Apple Boomby BlazzingInfernoChaptersBloomDoomGloomBoomFumeBloom Saturday, 7 AM - (29 Hours Before) - The cellar’s door creaked open and morning sunlight pierced through the musty air within. Apple Bloom stifled a sneeze as Applejack waved some dust away. “Sure smells down there.” Applejack walked past her and descended the cellar steps. “It ain’t so bad, Apple Bloom. Now if we left it shut up all season with pony-knows-what-inside, then it’d be mighty ripe.” Leaving the cellar alone for all eternity sounded just fine to Apple Bloom. Her forelegs still ached from the freshly-concluded Zap apple season. The prestige of heading up jam preparation had almost been too much for her hooves to handle, and in retrospect felt suspiciously like that time Granny Smith had sold her on how fun painting a fence could be. She cautiously set her hooves on the first step, and then the next. They didn’t creak or cave in like she secretly feared. Each step only released another cloud of dust and finally brought on the sneeze she’d held back before. “What’s down there, anyway?” A large barrel rolled into the column of light at the base of the stairs. Applejack nosed it into position and stepped back into the darkness. “Just a couple ‘a these and some empty jars. We’ll have the whole cellar ready for cider season before lunchtime.” The peeling label on the barrel’s upright side was adorned with a small lightning bolt. Apple Bloom smoothed out the label and promptly sneezed again. “Zap apples? I thought we turned ‘em all into jam.” “I guess we missed a couple barrels. Too bad; we’ll just have to throw ‘em out.” Apple Bloom scuffed her hoof against the wood. “It’s only been a week. You sure they’re not good anymore? I mean, Zap apples are magic and everything. Maybe they keep longer.” A second barrel rolled out of the cellar’s dark reaches and knocked against the first one. Applejack finally succumbed to the dust and uttered a sneeze of her own. “That’d be mighty nice, AB, but that’s not how Granny Smith tells it. She’s always said Zap apples are the finickiest fruit she’s ever picked.” “But she put me in charge of the Zap Apple Jam this year, and it all turned out just fine. Can’t I just try and see if they’re good for anything?” Applejack looked up at the brim of her hat, the surest sign Apple Bloom knew that her sister was reconsidering. “Tell you what: I figured we’d be stuck cleaning the cellar all day, so why don’t you take these barrels and get ‘em cleaned out. Just don’t get too disappointed if they’re just full of Zap apple mush.” Apple Bloom nodded. “Thanks, Applejack! I’ll have the barrels back faster than you can say—” Sunday, 9 PM - (9 Hours After) - The padded chair in Twilight’s study might as well have been covered in spikes. Apple Bloom shifted back and forth in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Considering how much walking she’d done today, having a moment off her hooves should’ve felt wonderful. Instead she had the feeling that nothing would ever feel good again, much less wonderful. Even the special scent of Twilight’s study, that of old books and hot tea, offered no comfort. Thunder boomed outside. A year ago, that sound would’ve had Apple Bloom crawling under her bed covers with a flashlight. A week ago, she would’ve hidden that desire behind her well-practiced ‘big pony’ smile. Tonight, thunder didn’t even startle her. Nothing as peaceful and mild as a thunderclap could raise her pulse. She finally had the fearlessness she’d often dreamed about, albeit at a cost that she, and everypony she knew, was still paying. The floor-to-ceiling bookcases seemed to lean in towards her, staring her down with their fancy titles, not to mention their famous authors who had definitely never screwed up as badly as she had today. Nothing could bring relief to the deep pit in her stomach, especially not the Princess sitting across the table from her. Twilight hadn’t said anything yet, aside from the obligatory “hello” and “have a seat.” For minutes, Apple Bloom had just sat there watching Twilight straighten the encyclopedia-sized stack of papers on the table separating them. Apple Bloom had seen Twilight get upset before. She’d even seen her get downright furious once. All the same, there was something profoundly unsettling in the way Twilight kept silently prodding that paper stack, as if doing that pointless task was the only thing keeping her from literally exploding. Speaking, or even breathing too loudly, might end all life in Equestria. As long as Apple Bloom was the first to go, that would’ve been fine with her. She let out a deep sigh and repeated the same two words she’d been saying to ponies all over town from noon until the present evening hour: “I’m sorry.” Twilight gave her a pained smile and nodded. “Me too. See this?” She nodded to the monstrous stack of papers before them. “Want to know the worst part about being a Princess? It’s the paperwork. I just pulled two all-nighters going through Mayor Mare’s itemized list of financial assistance requests. This evening I was going to have Spike send it to the royal treasury for disbursement, but now…” Twilight lifted the top page from the stack with her magic and crumpled it up. “Ponyville obviously doesn’t need frivolous things like a new water fountain—” she crumpled up another page “—or brighter street lights—” and another “—or structural reinforcements for town hall’s roof. Nope. There’s no budget for any of that anymore.” A wastebasket floated across the room and settled at the table’s edge. Twilight placed a hoof against the paper stack and, very slowly, slid it off the table and into the trash. Apple Bloom stared at the heap of discarded paper. Being crushed into a ball and thrown away didn’t sound so bad compared to how her day had shaped up. No matter how awful she felt, some part of her found this scene amusingly strange: she’d seen plenty of trash cans today, but this was the first one filled with something as mundane as paper. Twilight returned the trashcan to its normal spot by the door and regarded Apple Bloom with bloodshot eyes. “Ponyville only needs one thing… Ponyville can only afford one thing.” Apple Bloom looked down at her hooves and nodded. “Glass.” “A lot of glass.” Doom Saturday, 9 AM - (27 Hours Before) - The interior of the old barn was dark, but not as dark as the cellar. A light breeze brought the earthy scent of the orchard, as well as that of weatherbeaten wood, to Apple Boom’s nose. Mid-morning sunlight peeked through numerous gaps in the roof, casting odd shadows on her work surface. Her little impromptu table, made out of an old barrel lid balanced on a trio of buckets, was a far cry from the comparably massive countertop in the kitchen. There was barely enough room here for all the jars of spices she’d borrowed from the pantry. At least the surprise would be worth it. Applejack said she wouldn’t have time to knock down this old barn until after the cider season was over, which made it the perfect place to cook up something new and revolutionary. Her knife glided through the Zap apple in front of her, producing the pleasant hiss of a crisp apple meeting sharpened steel. A magical tingle traveled through her as she finished the cut, a feeling that she’d grown all too familiar with as she’d slaved over the Zap Apple Jam. The apple’s halves rolled apart, revealing a rainbow-colored interior that looked and smelled indistinguishable from a Zap apple fresh off the tree. Apple Bloom leaned in for a deeper whiff and was rewarded with an electric spark that jumped from the two apple halves to her nose. She jumped back and glared at the fruit. “Ow! Hey, just ‘cause I took an extra week to carve ya doesn’t mean you have to get all mean.” The apple didn’t respond, no matter how hard Apple Bloom glared at it. She sliced the two halves into quarters and slid them aside. The same electric charge traveled through her foreleg as she did: magic that could dull sharpened knives, sharpen dull ones, and make the world’s tastiest jam. “You are good in more stuff than just jam, right?” She retrieved another apple from the open barrel and began quartering it like she’d done with the first. “I figure, Zap apples make for such good jam, that means they’ll make for amazing cider, right?” The apples still didn’t reply. Apple Bloom had no idea what she’d do if they did. “I got all the cider spices right here an’ everything. Not quite sure about the ratios… but it can’t be that hard… not as hard as making a million jars of jam.” She took a look at the spice jars at the table’s far end. None of them were labeled, unless she counted Granny Smith’s nigh-incomprehensible scrawl on the lids. Jam and cider weren’t that different anyway. All she had to do was prepare her two barrels of apples, add in whatever amount of each spice smelled right, and wait. The key to making Zap-Apple-anything, she now knew, was time. There was no rushing the Zap Apple harvest, and there was no rushing the jam-making that followed. Even if she worked all day to get the cider ready, which she intended to, it wouldn’t be ready for a taste-test until morning. A third quartered apple joined the first two. “It’ll be just like Granny Smith told me: ‘Zap Apples like sleep just as much as you do. They need a good night’s rest to taste their best.’ Just imagine what she’s gonna say when she sees this! Why, next year maybe we’ll save four barrels just for cider, or eight! And I’ll be in charge of that, too!” The already-cut apples fizzled and sparked loudly, as if in protest. Apple Bloom ducked her head under the table’s edge. She sat up a moment later and gave a sheepish smile. “Guess I’m gettin’ ahead of myself. Just keep it calm, Apple Bloom. Just gotta keep it—” Sunday, 2 PM - (2 Hours After) - Sugarcube Corner was closed, just like every other shop that Apple Bloom had visited today. She sat on a stool by the counter, lost in the realization that this war-zone of a room was the place where she and her friends routinely came for cupcakes and milkshakes. By this hour of the late afternoon, every booth and table was supposed to be packed full of happy ponies, tasty treats, and the smell of powdered sugar. There weren’t any customers here, though, and the closest thing to a dessert was the three foot tall mound of blue and white frosting sitting by the shop’s front window. Wind and raindrops whistled through the front window’s empty frame as Pinkie tipped a dustpan full of glass into a nearly-full trash can. She set the dust pan down and walked over to the Cakes, who hadn’t strayed from their tear-filled vigil by the window since Apple Bloom arrived. If Apple Bloom squinted just right, she could sort of see how that mess of frosting was supposed to look. By her reckoning, the cake had been a whopping eight layers tall and completely covered in tiny sugar-crystal ponies. That was how it was supposed to look, anyway. If only the Cakes hadn’t put their creation on display in the front window this morning. Pinkie patted Mr. Cake on the back. “The floors are officially glass-free, Mr. Cake.” Mr. Cake blew his nose on his apron. “Thanks, Pinkie. Just… just give us a little time, okay?” “Okie do—” Mrs. Cake swiped her foreleg at the remains of the cake, knocking a few of the little sugar sculptures onto the floor. “Twelve hours! We spent twelve hours on these!” Mr. Cake hugged his wife tightly. “I know, Dear, I know.” “I’m never making a ‘crystal cake’ again! I don’t care whose birthday it is, or how much they pay!” “M-maybe it isn’t so bad. We still might be able to salvage… some of it? Maybe?” Pinkie backed away from the Cakes and joined Apple Bloom at the counter. She shook her head at Mr. Cake and whispered. “Even I can’t tell which bits are sugary yumminess and which are stabby glass, and I’ve got the tongue-owies to prove it.” Pinkie stuck out her bandaged tongue for reference. Her breath smelled like a jelly donut. Apple Bloom looked away. “But… it’ll be okay, right? They’ll just make somethin’ else instead of that cake… get some new windows…” Pinkie sighed. “I hope so. I haven’t seen the Cakes like this since the foals started teething.” She leaned in close and whispered in Apple Bloom’s ear. “I’m gonna have to start sneaking even more sugar into their morning coffee, and there’s already more sugar in there than coffee!” Apple Bloom set her head on the counter and covered her eyes. “I’m so sorry! Telling everypony it’s my fault is makin’ me feel worse and worse, and I ain’t even half-done yet.” Pinkie patted her head. “You’re kinda young for coffee… so how about an extra-sweet milkshake?” Apple Bloom sat up and wiped her eyes. “Thanks, Pinkie, but I’d better go. I’ve still got a whole bunch of ponies to apologize to. When everything gets back to normal, I’ll start paying double for me and the crusaders until that cake’s paid off. How long do ya think that’ll take?” “Hmm, if Mr. and Mrs. Cake spent twelve hours each making all those sugar ponies, and you pay for six milkshakes but only want three…” Pinkie’s eyes spun around for a minute as if her brain was a wind-up toy. When they stopped, she gave Apple Bloom a weak smile. “You’re still gonna like milkshakes when you’re as old as Granny Smith, right? Because she never comes in here and it’d be silly to still buy milkshakes if they hurt your false teeth or something, which you’re probably gonna need if you have that many milkshakes and—” Apple Bloom ran out the door into the rainy streets screaming. “I’m doomed!” Gloom Sunday, 9 AM - (3 Hours Before) - While Scootaloo stowed her helmet and scooter by the barn’s entrance, Sweetie Belle gave the place a long, uneasy look. Small tufts of grass grew at random on the ground, presumably wherever enough sunlight and rainwater leaked through the roof. The bare earth was marred by depressions from wagon wheels and barrels, although there wasn’t any farm equipment in here anymore. The only thing stored in this dark, cavernous expanse was whatever Apple Bloom had been working on in the back corner. “Why are we here again?” Apple Bloom moved the remnants of her work table off to the side. This time yesterday, she’d considered her makeshift table to be a stroke of genius. With her friends present, it just looked like a barrel lid balanced on some buckets. “It’s over here, under this tarp.” Scootaloo walked over and sniffed the table. “This thing smells like apples… and it’s got all these knife marks on it. Why’d you cut up apples out here instead of in the kitchen?” “ ‘cause it’d ruin the surprise!” Apple Bloom yanked the tarp off and beamed. “Take a look at the first ever batch of—” the smell made her eyes water and her throat go dry “—what the hay?” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo converged on the spot and then backed off as soon as the smell hit them. Scootaloo covered her nose. “Eww, what is that?” Sweetie Belle ventured a few steps closer. On the ground sat a large metal wash basin, the kind that she’d seen Applejack and Big Mac bathing pigs in, although not even pigs smelled as bad as this. The rainbow-streaked liquid inside the basin was bubbling softly as if it was being cooked over a low heat. Apple Bloom joined her at the edge of the basin and took a deeper sniff. “Did I get the spices wrong?” Sweetie Belle couldn’t take the smell anymore. She retreated to a safer distance alongside Scootaloo. “You made that?” “Yeah! It’s… well it’s supposed to be cider. I don’t know why it stinks so much…” Scootaloo took a few more steps away and fanned the air. “Maybe because it’s got pig water in it.” “Hey! I washed the tub out an’ everything. I couldn’t sneak out any jars or pots, so this is the best I could do.” “But why do all that out here?” Apple Bloom stamped her front hooves. “It’s supposed to be a surprise! Granny Smith put me in charge of the Zap Apple Jam this year, and then Applejack said I could use these two extra barrels of Zap apples we found… I figured they make such good jam, they’ve gotta make great cider. Maybe it tastes better than it smells…” Despite her friend’s loud and gasping protests, Apple Bloom took a wooden serving spoon to the bubbling liquid and retrieved enough for a taste test. The rainbow colors swirled and danced on the spoon, not unlike Zap Apple Jam cooking on the stove. Magic or no, Zap apples were just apples. Mashing, straining, and seasoning them couldn’t possibly produce a taste as bad as the smell suggested. Maybe it’d be like Granny’s pickled apple preserves, a smell that just took some getting used to. The spoon clattered to the ground as she realized just how wrong she was. Using the runoff from washing the pigs would’ve been an improvement. The cider defied explanation; somehow it was hot, cold, bitter, and sweet all at once. The only constant was the feeling of utter revulsion that it brought on, the feeling that she needed to wash off her tongue with scalding water and sandpaper, that tasting nothing ever again would be a sweet mercy. Colorful dots swam across her vision, gale-force winds buffeted her ears, and for a moment she felt as if the world itself was moving beneath her. That last part turned out to be true. When she came to her senses a minute later, she realized that her friends had dragged her halfway across the barn, towards the door. Sweetie Belle pried one of Apple Bloom’s eyes wide open. “Apple Bloom! Say something! Please be okay!” Scootaloo already had her helmet on. “Do I get Applejack, or Big Mac, or Twilight, or—” Apple Bloom rolled onto her stomach and stood up. “I’m… fine. I’m fine. Nothing to it.” Sweetie Belle pointed an accusatory hoof at the wash basin. “That isn’t cider, Apple Bloom! You’ve gotta get rid of it!” Apple Bloom held back a sniffle. “I know… I guess Applejack was right, week-old Zap apples aren’t good for anything. I should’ve just thrown ’em away like she said.” “The important thing is you’re okay. You really scared us!” “Sorry y’all. Sorry I brought ya out here for nothin’. I figured right now we’d be drinking mugs of the new cider with Applejack and everything.” Scootaloo stowed her helmet again. “Is she gonna be mad that you did all this?” “I don’t think so. She said I could take the apples and everything… but I still don’t want to let her find out that I messed this up.” “She’s gonna have a hard time missing that smell.” Apple Bloom glanced back at her failed experiment. “How about we cover it up with that tarp again, nice and tight so the smell doesn’t get out. I’ll dump the whole tub right before bed tonight, that way it’ll all soak into the dirt overnight and be gone forever.” Sweetie Belle nodded. “Okay… Are you sure covering it up with a tarp is gonna help?” Apple Bloom shrugged. “It might. I mean, what’s the worst that could—” Sunday, 1 PM - (1 Hour After) - Apple Bloom never realized how nice the Carousel Boutique always smelled, how all of Rarity’s exotic fabrics and overdone hair treatments blended together so sweetly, until the scent was gone. Cold, damp air wafted through the now pane-less windows. It was raining hard outside, and the building around her had become little more than a fancy, dress-filled gazebo. She’d never spent this much time in Rarity’s ‘inspiration room’ before, largely on Sweetie Belle’s advice. Usually she and the other crusaders would’ve been shooed out anyway, lest they interrupt the ‘organized chaos.’ Apple Bloom never understood how having a bunch of fabric on the floor counted as organized, at least until she’d walked in today. The room was definitely just chaos now. Fabric, mannequins, paper, gems, spools of thread, and countless other odds and ends lay on the floor, intermixed with glass shards. Most of the mess probably came from the empty shelves near the windows, thanks to the wind. Why did Rarity’s house have to have so many windows, anyway? Rarity cleared her throat. “Is that the entirety of the story, Apple Bloom?” Apple Bloom’s attention snapped back to the pony standing in front of her. “Yes… That’s what happened to your windows… I’m so sorry, Rarity!” She didn’t know what to expect next. Sweetie Belle always talked about her big sister’s ‘freakouts’ like they were national emergencies. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here first. She needed to visit every shop and house in town, why had she started at the boutique? Rarity’s sullen frown deepened. She turned away and stared at the remains of her workshop. “I’m grateful that nopony was hurt.” Apple Bloom’s spirits rose. Maybe apologizing to everypony in town wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Does that mean you’re not mad?” Rarity shivered and stomped her hoof. “I’m furious! Cleaning and reorganizing the whole of my shop will take days, days during which I won’t sew a stitch or sell a single dress!” “Oh.” “Be that as it may… the situation could most certainly be worse.” Spike trudged through the open door with a broom in one hand and a dust pan in the other. His tail was wrapped around the handle of a sizable garbage can whose glass contents tinkled as he dragged it across the floor. “Just eight more rooms… Just eight more rooms…” Apple Bloom gave him a cautious smile and waved. “Hi, Spike. Are you helpin’ Rarity clean up? That’s awful nice.” His whole body sagged under an invisible weight. “Yeah… Nice.” “Spike?” Spike didn’t answer. He walked to the edge of the mess and started sweeping. “Eight more rooms… Eight more rooms…” “Is that why things ain’t so bad, Rarity, ‘cause you’ve got Spike helping out?” Rarity sighed. “Spikey is a tremendous help, but I was actually referring to the massive order that I just completed before your… incident. In fact, I’d just sealed the dresses in a box and accepted Spike’s generous offer to go out for lunch in celebration of my birthday when—” Spike attempted to hold back a sob and failed miserably. Boom Sunday, 12 PM - (Now) - Apple Bloom stared down at the remains of her lunch. Oats and apple slices had never looked so unappetizing. The otherworldly taste of her failed cider still lingered on her tongue. At least the smell wasn’t so bad anymore. After a few hours, the abominable stench lurking in her nose finally died down to something approaching pleasant. If only the cider had smelled like that from the start. If only it’d tasted as good as Zap Apple Jam. The window by the table gave her a scenic view of Ponyville, the orchard, and, at the far left, the old barn peeking above the tree line. If only she didn’t have to walk all the way out there tonight to dump the cider. There wasn’t any getting around that, though. If word of her turning something as special as a Zap apple into something as disgusting as that cider ever got out, she’d never be in charge of jam-making again. She’d be lucky if she ever got to help make a humble apple pie, if Granny Smith and Applejack knew what a lousy cook she’d turned out to be. “What’s got you down, youngin’?” Apple Bloom jumped. She hadn’t heard Granny Smith enter the room, let alone notice sweet silence overtake Granny Smith’s snoring. “I thought you were takin’ a nap.” Granny Smith blinked a few times and yawned. “Was, ‘til all your worryin’ went a woke me up.” “ ‘m sorry, Granny Smith.” “Pshaw, I’m just rufflin’ your mane, Apple Bloom. What’s got you starin’ at your lunch like it’s full ‘a worms?” Apple Bloom spread the oats around on her plate. “I’m just… disappointed. I worked really hard on somethin’ and… How long did it take you to invent Zap Apple Jam?” The neighboring chair squeaked against the floor as Granny Smith pulled it out. She sat down, stared out the window, and tapped her chin. “Why, that must’ve been… twelve harvests, all told?” Apple Bloom gasped. “Twelve harvests? But I thought you said your jam is what got Ponyville started!” “That she did, but that first batch wasn’t anything too special aside from the color, not like the jam we cook up now. Learning all the Zap apple secrets I’ve been passin’ down to you took a good long while.” Apple Bloom gulped. “Did ya ever… make mistakes? M-more than getting the taste a little wrong I mean.” Granny Smith gave a quick and uneasy laugh. “Almost burned down the kitchen a few times, if that’s what ya mean.” “Really?” Apple Bloom couldn’t help smiling. “It was really that tough?” “Magic always is.” Apple Bloom took another look at the barn in the distance. “Then maybe I’ve been beatin’ myself up over nothing. Applejack and I found an old barrel of Zap Apples yesterday, and I—” The afternoon sunlight faded. Apple Bloom looked out the window just as raindrops started pelting it. Dark clouds were settling over the whole orchard. “I didn’t think it was gonna rain ‘till tomorrow.” “Rainbow Dash moved up the storm, somethin’ about making sure we’ve got all the water we need for cider season.” Apple Bloom set her forehead on the table. “Aww, now I’m gonna have to walk out there when it’s dark and mud—” Lightning illuminated the darkened sky, connecting the hostile cloud cover and the old barn with a brilliant flash that lasted far longer than it should have. The orchard vanished in rainbow-hued light seconds before an ear-splitting boom rattled the pots on the shelves, shook open the oven door, and blew out the window next to them. Apple Bloom had instinctively covered her eyes when the light got so bright, and now found herself shaking glass out of her mane. “What in the—” Applejack burst through the door. “What in Equestria was… Look at that!” The situation outside just kept getting worse. A shimmering, rainbow-hued glow was expanding away from the old barn and towards Ponyville like a slow-motion shockwave, punctuated by the quiet but unmistakable sound of windows breaking all over town. Sunday, 12:30 PM - (0.5 Hours After) - Apple Bloom was still seated at the kitchen table. She hadn’t been able to move, partly for fear of cutting her hooves on the glass covering the floor, and partly in the vain hope that she was on the cusp of waking up on the barn floor again. All she’d done for a half hour was tell and retell the story of why the pouring rain was soaking the drapes. Applejack was still out there somewhere, likely near the column of multi-colored smoke rising out of the orchard. When she’d declared she was going to go check for damaged trees, Apple Bloom assumed she’d be back in ten minutes. Then ten turned to twenty, and twenty turned to thirty. Had her cider experiment knocked down half the orchard? Forget never being allowed to help cook again, she’d never be allowed to do anything again. “I was gonna dump it all tonight… Just before bed.” Big Mac dumped a dustpan brimming with glass into a nearby trash can. The sound was so reminiscent of that final moment of doom, the sound of every window in Ponyville shattering, that Apple Bloom wanted to bury her head in her hooves and cry like a baby. The lingering taste and smell of the cider apparently hadn’t been torment enough. Granny Smith, who also hadn’t left the table, cleared her throat. “Apple Bloom…” Apple Bloom shivered. This was it, her last moment before being grounded for the rest of her life. “Y-yes?” Granny Smith’s voice was softer than Apple Bloom expected. “We don’t use Zap apples for cider. Makes ’em a bit… angry.” Apple Bloom buried her head in her forelegs. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” “Rightly so, but you’d better get used to tellin’ that story. There’s a town full ‘a ponies that deserve to know why they ain’t got windows anymore.” “Do you mean—” “Make sure you grab a coat and some boots. The rest of us ‘ll clean up the ol’ homestead while you’re out.” Apple Bloom nodded. “Okay… I’ll see y’all later… I hope.” Being grounded for all eternity didn’t sound so bad, not compared to the prospect of telling every pony in town about the worst mistake she’d ever made. She slid off her chair and carefully made her way toward the door. As bad as her morning had been, the afternoon promised to be far worse. Fume Sunday, 10 PM - (10 Hours After) - The rain had finally stopped. Apple Bloom stared into the crater that had replaced the old barn. In the dark of the night it looked more like a bottomless pit. Smoke was still rising, despite the many hours of rainfall that had drenched every inch of Ponyville, not to mention Apple Bloom, over the afternoon and evening. As she sat, she could feel the mud soaking into her coat. At least now she’d look as bad as she felt. “You still out here, AB?” Applejack shouted. Apple Bloom didn’t move, even as the light of a swaying lantern grew brighter and brighter. Soon she heard the rapid squishing of her big sister’s hooves in the muddy grass, and the lantern was set down next to her by the crater’s edge. Applejack draped a blanket over her shoulders. “Why don’t you come inside?” Apple Bloom shook her head. Applejack sighed. “I know you’re hurtin’, Apple Bloom, but this ain’t gonna help.” “I know… but it’s all my fault, AJ. I ruined everything.” “Everything? Nah. You messed up big time, I’ll give ya that, but you didn’t ruin everything.” “Twilight can’t even magic the glass back together, and it’s gonna cost a whole slew of bits to replace it all.” “Did ya forget that not a single pony got hurt? Not you, not your friends, not even anypony that happened to be sitting by a window this afternoon. We didn’t even lose a single tree.” “That’s good, but… half the town’s mad at me, and the other half is just sad.” “I know. That’s just life. Sometimes you’re gonna make mistakes, and once in a while they’re gonna be big ones. You just gotta keep moving forward… even if that means laying low for a couple days until everypony calms down.” Apple Bloom took a deep breath. “Are you mad at me too?” Applejack patted her on the back. “What’ve I got to be mad at you about? Last I checked, I gave you those Zap Apples. I didn’t even mention it to Granny Smith or tell you to do the same. This is just about as honest as mistakes come.” “I still cost everypony an awful lot, and every house except for Twilight’s is gonna be mighty cold tonight.” “Yep, but what’s done is done. All that’s left to do is rebuild, and you ain’t gonna be any good for that if you’re sick with a cold tomorrow. Let’s head on inside and get an extra blanket or two on your bed.” A gust of wind diverted the rising smoke into their faces. Apple Bloom waved it away and held her breath. She’d smelled enough angry Zap apples to last a lifetime. “Okay, let's g—” what was filling her nose was the exact opposite of the horror she’d expected “—ya smell that?” Applejack took a long sniff. “Yeah. Doesn’t smell half bad. Almost smells like… hmm… like—” “Rarity’s place?” There was just enough lantern light for Apple Bloom to catch her big sister’s grin. “Heh, now that you mention it… Just don’t walk in there and tell Rares she smells like a big hole in the ground; now that’s a mistake that’ll end of your life.” Apple Bloom inched closer and closer to the crater until her front hooves started to slip. She sniffed with all her might. “Applejack, do we have any jam jars left?” “I reckon we do. Why?” “ ‘cause I think I just figured out how to move forward!” Monday, 11 AM - (23 Hours After) - Apple Bloom drew in a deep breath and knocked on Twilight’s front door. The knocking echoed through the cavernous hallway beyond. She glanced at the two ponies on either side of her. “You don’t think we’re too early? Twilight seemed pretty tired and mad last night.” Applejack and Rarity smiled at each other. Applejack raised a hoof toward the neighboring buildings. “Apple Bloom, ya see how all of Ponyville is still standing?” “Yeah?” “Twilight ain’t that mad. Trust me.” Rarity sighed. “Applejack, can we please not blow things out of—ahem… let’s be realistic. We’ve all had a good night’s sleep, and Twilight is the Princess of Friendship for a reason.” Apple Bloom took a step back. “But what if she’s just mad at me?” The door swung open and Twilight provided the answer in the form of a hug. “Apple Bloom! I’m so glad you’re here. I’m sorry I was so upset when you came by last night. You made a mistake; I shouldn’t have acted like you did it on purpose.” Apple Bloom’s relief was swallowed up in remembrance of what had brought her here, of what had made her dare to get out of bed this morning. “Listen, Twilight. I know it was all an accident and everything, but I think I might have a way to pay back Ponyville.” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Pay back Ponyville? Unless that explosion unearthed a buried treasure—” Applejack grunted. “No need to be patronizing, Twi. Apple Bloom is serious.” Rarity opened her saddlebag and produced a sizable glass jar with an aerosol sprayer for a lid. The jar contained a clear liquid that shimmered in the sunlight. “Indeed, Twilight. I admit to being skeptical when Apple Bloom and Applejack arrived at my boutique this morning, but I assure you that—” Apple Bloom tapped Rarity on the side. “Um, Rarity? Mind if I explain it?” Rarity smiled. “Of course, dear. It is your creation, after all.” Twilight stared at the jar’s liquid contents. “What’s in here?” Apple Bloom took the jar and cradled it in her hooves. “I was tryin’ so hard to invent Zap Apple Cider, but it turns out I went and made somethin’ else: Zap Apple Perfume!” “Perfume? You told me it smelled awful.” “Yeah! It was way too concentrated, but once it got watered down by the rain, and…” “Exploded?” Applejack offered. Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “And exploded… Well, you’ve just gotta try it! Rarity said it’s the best perfume she’s ever used!” Rarity nodded. “I believe my exact wording was ‘a magical scent unlike any other.’ Would you care for a demonstration, Twilight?” Twilight backed up. “Uh, I’m not sure I’d be the best judge of perfumes…” “Hmm, no matter. Would you be so kind as to call for Spike?” Two dragon feet echoed down the hallway, and Spike’s voice soon followed. “Did someone say my name? Is it… Is it Rarity?” Rarity’s voice briefly dropped to a whisper. “Observe!” She took the jar from Apple Bloom and deftly spritzed her mane. A fragrant odor, as sweet-smelling as a field of blooming flowers and twice as enchanting, caught everypony’s attention. She returned the jar to Apple Bloom and smiled at Spike. “Spikey, would you be so kind as to come here for a moment? We’d all like your opinion on something.” Spike smiled too. “Sure! It’s such a nice day today and since you said you aren’t going to open your shop until…” He stopped cold at ten paces with his mouth wide open. “Is… is something different? Did you do something new with your hair? I-I mean I’ve always loved how you do your hair but if there’s something new it’s even better than before and and I—” He fainted on the floor, smiling a dreamy smile. Twilight looked from Spike to the perfume bottle and nodded. “Touché, that’s powerful stuff! One jar can’t possibly cover the cost of all those windows, though.” Rarity giggled. “Au contraire, my dear Twilight. Exotic perfume is sold in bottles a tenth of this size at the largest, and commands a truly exotic price. With my connections, Zap Apple Perfume will be the talk of Equestria within a week, and within a month every drop will be sold at an exorbitant price befitting such a magically alluring scent.” Apple Bloom looked down at the jar. “And every bit we earn is for fixin’ up Ponyville.” Applejack patted her head. “And after that, it’s a brand new Apple business, complete with an Apple family secret recipe.” Twilight grimaced. “You mean you’ll do this again next year?” Apple Bloom nodded. “Just with a couple Zap apples, though. We’ve gotta keep the perfume rare to drive up the price and… y’know… limit the damage when we go about makin’ it.” Spike’s hand shot up. “I’ll buy some!” Twilight chuckled. “Maybe after you pay off the gigantic loan I gave you for that cake.” Apple Bloom trotted up to him and winked. “I’ll save ya some, Spike.” “Wow, really?” “Sure! That’s what friends are f—”
Bloom Saturday, 7 AM - (29 Hours Before) - The cellar’s door creaked open and morning sunlight pierced through the musty air within. Apple Bloom stifled a sneeze as Applejack waved some dust away. “Sure smells down there.” Applejack walked past her and descended the cellar steps. “It ain’t so bad, Apple Bloom. Now if we left it shut up all season with pony-knows-what-inside, then it’d be mighty ripe.” Leaving the cellar alone for all eternity sounded just fine to Apple Bloom. Her forelegs still ached from the freshly-concluded Zap apple season. The prestige of heading up jam preparation had almost been too much for her hooves to handle, and in retrospect felt suspiciously like that time Granny Smith had sold her on how fun painting a fence could be. She cautiously set her hooves on the first step, and then the next. They didn’t creak or cave in like she secretly feared. Each step only released another cloud of dust and finally brought on the sneeze she’d held back before. “What’s down there, anyway?” A large barrel rolled into the column of light at the base of the stairs. Applejack nosed it into position and stepped back into the darkness. “Just a couple ‘a these and some empty jars. We’ll have the whole cellar ready for cider season before lunchtime.” The peeling label on the barrel’s upright side was adorned with a small lightning bolt. Apple Bloom smoothed out the label and promptly sneezed again. “Zap apples? I thought we turned ‘em all into jam.” “I guess we missed a couple barrels. Too bad; we’ll just have to throw ‘em out.” Apple Bloom scuffed her hoof against the wood. “It’s only been a week. You sure they’re not good anymore? I mean, Zap apples are magic and everything. Maybe they keep longer.” A second barrel rolled out of the cellar’s dark reaches and knocked against the first one. Applejack finally succumbed to the dust and uttered a sneeze of her own. “That’d be mighty nice, AB, but that’s not how Granny Smith tells it. She’s always said Zap apples are the finickiest fruit she’s ever picked.” “But she put me in charge of the Zap Apple Jam this year, and it all turned out just fine. Can’t I just try and see if they’re good for anything?” Applejack looked up at the brim of her hat, the surest sign Apple Bloom knew that her sister was reconsidering. “Tell you what: I figured we’d be stuck cleaning the cellar all day, so why don’t you take these barrels and get ‘em cleaned out. Just don’t get too disappointed if they’re just full of Zap apple mush.” Apple Bloom nodded. “Thanks, Applejack! I’ll have the barrels back faster than you can say—” Sunday, 9 PM - (9 Hours After) - The padded chair in Twilight’s study might as well have been covered in spikes. Apple Bloom shifted back and forth in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Considering how much walking she’d done today, having a moment off her hooves should’ve felt wonderful. Instead she had the feeling that nothing would ever feel good again, much less wonderful. Even the special scent of Twilight’s study, that of old books and hot tea, offered no comfort. Thunder boomed outside. A year ago, that sound would’ve had Apple Bloom crawling under her bed covers with a flashlight. A week ago, she would’ve hidden that desire behind her well-practiced ‘big pony’ smile. Tonight, thunder didn’t even startle her. Nothing as peaceful and mild as a thunderclap could raise her pulse. She finally had the fearlessness she’d often dreamed about, albeit at a cost that she, and everypony she knew, was still paying. The floor-to-ceiling bookcases seemed to lean in towards her, staring her down with their fancy titles, not to mention their famous authors who had definitely never screwed up as badly as she had today. Nothing could bring relief to the deep pit in her stomach, especially not the Princess sitting across the table from her. Twilight hadn’t said anything yet, aside from the obligatory “hello” and “have a seat.” For minutes, Apple Bloom had just sat there watching Twilight straighten the encyclopedia-sized stack of papers on the table separating them. Apple Bloom had seen Twilight get upset before. She’d even seen her get downright furious once. All the same, there was something profoundly unsettling in the way Twilight kept silently prodding that paper stack, as if doing that pointless task was the only thing keeping her from literally exploding. Speaking, or even breathing too loudly, might end all life in Equestria. As long as Apple Bloom was the first to go, that would’ve been fine with her. She let out a deep sigh and repeated the same two words she’d been saying to ponies all over town from noon until the present evening hour: “I’m sorry.” Twilight gave her a pained smile and nodded. “Me too. See this?” She nodded to the monstrous stack of papers before them. “Want to know the worst part about being a Princess? It’s the paperwork. I just pulled two all-nighters going through Mayor Mare’s itemized list of financial assistance requests. This evening I was going to have Spike send it to the royal treasury for disbursement, but now…” Twilight lifted the top page from the stack with her magic and crumpled it up. “Ponyville obviously doesn’t need frivolous things like a new water fountain—” she crumpled up another page “—or brighter street lights—” and another “—or structural reinforcements for town hall’s roof. Nope. There’s no budget for any of that anymore.” A wastebasket floated across the room and settled at the table’s edge. Twilight placed a hoof against the paper stack and, very slowly, slid it off the table and into the trash. Apple Bloom stared at the heap of discarded paper. Being crushed into a ball and thrown away didn’t sound so bad compared to how her day had shaped up. No matter how awful she felt, some part of her found this scene amusingly strange: she’d seen plenty of trash cans today, but this was the first one filled with something as mundane as paper. Twilight returned the trashcan to its normal spot by the door and regarded Apple Bloom with bloodshot eyes. “Ponyville only needs one thing… Ponyville can only afford one thing.” Apple Bloom looked down at her hooves and nodded. “Glass.” “A lot of glass.”
Doom Saturday, 9 AM - (27 Hours Before) - The interior of the old barn was dark, but not as dark as the cellar. A light breeze brought the earthy scent of the orchard, as well as that of weatherbeaten wood, to Apple Boom’s nose. Mid-morning sunlight peeked through numerous gaps in the roof, casting odd shadows on her work surface. Her little impromptu table, made out of an old barrel lid balanced on a trio of buckets, was a far cry from the comparably massive countertop in the kitchen. There was barely enough room here for all the jars of spices she’d borrowed from the pantry. At least the surprise would be worth it. Applejack said she wouldn’t have time to knock down this old barn until after the cider season was over, which made it the perfect place to cook up something new and revolutionary. Her knife glided through the Zap apple in front of her, producing the pleasant hiss of a crisp apple meeting sharpened steel. A magical tingle traveled through her as she finished the cut, a feeling that she’d grown all too familiar with as she’d slaved over the Zap Apple Jam. The apple’s halves rolled apart, revealing a rainbow-colored interior that looked and smelled indistinguishable from a Zap apple fresh off the tree. Apple Bloom leaned in for a deeper whiff and was rewarded with an electric spark that jumped from the two apple halves to her nose. She jumped back and glared at the fruit. “Ow! Hey, just ‘cause I took an extra week to carve ya doesn’t mean you have to get all mean.” The apple didn’t respond, no matter how hard Apple Bloom glared at it. She sliced the two halves into quarters and slid them aside. The same electric charge traveled through her foreleg as she did: magic that could dull sharpened knives, sharpen dull ones, and make the world’s tastiest jam. “You are good in more stuff than just jam, right?” She retrieved another apple from the open barrel and began quartering it like she’d done with the first. “I figure, Zap apples make for such good jam, that means they’ll make for amazing cider, right?” The apples still didn’t reply. Apple Bloom had no idea what she’d do if they did. “I got all the cider spices right here an’ everything. Not quite sure about the ratios… but it can’t be that hard… not as hard as making a million jars of jam.” She took a look at the spice jars at the table’s far end. None of them were labeled, unless she counted Granny Smith’s nigh-incomprehensible scrawl on the lids. Jam and cider weren’t that different anyway. All she had to do was prepare her two barrels of apples, add in whatever amount of each spice smelled right, and wait. The key to making Zap-Apple-anything, she now knew, was time. There was no rushing the Zap Apple harvest, and there was no rushing the jam-making that followed. Even if she worked all day to get the cider ready, which she intended to, it wouldn’t be ready for a taste-test until morning. A third quartered apple joined the first two. “It’ll be just like Granny Smith told me: ‘Zap Apples like sleep just as much as you do. They need a good night’s rest to taste their best.’ Just imagine what she’s gonna say when she sees this! Why, next year maybe we’ll save four barrels just for cider, or eight! And I’ll be in charge of that, too!” The already-cut apples fizzled and sparked loudly, as if in protest. Apple Bloom ducked her head under the table’s edge. She sat up a moment later and gave a sheepish smile. “Guess I’m gettin’ ahead of myself. Just keep it calm, Apple Bloom. Just gotta keep it—” Sunday, 2 PM - (2 Hours After) - Sugarcube Corner was closed, just like every other shop that Apple Bloom had visited today. She sat on a stool by the counter, lost in the realization that this war-zone of a room was the place where she and her friends routinely came for cupcakes and milkshakes. By this hour of the late afternoon, every booth and table was supposed to be packed full of happy ponies, tasty treats, and the smell of powdered sugar. There weren’t any customers here, though, and the closest thing to a dessert was the three foot tall mound of blue and white frosting sitting by the shop’s front window. Wind and raindrops whistled through the front window’s empty frame as Pinkie tipped a dustpan full of glass into a nearly-full trash can. She set the dust pan down and walked over to the Cakes, who hadn’t strayed from their tear-filled vigil by the window since Apple Bloom arrived. If Apple Bloom squinted just right, she could sort of see how that mess of frosting was supposed to look. By her reckoning, the cake had been a whopping eight layers tall and completely covered in tiny sugar-crystal ponies. That was how it was supposed to look, anyway. If only the Cakes hadn’t put their creation on display in the front window this morning. Pinkie patted Mr. Cake on the back. “The floors are officially glass-free, Mr. Cake.” Mr. Cake blew his nose on his apron. “Thanks, Pinkie. Just… just give us a little time, okay?” “Okie do—” Mrs. Cake swiped her foreleg at the remains of the cake, knocking a few of the little sugar sculptures onto the floor. “Twelve hours! We spent twelve hours on these!” Mr. Cake hugged his wife tightly. “I know, Dear, I know.” “I’m never making a ‘crystal cake’ again! I don’t care whose birthday it is, or how much they pay!” “M-maybe it isn’t so bad. We still might be able to salvage… some of it? Maybe?” Pinkie backed away from the Cakes and joined Apple Bloom at the counter. She shook her head at Mr. Cake and whispered. “Even I can’t tell which bits are sugary yumminess and which are stabby glass, and I’ve got the tongue-owies to prove it.” Pinkie stuck out her bandaged tongue for reference. Her breath smelled like a jelly donut. Apple Bloom looked away. “But… it’ll be okay, right? They’ll just make somethin’ else instead of that cake… get some new windows…” Pinkie sighed. “I hope so. I haven’t seen the Cakes like this since the foals started teething.” She leaned in close and whispered in Apple Bloom’s ear. “I’m gonna have to start sneaking even more sugar into their morning coffee, and there’s already more sugar in there than coffee!” Apple Bloom set her head on the counter and covered her eyes. “I’m so sorry! Telling everypony it’s my fault is makin’ me feel worse and worse, and I ain’t even half-done yet.” Pinkie patted her head. “You’re kinda young for coffee… so how about an extra-sweet milkshake?” Apple Bloom sat up and wiped her eyes. “Thanks, Pinkie, but I’d better go. I’ve still got a whole bunch of ponies to apologize to. When everything gets back to normal, I’ll start paying double for me and the crusaders until that cake’s paid off. How long do ya think that’ll take?” “Hmm, if Mr. and Mrs. Cake spent twelve hours each making all those sugar ponies, and you pay for six milkshakes but only want three…” Pinkie’s eyes spun around for a minute as if her brain was a wind-up toy. When they stopped, she gave Apple Bloom a weak smile. “You’re still gonna like milkshakes when you’re as old as Granny Smith, right? Because she never comes in here and it’d be silly to still buy milkshakes if they hurt your false teeth or something, which you’re probably gonna need if you have that many milkshakes and—” Apple Bloom ran out the door into the rainy streets screaming. “I’m doomed!”
Gloom Sunday, 9 AM - (3 Hours Before) - While Scootaloo stowed her helmet and scooter by the barn’s entrance, Sweetie Belle gave the place a long, uneasy look. Small tufts of grass grew at random on the ground, presumably wherever enough sunlight and rainwater leaked through the roof. The bare earth was marred by depressions from wagon wheels and barrels, although there wasn’t any farm equipment in here anymore. The only thing stored in this dark, cavernous expanse was whatever Apple Bloom had been working on in the back corner. “Why are we here again?” Apple Bloom moved the remnants of her work table off to the side. This time yesterday, she’d considered her makeshift table to be a stroke of genius. With her friends present, it just looked like a barrel lid balanced on some buckets. “It’s over here, under this tarp.” Scootaloo walked over and sniffed the table. “This thing smells like apples… and it’s got all these knife marks on it. Why’d you cut up apples out here instead of in the kitchen?” “ ‘cause it’d ruin the surprise!” Apple Bloom yanked the tarp off and beamed. “Take a look at the first ever batch of—” the smell made her eyes water and her throat go dry “—what the hay?” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo converged on the spot and then backed off as soon as the smell hit them. Scootaloo covered her nose. “Eww, what is that?” Sweetie Belle ventured a few steps closer. On the ground sat a large metal wash basin, the kind that she’d seen Applejack and Big Mac bathing pigs in, although not even pigs smelled as bad as this. The rainbow-streaked liquid inside the basin was bubbling softly as if it was being cooked over a low heat. Apple Bloom joined her at the edge of the basin and took a deeper sniff. “Did I get the spices wrong?” Sweetie Belle couldn’t take the smell anymore. She retreated to a safer distance alongside Scootaloo. “You made that?” “Yeah! It’s… well it’s supposed to be cider. I don’t know why it stinks so much…” Scootaloo took a few more steps away and fanned the air. “Maybe because it’s got pig water in it.” “Hey! I washed the tub out an’ everything. I couldn’t sneak out any jars or pots, so this is the best I could do.” “But why do all that out here?” Apple Bloom stamped her front hooves. “It’s supposed to be a surprise! Granny Smith put me in charge of the Zap Apple Jam this year, and then Applejack said I could use these two extra barrels of Zap apples we found… I figured they make such good jam, they’ve gotta make great cider. Maybe it tastes better than it smells…” Despite her friend’s loud and gasping protests, Apple Bloom took a wooden serving spoon to the bubbling liquid and retrieved enough for a taste test. The rainbow colors swirled and danced on the spoon, not unlike Zap Apple Jam cooking on the stove. Magic or no, Zap apples were just apples. Mashing, straining, and seasoning them couldn’t possibly produce a taste as bad as the smell suggested. Maybe it’d be like Granny’s pickled apple preserves, a smell that just took some getting used to. The spoon clattered to the ground as she realized just how wrong she was. Using the runoff from washing the pigs would’ve been an improvement. The cider defied explanation; somehow it was hot, cold, bitter, and sweet all at once. The only constant was the feeling of utter revulsion that it brought on, the feeling that she needed to wash off her tongue with scalding water and sandpaper, that tasting nothing ever again would be a sweet mercy. Colorful dots swam across her vision, gale-force winds buffeted her ears, and for a moment she felt as if the world itself was moving beneath her. That last part turned out to be true. When she came to her senses a minute later, she realized that her friends had dragged her halfway across the barn, towards the door. Sweetie Belle pried one of Apple Bloom’s eyes wide open. “Apple Bloom! Say something! Please be okay!” Scootaloo already had her helmet on. “Do I get Applejack, or Big Mac, or Twilight, or—” Apple Bloom rolled onto her stomach and stood up. “I’m… fine. I’m fine. Nothing to it.” Sweetie Belle pointed an accusatory hoof at the wash basin. “That isn’t cider, Apple Bloom! You’ve gotta get rid of it!” Apple Bloom held back a sniffle. “I know… I guess Applejack was right, week-old Zap apples aren’t good for anything. I should’ve just thrown ’em away like she said.” “The important thing is you’re okay. You really scared us!” “Sorry y’all. Sorry I brought ya out here for nothin’. I figured right now we’d be drinking mugs of the new cider with Applejack and everything.” Scootaloo stowed her helmet again. “Is she gonna be mad that you did all this?” “I don’t think so. She said I could take the apples and everything… but I still don’t want to let her find out that I messed this up.” “She’s gonna have a hard time missing that smell.” Apple Bloom glanced back at her failed experiment. “How about we cover it up with that tarp again, nice and tight so the smell doesn’t get out. I’ll dump the whole tub right before bed tonight, that way it’ll all soak into the dirt overnight and be gone forever.” Sweetie Belle nodded. “Okay… Are you sure covering it up with a tarp is gonna help?” Apple Bloom shrugged. “It might. I mean, what’s the worst that could—” Sunday, 1 PM - (1 Hour After) - Apple Bloom never realized how nice the Carousel Boutique always smelled, how all of Rarity’s exotic fabrics and overdone hair treatments blended together so sweetly, until the scent was gone. Cold, damp air wafted through the now pane-less windows. It was raining hard outside, and the building around her had become little more than a fancy, dress-filled gazebo. She’d never spent this much time in Rarity’s ‘inspiration room’ before, largely on Sweetie Belle’s advice. Usually she and the other crusaders would’ve been shooed out anyway, lest they interrupt the ‘organized chaos.’ Apple Bloom never understood how having a bunch of fabric on the floor counted as organized, at least until she’d walked in today. The room was definitely just chaos now. Fabric, mannequins, paper, gems, spools of thread, and countless other odds and ends lay on the floor, intermixed with glass shards. Most of the mess probably came from the empty shelves near the windows, thanks to the wind. Why did Rarity’s house have to have so many windows, anyway? Rarity cleared her throat. “Is that the entirety of the story, Apple Bloom?” Apple Bloom’s attention snapped back to the pony standing in front of her. “Yes… That’s what happened to your windows… I’m so sorry, Rarity!” She didn’t know what to expect next. Sweetie Belle always talked about her big sister’s ‘freakouts’ like they were national emergencies. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here first. She needed to visit every shop and house in town, why had she started at the boutique? Rarity’s sullen frown deepened. She turned away and stared at the remains of her workshop. “I’m grateful that nopony was hurt.” Apple Bloom’s spirits rose. Maybe apologizing to everypony in town wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Does that mean you’re not mad?” Rarity shivered and stomped her hoof. “I’m furious! Cleaning and reorganizing the whole of my shop will take days, days during which I won’t sew a stitch or sell a single dress!” “Oh.” “Be that as it may… the situation could most certainly be worse.” Spike trudged through the open door with a broom in one hand and a dust pan in the other. His tail was wrapped around the handle of a sizable garbage can whose glass contents tinkled as he dragged it across the floor. “Just eight more rooms… Just eight more rooms…” Apple Bloom gave him a cautious smile and waved. “Hi, Spike. Are you helpin’ Rarity clean up? That’s awful nice.” His whole body sagged under an invisible weight. “Yeah… Nice.” “Spike?” Spike didn’t answer. He walked to the edge of the mess and started sweeping. “Eight more rooms… Eight more rooms…” “Is that why things ain’t so bad, Rarity, ‘cause you’ve got Spike helping out?” Rarity sighed. “Spikey is a tremendous help, but I was actually referring to the massive order that I just completed before your… incident. In fact, I’d just sealed the dresses in a box and accepted Spike’s generous offer to go out for lunch in celebration of my birthday when—” Spike attempted to hold back a sob and failed miserably.
Boom Sunday, 12 PM - (Now) - Apple Bloom stared down at the remains of her lunch. Oats and apple slices had never looked so unappetizing. The otherworldly taste of her failed cider still lingered on her tongue. At least the smell wasn’t so bad anymore. After a few hours, the abominable stench lurking in her nose finally died down to something approaching pleasant. If only the cider had smelled like that from the start. If only it’d tasted as good as Zap Apple Jam. The window by the table gave her a scenic view of Ponyville, the orchard, and, at the far left, the old barn peeking above the tree line. If only she didn’t have to walk all the way out there tonight to dump the cider. There wasn’t any getting around that, though. If word of her turning something as special as a Zap apple into something as disgusting as that cider ever got out, she’d never be in charge of jam-making again. She’d be lucky if she ever got to help make a humble apple pie, if Granny Smith and Applejack knew what a lousy cook she’d turned out to be. “What’s got you down, youngin’?” Apple Bloom jumped. She hadn’t heard Granny Smith enter the room, let alone notice sweet silence overtake Granny Smith’s snoring. “I thought you were takin’ a nap.” Granny Smith blinked a few times and yawned. “Was, ‘til all your worryin’ went a woke me up.” “ ‘m sorry, Granny Smith.” “Pshaw, I’m just rufflin’ your mane, Apple Bloom. What’s got you starin’ at your lunch like it’s full ‘a worms?” Apple Bloom spread the oats around on her plate. “I’m just… disappointed. I worked really hard on somethin’ and… How long did it take you to invent Zap Apple Jam?” The neighboring chair squeaked against the floor as Granny Smith pulled it out. She sat down, stared out the window, and tapped her chin. “Why, that must’ve been… twelve harvests, all told?” Apple Bloom gasped. “Twelve harvests? But I thought you said your jam is what got Ponyville started!” “That she did, but that first batch wasn’t anything too special aside from the color, not like the jam we cook up now. Learning all the Zap apple secrets I’ve been passin’ down to you took a good long while.” Apple Bloom gulped. “Did ya ever… make mistakes? M-more than getting the taste a little wrong I mean.” Granny Smith gave a quick and uneasy laugh. “Almost burned down the kitchen a few times, if that’s what ya mean.” “Really?” Apple Bloom couldn’t help smiling. “It was really that tough?” “Magic always is.” Apple Bloom took another look at the barn in the distance. “Then maybe I’ve been beatin’ myself up over nothing. Applejack and I found an old barrel of Zap Apples yesterday, and I—” The afternoon sunlight faded. Apple Bloom looked out the window just as raindrops started pelting it. Dark clouds were settling over the whole orchard. “I didn’t think it was gonna rain ‘till tomorrow.” “Rainbow Dash moved up the storm, somethin’ about making sure we’ve got all the water we need for cider season.” Apple Bloom set her forehead on the table. “Aww, now I’m gonna have to walk out there when it’s dark and mud—” Lightning illuminated the darkened sky, connecting the hostile cloud cover and the old barn with a brilliant flash that lasted far longer than it should have. The orchard vanished in rainbow-hued light seconds before an ear-splitting boom rattled the pots on the shelves, shook open the oven door, and blew out the window next to them. Apple Bloom had instinctively covered her eyes when the light got so bright, and now found herself shaking glass out of her mane. “What in the—” Applejack burst through the door. “What in Equestria was… Look at that!” The situation outside just kept getting worse. A shimmering, rainbow-hued glow was expanding away from the old barn and towards Ponyville like a slow-motion shockwave, punctuated by the quiet but unmistakable sound of windows breaking all over town. Sunday, 12:30 PM - (0.5 Hours After) - Apple Bloom was still seated at the kitchen table. She hadn’t been able to move, partly for fear of cutting her hooves on the glass covering the floor, and partly in the vain hope that she was on the cusp of waking up on the barn floor again. All she’d done for a half hour was tell and retell the story of why the pouring rain was soaking the drapes. Applejack was still out there somewhere, likely near the column of multi-colored smoke rising out of the orchard. When she’d declared she was going to go check for damaged trees, Apple Bloom assumed she’d be back in ten minutes. Then ten turned to twenty, and twenty turned to thirty. Had her cider experiment knocked down half the orchard? Forget never being allowed to help cook again, she’d never be allowed to do anything again. “I was gonna dump it all tonight… Just before bed.” Big Mac dumped a dustpan brimming with glass into a nearby trash can. The sound was so reminiscent of that final moment of doom, the sound of every window in Ponyville shattering, that Apple Bloom wanted to bury her head in her hooves and cry like a baby. The lingering taste and smell of the cider apparently hadn’t been torment enough. Granny Smith, who also hadn’t left the table, cleared her throat. “Apple Bloom…” Apple Bloom shivered. This was it, her last moment before being grounded for the rest of her life. “Y-yes?” Granny Smith’s voice was softer than Apple Bloom expected. “We don’t use Zap apples for cider. Makes ’em a bit… angry.” Apple Bloom buried her head in her forelegs. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” “Rightly so, but you’d better get used to tellin’ that story. There’s a town full ‘a ponies that deserve to know why they ain’t got windows anymore.” “Do you mean—” “Make sure you grab a coat and some boots. The rest of us ‘ll clean up the ol’ homestead while you’re out.” Apple Bloom nodded. “Okay… I’ll see y’all later… I hope.” Being grounded for all eternity didn’t sound so bad, not compared to the prospect of telling every pony in town about the worst mistake she’d ever made. She slid off her chair and carefully made her way toward the door. As bad as her morning had been, the afternoon promised to be far worse.
Fume Sunday, 10 PM - (10 Hours After) - The rain had finally stopped. Apple Bloom stared into the crater that had replaced the old barn. In the dark of the night it looked more like a bottomless pit. Smoke was still rising, despite the many hours of rainfall that had drenched every inch of Ponyville, not to mention Apple Bloom, over the afternoon and evening. As she sat, she could feel the mud soaking into her coat. At least now she’d look as bad as she felt. “You still out here, AB?” Applejack shouted. Apple Bloom didn’t move, even as the light of a swaying lantern grew brighter and brighter. Soon she heard the rapid squishing of her big sister’s hooves in the muddy grass, and the lantern was set down next to her by the crater’s edge. Applejack draped a blanket over her shoulders. “Why don’t you come inside?” Apple Bloom shook her head. Applejack sighed. “I know you’re hurtin’, Apple Bloom, but this ain’t gonna help.” “I know… but it’s all my fault, AJ. I ruined everything.” “Everything? Nah. You messed up big time, I’ll give ya that, but you didn’t ruin everything.” “Twilight can’t even magic the glass back together, and it’s gonna cost a whole slew of bits to replace it all.” “Did ya forget that not a single pony got hurt? Not you, not your friends, not even anypony that happened to be sitting by a window this afternoon. We didn’t even lose a single tree.” “That’s good, but… half the town’s mad at me, and the other half is just sad.” “I know. That’s just life. Sometimes you’re gonna make mistakes, and once in a while they’re gonna be big ones. You just gotta keep moving forward… even if that means laying low for a couple days until everypony calms down.” Apple Bloom took a deep breath. “Are you mad at me too?” Applejack patted her on the back. “What’ve I got to be mad at you about? Last I checked, I gave you those Zap Apples. I didn’t even mention it to Granny Smith or tell you to do the same. This is just about as honest as mistakes come.” “I still cost everypony an awful lot, and every house except for Twilight’s is gonna be mighty cold tonight.” “Yep, but what’s done is done. All that’s left to do is rebuild, and you ain’t gonna be any good for that if you’re sick with a cold tomorrow. Let’s head on inside and get an extra blanket or two on your bed.” A gust of wind diverted the rising smoke into their faces. Apple Bloom waved it away and held her breath. She’d smelled enough angry Zap apples to last a lifetime. “Okay, let's g—” what was filling her nose was the exact opposite of the horror she’d expected “—ya smell that?” Applejack took a long sniff. “Yeah. Doesn’t smell half bad. Almost smells like… hmm… like—” “Rarity’s place?” There was just enough lantern light for Apple Bloom to catch her big sister’s grin. “Heh, now that you mention it… Just don’t walk in there and tell Rares she smells like a big hole in the ground; now that’s a mistake that’ll end of your life.” Apple Bloom inched closer and closer to the crater until her front hooves started to slip. She sniffed with all her might. “Applejack, do we have any jam jars left?” “I reckon we do. Why?” “ ‘cause I think I just figured out how to move forward!” Monday, 11 AM - (23 Hours After) - Apple Bloom drew in a deep breath and knocked on Twilight’s front door. The knocking echoed through the cavernous hallway beyond. She glanced at the two ponies on either side of her. “You don’t think we’re too early? Twilight seemed pretty tired and mad last night.” Applejack and Rarity smiled at each other. Applejack raised a hoof toward the neighboring buildings. “Apple Bloom, ya see how all of Ponyville is still standing?” “Yeah?” “Twilight ain’t that mad. Trust me.” Rarity sighed. “Applejack, can we please not blow things out of—ahem… let’s be realistic. We’ve all had a good night’s sleep, and Twilight is the Princess of Friendship for a reason.” Apple Bloom took a step back. “But what if she’s just mad at me?” The door swung open and Twilight provided the answer in the form of a hug. “Apple Bloom! I’m so glad you’re here. I’m sorry I was so upset when you came by last night. You made a mistake; I shouldn’t have acted like you did it on purpose.” Apple Bloom’s relief was swallowed up in remembrance of what had brought her here, of what had made her dare to get out of bed this morning. “Listen, Twilight. I know it was all an accident and everything, but I think I might have a way to pay back Ponyville.” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Pay back Ponyville? Unless that explosion unearthed a buried treasure—” Applejack grunted. “No need to be patronizing, Twi. Apple Bloom is serious.” Rarity opened her saddlebag and produced a sizable glass jar with an aerosol sprayer for a lid. The jar contained a clear liquid that shimmered in the sunlight. “Indeed, Twilight. I admit to being skeptical when Apple Bloom and Applejack arrived at my boutique this morning, but I assure you that—” Apple Bloom tapped Rarity on the side. “Um, Rarity? Mind if I explain it?” Rarity smiled. “Of course, dear. It is your creation, after all.” Twilight stared at the jar’s liquid contents. “What’s in here?” Apple Bloom took the jar and cradled it in her hooves. “I was tryin’ so hard to invent Zap Apple Cider, but it turns out I went and made somethin’ else: Zap Apple Perfume!” “Perfume? You told me it smelled awful.” “Yeah! It was way too concentrated, but once it got watered down by the rain, and…” “Exploded?” Applejack offered. Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “And exploded… Well, you’ve just gotta try it! Rarity said it’s the best perfume she’s ever used!” Rarity nodded. “I believe my exact wording was ‘a magical scent unlike any other.’ Would you care for a demonstration, Twilight?” Twilight backed up. “Uh, I’m not sure I’d be the best judge of perfumes…” “Hmm, no matter. Would you be so kind as to call for Spike?” Two dragon feet echoed down the hallway, and Spike’s voice soon followed. “Did someone say my name? Is it… Is it Rarity?” Rarity’s voice briefly dropped to a whisper. “Observe!” She took the jar from Apple Bloom and deftly spritzed her mane. A fragrant odor, as sweet-smelling as a field of blooming flowers and twice as enchanting, caught everypony’s attention. She returned the jar to Apple Bloom and smiled at Spike. “Spikey, would you be so kind as to come here for a moment? We’d all like your opinion on something.” Spike smiled too. “Sure! It’s such a nice day today and since you said you aren’t going to open your shop until…” He stopped cold at ten paces with his mouth wide open. “Is… is something different? Did you do something new with your hair? I-I mean I’ve always loved how you do your hair but if there’s something new it’s even better than before and and I—” He fainted on the floor, smiling a dreamy smile. Twilight looked from Spike to the perfume bottle and nodded. “Touché, that’s powerful stuff! One jar can’t possibly cover the cost of all those windows, though.” Rarity giggled. “Au contraire, my dear Twilight. Exotic perfume is sold in bottles a tenth of this size at the largest, and commands a truly exotic price. With my connections, Zap Apple Perfume will be the talk of Equestria within a week, and within a month every drop will be sold at an exorbitant price befitting such a magically alluring scent.” Apple Bloom looked down at the jar. “And every bit we earn is for fixin’ up Ponyville.” Applejack patted her head. “And after that, it’s a brand new Apple business, complete with an Apple family secret recipe.” Twilight grimaced. “You mean you’ll do this again next year?” Apple Bloom nodded. “Just with a couple Zap apples, though. We’ve gotta keep the perfume rare to drive up the price and… y’know… limit the damage when we go about makin’ it.” Spike’s hand shot up. “I’ll buy some!” Twilight chuckled. “Maybe after you pay off the gigantic loan I gave you for that cake.” Apple Bloom trotted up to him and winked. “I’ll save ya some, Spike.” “Wow, really?” “Sure! That’s what friends are f—”
