Raining Repetition
A quiet evening provided the young Chirpy Hooves with nothing she could ever want.
The truth was, ponies may have dismissed her as a wild and rambunctious filly who couldn't possibly keep her hooves on the ground for a full minute. She was always running from one place to another and was always just so hard to keep track of. There was no doubt she inherited her endless energy from her mother, but sometimes after a long day all she needed to do was curl up on the couch reading some latest edition of a fashion magazine she bought from the convenience store.
A familiar chime rang throughout the house, making her glance up from the article she was deeply immersed in. Through the foggy glass window outside she could barely make out the shadowy shape of a pony, about the size of a full grown mare.
Humming to herself, she decided that she wouldn't be lazy enough as she usually was to walk across the room to at least see who was at the door, and so the child groaned before dragging herself off the comfortable cushion she was loafing around on.
The pegasus peered through the peep hole momentarily to catch a glimpse of who was standing on her front door - and was startled beyond recognition to realize that there was not one, but two full grown mares with beaming smiles - one of which looked a little too much disturbingly like herself.
She creaked the door open slowly, each second dramatically and hesitantly revealing another inch of the ponies before her. They both had the same light pinkish coats, one of which was more of a pale lavender shade, and she noticed at once that they were both unicorns. The taller one had brilliant violet eyes that mirrored her own and long hair that almost matched her irises. She had a streak of lighter purple running through her scruffy mane style, distinctly reminding Chirpy of something she couldn't place at the moment. The other unicorn, a skinnier, lither shape, had bright golden eyes to reflect on her beautiful blonde hair - it really was beginning to come to her attention that they looked a little too much alike.
"Hello."
"Hey! You must be Chirpy Hooves!"
Before she had time to wonder how the heck that pony knew her name, she felt a pair of surprisingly strong arms curl around her shoulders and she gasped at the sudden contact.
Who are they?
"What," she breathed as she felt as if she were being strangled, "Who are you?"
As if on cue, the older unicorn released her and she fell flat on her back on the bare wood floors, icy to the touch.
"What's going on?" she hissed under her breath as the excitable pair of unicorns crowded over her.
"We've heard so much about you," the purple-maned one of the duo practically squealed with delight, "but we never thought you'd be this cute."
"Who the hell are you people?!" Chirpy whined, backing away slowly, only to stumble over some random object strewn about on the floor.
Who are they?
"Oh, sorry," the younger of the two giggled, happy expression never wavering in the slightest. "I'm Dinky Doo, and this is Amethyst Star. Is your mother home?"
"Yeah...." Chirpy said slowly, eyeing them with more than a little suspicion creeping into her soul. She threw her neck back and hollered for her mother.
Who are they?
Soon enough, a clumsy, small and thin pegasus stumbled into the eyes of the two ponies at the door. As soon as she saw them, her mother's golden eyes lit up with joy, and her arms immediately were flung around the two of them as she chuckled happily.
"Hey!" she muttered, squeezing both of the ponies as if they were long-lost friends. Chirpy had a bad feeling in her gut as she realized they might very well be.
The young pegasus stood watching them in the doorway as Amethyst Star wiped a tear staining her eye in deep suspicion.
"Mom?"
"Yeah?" her mother said obliviously, not even taking her crooked eyes off the two older mares.
"Not to be rude, but... who are they?" Chirpy whispered, sweat beginning to form beneath the thin layer of blonde hair she sported.
"I'm Dinky, and--" Dinky tried to repeat, smile never faltering.
"I know your names. I mean, what are you two doing here?"
Her mother stampeded over to throw her hooves over Chirpy's neck. "Chirpy, these are your two half-sisters!"
Who are they?
Chirpy's heart skipped a beat or four. "Excuse me?"
The older mare pulled back to stare blankly with one eye locked in Chirpy's confused gaze. "I never told you?"
The foal's teeth gritted with furiousness. "No. No, you didn't."
Her mother shrugged with a guilty look plastered on her face. "Oh... oops."
Dinky and Amethyst galloped over in an instant to tackle the poor overwhelmed foal and squeal with joy.
"We're so so glad to finally meet you!" Dinky sang, and Chirpy squirmed her way out of the cuddly, fluffy pony pile somehow.
Her face read utter shock and bewilderment. "NO! No, no no! What the hell?! I don't even know you ponies!"
Amethyst rested a hoof on her shoulder and giggled. "I know it's a lot to take in. That's why I hope you'll warm up to us and we'll be great friends!"
Chirpy let out an ear-piercing shriek, and the other ponies were forced to cover their sensitive ears as the child dashed upstairs, leaving them in a huff and taking her terrified squealing with her. The door to her bedroom slammed as soon as her eyes had been set on it.
Who are they?
She should have gone and apologized like she normally would have. She should have tried to accept Dinky and Amethyst like a mature pony. But Chirpy knew herself, and she didn't feel like being mature at the moment, or anytime soon for that matter.
The stubborn equine growled to herself as she watched the hours tick by on her clock.
Three, then four, then five.
She hissed on the inside as she heard the sound of their high-pitched, laughing voices coiling through the long and empty halls, empty no more at the least. Every once in a while, she heard the haunting sound of her brother wailing in the other room, and somepony - probably her mother - would briefly trot downstairs to check on him.
She began to wish she had spent more time with her father before he left them.
But the sounds growing downstairs began to irritate her, and she could hear each one of their voices chiming in.
Three, then four, then five.
Chirpy strained her ears to hear what they were saying by the fourth minute, and she could just barely make out small tidbits of their conversations.
"It's been very hard on you."
"Thank you, no - she'll be fine."
"...and Dad would have said..."
"...all the way from Manehattan."
"I promise."
Three, then four, then five.
Chirpy growled lowly to herself at the thought of her mother being with anyone but Chirpy's father.
Her ear grew cold pressed against the door, and she withdrew it as her knees were beginning to feel weak and wobbly. She could feel the joints and pains spreading through her body.
Three, then four, then five.
Her heart pulsed violently at the thought of her family growing. Growing, up like the saplings in her mother's garden. Up, like the Wonderbolts at an air show her father had taken her to. Her family. Growing.
Three, then four, then five.
It wasn't long before she was called down for dinner. She had snatched her baby brother from his cradle and situated him in his high chair at the table while the smell of something slightly singed soared through her senses.
They all sat down, and Chirpy said nothing. She just sat there, feeling the slow awkwardness floating over their heads. Her brother banged on the table and hissed all over his food.
She asked to be excused, and her permission was not granted, so she sulked quietly in her seat.
Listening to normal family conversations.
Dinky spoke, her raspy voice capturing the ears of her family members. She went on and on about something exciting, but Chirpy never listened until Dinky was mid-story.
"...And my high school boyfriend, Pipsqueak. Turns out he has a family now. Funny, his kids are just as stuck-up as him." Chirpy caught a bit of pain in her voice.
That was the one time Chirpy spoke.
"Family can be surprising at times. Very spontaneous."
A long, dreadful, awkward silence loomed over the table, and only the occasional clinking of silverware on plates could be heard.
Then they talked some more, and Chirpy started to think about her life.
Listening to normal family conversations.
Then she swallowed, and the harsh creak of her chair staining the wood panels on the floor sounded throughout the room as everyone went quiet.
She had excused herself.
"Chirpy Hooves, come back here and sit down again," her mother scolded, shame somewhat resounding in her voice, "It's rude to excuse yourself with company over, and not say anything."
"I'm going to the bathroom," Chirpy snapped loudly, bitterness resting in her. Her mother said nothing as she slowly walked down the hall. Even with her back turned, she could feel their burning, judging eyes set in her heart.
She stayed in the bathroom for about five minutes, whispering to herself in the mirror that everything was going to be okay, and that her family was normal.
Only it wasn't.
When she came back, her food was cold. She just sat there.
Listening to normal family conversations.
She stood over the silk curtains in her brother's nursery, watching the night flood over his cloudy blue eyes as the unicorn foal drifted off into dreamland. The door was shut, the lights were turned off, but the window was open, and the cool night breeze lifted her eyes as she caught a scent of soft smoke. She laughed maliciously and cried at the same time, all in her head. Because it wasn't funny.
Moons ago, her father would sit in the rocking chair that was no longer in the corner, teetering over the edge precariously like it always was. He would sit there and smoke his cigar, reading the newspaper.
I'm awake. Are you?
Chirpy shook her head as her violet gaze treaded over the features of her brother. She liked to watch him sleep. He was a very quiet sleeper.
Her eyes traced the curve of his lips as he took steady breaths, chest rising and falling as his face contracted and he gruffly turned over in his sleep.
She watched as the unicorn foal's blanket slipped from his reach, and soon he lay there, shivering in the cold night.
I'm awake. Are you?
And she quietly draped the blanket back over him before he could wake up, and his face shifted as if he were gracious or he had noticed it in his sleep somehow.
Chirpy began to wonder why they were here. But mainly, why she was standing above his crib in the nursery and gently watching over him like a guardian angel and her client.
She was his big sister, and her own face curved slightly upwards in a short smile. One that didn't last.
Chirpy leaned over to him and whispered quietly, so quietly that she couldn't even barely hear herself:
"I'm awake. Are you?"
When she was given no response, she wrote a silent message to him in her mind:
"I know there have been a lot of changes in the house recently, but you're probably too young to realize it yet. I have, and I'm here to tell you that I'm right there next to you."
She then got up, closed the window, and left.
He shifted over, not paying attention in the slightest due to his unconscious state of mind.
I'm awake. Are you?
By the third week, Chirpy had gotten used to her half-sisters. Her mother sat her down and had explained everything.
"Before your father and I married, I had fallen in love with another stallion... By the time you were born, they were already grown up... They visited you when you were a baby, but you wouldn't have been able to remember..."
She felt like she had heard that speech before, though she hadn't.
Dinky and Amethyst had tried to be nice to her.
By one o'clock, Dinky had knocked on her door, combed her mane, told her how lovely she was, and left.
By three o'clock, Amethyst had tried to tell her the hilarious story about how she used to have a crush on Dinky's foal sitter's boyfriend. The dopey pegasus who lived down the street, whose little brother Dinky was dating at the moment.
She felt like she had heard that speech before, though she hadn't.
By five o'clock, her mother had baked a batch of spiced cinnamon muffins for the girls to share. Dinky had taken one from the kitchen, thanked her mother, and left without another word.
Back in her room, she couldn't help but notice the slightly burnt muffin's appeal. The crisp scent of the pastry made her mind wander off to several different strange memories as she slowly began to eat the muffin.
The time her mother had started a fire and her father yelled at her, so Chirpy comforted her.
The time her father took her trick-or-treating and she had gotten the awful taste of spicy cinnamon candy stuck lingering in her mouth.
The many times her father came in from the outside, had just finished smoking, tried to say hello to her. She couldn't stand the scent of his smoky, fire-reminding breath.
She felt like she had heard that speech before, though she hadn't.
It was a pattern, her life. Just one more painful family memory after the other. Here she was making more memories that she would regret. If she smelled the smell of smoke one more time, she swore...
It didn't matter. She wiped away her tears and growled through her problems with deep anger like she always did. Chirpy felt her feet rise off the ground without her remembering to do so, and before she knew it, half the things in her room were packed away in a tiny bag.
She raised the bag to her face and inhaled, taking in its familiar scent.
Fury rose to her head, and in a moment of pure foolishness, the tear-driven pony had stormed out the open window with her father's old book bag.
She felt like she had done something like this before, but she hadn't.
It was only three hours later, but it felt like an eternity. Chirpy had come to realize what her life was - it was just the same thing over and over again. Pointless repetition. She laughed cruelly at the thought of her mother opening her door, only to find her room empty.
She laughed because it scared her.
It was too late to turn back.
The pony had no money, no food, and there she was, sitting drenched under a maple tree by the edge of the park on the sidewalk, waiting relentlessly for a bus to stop by her and sweep her from the rainy streets. The filly's feathers shivered, prickling up as the cold drops of rain stung her face like nettles.
She thought about what she had done.
Nopony stopped to ask if she was okay, or why she was sitting drenched under a maple tree by the edge of the park on the sidewalk by herself. She didn't even know the answer to that question.
Chirpy hadn't even thought long and hard about running away like she used to. She always planned to grab food and water, yet here she was, stranded with no useful resources. It was in the heat of the moment that she had stumbled out of her own loving household.
It was too late to turn back.
Chirpy kicked a pebble and watched it skip over puddles in the storming rain. She began to drift down memory lane again, thinking of vivid-but-vague-at-the-same-time thoughts involving her childhood.
The time she asked her father why it rained, and he responded with, "To try and put out the endless fire that burns in Equestria."
The time her father had hollered at her to come inside from the storm, because Celestia forbid, he didn't want to have to take care of her when she caught a cold.
The time her father left.
It was too late to turn back.
It wasn't the first time she couldn't tell if tears or raindrops were streaking down her face. The cold ice drops assaulted her feathers and fur, striking her fiercely as she was almost reduced to a puddle herself - a puddle of tears? She didn't know.
She felt like she had done something like this before, but she hadn't.
The whisper of the cold air struck her heart, and there she collapsed, on the sidewalk, a poor pony being attacked by nature itself as rain continued to run down her slick shoulders and her damp mane. She could almost hear the sound of her father's deep, soothing voice in her ear:
"I'm awake. Are you?"
She was mistaken, however. She could only hear the rainy response of wind and cold leaves rustling in the distance as her tears were washed down, down into the sewer pipes where she would never see them again. She almost wished she were back at home, living her old life, sitting at the table.
Listening to normal family conversations.
It didn't matter anymore. She had given up everything, and she was going to learn to like it that way. Maybe she would just forget about her life. She'd sit by the rushing rapids of rain and tears and watch her old memories tick by.
Three, then four, then five.
Chirpy growled to herself as she wept under the branches of the maple tree, sitting alone, just like she wished she would be. She would try to erase everything from her mind. Her mother. Who was she? Her father. Who was he? Her sibling and half-siblings.
Who were they?
It was too late to turn back.
And then the sound of a car rumbling down the street perked her ears up. She slowly lifted her head to see a rusty red car pull over very cautiously at the edge of the street.
It took a minute for the doors to open, but she stood there, watching the vehicle very feebly, as if the world and all time had stopped suddenly.
But then three ponies burst out in the pouring rain to run to her, tears flowing down the sides of their faces - she could tell it wasn't rain - and they rushed towards the child, clearly distraught and overjoyed to find her at the same time.
She clearly recognized the faint faces of her mother, Dinky, and Amethyst.
They scooped her up like a toddler, cradling her and kissing her bruised face all over, her mother screaming furiously to her while tears drove down the sides of her face, why on earth had she ran away, and how worried she'd been!
Chirpy didn't respond with words, but instead made a low sound in the back of her throat as she wailed loudly into the clutches of her mother and her two sisters. Sisters that cared for her and would do anything for her.
It wasn't too late to turn back.
Chirpy stood by the living room's fireplace, the scent of firewood and smoke meaning so much, but so little to her.
She nonchalantly climbed on the couch next to Amethyst and Dinky (who she had affectionately nicknamed "Amy" and "Dinks" respectively, by this time), cradling her baby brother in her arms. A warm smile lit up her face as his big blue eyes flickered open to greet her in a million bright ways.
She wasn't sure why she had left.
Chirpy only laughed slightly when her mother came in from the kitchen with her famous pumpkin spiced muffins for them all to share. She was wearing an apron with kittens on it and a giant white chef's hat, and she just looked so ridiculous that Chirpy couldn't help but shake her head and laugh to herself as her mom passed around the warm, yummy-smelling muffins.
She wasn't sure why she had left.
They were family. Her family.
She wasn't sure why she had left in the first place.
