Hold
By Chaotic Dreams
Dear Applejack,
We at the Appleoosan Cider Company usually make it a policy not to interfere with the inner workings of our business partners, particularly farms as lucrative and upstanding as your own. However, we felt the need to address a worrisome rumor in the very unlikely event that it proved to hold even the slightest shred of truth.
Sweet Apple Acres has been a valued business partner for years, and we would even go so far as to openly consider you and your family to be friends. Your apples have never been anything less than the highest quality, and we at the Appleoosan Cider Company would settle for nothing less. Furthermore, your shipments are always on schedule, you’ve kept up with our growing supply needs without any complications, and you and your family have been very pleasant to work with on all occasions.
We mention these good standings purely because we want to assure you that we do not put any stock in rumors and that you, your family, and your farm have nothing but the utmost respect, admiration, and thanks from us. However, if there is even the slightest possibility this rumor is true, we felt we could not afford to ignore its unfortunate implications.
Perhaps started by a rival cider company eager to swoop you up as their latest star partner, or perhaps started by nopony at all, we have caught wind of the distressing notion that you may be planning to leave Sweet Apple Acres altogether. We were just as shocked as we believe you must be upon reading this outrageous thought, given your well-known core values of family and dedication to the proud tradition of your farm’s history.
If this is in any way true, however, we strongly urge you to reconsider. Please, not only for your partnership with the Appleoosan Cider Company, but for your family as well. Doubtless your family would be crushed to see you leave, regardless of the reason, just as we would.
In conclusion, thank for your business, and please, please remain at Sweet Apple Acres.
Your gracious business partners,
Sweet, Sharp, & Sour Cider
The Appleoosan Cider Company
“What in tarnation?” Applejack chuckled as she finished reading the letter, crumpled it up into a ball, and tossed it into the waste basket. “Where in world would they get a silly idea like that? Next time we send a shipment, I’ll have to send ‘em a note sayin’ I put down roots here the day I was born.”
“What’s that, sugar cube?” a sweet voice called from the kitchen, accompanied by the savory smells of a freshly-baked apple pie. Carrying said still-hot pie with the aid of a muzzle oven mitt, a middle-aged mare trotted into the dining room and set the pie on the open windowsill. She bore a coat just a few shades darker than Applejack’s own, presenting a sort of ambery hue, though her eyes were just as emerald green. “Somethin’ come in the mail?”
“Just some needless worryin’ from the cider company,” Applejack responded, taking in a deep and welcome whiff of the fresh pie. “Somehow they got the notion that I’d be leavin’ Sweet Apple Acres.”
The mare laughed at that, turning down Applejack’s hat over her eyes as she passed on her way to the front hall.
“Tartarus got a better chance of freezin’ over than you leavin’ Sweet Apple Acres,” she chuckled. “Don’t get any ideas about that pie, now. It’s for after dinner tonight, and not before. Don’t let your father near it, neither; that stallion’ll think up any fool excuse to get a bite before dessert.”
“Don’t you worry, Mama,” Applejack said, giving the pie one last longing look as she grabbed her saddlebags and followed her mother outside. “If he eats the whole thing himself, he’ll have more than just you to worry about.”
Applejack’s mother gave her a wink before trotting off into the West Orchard, Applejack heading to the North. She could hear the sounds of metal striking metal in the barn—that would be Big Macintosh working on a new set of horseshoes for them all—and the sound of trees shuddering from the East Orchard. Doubtless that would be her father, trying his best not to uproot the trees as he harvested this year’s most successful yield yet.
Applebloom would probably be in her clubhouse, tinkering with who-knew-what, but even though she wasn’t directly helping the farm, Applejack couldn’t bring herself to put an end to her little sister’s fun. A filly deserved a chance to be a filly, and besides, Applebloom had quite a gift when it came to tinkering with things. Who knew? Perhaps one day she could be the farm’s resident handymare.
“Any more turn up?” Applejack asked as she made it to the edge of the North Orchard, where Granny Smith had currently set up watch. Armed with only a slingshot yet determined to prove she was still useful, despite having served her time and then some on the farm, Applejack’s grandmother scanned the treeline with dogged persistence.
As if on cue, a vampire fruit bat ascended from one of the trees only to be struck with Granny Smith’s well-aimed acorn. The creature screeched and zoomed off, hopefully not to return.
“There’s more of those durn things every day, I tell you!” Granny Smith murmured, her eyes still scanning for more targets. “I’m beginnin’ to wonder if they’ve got more than one colony in there. You got the noise makers all ready?”
Applejack nodded, patting her saddlebags, which made a faint jangling sound. Tipping her hat, she set off into the North Orchard.
She could hear a few of the vampire fruit bats chittering or rustling in some of the trees, some even taking wing as she walked by their roosts, but there were only a few this close to the edge of the orchard. Applejack had to admit that it was nevertheless an eerie experience, being watched by unseen eyes in a place she had always considered her own. The vampire fruit bats may have been harmless to ponies, and only mildly annoying to the crop as long as they were driven out early enough, but their presence still pervaded the air with an unnerving aura.
The chittering eventually grew to shrill shrieking as Applejack closed in on the colony, where dozens upon dozens of the creatures were hanging or flitting about from tree to tree, and one tree in particular. Withered, drained apples littered the ground, and the trees of this particular cluster looked almost bare of fruit.
“Alright ya’ little trouble makers,” Applejack murmured to herself, reaching a hoof into her saddlebags and withdrawing a hoof-ring covered in bells. “Time to find your own land.”
Securing the bangle of bells to her foreleg and adding a few more to her other legs, Applejack galloped towards the tree. The bells set off a cacophonous racket, causing most of the bats to let out alarmed cries and take flight, darting off over the treetops. Some of the hardier bats continued to cling to the tree, right until Applejack about-faced as she neared its trunk and gave it a mighty buck.
The tree’s shuddering shook free the last of the squatters, a few so startled they dropped a bit before managing to unfurl their wings and head back up into the sky.
“And stay out!” Applejack called after them, smirking. She knew it would take a few more times of running them off before they finally got the message that this would never be as comfortable a feeding ground as they’d hoped. They’d probably nest in a few other areas before all was said in done, but eventually they’d head off. This was far from the first year Sweet Apple Acres had experience an infestation of the critters, and Applejack highly doubted it would be the last. For now, though, her job was done.
Applejack took off her noisemakers and stuffed them back into her saddlebags, only to gasp as something small, furry, and leathery fell onto her face. It smelled strongly of rotten apples and shrieked horribly, flapping its wings and clawing at her.
“Get off me!” Applejack snarled, swiping the fallen bat away. It thunked against the side of the tree. The creature made a last shriek and a wet crunching sound before sliding to the ground.
Applejack wiped her face with her foreleg, thankful she didn’t see any blood, but winced as she saw the bat lying broken on the ground. She hadn’t meant to actually hurt it, just knock it away.
Careful in case it still had some fight left in it, Applejack leaned down to inspect the critter. It was still breathing, though in slow, laborious breaths.
“Sorry lil’ fella,” Applejack said. “I didn’t mean no harm...”
They may have been pests, but there was a reason other than costs that the Apple family had never hired exterminators when they could just scare the critters off themselves.
Applejack wasn’t sure whether to leave the creature be or put it out of its apparent misery. However, upon closer inspection, something seemed... Odd about the bat. Most bore rather dark and muted coats, scraggly fur, and were mostly all teeth, claws, and leathery wings. This one, however, had a somewhat bright violet coat with streaks of darker violet and even pink. There was an odd starburst pattern on its chest, and its eyes... They held more than just the instinct of a frightened animal.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one quite like you,” Applejack muttered.
“Applejack!” the bat cried suddenly, causing Applejack to quickly back up, her eyes wide. “Please, we need you! Fight it! Come back to us!”
The pleas quickly devolved back into unintelligible shrieks that fell to quiet rasps, and after a few moments of utter silence, the bat closed its eyes and its chest was still.
Applejack let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, though it came it out rather harried. She looked all around her, as if at any moment another talking bat might show itself. The orchard was nearly silent once more. All she could hear was the gentle breeze and her own rapid heartbeat.
AJ set off at a canter back towards Sweet Apple Acres, only to break into a gallop. She skidded to a halt beside Granny Smith’s makeshift watchpost, her breathing heavier than the run would have caused.
“Those varmints lit up the sky like a flea-bitten rainbow!” Granny Smith cackled before catching sight of her eldest granddaughter. “You alright, child? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Applejack looked at Granny Smith, finally having slowed her breathing.
“What the hay happened out there?” Granny Smith gasped. “You look like you were grazed by a pitchfork! I’ll get the salves. You go and fetch your Mama—she can use ‘em better than my shaky old hooves.”
AJ nodded wordlessly and set off at a shaky trot towards the West Orchard.
“Mama!” She called out, her voice surprisingly hoarse. Why was she so terrified? Bats hardly spoke, much less called out ponies by name, but something told her there was more to it than that, something deeper. A talking pest was one thing, but... Whatever that thing had been, AJ had a sneaking suspicion that it had not been a bat. “Mama, I need yer help!”
Here out in the heart of the West Orchard, things seemed just as eerily quiet and calm as they had been after what had happened in the North; perhaps even moreso. The wind hardly blew at all, and the air felt hot and heavy. Even the sounds of insects buzzing were dying down. The leaves of the apple trees shuffled a bit and then fell utterly silent. Bright beams of sunshine shone through in occasional rays of golden-green. All Applejack could hear were her own hoofsteps.
“Mama!” she called out again. A growing feeling of dread was creeping up inside her. “Mama, where are you? You’re here, ain’t you?!”
But her mother’s voice remained absent. AJ felt as if she hadn’t heard it in years rather than since this morning.
There was a rustle in the leaves, and AJ turned to see a single apple drop from a tree. It was quickly followed by another, and another, until the entire tree’s worth came raining down.
Applejack took a few steps backwards, and the apples rolled slightly after her, rearranging themselves, forming some sort of pattern.
“No!” She cried, galloping away. “Leave me alone!”
AJ ran until the rustling of rolling apples faded. She leaned against a tree, her mind feeling as hazy as the warm, shimmering air.
“Mama...” she whispered. “Why can’t I remember your face?”
“Applejack?”
AJ looked up to see her mother heading towards her, a look of deep concern on her face. Her simple, slightly weathered features filled Applejack with a level of relief she’d never experienced.
“What’s wrong, sugar cube?” her mother asked, tilting her daughter’s head up with a gentle hoof. “Your face is scratched... Did one of them bats get you?”
Applejack didn’t know why, but she hugged her mother close. After a brief moment of surprise, her mother hugged back.
“That bat must have spooked you somethin’ fierce,” her mother said soothingly. “Or is somethin’ else goin’ on? It ain’t like my brave lil’ mare to scare so easily.”
“I... Don’t know what’s goin’ on,” Applejack admitted, looking up into her mother’s eyes. For the tiniest of instants, the faint reflection she saw there was not her own, but that of an azure pegasus with a mane full of colors, tears in her eyes. She was mouthing something. AJ blinked, and the pegasus was gone. “Somethin’ weird happened in the North Orchard... Somethin’ I can’t explain...”
“Let’s patch you up a bit and you can tell me all about it,” her mother promised. She set off at a trot and Applejack followed, just a few steps behind, as if not wanting to let her mother out of her sight.
The two trotted in silence for a few moments. The breeze had picked back up, and the air wasn’t quite as stifling or hazy as it had been just a short while earlier.
Applejack was beginning to feel a little better now, her breathing almost returned to normal. She still hadn’t the slightest idea what was really going on, or if anything was going on at all, but it was hopefully fading away like a bad dream upon waking.
“I don’t remember buckin’ this tree,” AJ’s mother said, calling Applejack’s attention to a bare expanse of leaves. “And who went through all the trouble of spellin’ this malarky out?”
Her heartbeat quickening, her breathing becoming tighter once more, as if something had hold of her throat, AJ looked down to see the tree’s former occupants arranged in the form of words.
Come back to us Applejack, it read.
The air was calm, hot, and windless all over again. Applejack felt like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything but a growing, blind, unexplainable panic. Someone had to be playing some sort of cruel, sick joke on her, but who, and how, and why? And if it was all some sort of ruse, why was it affecting her so?
“Mama, we need to get out of here,” AJ insisted, edging her way around the apples before breaking into as swift a canter as she could manage with such shortness of breath. “Mama?”
Her mother was nowhere to be seen.
“No...” Applejack whispered. “No!”
She raced as fast as she could back to the farmhouse. The sun looked larger overhead, felt hotter, and was a strange creamy yellow with dashes of pink in its rays.
We need you to come home... whispered the wind.
“I am home!” Applejack shouted as best she could, forcing the words out of her strained lungs. Each breath felt shallower than the last.
After what felt like ages, she exited the West Orchard, tears of relief welling in her eyes at the sight of the farmhouse. She wiped them as she made her way up the hill, calling out for her family. Whatever was going on, whatever was wrong, they could work it out together. Her mother would know what to do; she always did. Her father would face down any threat. Together, they would get through this, just like they got through everything.
No voices returned her call.
As Applejack crested the hill, she slowed to a stop, shaking and feeling as if her breakfast was about to come up.
The Apple family farmhouse was a ruin. Aged, worn, and somewhat rotted wooden walls were all that was left to greet her. The porch had partially collapsed, and portions of the roof were missing swathes of shingles. Other sections had fallen away completely. The place looked like it had been abandoned for years, if not decades.
“No...” Applejack repeated, her voice little more than a wet rasp.
With what little strength she had left, she entered the house. Everything of value, either sentimental or otherwise, was long gone. Empty rooms with bare floors were all that was left. Even the stove and cupboards from the kitchen looked like they had been wrenched out years ago and hauled away. The rickety stairs didn’t look safe enough to climb.
It’ll all be over soon, darling... whispered the wind. Rest now, and we’ll figure out something soon enough...
Something came shuffling down the stairs. Exhausted and drained, Applejack barely had the strength to lift her head and attempt to scream as what looked like a writhing mass of white and deep purple slithered down the stairs and rose up to envelop her, drowning out everything.
. . .
“Do you think she’s waking up?”
“She’s too strong to just give up on us.”
“She’ll pull through. This is nothing to somepony as tough as she is!”
“What...?” Applejack murmured, slowly opening her eyes. Colors and shapes swam and solidified through her bleary gaze, finally taking on recognizable forms. “...Where am I?”
She was wrapped in a warm, soft blanket, lying down on her bed. Her hat was hung on the bedpost, and five ponies gazed at her with relief.
“You plum scared us half to death!” Granny Smith said, smiling a toothless grin. “But we knew you was too tough to let a little bug get you!”
“Bug?” Applejack echoed. “What do you mean, Granny?”
She turned to the others. Applebloom looked like she’d been crying, but was smiling brightly now. Big Macintosh breathed a sigh of relief and nodded at her. Her mother and father were leaning against one another, holding hooves and giving her half-smiles.
“What’s goin’ on?” she asked again.
“That scratch you received from that bat must have infected you with something,” said her father. Despite being bigger than even Big Macintosh, his gaze was gentler than anyone else’s in the room. “Thankfully your mother whipped up something to cure it. We don’t exactly know what it was, as she tried every cure she could think of, but it looks like one, or maybe all of them, did the trick.”
Applejack took a long, slow, deep breath and let it out even more slowly, relishing the feeling of the air filling up her lungs without restriction.
“Am I glad to hear that,” she said. “I’ve been havin’ the most horrible nightmare. I thought somethin’ terrible had happened to y’all.”
“We know,” her mother said. “You’ve been talkin’ in your sleep.”
“Are we sure I’m cured?” Applejack asked nervously.
“You should be,” her father said. “Your fever is gone, and your breathing has returned to normal. However, we still think you should get some more rest. We’ll come back to check on you soon, but for now, try to go back to sleep.”
“You got it, Papa,” Applejack said, giving a small smile.
“That’s my sugar cube,” her mother said, kissing her forehead before exiting with the others. “You holler if you need anythin’.”
The blinds were drawn, and with the light from the hallway gone, the room descended into a pleasant, calm dark. Applejack made herself comfortable once more, and closed her eyes.
However, try as she might, she couldn’t quite seem to make herself comfortable. Whichever way she tossed or turned, her blanket was never in quite the right configuration. Grumbling, she reached out a hoof and turned on the lamp on her nightstand.
Unfurling the blanket and preparing to lay it out flat atop her, she felt a chill running through her as she saw that the blanket was a plain white with a deep purple trim. She stared at it unwaveringly for a few moments, but it remained as inert and ordinary as it should have been.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she sat up slightly in bed. Even if the blanket had worked its way into her fever dream, it was nothing to worry about now, even if it had startled her.
Making herself as comfortable as she could, AJ reached out to turn off the lamp, only to stop when she saw an old book sitting on the nightstand.
“Maybe just a bit of light readin’ to calm my nerves,” she thought aloud, picking up the book and opening it. The first few pages were completely blank. Was this an unused journal of some sort? Come to think of it, what was this book doing in her room at all? It wasn’t one of hers, and she didn’t recognize it from anywhere else either.
As she flipped through the pages, she saw smudges of pink ink begin to appear, faintest on the outer pages but getting bolder and more defined towards the center of the book. Was this some sort of stain?
A few of the smudges even began to resemble letters.
Appl...
She almost threw the book across the room, but something stopped her. This couldn’t possibly be real, but she was through running. Whatever this was, she was facing it head on.
“Whatever you are, I’m done playin’ your game,” she said.
No voice responded, but the words in the book did become clearer, eventually spelling out a message.
...ejack, we can’t do much from this side, she read. You have to break free yourself. I know it must hurt, but you have to believe us. You have to convince yourself that nothing you’re seeing is real.
Applejack felt her bed shudder subtly, and looking up, the room had faded into worn wood coated in dust. A surreal twilight shone through holes in the roof.
“But this is real,” she insisted, feeling a desperate bravery welling up inside her. “Y’all is what ain’t real!”
No, Applejack, you have to remember! she read. We’re your friends! Twilight, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie! We miss you! We need you to come home to your family!
“But I’m home already,”she asserted. “Here with my family.”
Your real family needs you. Your friends, your family on the farm, all of Ponyville.
Who’s in there with you?
“I am on the farm,” she said. “Big Macintosh is here, and so is Applebloom, Granny Smith, and my Mama and Papa.”
...Your parents are there...?
“Of course,” she said proudly, thinking she’d acquired an edge, somehow, in whatever twisted game this turned out to be. “Where else would they be?”
...Your parents are dead, Applejack.
“...What?” she said. “No they ain’t!”
She shut the book.
“Mama!” Applejack called out.
Hurried hoofsteps approached, and her mother entered her room.
“Everythin’ alright, sugar cube?” her mother asked.
“Yes, I just... Had a question,” Applejack replied uncertainly, thinking hard, back to her earliest memories. “Could you show me somethin’ from your jewelry box? The one you keep under lock and key?”
“Why would you want to see that now?” her mother asked, looking puzzled.
“Could you please?” Applejack pressed.
“Why don’t you rest up, and I’ll show you when you’re ready?”
AJ’s mother kissed her on the forehead again and made to leave the room.
“...You don’t have a jewelry box, do you?” Applejack asked.
Her mother paused for a moment, but didn’t look back at her.
“You always told me all about it when I was just a filly,”AJ continued. “You promised you’d show it to me when I was old enough, when you thought I’d have an appreciation for it.”
“Of course, sugar cube,” her mother said. She was little more than a silhouette in the doorframe now. “I just don’t think now is—”
“And you were gonna show it to me...” Applejack said, struggling to get out the words. It felt like somepony was constricting her windpipe all over again. “...Right after...”
“Don’t think about it,” her mother asked, though it sounded a bit like a plea. “I’ll show you when you’re rested.”
“But you never came home,” AJ went on. “Because you, and Papa... Died.”
“Now you listen here, Applejack—”
“You can’t show me what’s in that jewelry box because you’re not my real Mama,”Applejack finished. “You’re all the best things I remember about her... But nothin’ I don’t remember. And I never knew what was in that box, so neither do you.”
The light from the hallway was growing brighter, and the shadow of her mother was diminishing in it. Even that was blurred by the tears in AJ’s eyes.
“Sugar cube, please, I can explain everythin’,” her mother said. “Some of the cures, they might make you see things, think things that ain’t true...”
“You’re not real,” Applejack whispered.
. . .
Waking up the second time hurt a lot more than the first. Her throat, and especially her chest, burned and ached. Stings of pain shot through her when she tried to move, and even breathing was laborious, but at least nothing was constricting her now.
Blearily, she opened her eyes.
“Applejack!” called a familiar voice. “AJ, can you hear me?”
“Is she okay?”
“Did she wake up?”
“What...?” AJ tried to say, but her throat felt raw and burned.
“Don’t try to speak just yet,” said the voice. As shapes swam into focus, Applejack recognized the violet unicorn... What was her name... Twilight! Of course... How in the world could she have forgotten?
AJ tried to sit up, only to wince and fall back down on her bed, but her one glance around the room had been enough. Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy were all there as well. Applebloom, Big Macintosh, and Granny Smith were squeezed in alongside them.
“It might take a bit to remember everything,” Twilight said. “But don’t worry, you’re safe now. We’ll explain everything once you’ve healed enough. That plant gave you some nasty scratches.”
“Plant...?” AJ rasped, trying to sit up again, to similar results. “What’s.... Happening...”
“Don’t speak,” Twilight reaffirmed. “Just rest now—”
“No,” Applejack whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Tell me now. I need... To know...”
Twilight sighed, but relented. Her horn glowed, and she levitated something off the ground and into AJ’s line of sight. It didn’t really look like much, just a crumpled mass of dark leaves, thorny vines, and a withered rose.
“We were out foraging in the Everfree Forest a few days ago, looking for some herbs for Zecora,” Twilight explained. “You ran into one of these things, and it attached itself to you.”
Applejack frowned.
“Don’t worry if you don’t recognize it,” Twilight said. “I didn’t either, but Zecora did when we rushed you back home and sent for her. It’s something called a ‘Forget-Me-Knot.’ The ‘knot’ part is because it ties itself around you, and if you aren’t lucky, it never lets go.”
Those thorns would certainly explain her aching chest and neck, but what did that have to do with where she’d been, on that false Sweet Apple Acres?
“I did a bit of research,” Twilight went on, noting AJ’s wordless look of confusion. “It’s some sort of magical parasite plant. It feeds off of its host until it drains them dry, but it keeps them complacent by using their memories against them. It usually traps ponies in some version of their favorite memories.”
Applejack closed her eyes. That would explain a lot.
“We couldn’t remove it without it killing you,” Twilight finished. “The only way to kill it is for the host to reject the fake memories. Once it can’t keep its host subdued, it can’t feed off of them, and it shrivels up and dies.”
“We’re ever so sorry for what you’ve been through,” Rarity said. “Twilight said you could hear some of what we said, but she didn’t know if it would really get through to you. Thank Celestia it did!”
“Yeah...” Rainbow Dash agreed uncertainly. “And we’re also sorry about... What it made you think about...”
“You talked in your sleep,” Fluttershy added. “Your parents sounded like they were great ponies. You must have loved them so much.”
“And they totally loved you super-lots too!” Pinkie Pie said.
Applejack kept her eyes closed, but silently nodded.
“Once we told Zecora what happened, she went out to look for some salves for your scratches,” Twilight said. “She should be here any moment, and she’ll help patch you up. We know you may need some time to deal with all of this, but if you need us, we’re going to be right here, always.”
Applejack nodded again, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Eventually, Applejack fell back asleep. There, in dreams of her own making, she wanted to spend just a bit longer with two ponies who had also promised to always be there for her. In one way or another, even if it wasn’t the way she would have wanted, they did just that.
Author's Note
Although the process of writing this story was a bit shakier than my last, I'm still glad to say I've completed another short work. Once again, however, I had no one to preread, edit, or critique this story but myself, so I apologize for any typos or errors that I missed.
If you enjoyed this story and are possibly interested in some of my original fiction, please check me out on Patreon. My fiction there is free, and you do not have to become a patron to view it, though if you would like to become so I would be incredibly grateful and honored.
