Swimming With The Fishies
Swimming With The Fishies
I’d always enjoyed the summer breeze that swept across the lake during this time of day. It soothes me, both physically and mentally. It refreshes my mind, as though it's my personal filter for erasing bad memories. Though, it wasn't like there were many bad memories from the start. In fact, as I unpacked my line and bait for the trip yet to come, only that one day did it bear a negative impact to my life. Boy was it a doozy too.
I always remember her to be the most optimistic type around in this town, but never openly expressing it. I remember her lovely golden crisp mane, which flowed when a summer breeze like today's brushed by through the open window. I would always remember that smile she’d give me whenever I gave her a flower full of life as I came back from my exhausting job. That same smile was what got me through every day, every week, and every single year as life's hardships brought its most heavy burden upon my shoulders. Ironically, to this day, I never thought those hard times were, well, hard.
I wouldn't lie. We were definitely not up with the High Class, nor even with the Middle. We were poor, but just one of the lucky few who were nearly getting by, but not enough to get other personal things. Whenever we had the bits, they were for filling the afternoon's table with dinner. Unlike other poor folk, we had dinner every night. She always prepped them, and I'd be a headless chicken if I said she didn't do a fine job cooking. Actually, "fine" wouldn't even begin to describe the skills she had with a few ingredients and her momma's recipe book. Hell, one night when I was remarking on how well she prepared that night's dinner, I brought up how she should become the local chef around here. Told her she would definitely beat most of the chefs at Restaurant Row if she had a cook-off. But, no matter what I said to convince her to take the job, she refused. She’d always said that if it were up to momma, she would've taken the recipe book back if there was even a consideration of sharing her special recipes to the world. I shrugged, and we chuckled. We enjoyed every meal, with just us together.
Then the day happened. I woke up that fateful morning to see her not by my bedside. It wasn't awfully peculiar, since she sometimes did that to go tend the flowers. Speaking of flowers, she was very fond of the beauty of the plants. So much so that she owned a simple, small flower boutique a few blocks away. She was the only one that worked at the place, and to be honest, it didn't matter if there were ten pairs of hooves helping her out. She was efficient when it came to selling her home-grown nature. She always picked out the right colors that the customer wanted, and always made sure it was done in top quality. Even though it only raised our overall cash-in-pocket a little, it was a nifty hobby for her. But I digress.
On that morning, I gradually went down the hallway leading to the stairwell, all the while giving glances to the hanging frames on the walls, each depicting a happy memory we'd had together. We had a ton of those. As I neared the stairwell, I peaked over the brim of the railing to see if she was in the kitchen, because if I learned anything in my old life, it was never spook your spouse when she is alone at the breaking dawn. Else, you get a hind leg to the snout. She wasn't there baking her pastries. It was odd, but at the time I wasn’t worried, for we had a personal garden in which she also entertained herself by tending the daisies.
I made my way out the back door of our little cottage to see where she was. It was then when I stopped and stared at her sitting on a swinging bench. She had bags under her eyes, and some wrinkles betrayed her age. Her mane was tangled, and her coat not tended. It seemed she stayed up for awhile last night. It concerned me to see her in such a state, for she was always the lively one in the partnership. I slowly nudged myself to continue walking towards the bench. Upon nearing her, I noticed the most disturbing descriptive flaw that she showed, which took me aback. She wasn't smiling.
It hurt to know that she was upset. She always had a caring smile, even during our hardships. So seeing her like this was definitely a change in attitude. I sat next to her on the rocking bench, staring out in the direction of where she was looking at. We both sat there for a while in silence. The birds chirped and some bees buzzed their way to the garden's gold. It was then when she finally broke the silence. Still looking out towards the garden, she softly asked a few simple words.
"Do you ever feel alone here?"
Once more, I was taken aback. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know why she felt alone. I mean, she had me and nature by her side. Instead of swarming her with a tsunami of concerning questions, I decided on a simple: "I don't know."
We both sat there in silence once again, hearing the birds chatter with one another. It was my turn to break the silence, but before I could ask, she began to explain her thoughts. She said how it felt really quiet around these parts. She stated that, despite my presence of reassurance, she felt a dawning depression, as if there was a big part of her life missing. I still hadn't caught on to what she meant. Unlike her, I didn't feel sad or depressed. She went on telling me how it felt dead here in some manner of perspective, which, to me, seemed illogical because it was lively here. As much as I wanted to be patient with her explanation of her feelings, I didn't really care for riddles, or vague information. So I ask her to tell me outright what she wants. Then she told me.
Foals.
A week later, I decided to go to an orphanage to get some of the proper paperwork needed to adopt one of the residing children. It would be a splendid surprise to her, for she couldn't have a child on her own. After my visit to the orphanage, I started over to her flower boutique. Surely this gift would lift her ever-draining spirits, shaping her back to who she was before. But, as I made my way to the shop, a looming gloom started to dwell inside of me. For every step I took closer to the shop, the feeling of dread grew. For whatever reason, something felt wrong. A simple walk started to form into a gallop as I raced towards the entrance of the shop. I barged in through the doors, which slammed against their breakers, and...
I saw what forms that single, bad memory that I've always had.
Preparations were made for the weekend's funeral. Paperwork was signed, bills were paid, and siblings were called and notified. I sat there, alone, on the same bench, gazing at the flowers.
Whenever somepony experiences loss, they feel sick to their stomach. They cry, weep, and sob. But, unlike them, I felt cold inside, like I was a corpse. I felt the loneliness she’d felt too. But, despite the fact that my life was taken away from me, I was ready to move on to create a new one. I started to develop new things. Firstly, I sold the flower boutique with no regrets. Without her there, it was a dreadful reminder of what I’d lost. Secondly, I tried to find myself a hobby. I tried numerous things, from lumberjacking to farming, but none of them fit my standards. Which led me to fishing, and I must say, it was a lot of fun. One day a week of fishing soon turned into a couple a weeks a month of fishing. I was getting so good at it that a local rich business that sells pets offered me a contract to collect fish to stockpile their depleting inventory. It was better pay than my current job, so I accepted it. After quitting my current job, and obtaining a new one, I felt like my life was steadily rebuilding itself.
It was then that a new somepony moved in next door that my life felt ever more complete. Some working ponies were transferring over several things from the wagon to the new owner's house. I managed to take note of a few of them as I spied behind the curtain of my window. Flowers. And lots of them. There were a few other things like furniture and other personal belongings, but the flowers were what caught my eye. Not only did this new neighbor have taste in nature's glory, but it seemed to resemble the flowers planted out in the back yard. Then I saw the owner, who emerged from the depths of their new home.
It was a gorgeous mare, with a golden crisp mane and a tan coat. Her eyes sparkled with blue as the sun's rays dawned over her. She was beautiful.
It didn't dawn on me at the time that this next-door neighbor looked nearly identical as...her.
From then on, everything became a blur after I first met her. I remember bits and pieces of a few special moments, such as introducing myself upfront to this new pony, or lending a hoof for her when she needed help. Spent hours upon hours conversing with her, sprouting topics like our own lives. I don't recall the specifics of what I told her about myself, but I know crystal clear that I didn't mention "her" and her passing. I did not want to ruin the bond we were building with one another by sharing some of the events of my past.
I draw a blank when trying to think what happened right after, except for the special moment we got engaged. Fortunately, because of several years of spending in each other's company, I decided to propose to the mare during the Gala. I was a joyful moment in my life. I felt complete and whole again! I felt new and refreshed. Especially when she gave the special two word answer: "I do!".
I packed up the remaining things I needed before setting out towards the closest dock of the local lake. I smiled as I remembered the expression of shock she gave at the time. A beautiful memory indeed.
But, there isn't always a "happy ever after" to the end of every story.
About two years since she and I were married, she kept bringing up the topic of having children one day. My response was always "One day". I never had anything against fillies, but I always had the mindset where "if something isn't broken, it doesn't need to be fixed!". I felt that everything was fine without having children of our own, and the only reason why I signed those papers so long ago was simply to help "her" health, but she felt differently. Some days we passively argued about it, only to gradually get worse and worse as time goes on. One day, she seemed to had enough with the negativity, and wanted to have a breathe of fresh air. She strolled out back through the home grown garden, only to sit upon the aged bench "she" once sat on long ago.
She sat there for the longest time, pondering about nothing. It sadden me to see how our relationship went downhill, so it had to be fixed. And it seemed the only way to fix it was to do as she says. Have kids. I still had the previous form for the orphanage from before, it just wasn't filled out completely. So I went to fetch the paper and a quill, and when I did I began filling out the appropriate sections. It took a few minutes to go over some information, but in the end, I felt proud of what i was doing. I was nearly done though when i came about the last section of the form, which required the signature of both me and my wife. I gazed out the kitchen window, seeing her brush some of the leaves of the nearby tree. I could show her the form now, but it didn't seem as much as a surprise if I just handed her what she wanted right then and there. Suddenly an idea popped into my head. This weekend, I have to go on a business trip, so wouldn't it be a nifty back-home gift if I brought home the paper from the trip. After all, I wanted her to keep thinking I didn't want what she wanted. It would make the surprise even better. So, after coming with the genius plan, I folded the form and shoved it into my suitcase.
I remember the trip being somewhat of a bore. It was six hour meeting per day discussing profits and ratings, all of which made me nod off once or twice. But, I still had the thoughts of the surprise. It made me excited all over to see the reaction she would give after I present her the present. In fact, in order to make the surprise more of a "surprise", I was able to negotiate with the higher ups of skipping the last day of the trip. So, I packed my belongings and made my way back home, all the while fantasizing what was about to happen.
By the time I came home, it was late in the afternoon. The son has set not even an hour ago, leaving the streets to only be illuminated by Luna's moon. The house itself was pitch-black, indicating that she was fast asleep. I didn't wanted to make a ruckus, for I wanted my sudden appearance tomorrow morning to be, well, not known. So, I swiftly and silently made my way through the house, setting down my suitcase next to the dining table, then making my way up the staircase.
Something felt wrong.
As climbed upon each step up the stairwell, the feeling of dread grew. I didn't know why, but it felt awfully similar to the few moments before I discovered...
The door to the bedroom was ajar, sending red flags up all at once. Step by step, I took a low time reaching the bedroom. I was afraid of what I would see. I felt the same as I did that day long ago.
I was finally at the door, petrified to know what lurks on the other side. Though, after several minutes of mental prep talk, I gained enough courage to peek inside. And what I saw horrified me. However, it wasn't like last time.
She was sleeping in her bed peacefully, as she would every night. However, that wasn't what caught my eye. What caught my eye was the stallion laying aside her.
Every feeling I had up to this point vanished, only to be replaced by disbelief, anger, and confusion. I didn't know what was thinking at the time, but I do remember what I said. Or yelled.
"What. The. Fuck!?"
My outburst awoke everyone, giving everyone a startle. The stallion was the first to come to his senses, who gazed around the room to see where the sudden yell came from. His eyes finally sat upon me, and basing upon what his face drew on, I must've been showing how pissed I was. She came around right after, giving off the shocked expression I wanted, but it wasn't out of happiness, but out of fear.
The room fell silent for what seemed to be a long time, until she worked up the courage to break the silence.
"H-Hello, uh, honey! I, uh, know what this looks like, but-"
"-How long?" I interrupted in a stern tone.
"W-What?" she stuttered.
"I ASKED HOW LONG!" I exploded in front of her. She shrunk back into her covers, only for me to realize that this was the first time I yelled at her, or anyone at that matter, in my entire life. but I didn't care at the time.
She thought over the answer, making me lose even more patience.
"A month." She stated softly.
"A month..." I repeated to myself, still troubling over how such a thing could've happened. I knew of cheating, but I never thought it would've happened to his relationship. I didn't know why I allowed this to happen.
The room fell into silence once more, making the already awkward and infuriating moment even more awkward and infuriating. I looked at her, straight into her gorgeous eyes, only to see guilt written all over.
"Why!?" I asked.
Instead of receiving an answer from her though, it seemed the stallion was ready to input his two bits.
"Because you didn't treat her right." The stallion stated in a matter-a-fact tone.
"What?" I growled at the asshole on the bed, but he didn't seem phased at all. Instead, he continued talking.
"You didn't fill in her needs, otherwise we wouldn't be in this position right now."
That got me. "Get the hell out of my house!" I snarled, pointing my hoof toward the door.
The stallion rolled off the bed, but instead of leaving, he simply straightened himself up, comparing him to me.
"How about you get the fuck out before you regret something!"
That did the trick for me. I rammed my head into him, sending the stallion into the wall with an Ugh. I was about to give him a one-two when she placed her hooves on me, trying to stop me from throwing the guy a hard one.
"Stop! Please, I beg of you!" She exclaimed. "He's had enough!"
I spun around to face her, all my anger showing, but fading gradually into a different feeling. Disappointment.
"I cannot believe you! I trusted you, yet you do a one eighty on me and back stab me in the back!" I shook my head in disbelief.
"I know!" She cried. "And I have no excuses for my wrongdoing. I'm sorry!".
"Sorry isn't good enough! Tomorrow, I'm getting the divorce papers. Me and you are through!"
She looked down glumly at the sentence, ears folding behind. I didn't feel any sympathy.
Suddenly, something crashed into my back, pain exploding all around. I slammed into a dresser, sending everything tumbling to the ground. I felt a sudden pressure on my neck, suffocating what little air I had out of me. I looked up, seeing the stallion on top of me, killing me. I tried to gasp for air, but nothing came through. I tried struggling, but the stallion pinned me to the ground, making struggling harder to do. My vision began to darken, clouding my eyesight. I was going to die.
"Get off of him!" I heard her yell before grasping the stallion's back, trying to rip him off me. He rose his head, and headbutted her off him.
"Get off you dirty whore!" He barked.
It was my chance. I arched my forehoof, only to bring it down upon the stallion's cheek, stunning him enough to loosen his grip. I then proceeded to headbutt him, making him topple over to his side. I used the chance to get on top of him, pinning the pony to the ground. I placed pressure on his own neck, squeezing all the air out of him. He flailed, trying to make me budge, but being how I weighed, it was harder for him to get me off than the other way around.
"Die, you son of a bitch!" I said through clenched teeth. The stallion responded with a gag before falling limp.
I got off of him, looking around to see where she went.
It was then when my eyes befell blood on the edge of the desk, with her right under it. Her neck was in an odd angle, but even before I realized the snapped neck, I knew she was dead.
I remember standing there without a clue what to do. I couldn't go to the Royal Guard, for the evidence stockpiled against me for murder, so I went with an alternative plan of action. I remember grabbing a few sacks from the gardening equipment, stuffing the bodies in there before finishing tying the bags. I can't recall how, but I was able to drag the heavy carcasses out of the house and to the docks, where my company boat resided, chained. I heaved the sacks onto the boat, which sunk a little from the weight. However it was still usable, so I took the oars and began rowing out to the middle of the lake. it was long, and hard, especially after trying to recollect on what the hell just happened in the past half n' hour. But I got there eventually, and when I did i dumped the sacks into the water. The stallion first, the lastly, her. I was hesitant I believe, for it was someone who I loved. Someone who reignited the spark inside of me. Who is now tied up in a sack, dead.
But I let her go, leaving her to sink in the murky depths of the lake. The same lake I am currently going to for a fishing trip. The Royal Guard never found the bodies, and respects were paid to their souls after being pronounced dead. I attended the fake funeral for her. I saw the fake coffin containing nothing but lies. For I know where she is truly buried.
Swimming with the fishies.
