You Are All I Need
The path was dull, covered with tiny stones, pebbles, and dust. It led to a tiny stone cabin which, from afar, looked gloomy, as if it was frowning on anyone who set foot near the structure. At the same time the cabin also seemed lifeless. The stone walls were a dull faded gray. The roof was poorly built out of rusty galvanize sheets. It was not a pleasant sight. I walked on the pebbled path as slowly as I cared, my eyes were pointed downwards, not looking at the cold house, but the many gray pebbles that lay scattered on the trail. It was an irregular pattern that were trampled upon by the different hooves that used the trail. But I continued to canter. I carried a red plaid cloth bag with my teeth but the weight of it made it all the more difficult, yet the pulling weight did not stop me from reaching the coarse wooden door at the house. I pulled out a key, unlocked the door and walked inside. I never paid much attention to items as small as a key. A key is usually taken for granted most of the time but causes woeful terror when misplaced. I could not help but notice its worn rusted appearance. It was an aged pretzel patterned skeleton key, covered in small corroded flakes and bits of dry dirt.
I entered the house and dropped the bag on the cracked wooden floor next to the doorway. The addition of different colors from the bag made it look out of place surrounded by a dead atmosphere of the unpainted inside walls, worn out walls, and faded furniture. I pushed the bag towards a wooden armchair with my right hoof, then sprawled myself on the chair. Reaching to the floor from the chair I opened the bag and removed every item and laid it on the floor in front of me; four gray notebooks, a case of pencils, and a used obsidian colored cotton jacket that scattered grains of dust upon impact to the floor. I then leaned back and closed my eyes, listening to the sounds; the sounds of silence. There were no birds chirping, there were no whistling and rustling from the grass that grew outside the farm’s boundaries. Only the absence of sound itself.
I opened my eyes. I blinked twice for my eyes to adjust as they were blurred, but they eventually focused. My eyes darted around the surroundings while my mind tried to pinpoint where I was. I was sitting in an empty hall; the direct center width of the structure. The hall was light brown with mud brown highlights along the sides and angles of the seemly concrete walls. There were wooden varnished doors along the walls, each with rusty doorknobs. The floor was tiled with white. But the white color was faded and scratched here and there. On the wall on my left were the words ‘Middle School’ painted in black. There were no words before ’Middle School’ that identified the school itself. It, and the dying colors, made my surroundings seem forbidden or dreary. I immediately felt out of place, since I interrupted the dreary setting with my bright pink fur and mane. But my mane was straight and loose, which was seen by many ponies as ‘lifeless’ by the way it hung from my scalp and almost covered part of my right eye. I did not like it here so I began to walk. I did not know where I was walking to, but I kept walking. It felt as if I was being controlled to walk. Yet I was able to look around and observe my surroundings freely. I passed the doors in the hall while sneaking a peak through the tiny clear window. The other side of the door had the similar appearance as the hall except for rows and columns of tables and chairs. The room was deserted and there was very little light. The other rooms were no different from each other. I gulped and shivered, yet not able to stop my pink hooves from trotting. It was unthinkable yet obvious that I was not in control of my steps. After failed resistance, I let my hooves take me to where they wanted to go. My heart throbbed quickly and I could feel it thump on my chest, like a small continuous tap. The halls may have been empty but I had no idea what was around the corner. Turning a corner was a skip of the beat every time. Climbing the stairs was terrifying; who knew what was waiting for me on the next floor. I wanted to turn around and gallop away but my hooves would not let me. If anything, they cantered slower. I did not like the speed reduction, it made me feel vulnerable and defenseless.
I lost count of how many halls I walked through, how many corners I passed with shut eyes, how many stairs I ascended and descended with trembling hooves, or why I loped through a huge yard to another building. The yard was by far the scariest. There were hoofball frames on either side of the yard. But the distance between them was five times further away than an average pitch. There was a swing set on the corner of the yard. Next to it was a small slide, a teeter-totter, and a merry-go-round. But something was not right about the yard. It was completely deserted. The yard looked like a mini desert. The hoofball frames were rusty and missing nets. Only a deflated ball lay next to the side. The swing set was missing a swing. The teeter-totter was falling apart bit by bit. The merry-go-round was rotting. In fact everything was rotting. It was difficult to even notice the sand pit because it matched the yard’s condition. I tilted my head up and I saw a sheet of dark clouds forming low overhead. But I saw no pegasi in the sky. Even the sky looked deserted of life. I continued to walk towards the doorway of the opposite building just as the patters of rain the size of large pebbles began to fall.
In truth, although the empty yard still gave me the shivers, the second building was enough to lower anypony’s mood and to attend only in an air of silence. This building was noticeably darker than the first, as there were not much windows to let light in, and the windows that were there did not shine much light because of the storm. I looked through the window as I walked past it. The clouds covered the sun. The rain made outside muddy. I turned my head around and looked at the yard through the doorway. It was in the process of being covered in a sheet of shallow rainwater. I walked through the current building, noticing the different sounds my hooves made on the floor. In the other building my hooves made a clicking and clacking noise on the tiles, but now they made a thumping and creaking sound on the wood.
The layout of the building had a strange design. The entrance was on the ground floor but the building was separated into two by a wall. So, getting to the other side was not as simple as taking a corridor across the building, I was taken to the stairs to the top floor, then self-ushered through a lengthy corridor, and then descended down another staircase. This staircase led to the other half of the building, which was at the very back of the campus itself. The steep descending staircase looked old and worn, the wooden steps had cracks and missing chips, some minor, some huge. The floor was partially damp and soaked with water. There were no rails to hold on to, only a wall on both sides. Thankfully, my hooves took caution when defending this steep path of steps. At the bottom was another corridor but the corridor was the darkest of all. There was very little light. There were no windows, the only light came from the glass on the five doors on both sides. Behind the first door were seats and tables played into the familiar rows and columns, but the room was starving from light. My hooves slowly took me to a door at the very end of the corridor and stopped. The glass on that door was almost opaque. The door hinges made a deafening screech when my hooves pushed it forward and stepped inside. The room smelled musty and stale, as if it had been abandoned for years. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the little light in the room. Once they adjusted I saw most of everything. I saw the floating dust in the room, I saw the old furniture, and I saw a trail hoof prints formed in the dust on the floor. They looked fresh as if somepony had been here, and there were no prints leading out. I shook under my skin, and my heart thumped rapidly. I did not want to meet whoever was here.
“Pfft.”
My ears pricked. My ticker skipped a beat. What was that? Was that someone sniffing? Was there someone here? I heard no other sound besides my hooves that resumed to walk again.
The layout of the room was also peculiar. Unlike a normal room, it was split in half by a wall that began from the back and ran three fourths of the room. I was almost at the front of the wall when I heard another sound. It sounded like a thud. It was unmistakably a thud. I wanted to run away and not look back, but my legs had other ideas. I shut my eyes as it took me to the front of the wall and into the other side of the room. Then they stopped. They never moved again. I slowly opened my eyes.
What my eyes laid sight of was terrifying. I saw… myself. It was an earth pony mare with pink fur and a straight pink mane. Me. But how? She did not notice my presence at all. The mare was seated quietly behind a rusty wooden desk. Atop the desk was a green cupcake with a sky blue lighted candle. Next to the cake was a creature that was unmistakably very familiar.
Gummy? I thought.
The creature was tiny and scaled. Its mouth was wide open and I was able to see its missing teeth and imprints of where the teeth may have been. I was also able to see it stick a forked tongue and lick the mare’s muzzle. Tears were leaking out of her eyes as she took a deep breath and exhaled, slowly blowing out the single candle. Then the light was gone and replaced by a cold pulling darkness.
My eyes flew open and I bolted upwards. I was no longer in the room, the mare was not there. I was at the rock farmhouse, sitting on the chair.
Seeing memories that I was seemingly not a part of were not unnatural to me. Occasionally I would remember flashbacks, such as the dark room, when I was alone. I remembered that day clearly. That day was a Friday, a show-and-tell day at the middle school. I took Gummy, my alligator to present him to the class since it was his birthday. I expected the class to fawn over him, to give him a stroke on his back, or wish him a happy birthday with smiles on their faces and adorations in their eyes. But when I presented him the room was filled with deafening bone-chilling screams. They panicked when they saw an alligator on the desk. They called me a psychopath for having a pet alligator. Even the unicorn teacher was startled, as his red horn was charging up a spell. But before he could cast whatever spell it was, I grabbed Gummy and shoved him in my saddlebag and then ran out. I heard the commanding voice of the teacher calling after me but I did not look back. I ran, galloped, towards the back of the campus where it was abandoned. I knew that no pony would look for me there. I went to the half of the room and dropped down in a corner. I do not know how long I stayed at that corner but I know that I did not leave until the next day. I took Gummy out of the bag and placed him on the desk. I pulled put a cupcake, lighted a candle, and wished Gummy a happy birthday. He then licked me on the muzzle. I loved it when he licked me on the muzzle. When I was known as Pinkamena Diane Pie who owns an alligator and was taunted every day, a lick on the muzzle would always lift my mood. Then I would always wonder how my life would have been if Gummy was not in my life.
Snapping out from the earlier memory I felt the familiar soft damp tap on my muzzle. Sure enough, Gummy was nearby, his eyes were staring at mine, his body was motionless yet he maintained his balance on my shoulder. I picked him up from my shoulder and pressed him against my chest, not neglecting to stroke his back. He closed his eyes and opened his jaw slightly. It was cute, to say the least. Seeing him like that made me imagine what I would have been without him. Then my mind absentmindedly thought back to the day when I found Gummy and took him in.
I found Gummy at the fields outside of the Equestrian Badlands. I was just a young filly in search for an adventure outside of the rock farm when I visited the fields for the first time. My parents and my sisters were also with me. We had a picnic in the fields. There was nothing like a homemade rose and corn soup in a slightly chilly afternoon. But after my share of the meal I wanted to explore even more, so when my parents and sisters were not looking, I quietly strayed away from the group and plowed through the yellow wheat fields on my own. A moment later, dark clouds formed ahead which mad me turn around to return to the others. But I did not know which way I came from. Everywhere looked the same. So I chose the opposite direction that I was walking. But the rain began to pour which made me hurry. I did not make it to the group right away but I came across a path of water. It was a river that flowed through the vast fields. It also looked like the same river that flowed through the farm, which it was. It was fast moving, a bit rough, and I could hear the water with the many raindrops rushing and plopping in a rhythm. It was soothing.
I followed the river in hopes of making it home before dark fell but further up the riverbank I saw something move. At first I thought it was a leaf or a plant being disturbed by the pouring rain. But then I saw it stick a pink tongue out. Plants do not have tongues, do they? Naturally my curiosity got the better of me and I hurried to the plant with the tongue. But it was not a plant with a tongue, it was a tiny scaled creature. It’s eyes were tightly shut and it was trying to shield itself from the rain. I thought it looked afraid. I gently picked the soft creature and nestled it close. It opened it’s eyes and looked up towards my face.
“Don’t worry,” I softly whispered, my hoof stroked it’s head while the other held it tight, “I won’t hurt you. I’m a friend.”
The creature opened it’s jaw and made a gurgle with it’s throat. As a lightning bolt struck I got a clear view of its teeth. There were many. But they were minute; smaller than a pebble.
“Would you like to come home with me?” I asked it in a soft whisper while I looked at it’s large eyes. It stuck out it’s tongue and tapped me lightly on my muzzle. “I’ll take that as a yes. Do you have a name?” It did not respond or make any movement. “No? Well, I’ll name you Gummy, I think it sounds like a cute name for you. Would you like that?” I received another tap on my muzzle. “Great. Let’s go home.” I continued home, Using one of my hooves to hold and shelter Gummy from the rain as best as I could.
After hours, I did make it home by following the river. My mother, who was waiting at the front door, ran up to me and hugged me as tight as she could, tears were shed from her eyes. She was worried when I disappeared and my father was still at the fields searching for me. She was proud at my decision to follow the river, but she was still cross at me for leaving. But her mood changed when I showed her Gummy. Immediately her heart melted when she laid eyes on him. My father showed up later and saw him, he could not help but form a tiny smile on his muzzle.
Since then, Gummy and I were a pair that could not be broken. I would always feed him, give him massages, and sleep with him next to me. I did not want anyone to hurt him or take him away from me. With that emotion, imagine how I felt a few years later when my father took Gummy to a vet to extract his teeth. I tried my best to take him away to hide him, I really did, but he found him. I tried to fight back, I bit him and kicked hem with my hind legs. But he overpowered me. He locked me in my room and went on his way. I tried to break the door, but the door was made of wood so thick that a pony my size had no chance in forming even a small crack. I eventually broke down and sobbed. The thought of someone hurting Gummy and I was not able to do anything to help was too much to bear. That night my father unlocked the door and almost tripped over my body. My face was tear stained and my mane was tangled and deformed. He then pushed himself into the room and laid Gummy on my bed and left without a word. I quickly rushed over to Gummy and held him closely. He then opened his mouth. Tears welled up in my eyes when I saw the absence of teeth that was once his. His gums were slowly bleeding and the blood was slowly dripping on the cloth he was wrapped in. He mad a soulful groan. Just the aching sound made my heart break. I sobbed till I fell asleep, with Gummy held tight against me.
After that day the rest of my family avoided me. It was clear that they now disapproved of my pet alligator. But I took no notice. I still took care of him the same way I did, if not more so. What Gummy and I would do was sneak outside and sit at a distance behind the house and look at the twinkling stars. Then I would stare at his eyes and gape in awe at the reflection of the stars. It made his eyes hold more depth than it really did. It was enchanting. Then I would give him a kiss on his snout.
“You’re all I need,” I would whisper in his ear. He would then tap my muzzle with his forked tongue.
And even at the present time, when I returned home after gathering materials for high school and after the memory of my loneliness at the middle school, he was there for me, just a tap on my muzzle was all I needed. I clutched the alligator tighter against me as I continued to sit on the chair, and I kissed him on his snout with tears dripping on his scaly skin.
“You’re all I need, I don’t want anypony else. I don’t need anypony else.” I whispered between sniffs.
