Bush Whacker

Everypony has a time they love. For Loyal Heart it was early in the morning, right as Celestia’s sun began to rise, for Dusty Gasket it was as the sky turned brilliant with reds and oranges. To Bush Whacker it was a time that didn’t come daily, it came once a month or twice if Luna was generous. To him, it was when Luna’s moon was full and high in the midnight sky. A time when the air is cool and crisp, when the only sounds come from the occasional hoot or howl and trees shifting in the wind. The world is at peace and Luna’s silver light creates beautiful scenes in the creeks and streams. For Bush Whacker there is no better time to hike and clear the mind.

The stallion considered the Everfree to be many things, a home, a danger, a job, and in times like this, a sanctuary. Unknown to even his closest friends Bush Whacker had a small hoof-ful of other clearings around the forest he took refuge in, sheltered in the deepest parts of the forest where only a pony as experienced as he could find. The walk could take anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour, it all depended on how much was on his mind. Upon finding the first of these the pegasus made a vow to himself, to only use these at one time in the month and to never take his problems there. His mind needed to be clear when he arrived.

‘I’m fine. I’m ok. I’m normal again. I feel great.’ All the past lies he had told not only others but also himself slowly surfaced in his mind after a small glide across the stream closest his camp. ‘I feel like myself again, I promise. I can do this.’ His hoof falls grew slower, his stride shorter, this would not be the short walk he always desired. ‘I’m just taking some time off.’

Bush Whacker slumped against an old, knotted, oak tree. The rest of his walk would have to wait. “Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I open up more? I can’t keep this as hidden as I try…” His gaze moved from the dirt and grass below him to the radiant silver above. “I know they all care, even dad but I can’t let them think I’m weak. I can’t let them know my limits.” Slowly the stallion’s wings and hooves folded around himself. “I can’t let them know they’re better… No pony.”

His eyes spoke more as if pleading for an answer rather than simple fascination. “No pony can get me here.” The beginnings of tears reflected in the soft light. “This is my home, my place, where I can let my guard down. I don’t want these limits, I don’t care if they mean I’m normal. I hate them!” Bush Whacker looked down again, a few stray tears rolling their way down with the sudden shift as his voice carried slightly in the night. “I hate them… I hate that I can’t do some things, I hate that others can do so easily what I struggle to do, I hate my mistakes… I just… I hate that I’m not as good as others.”

Bush Whacker felt a small weight on his shoulder, it could have been a leaf or something he was imagining, but whatever it was it felt almost comforting to him, making him look to the moon again. “I know everypony has these faults but they always get used against me. I was always the mistake, the hornless unicorn, the target. All I wanted was them to stop, to go away. If I couldn’t kick a ball as well as them I knew it was only a matter of time. When I couldn’t jump a rope it was the same thing. I don’t want to go through that again, on any level. Even if my friends won’t use it against me they will always know ‘Bush Whacker can’t do it.’ ‘Bush Whacker can’t do what I can.’ ‘I’m better than Bush Whacker.’ The weight on his shoulder grew, too much to be a leaf, maybe a fallen twig.

He let out a deep breath, one he didn’t realize he drew in and closed his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I know they wouldn’t do that to me, they know some of what I’ve been through. It’s just… I’m afraid of it happening again, and if I hide it maybe it won’t happen again you know? Maybe I’m just paranoid because of what happened all those years ago. I just don’t want others to know…” Bush Whacker opened his eyes and looked to the shoulder that only a moment ago he swear he felt something only to find nothing there. Slowly he stood up, splashed some water from a one of his bottles onto his face, and continued on his walk.

It was exactly how he left it and yet it felt better every time he arrived. A hammock was strung between two bare trees, arranged with a perfect view of the stars in the sky, a gently flowing creek winding its way only a few feet to the side reflecting that silver Bush Whacker loved so much down it’s entire visible length. As he lay into the hammock Bush Whacker reached under the blanket and pulled out an old and somewhat worn plush of a shark, holding it close as he looked above the canopy, slowly closing his eyes. “Thanks for listening Luna, I’m fine now. I promise.”