answer without looking at him, not wanting to deal with this right now.

“Where is little pony?”

“Not here, I’m in a hurry”

You force your way into the elevator, driving its previous occupants into the lobby. The scantily clad female gives you a venomous glare as you repeatedly push the ninth floor button, not really caring what people think of you at the moment, you only care if Apple Bloom is okay. You pace nervously like a caged rat inside the elevator, wishing the slow ascension would come to an end. The doors finally shudder open and you start for your door in an awkward half-walk, half-jog. A myriad of dark scenarios play in your head as you get closer and closer to room 921, the thoughts of Joseph Marshall being near the filly making you sick to your stomach. You fumble with your keys to open the door, cursing your anxiety until you finally force your way in, worried about what you will find.

To your surprise and relief, the Apartment remains unchanged and Apple Bloom still sits upon the couch, seeming to have not moved from her trance. You breathe a sigh of relief and lean against the wall, letting the fear-born adrenaline slowly wash away. Apple Bloom barely glances towards you from the television to speak:

“Oh, hey Todd…” She greets you in a less-than-interested manner. “Where’s yer laundry?”

“It’s still drying downstairs.” You respond, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice.

You collect yourself from the wall and head for the kitchen with a desperate need to calm your nerves in the only way you know how. Taking the Scotch bottle and tumbler from the counter, you return to the couch and plant yourself beside Apple Bloom. Still feeling the effects before leaving to do the laundry, you forgo your Vicodin and simply pour yourself a glass of the amber liquid. You relax and sip your drink while you nonchalantly scratch behind Apple Bloom’s ear.

“So what’s this show now?” you ask, unable to really focus on the action onscreen.

“I dunno, somethin’ about a teenaged robo-somethin’.”

You take another sip, not really caring what’s on. Apple Bloom pulls her sight away from the television and eyes your drink.

“So whut’s that yer drinkin’ there anyway?” She asks innocently. “It looks kinda like Apple Juice.”

“It goes down like Juice, that’s for sure.” You jokingly reply, taking another sip.

“Can Ah have some, it looks tasty.”

You choke and splutter on your drink at her request.

“Uh… I don’t think you’ll like this stuff, Apple Bloom.”

“Sure Ah will, Ah love Apple Juice!” She protests in a huff.

“Look kiddo, this stuff ain’t for...uh... fillies, but what do you say we head down to the store and pick up some Apple Juice, just for you.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes light up at the proposal. She hops off of the couch and starts for the door while you finish the Scotch with a final swig, savoring it’s comforting warmth. You crick your neck and rise from the couch to join the excited Apple Bloom in the entrance. You wrap yourself in your thin jacket and knit scarf before opening the door for the little filly. She immediately darts out the door for the elevator, no doubt excited to get out of the stuffy apartment and go on an adventure.

The elevator ride goes as expected with Apple Bloom looking sick from the motion, making you ponder if you should start taking the stairs from now on. Once in the entrance, you make your way outside into the cold, autumn afternoon. The little pony runs circles around you as you walk down the street for the nearby convenience store, too buzzed to drive. The grey overcast creates a serene shadow overhead that adds to the cold ambience of the final days of the season. In the distance, a church bell can be heard ringing, calling its followers to their weekly hour of optimistic peace. A group of teenagers on skateboards pass by, casting you and Apple Bloom a weird look that you ignore, too placid to really care.

After rounding the bend, you figure it’s time to strike up a conversation with the joyous filly, now happily trotting beside you:

“So Apple Bloom, what do you think of your new place?” You ask while lighting yet another cigarette.

“Ah love it!” She replies, turning her attention away from the city bus passing by. “Everything is so… Fancy!”

“Fancy?”

The one verb you wouldn’t expect your apartment to be described as is “Fancy”.

“Yeah, ya’ll got workin’ toilets an’ television an’ Apple Juice fer grown-ups. Ah don’t remember mah last home havin’ any of that stuff… Ah think…”

Your mind goes back to what her previous home might have been, and just who “R” was. Was he someone else who lived in the City? The letter still in your jacket pocket mentioned something about “inevitable discovery”. Was someone after him? Maybe they were after Apple Bloom. You shake your head to remove the vile thought from your mind, wishing you never thought of it in the first place. The sight of the innocent filly trotting beside you puts your heart at ease in tandem with the nicotine in your lungs.

In time, the convenience store comes into view, like a beacon to hide you from the late autumn chill. You toss aside your filter and open the Plexiglas door for Apple Bloom, letting the noticeably chilly pony into the warm haven of preservative- laden snack foods and sensationalist magazines. A sleepy looking teenager in heavy metal t-shirt behind the counter looks up from his comic book at Apple Bloom.

“No dogs allowed…” He recites in a tired voice before going back to his comic.

“Ah’m not a dog, Ah’m a pony!” The filly shoots back, looking noticeably irritated

“Whatever…”

You ignore the obviously uninterested clerk and walk between the shelves, picking up the weekly groceries before heading to the large cooler at the back of the store. You grab an eight-pack of Apple Juice boxes and place it on the floor next to Apple Bloom.

“Here Kiddo, these are for you.”

She awkwardly picks up the package in her mouth with a smile, thanking you through a mouthful of cardboard. You take your goods to the counter and pay for them, finishing with a second pack of cigarettes and the sunday newspaper for later. You hand one of the bags to Apple Bloom for her to carry home and start back for the Plexiglas door, ready to go home.

You step out of the store to be met with a particularly nasty gust of wind that chills Apple Bloom clean through her pale olive hide.

“Gawsh, Ah don’t remember it bein’ this cold.” She states through her chattering teeth.

Thinking fast, you remove your wool knit scarf and wrap it gingerly around her neck, hoping it will give her at least a little bit of warmth. As you stand back to get a look at the newly decked-out filly, you can’t help but smile at how cute she looks in her oversized winter apparel.

“There, that should keep you at least a little warmer until I find you something better”

Apple Bloom thanks you and picks up her grocery bag, ready to go home. As you walk home in plastic forced silence, snowflakes begin to gently fall from the overcast, reminding you that winter is almost here. You take an alternate route home, crossing through an empty field used as a dog park by those more active than you. While you appreciate the irony that Apple Bloom would probably not approve of, she suddenly bolts forward with the groceries still in her mouth. A simple playground can be seen through the ever increasing snowfall, with not much more than a rusty swing set and slide that would probably fall apart if a child were to use it. You begin to remember this place, not having been here for almost six years, since you started dating her, so long ago. You remember how you sat beside your then-girlfriend on the swings and simply talked for hours on end that one autumn afternoon. You remember how you planned to take your imaginary child to this place, to show them where their parents had willed away that one wonderful Sunday.

“Hey Todd, can ya gimmie a push?”

The young, Missourian accent snaps you out of your weak-willed daydream. Apple Bloom stands beside the old swing set with a big grin on her face, the grocery bag lying beside her in the sand. You return her smile and pick her up by the sides to place her on the swing.

“Ready, Kiddo?” You ask before pulling her back.

“Sure am, make it a big one!”

You give the swing a mighty push, sending Apple Bloom into the air with a giggling fit. You can’t help but laugh along with her, feeling at peace with every push. You think back to the memories of the non-existent child you wanted and how you would to do this for them. The sight of little Apple Bloom cheerfully playing on the swing makes you wonder if your beloved wanted this to happen; to see her husband playing father to an equine child found in a subway station. Every one of your doubts, fears and obligations to society seem to blow away in wind and mingle with the ever-thickening snowfall as the minutes carry on.

“Higher Todd, Ah wanna go higher!” The little filly squeals in delight.

With one more massive push, you send Apple Bloom higher than she has ever gone before, making her lose balance on the swing and sending her spiraling through the air. Your heart feels like it’s going to stop at the sight of the flailing Apple Bloom making progress to a very painful landing. Without even thinking, you dash for the airborne pony, hoping to catch her. With a leap that would impress a stuntman, you dive with your arms outstretched to catch the precious package, unable to judge distance with your eyes blurred by the adrenaline. You hit the ground hard, waiting for Apple Bloom to fall into your open arms, yet you feel nothing, only the cold snow graces your palms. The air is ripped from your lungs as the olive missile makes contact with your back like a pile of laughing bricks. You gasp for oxygen when the little filly rolls off of you, still laughing hysterically as if nothing happened.

“That was awesome, let’s do it again!” She looks back at you with a sudden look of worry. “Uh… Y’alright there, Todd?

“Yeah… I’ll be fine…” You choke out between gasps of air, instantly regretting your decision to be a smoker.

Apple Bloom bites down onto your jacket sleeve and pulls with a grunt to encourage you to your feet. You slowly take air into your burning lungs and pound your chest to make sure you can breathe properly before giving the worried pony a scratch behind the ears in thanks.

You look to the horizon, only to be met with a heavy veil of snow, creating the illusion that Apple Bloom is the only other life form that exists in this world alongside you. The filly seems to share the same thoughts as she nuzzles up against your leg, relieved to see you’re alright. Beyond the grey veil, a muted figure stands in the distance. You squint to make out the anomaly, but the heavy snowfall does little to help. While you cannot tell who, or what, the figure might be, it’s motionless presence puts your nerves on edge. Apple Bloom seems to pick up on your worry:

“Whut’s wrong, Todd?” She asks with a hint of fear behind her voice.

The figure slowly begins to fade away in the snow until only you and your charge are left on the rusted playground.

“I think we need to leave…”

You quickly grab the groceries from the cold sand and start for home with Apple Bloom right behind you. The feeling that you’re being watched pervades your mind as you make a hurried trek for the Apartment…

5. Juice Boxes & Ghosts

Your back feels as though it’s on fire, the lapse between doses rearing its ugly head. As you make your hurried trek for the Apartment you try to hold back your usual stream of therapeutic cussing to protect Apple Bloom’s innocent ears. The olive Filly keeps a worried eye on you and speaks through a mouthful of plastic grocery bags.

“Are ya sure yer alright, Todd?” She asks in a skeptical tone. “Where’s yer medication?”

Your back pain is too intense for you respond with more than an exasperated mumble, yet you soldier on through the cold, desperate to get away from the black figure hiding behind the heavy snowfall. You feel like a wounded animal being watched by lone vulture, waiting for you to fall so it can strip the meat from your tired bones. Every step sends a cruel vibration through your spine that multiplies tenfold with exposure to the cold. The sight of Redford Street Arms poking through the fog gives you a second wind of willpower that drives you forward to your treasure of relief with the invisible stalker acting like a spur of fear to the barrel. Apple Bloom sticks close, looking like she’s ready to catch you in case you fall despite your much larger frame.

“C’mon Todd, we’re almost there, jus’ put one hoof in front of th’ other!”

Her encouragement is a small comfort, letting some of the pain free from your back as you hobble closer to the entrance. The heated entrance greets you from behind the locked door in combination with the smell of nicotine, making you wish you could reach your own pack without feeling like you broke your brittle spine. Apple Bloom runs to the elevator and jumps up to slap the call button with her tiny hoof, shuffling in place with the same hurried air you felt this morning. The doors creak open and a man you hoped to never see again emerges from the box like a creeping shadow from a child’s nightmare.

“Why Mister Smith, back so soon?”

Apple Bloom backs away as Joseph exits the elevator, yet gives him a cheery smile, oblivious to your animosity towards him.

“And who is this now?” The sharply dressed gentleman asks while leaning over to scratch her chin. “I wasn’t aware you were in the company of a Pony.”

You find it strange how easily Joseph takes to the alien equine in the lobby. It almost seems as if he’s dealt with creatures like this before, making you even more nervous.

“Ah’m Apple Bloom, are ya one a Todd’s friends?” The Filly asks innocently, clearly enjoying the strange man’s fingers digging into her chin.

“I’m not sure, Apple Bloom,” Joseph replies whilst giving you an almost sinister looking grin. “Are we, Mister Smith?”

You can only grunt in pain, wishing you could run away with Apple Bloom in your arms to escape the enigmatic stalker. His smile fades, when he notices your physical discomfort.

“Ah, you look unwell, Mister Smith”

You cringe as he states the obvious, knowing full well that he’s probably enjoying this.

“Todd needs his medicine cuz’ he got a bad back.” Apple Bloom informs the unwelcome stranger with the worried look returning to her face.

“Oh my… Then why is he carrying all those groceries?” Joseph asks the Filly with a stern look before walking over to you to lighten your load. “You should be more mindful of your Father’s ailments before letting him exert himself.”

The way he says “Father” creates an uncomfortable tightness in your chest, one part of it caused by worry and another part fuelled by anger. He balances one of the grocery bags on Apple Bloom’s back and enters the elevator with your other two in hand, the little Pony following close behind.

“Come Mister Smith, we shouldn’t be standing here chatting while you fall apart on us. What is your floor?”

Before you can grunt out another inaudible response, Apple Bloom perks up with the answer.

“It’s number nine,” She tells him, eager to leave a good impression “Room 921!”

You drive yourself into the elevator as Mister Marshall presses the ninth floor button. When the doors close, you feel as though you are locked in a cage with the stranger acting as a prowling Tiger. The single lamp above reflects off of his intricate solar pin and into your eye, making your discomfort slowly turn to petty hatred. Between the rushes of pain down your spine you reflect on how he referred to you as Apple Bloom’s Father. You consider asking him about it, but right now all you really want is your Vicodin and your dirty tumbler, preferably filled with alcohol.

The elevator comes to halt and the three of you exit with Apple Bloom, once again, looking nauseated. Joseph supports you with an arm over your shoulders, adding chills to the screaming pain that runs down your back. You force your way inside of the apartment and make a beeline to the couch with the best of your crippled ability. The orange pill bottle and the half-full Scotch upon the coffee table are like a beacon of hope in your eyes. Collapsing on the couch and not bothering to count your meds, you take the bottle to your mouth and down as many pills as you can before slugging back several heavy gulps of the amber liquid straight from the source. The pain melts away almost instantaneously along with any other feelings you might have had. All you can experience is a comforting numbness that separates you from the horrors of the real world. Joseph looks absolutely disgusted at the sight of your hedonistic suicide trip while Apple Bloom takes the groceries to the kitchen, completely unaware of the damage you’re doing to yourself. He looks about the Apartment to drink in the squalor before dropping your bags in the entrance and giving the Olive Filly one last, depressed look.

“This isn’t the life we wanted for you, little Apple Bloom…” He whispers before leaving, muttering to himself behind the now-closed door.

As shadows clutch your vision, you can see Apple Bloom walk into view with her new pack of juice boxes, struggling to unwrap it from its plastic prison before turning her attention to you.

“Todd? Ya’ll don’t look so good…”

This is the last thing you hear before fading into your usual Sunday coma.

The room is a sterile white, lit by nothing but a single, wide window that clearly presents the rows of apple trees that line the hill running over the horizon. The late afternoon sun beams through the window and directly into your eyes, making you squint away to the only furniture that accentuates the center of the void-like chamber. Two simple wooden chairs, sturdy as they are humble, face each other from a few feet; one of them is already occupied.

A painfully slender woman, dressed in a basic sundress looks upon you with a smile upon her faded lips. Her pale skin is contrasted by her medium-length, dark brown hair with soft blue eyes shining from underneath a row of bangs. She motions to the empty chair in front of her in a silent request for your company. You comply without hesitation, as if this is something completely normal you have done every day of your life. The chair creaks under your body weight, yet remains strong, letting you stare into the ghostly woman’s eyes.

“Is this what you wanted?” She asks with a whispered rasp behind her calming, motherly voice.

“I don’t know, maybe…” You reply, not quite sure what she means by ‘what you wanted’.

You glance out the wide window, ignoring the painful sun in your eyes and scan the rows of apple trees, each one heavily laden with the ripened fruit. A trio of figures can now be seen on the crest of the hill, their features eclipsed by the heavy sunset behind them. You’re not quite sure, but they almost look like strange caricatures of Horses.

“She has a family waiting for her, you know,” The spirit states with sadness in her voice, looking out the window along with you to the figures on the hill. “A family that doesn’t even know she’s gone.”

“I know…”

You do not understand what you are saying; everything feels like it is being forced out of your mouth regardless of what you really think. You both look towards each other, locking eyes once again in blissful silence. You want to rise from your chair and hold the wisp in your arms, to feel the fabric of her simple sundress in your hands and her dark hair against your face. You want to comfort this woman as much as you want her to comfort you, yet you remain seated, a pressure on your chest keeping you locked in place.

“I only hope that your Daughter will be worth the pain.”

The Woman’s words confuse you and create a whirling void of questions, each one with a confusion-faded answer that just barely escapes you.

What does she mean by Daughter?

What does she mean by pain?

Why does this woman seem so familiar, yet so foreign?

You feel as though your skull is going to split and release your liquefied brain on the floor like a fallen egg. The sunset behind the window grows brighter and brighter, rapidly expanding towards your position. The hanging apples begin to turn from a rosy red to a sinister black, burnt by the wretched yet painless heat. The leaves follow suit, bursting into flames and alighting the orchard in a cruel blaze. The Horses fade away in the purging fire, barely moving as they waste away to cinders. The sight horrifies you, making you wish you could turn away, but the pressure on your chest keeps you locked in place, forcing you to watch the horrifying scene. Soon, the expanding sun is all you can see, bathing the room in a rippling white fog, hiding the ghost from view. You scream for her to return, wanting to take her away from this yet you remain sitting calmly, as if you were sitting on a park bench, waiting for a train. A horrible, metallic screeching noise is the last thing to pervade your ears before everything cuts to black.

Harsh, angry black…

An electronic ringing awakens you from your strange dream to a cacophony of gunfire, explosions and screams emitting from the television set. The lucid haze in your head keeps you from really getting a feel for your surroundings, only allowing you to lie on the couch in a state of half-death. The electronic ring buzzes in your ears again, amplifying your monstrous headache. You open one eye to find Apple Bloom sitting on your chest with a juice box held in her forelegs, casually slurping away while an old hard-boiled action cop film loudly resounds from the television. The ring assaults your ears once more before the answering machine kicks in with your own recorded response to the mystery caller:

“Hi, you’ve reached Todd Smith. I can’t get to the phone right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

The machine beeps once again and a comfortably familiar voice comes through the tinny speaker:

“Hey Todd, it’s Bram. Look, I know it’s Sunday evening and you’re probably plastered to hell, but Booker can’t make it to the lanes tonight cuz’ he’s still out of town. Gimmie a call back when you get this, bro. *click*”

The message is more or less a white noise mingling with the violence from the television. Apple Bloom gives you a plain look from her perch before turning her attention to the bag of chips beside her.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead.” The Filly greets you between crunches of her salty snack. “Ah figured Ah’d help mahself to th’ food, seein’ as how you was sleepin’ an’ all.”

You glance at the almost empty Scotch bottle that sits beside the couch alongside your overturned pills before returning to Apple Bloom once more.

“Well… good to see you can help yourself then…” you groan whilst trying to rise, forcing the little pony off of your chest and to the floor. She looks up at you with hope in her large, gamboge eyes as you slowly climb to your feet.

“So since yer awake, can we finally do somethin’ again?”

You stretch and look out the window to find that night has fallen upon the city, the lightly falling snow reflecting off of the distant skyscraper lights like fragile gold. You stumble to the answering machine with a tired gait and give a listen to Bram’s message. While it repeats itself, you look to the kitchen to find the grocery bags have been piled on the floor and rummaged through, scattering various plastic wrappers and discarded packaging. Apple Bloom walks up beside you and gives you a crumb-laden grin, hopeful for your approval of her sub-par storage methods. As the message finishes playing you smile back at the innocent Filly.

“So Apple Bloom, what do you know about bowling?”

6. Bowling Balls & Visitors

“So let me get this straight, you find some weird, talking Dog-…“

“Pony”

“Whatever, you find some tiny, talking Horse at the station, and instead of calling animal services or a friggin’ shrink, you decide to take it home and play house?”

You nonchalantly sip your cheap beer from your red solo cup while patiently waiting for Bram to calm down. Apple Bloom sits beside you, equally content with her bottle of cola and clearly amused by the tall, slender exasperated man pacing back and forth.

“Yeah, that’s about it.” You reply, trying to stifle a laugh.

Bram runs his hand through his messy, brown hair and exhales, unsure of how to get a grasp of the situation. Even through his perpetually tired eyes you can see his mind is moving a mile a minute in comprehensive confusion. The larger man currently standing on point at your bowling lane seems amused even moreso at Bram’s confusion whilst lining up his shot.

“Just calm down, dude,” He casually states alongside his aimed pitch. “Just go with it, she’s actually kind of cute when you look at her.”

Apple Bloom beams at the man as the ball makes contact with the pins, scattering them about with a hollow crash. He gives a celebratory fist pump and turns to Apple Bloom, inadvertently scattering ashes from the well-used cigarette hanging off of his lip. He gives her a pat on her large, crimson bow and smiles.

“I mean, c’mon, how can you resist those big ol’ eyes?” He jokingly asks in a nicotine ravaged rasp.

“Whatever Cody, just let me know before you start going fruity on us.” Bram pshaws back, taking his place in front of the foul line. “Maybe you n’ Todd can get together after this and brush each other’s hair or something.”

Cody coughs out a laugh and eases his well-built frame onto the hard, plastic seat beside you, scratching behind Apple Bloom’s ears to make her sigh with bliss.

“So anyways, you’re saying there’s some old guy following you around?” He asks, shaking his greyish brown bangs out of the way to see you clearly.

“Yeah, there’s this guy, Joe Marshall; I swear to God, this guy is stalking me. He keeps talking like he’s trying to get me to confess to something.” You pause to take another sip from your solo cup, grimacing at the watered-down taste of the cheap, bowling alley beer before continuing. “Coulda’ sworn I saw him at the park as well when I was heading back from shopping with Apple Bloom.”

Amongst the clatter of displaced pins, you can hear Bram guffaw at her admittedly girly name. He shakes his head in disbelief and returns to his seat, giving you a mocking yet disconcerted smirk. You give Apple Bloom a pat on the barrel and make your way for the foul line with her close behind, ready to impress you with her unknown skill.

“Seriously Dude, you’re letting the horsey play?” The skinnier man asks, clearly bemused by the notion of the Olive Filly attempting to bowl. “Man, why the hell didn’t we just call Tony? He sucks, but at least he doesn’t bring his freakin’ pet to the lanes.”

Cody shoots Bram a dirty look, unimpressed with his disposition.

“Because Tony thinks he’s got better things to do than hanging with a bunch of reprobates like us.” He returns with the annoyance in his voice very much apparent. “Just shut up and let Apple Bloom bowl, maybe she can actually get more than 7-10’s and give us an excuse to replace you.”

Bram shrugs his thin shoulders and goes over the scorecard in defeat, quietly muttering comebacks to use as ammunition against Cody.

“Alright Kiddo, you ready to show me what you can do?” You ask the filly excitedly to get her psyched up.

In the car, Apple Bloom mentioned having tried bowling before, yet did not remember when or where, or even if she was good or not. A serious look crosses Apple Bloom’s face as she hunkers down to stretch herself out. You can hear Cody splutter a laugh at her warm-ups, hoping not to throw her off balance. Keeping her game face on, the little Filly rears up and awkwardly takes one of the bowling balls off of the delivery line with her mouth, no small feat considering the heavy sphere is almost the size of her head. Her knees begin to buckle under the weight yet she holds on, stumbling away from the foul line in a wobbly fashion. Apple Bloom stares down the lane for a second, or at least attempts to from behind the heavy orb, before starting a charge for the line. Twisting her head to the left mid-sprint, she winds up for her throw. With an impressive swing, the ball is flung through the air, hanging for just a second before making heavy contact with the lane. Upon impact, the ball begins its slow roll towards the pins, most of its earlier momentum displaced by the meteoric landing. Apple Bloom stares daggers at the sluggish ball, almost as if she’s trying to will it away from it’s inevitable meeting with the gutter. Sure enough, the bowling ball nests itself in the all-to-familiar slot you’ve know a little too well, both on the lanes and off.

“Well, Dog-Dangit!” The Olive Filly cusses, swinging her foreleg in annoyance.

“It’s alright, Kiddo, you still got two more throws.” You remind her, hoping to keep her spirits up. “Just gotta stick with it!”

Apple Bloom’s adorably serious game face returns as she takes another one of the polished spheres from the rack, backing up further this time for more momentum. Twisting her head downwards and to the side this time, she casts the ball higher and further than before, easily clearing the divider of your lane and into the other. The ball collides into the neighboring toss that was thrown in time with hers, sending both balls hastily into the gutter with a chorus of loud cursing.

“Hey watch it, jackass!” An understandably upset man in a pastel blue polo yells at you, his similarly dressed teammates equally angry with Apple Bloom’s impromptu interruption.

“Sorry Aaron, we just got a newcomer here!” Cody yells back to the fellow league player in a hollow apology, obviously getting enjoyment out of the Equine’s interruption. Bram simply laughs hysterically, not caring what the other team thinks of him.

“Ugh, just keep track of your… Dog, or whatever that is.”

“Ah’m not a Dog, Ah’m a Pony!”

“Whatever, just keep it off our lane, the Mod Squad is trying to practise here!” The team leader finishes while motioning to his male and female compatriots, both looking at you as if you just committed an unforgivable sin.

Apple Bloom blushes with embarrassment making her crimson hair bow seem to droop with her emotion. You smile and give her amaranth mane a quick pat in hopes to quell her discomfiture.

“That’s okay, it happens to the best of us sometimes,” you tell her as you grab the final bowling ball for her. “Asides, the Mod Squad could stand to be taken down a peg.”

Apple Bloom giggles, letting the hope return to her eyes. Taking her place as far away as possible from the foul line, she prepares to unleash the best throw of her life, just for you. The electricity in the air is almost unbearable, prompting you to polish off your beer with a large gulp. The Filly stares at the cluster of pins as if they were ten desperadoes in a Wild West standoff, waiting for the clock to strike high-noon. An aura of silence seems to block out the noise of the bowling lanes, leaving only you, Bram and Cody to watch the events unfold. Apple Bloom charges for the foul line like a War Horse, her tiny hooves thundering across the polished wood panel. Rather than twisting her head as she did before, the little Filly, leaps into the air, easily carrying the heavy load like a demon possessed. The ball is flung hard, flying across the lane in what feels almost like slow-motion. Apple Bloom hits the floor with a rough tumble, leaving you to stare in disbelief at the spherical missile. The determined Filly stumbles to her feet just in time to see the meteor make contact with the pins, smashing the entire cluster with a loud rattle.

For a second, the four of you stare at the now empty lane, not sure what to make of what just happened before Cody leaps to his feet, scattering ashes with a cheer.

“Holy crap, that was AWESOME!” The larger man celebrates whilst sweeping Apple Bloom off of the slippery surface.

The little Filly laughs triumphantly as she is placed on Cody’s shoulder and paraded about the Bowling Alley like a Hero. You can’t help but laugh alongside her, glad to see her enjoying herself while you’re still sober. The thoughts of being clear headed immediately prompt you to ascertain another beer before Apple Bloom returns from her victory parade. The watered-down taste is slightly more bearable this time around as the limited alcohol attained from your eighth cup finally starts to take hold. Cody returns with your Equine charge and walks up to Bram with a cocky air.

“What do you say to that, Mr. 7-10?” He taunts as the tired-eyed man goes over the scorecard.

“She stepped over the line.” Bram responds with a wry smile before getting smacked upside the head by a distraught Cody.

Time passes and the frames go on, letting you socialize to the best of your drunken ability with your two best friends and Apple Bloom, well into the wee hours of the morning.

“Alright guys, it’s been fun, but we all got work tomorrow, remember?” Bram reminds you whilst stretching to remove the kinks in his joints. “And I think Todd needs to get home as well…”

You can barely understand him, your hearing and vision fading out as a result of your drunken exhaustion. You try to stand; only to stumble forwards into Cody’s waiting arms.

“Alright man, you’re way too plastered to be driving home now” The large man remarks as he places your arm around his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow Bram. I gotta take Sleepin’ Beauty here home before he pukes again.”You turn his words over in your head to the best of your ability, wondering what he meant by “again”.

Cody walks your drunken form out of the Bowling Alley into the snowy night and towards his car with the tired looking Apple Bloom close behind, looking very much satisfied with her evening at the lanes. He gently helps you in to the back seat of his Jeep, letting you lie down to rest your weary stomach. After lifting Apple Bloom into the passenger side, you both head for Redford Street Arms, the trip fading away into a blur as Cody regales the olive Filly with stories of your more entertaining escapades.

“-So then he said ‘Shut up, William’ and everybody started laughing, right?”

“Ahahaha! So then whut did Cameron say?”

“Well, first he was like ‘uh, if she offered’ before he-… Oh hey, looks like Sleepin’ Beauty is awake.“

Your eyes slowly open to the sound of your best friend and your equine charge laughing at each other’s stories, drowning out the loud, heavy metal music emanating from the speakers. You yawn and rub your eyes as you awkwardly sit up, still very much wasted.

“Ugh… W-where are we?” You ask whilst looking out to the city lights rushing past in the darkness.

“Almost got you home, buddy.” Cody responds in a warm tone as he pulls to the side of the road. “Alright Apple Bloom, help me move your Dad inside.”

Your mind clears up a little at the mention of that word:

“Dad”

Cody was the second person to think the little Filly in your care was your Daughter today. As the word flows through your mind like the song lyric that never leaves your head, you begin to wonder if maybe Apple Bloom really is your own flesh and blood. The backdoor opens and you can feel Cody’s large hand on your shoulder, coaxing you out of his vehicle.

“C’mon buddy, you’ll sleep better in your own bed.” He reminds you in a gentle tone, masked by his nicotine rasp. “Ugh, how many times have I dragged your sorry ass out of my car again?”

You grunt out some unintelligible answer, not even sure what you replied with as Cody helps you to the Apartment door. Apple Bloom pushes the door open to help the two of you in, only to be met once again with the European trio loitering in the lobby. The leader with his perpetual eyewear notices you first with a loud greeting.

“Well look who is back, it is man with little pony!” he practically shouts, giving you a headache. “You just missed out on your other friend!”

“Uhh, friend?” Cody responds whilst giving you a worried look. “Bram was here?”

“Uhh, the old man with the nice pin, his name is Bram, yes? He ask for you.” The leader scratches his head to wrack his memory. “He had other men with him, all with nice pin! You part of secret club or something, Pony man?”

The mention of the pin snaps you slightly from your haze just enough to put you in a panic. You stumble away from Cody to reach the elevator door, leaning up against wall to support yourself as you press the call button. Cody and Apple Bloom approach you, both wearing the same worried expressions.

“Dude, are you alright, what’s going on?”

You turn to face your friend, still leaning against the wall and attempt to formulate words.

“H-he wash *urp* here, dat guy dat keepsh followin’ me!” you drunkenly slur to Cody in what you hope sounds like an urgent tone. “I think hesh in my *bleh* p-partment right now!”

The elevator doors open and you stagger inside, followed by a worried Cody and an oblivious Apple Bloom. As the elevator rises, she looks at you with worry behind her gamboge eyes.

“T-Todd, whut’s wrong? Ah’ve never seen you this worried?”

You can barely hear her question as the elevator rises, your hazy mind awash in scenarios for what is to come next. The leader mentioned several other men; could there be a group of thugs waiting for you and Apple Bloom in your own Apartment?

“Todd, yer scarin’ me, whut’s going on?!”

“Shhh, it’s okay Bloom, just stay close to me, okay?” Cody reassures the worried filly before looking to you. “Dude, let me go ahead, you’re way too drunk to be dealing with this by yourself.”

The doors open and Cody leads you out, helping you every step of the way. You soldier on ahead, remembering what Apple Bloom said this morning:

“Jus’ put one hoof in front of th’ other!”

The door comes into view, light pouring into the hall from within. As you get closer you realize that the door has been forcefully opened, it’s splintered remains hanging off of a single hinge. Cody pushes you up against the wall and motions for you to be quite, the terrified Apple Bloom huddling behind your leg. The larger man eases the door open in a defensive position, not sure what he’ll find. You can see his eyes go wide and his guard drop after staring into the room for a few seconds.

“Dude, You’re gonna wanna see this…” He can barely whisper as you hobble to the doorway.

You look inside and gasp, the alcohol in your body seeming to instantly dissipate to bring your full attention to the horror that waits for you inside…