In the dining room of the Sweet Apple Acres farmhouse, Grammy Smith whittles away at a small block of wood. The clock on the wall reads 11:52. The sun hangs low in the sky over the farm and the rest of Ponyville, oppressively warm even for a summer afternoon. A thermometer near the windowsill reads 108 degrees. Granny’s neckerchief is wrapped around her head, damp from the sweat that helps keep her cool.
Applejack walks in, her trademark Stetson hat replaced with one of her sister’s magenta bows, matted down and sopping wet with Applejack’s sweat. In her mouth is a small stone figurine, which she sets on the table.
“Happy Hearthswarming Eve, Granny.” Granny Smith looks up from her work to see the crude sculpture of Apple Bloom. “Sorry if it came out a bit lumpy; we don’t got the experience with stone carving like the Pie family does.”
“Oh Applejack, that looks wonderful.” Granny Smith looks down on her own work for a moment. “I was hopin’ that maybe wood carving would be easier on the joints, and a new tradition could’ve been formed.” She sets the unfinished block of wood on the table. “I’m real sorry I couldn’t get that done for ya, girl.”
“Aw shucks, just you bein’ here is the greatest gift of all, Granny. So how d’ya think Big Mac and Apple Bloom are doin’ at the Crystal Empire.”
“Better than us, I reckon,” Granny smith replies, resisting the urge to wipe any sweat from her brow. “At least they don’t got to worry ‘bout no windigos anymore.”
“I suppose soon enough, none of us will have to worry ‘bout windigos, or Sombra, or anything else any more.” Applejack reaches for a pan, but recoils in pain at the touch, burning her hoof in the process. “Ah shoot! Stupid force-of-habit. We probably don’t need to have any pans out on the stove.”
“I like to have things as I’m used to,” Granny Smith states. “Helps to keep a bit of normalcy in my mind, even if we’re …” She pauses in mid-sentence and ponders …
The word that Granny Smith is unable to put into the hot, still, stifling air is ‘doomed’, because the ponies you’ve just seen have been handed a death sentence. One month ago, Princess Celestia’s surprising, untimely death during the rising of the day’s sun caused Equestria’s planet to enter an elliptical orbit with the fiery star, and in doing so began to follow a path which gradually, moment by moment, day by day, took it closer to the sun. And all of ponykind’s little devices to stir up the air are no longer luxuries – they happen to be pitiful and panicky keys to survival. The time is five minutes to midnight. There is no more darkness. The place is Ponyville and this is the eve of the end, because even at midnight it’s high noon, the hottest day in history, and you’re about to spend it during the last moments of Sweet Apple Acres.
“We got any bottles of water left in the refrigerator?”
Applejack walks over to the fridge and opens the door. “Just a couple. Mind, they won’t be particularly cold with no power to the fridge.”
“I’ll take lukewarm water over wringin’ out scarf-sweat any day, young’un. Go on and pass me one of those bottles.”
Applejack closes the door and turns to face her elder. “We gotta conserve those bottles for as long as we can, Granny. For a dire emergency. As long as we can walk upright, we can make do with recycling our sweat.”
“Oh fiddle-faddle!” Granny Smith reaches inside her frail figure to berate her grand-daughter. “I watched as all our friends moved away from here, leaving Ponyville a ghost town. I watched all our apples dry out into raisins right from the tree. I watched a stray spark burn down our entire orchard, thanking Luna that the fire died before makin’ it to the farmhouse. All I want now is a lousy glass of water! That too much to ask???”
“Alright, alright!” Applejack concedes defeat, reopens the fridge, grabs one of the remaining bottles of water and walks it over to Granny Smith. “Still stubborn as all get out. Guess I should expect nothin’ less.”
The elder pony takes a long, quenching gulp of the warm water. “Nopony forced you to stay here, you know. You could’ve gone to the Crystal Empire with Twilight and the others.”
“And leave you here? Alone? No way I was gonna let you die here alone.”
“Ya see? The apple didn’t fall far from the tree!” Granny Smith chuckles at her own comment, with Applejack soon joining in. “I just couldn’t bear to abandon this farm. This farm, and the family your grandpappy and I raised … what else do I got in this world, but the memories contained in these walls.”
“You know, Granny? Sometimes I lie down, and hope that this is all a dream. That I’ll wake up, with you and Big Mac and Applebloom here, and it’ll be dark and cold outside. You remember what dark was? Shoot, not even Princess Luna could dampen the sun these days. ’Course, it don’t really—“
The sound of the front door opening alerts the two. “Who’s that?”, Applejack calls out.
Moments later, a grey stallion barges into the room. His black mane is matted down, and his tie is damp from his sweat. He eyes the refrigerator and walks over to it.
“NO!” Applejack tries to stop the stallion from grabbing the last water bottle, but he shoves her to the ground, grabs the bottle, gulps down half its contents, pours the rest over his head and throws the empty bottle to the ground, where it shatters upon impact. He then turns to Applejack, who doesn’t have enough liquid within her to shed but a single tear, and immediately feels remorseful for his actions.
“Why, Filthy? Why’d you do that?”
Filthy Rich takes a couple breaths before responding. “I’m sorry … I’ve been checking home after home, looking for any liquid left in this town. I didn’t expect anypony else to be around, and when I saw you … survival mode just kicked in.”
With the other two rendered speechless, Filthy takes a seat, chuckles slightly, and continues with a forced smile. “All the money in Equestria … look what good that does, huh? Luna’s magic, Twilight’s magic, your Elements of Harmony … worthless. All we can do is wait.”
“We did the best we could,” Applejack insists as she gets on her hooves. “I mean, nopony expected Princess Celestia to just …” She bows her head, tears still failing to form from her eyes.
“Everypony dies, right?” Filthy turns away from the others before continuing. “Spoiled died shortly after we learned our fate. It was just too much for her, I guess. I was able to accept that. But watching Diamond Tiara just drop from exhaustion … nothing the doctors could do …”
Unlike the others, Filthy has tears to shed. He turns back to Applejack, choking as he speaks. “She was … she was just finding her place in this world. She was making friends, contributing to the greater good. And I know my wife had her faults, but … but nopony knew her like I did. She grew up with the wrong beliefs … it wasn’t her fault. She had a kind soul, just like her daughter … our daughter …”
The stallion puts his head down, sobbing uncontrollably. Applejack and Granny Smith come together to hug him. Minutes later, Filthy is able to pick his head up and regain control of his emotions.
“Your Apple Bloom … her and her friends … they really were the best thing to ever happen to Diamond. I can never thank you enough for all she’s done … for all you’ve done, for this town and this world. Whatever happens, know that you’ll both be in a better place soon enough. I’m … I’m sorry again for my actions. I must go now. Please forgive a beaten horse …”
Filthy Rich slowly rises from the table and walks away, leaving the others to contemplate their current situation. Granny Smith turns to the thermometer, which now reads 115 degrees.
“I reckon we’ll be joinin’ your parents soon enough, Applejack.”
“You know,” Applejack replies, “I’ve always believed in self-reliance. I’ve never been a religious pony, never gave thought to, well, what comes next. I’ve been thinking more about that as of late … Do you really think we’ll be reunited with all of our fallen?”
“Why sure, Applejack. We’ll all be together again real soon … you ’n me, and your parents, and Princess Celestia, and everypony else; we’ll all be together, ready to take on the challenges in the next life. I’m certain of that.”
Applejack still didn’t fully believe all that Granny Smith said, but appreciated hearing it all the same. “Somethin’ to look forward to, I guess. Thanks, Granny.”
Granny Smith picks up the block of wood she was whittling earlier. “You know what this was supposed to be, Applejack?”
Applejack shakes her head, and Granny Smith continues. “It was goin’ to be the old lake. You remember the lake, right? Before all the water evaporated, anyway. Oh, I remember swimmin’ in that lake ever since I was a filly. The cool, refreshin’ water all around. To think that I spent so much of my later years away from swimmin’.”
Granny Smith sighs. “It was nice to get back into the water, for at least a little while. So cool. So invigorating. So … nice …” She puts her head down on the table, a smile across her face, and closes her eyes.
“Granny?” Applejack walks over to Granny Smith and pokes at her. “Granny?”
The elder pony lies still in her seat, and Applejack’s body produces enough inner saliva to produce a tear. She gives her late grandmother a warm embrace, refusing to let go until she notices a thin wisp of smoke emanate from the block of wood.
Applejack releases her grip on Granny Smith and eyes the thermometer, which momentarily reads 120 degrees before the top of the glass shatters, sending red liquid spouting from the top. Suddenly the block of wood catches fire, its flames licking at the rest of the table. To Applejack’s horror, the flames spread to the rest of the table … and to Granny Smith’s lifeless body. She wants to grab Granny Smith and pull her to safety, but common sense forces her to run from the room, which quickly fills with smoke as all the parched walls catch fire.
She runs for the front door and makes her way several yards from the farmhouse. Within minutes, the entire farmhouse is ablaze. She looks to the fences and sees that they, too, are now on fire. Everywhere she turns, she sees nothing but infernos; in Ponyville, in the Everfree Forest … everywhere around her is a fiery inferno.
She collapses to the ground, and starts to feel her own skin crackle and singe. Craning her neck up, she sees her entire body in flames. She closes her eyes and screams …
Applejack opens her eyes, and sees that she is now in her bed. She looks out the window and sees that it is nighttime, with snow falling from the sky. It was all a dream, she thinks to herself in great relief. She turns her head the other way, and sees Granny Smith.
“Looks like your fever finally broke. How are you feeling, dear?” Her grandmother’s mere presence is enough to make Applejack sigh in relief.
“I’m good, Granny. Glad to see you’re still here.”
“I’ll be right back; just gotta have a quick talk with your brother.” Granny Smith walks away from Applejack and out the door, meeting Big Macintosh in the hallway.
“It looks like she’s gonna be OK. I’ll give her another couple hours’ rest.” Granny’s recommendation elicits an ‘Eeyup’ from Big Mac.
“So you and Apple Bloom got everything packed for your trip to Mi-ane-i?”
“Eeyup … but it’s not gonna matter much in a couple weeks, Granny.”
“Well, a couple weeks is better than nothin’. I just wish I could’ve talked your sister into joining you, rather than wait out the cold here with me.”
“You could come too, Granny. It’s not like you’re leavin’ friends behind; everypony is headin’ for warmer weather.”
“Now we’ve had this discussion already, Big Mac, and my mind is made up.” Granny sighs before continuing. “Did they ever figure out what caused the Princess’s sudden death?”
“Nope … it was just bad luck, I guess, that it happened just as the sun reached its furthest point. I’m not gonna pretend like I know all the details, with the leading scientists in Canterlot explaining the cause of the planet gradually drifting away from the sun … but I suppose none of that matters now.”
“To think, of all the ways for the End of Days to arrive in Equestria …” Granny Smith sighs one last sigh before continuing. “Well, time’s a-wastin’; you two best be movin’ along now. Summer afternoons shouldn’t be spent indoors, ya know.” Granny Smith forces a laugh out of her comment, with Big Mac joining her in a moment of mirth.
Big Mac then nods and heads off, while Granny Smith walks back into Applejack’s room. “You’ll be right as rain in the mornin’, dear. You just get a bit more rest.”
“Granny,” Applejack says quietly, “I had the most awful dream.”
“Oh? About what?”
“I dreamt that Equestria was heading towards the sun, and it was daylight all the time, and the heat was unbearable. It was the worst nightmare I ever had, Granny.” She clutches the blankets ever more tightly. “Mmmm … isn’t it wonderful to have darkness, and coolness?”
Granny Smith turns away from her granddaughter and looks at the snow falling in the night sky. “Yes, my dear, it’s … wonderful.”
The poles of fear, the extremes of how Equestria might conceivably be doomed. Minor exercise in the care and feeding of a nightmare, respectfully submitted by all the thermometer-watchers in Twilight’s Zone.
