Crecious' Short Story Collection

by Crecious

Rating: everyone
Tags: Science Fiction, Comedy, Random, Slice of Life, Drama
Length: 1962

A group of short stories that have nothing to do with one another.

Hello and welcome to my collection of stories.

I wanted to write, and instead of writing one long story I am putting together a collection of all the practice pieces I work on while improving my skill. Each will be short, condensed story encapsulating a writing exercise I have completed.

They are all single, stand-alone stories, that may, if they are capturing enough may turn into longer stories, but all for now are just for fun.

So sit back, relax and enjoy!

Feedback is always welcome.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2017-01-07 17:20:08 UTC

The Empty Bottle

She found an empty bottle on the beach. Its green glass had caught her eyes as she scoured the beach for loot. Her magic wrapped around the treasure, lifting it up to inspect. It wasn't chipped or cracked at all. Perfect condition! This was likely to fetch her a nice price...

Her face was covered by a sunhat, keeping the bright sunlight at bay, while her mane and tail were both put back in braids, making sure they stayed up and out of the sand. Nothing worse than a sandy mane and tail.

She case left and right and then left to make sure she was alone in having discovered this piece of glass. Fights sometimes broke out over items found out on the beach. Usually, they were settled quickly, but this wasn't a time to waste energy.

She wasn't a very strong pony. She was delicate and frail, preferring peaceful forms of conflict resolution. But in her business it was cutthroat.

Content no pony else had seen it she tucked it away in her saddle bag and trotted off the beach, shaking her little hooves once she was on the board walk and took off to the left.

GoldenRod, the mare made her meager living off the items she found deserted or washed ashore, it was her only source of income currently and she was desperate for some food. Her stomach growled loudly, she was hungry.

Picking up the pace, she turned into a building with "Junk Yard" written on the sign outside. It was the place any pony with goods or junk could go to hawk it off for a few extra coins.

She entered and went for the bell on the counter. She tapped it and a clear crisp sound filled the store. She cast around, there were bottles, cans, buckets made of both plastic and metal. Even some musical instruments were adorning the walls. All were broken in one way or another. One that caught her eye was a very badly damaged guitar missing all it's strings and a large crack ran from the neck to the bottom. Clearly the pony who'd previously owned it hadn't cared for it well...

"Ah, Goldie.. What have you got today, not shells I hope. They don't sell." Goldie was well known in this store, and the owner had a nickname for her. His old friendly face appeared from the back. He'd always been so welcoming to her, helping teach her the kinds of things that were desired and sought after. This time, instead of shells which she used to do in desperation, she thought this one would be of some fancy.

The owner's short-cropped mane and tail were both salt and peppered. His coal coat was also becoming peppered with white. He was getting on in age but never stopped doing what he was doing. Enjoying the ponies and items that came in. Rumor had it, some pony brought in a chest that was incredibly heavy. Taking four unicorns to lift it. The pony couldn't open it and the chest was so rusty he thought it garbage. But he took it in and opened it, finding thousands of coins worth in gold. He offered it back to the donor. But in the end, they split the loot.

"Not this time." She replied. "This time it's a good one, I promise!" She lit her horn and brought the bottle out from her saddle bag and it floated in her will to him.

The store wasn't a pawn shop per se, it was a recycle location where ponies who had something of value could hawk it for a few spare coins. Usually what was popular was glass, metal, wood and sometimes rocks. There were a few gemstones here and there. But nothing extravigant. Ponies from plants would come to collect the mass of items they could use to create more for their business or, sell to other businesses for a profit.

The owner, who's name was Foil looked at it with amusement and nodded.

"That's a good find, may I?" He held out his hoof. She watched him roll it in his hooves, testing the smooth surface for bumps or ridges. When she had looked it hadn't seemed to have any, as close to perfect as she'd ever seen.

Most glass that was found wasn't intact bottles. Shards or even rolled shards that had rounded edges were most common. Whole bottles though? Very rare indeed.

After a few more moments of looking at it, he put it on the table and turned his gaze to her.

"This is a good piece, Goldie. I can offer you five Shoe Bits." That was the currency and that price was mid range for something like this. She frowned.

"Can't you go just a little higher?" She asked. "Eight? Would you do that?" She had a desperate edge to her voice. She'd never admit it but last night she'd gone without food because of how little she'd found the day before.

He looked down at the young mare.

"I can do seven and not a bit higher. You know they'll just smelt it down to make new bottles, right? I'm trying to make a profit here too, love."

"I know." She replied, frowning softly. "I know you need to do what's right for you too.."

Inwardly scowling, she extended her hoof. It was as good a deal as she'd get, better take it before he changes his mind. He was a fair and just pony. Most of the time, but occasionally he was out for his own good.

They shook and a few minutes later she was walking outside the shop with a little purse of clinking coins.

It was enough to get her food for today.

She checked the purse and counted the coins. Instead of finding seven. She found ten whole bits.

That little empty bottle had possibly just saved her life.

Do you Believe in Ghosts?

The young mare stood in the attic, her flanks visibility trembling. She'd just heard a noise in her newly purchased home. This could only mean one thing. Specters.

"H...Hello?" She called. When she had viewed the house in daylight, the nice sunny days where everything looks it's best, concealing now the frightful unwelcomed guest.

Another creek ran a shiver down her spine.

Ivory Pot took a tentative step away from the sound. She was easily spooked and didn't like the situation.

Yes, she didn't know that there was a ghost in her new home, it could have been some colts playing a trick on her. That was a far more likely outcome than specters... She was just being an alarmist again.

Ivory was a divorcee, her husband had run off with a cute Saddle Arabian mare and left her with almost no money or possessions. Two years later, she was standing in this house with an intruder.

"C...Come out! I've got a bat!" Her wing closed around the bat she was pulling closer to her body. She wasn't going to play around. She was the owner of this house... And she would defend it!

There wasn't an answer, but the creek stopped. She let a breath out after a long moment. It seemed it was over. Whoever it was it didn't seem to either want to her hurt or be hurt. This suited her just fine and she moved back downstairs to the kitchen.  Back in the kitchen bathed in light she felt a lot safer now, she put a kettle on and put some loose leaf tea into a cup. An Oolong, good for calming the nerves.

The kettle whistled loudly and she lifted it up off with her wing, using the feathers as fingers to pour the boiling water out into her cup. The kitchen suddenly became filled with the floral smell of her cup.

She breathed it in greedily. This was what she needed. Maybe it was her imagination that was making her hear that sound before. Could it? She was the only one up there, she hadn't seen or heard anypony else.

The truth was, she did believe in ghosts. She'd experienced ghosts when she was a wee little filly but hadn't since. She always thought maybe it was just her imaginary friends, ponies she made up when she was lonely.

She sat with her cup and snuggled into a blanket on the couch. A plush, warm soft one, the kind you can almost melt into and sipped her tea.

"You wouldn't really hit me... Would you?" A soft voice said beside her ear.

She yelped and shot up, spilling hot tea all over the couch, herself and the blanket.

Her head whipped around as she looked for the source. Her wings were puffed out and her fur stood on end.

"Who said that!" She cried. "This isn't funny!"  She looked left and right, her eagle-like vision piecing the smallest parts of the room. Still, she saw nothing. Was it her imagination again? Surely.. But that voice had been so clear, so innocent. Like foals, scared and tentative.

When nothing else happened, she cursed under her breath as she looked at the mess she'd made. Rehydrated leaves were cast about the carpet and couch. It looked like someone had ripped a tree apart.

Sighing she went to the kitchen and began the long process of picking up, and drying the cloth.

Twenty minutes later, she'd made another cup, only smaller this time. Sighing to herself and casting a wary eye about. Just in case.

She'd finished her tea, and the empty cup sat on the coffee table in front of her as she began to nod off she was distinctly aware she was looking at something shimmering in front of her. An apparition she was sure was only in her half-waking dream. It was a little colt, who form was visible but seemed to shift and move like sunlight on water. Ripping and moving. Almost making Ivory dizzy.

She yawned, unalarmed. She was sure this was just a dream, and it'd be over in the morning.

Then that little voice sounded.

"Why are you so scared?..."

Her eyes opened up as she became more alert.

A piercing scream echoed through the house. Luckily, perhaps not for Ivory, she lived on a dead end street with no other houses within ear shot. Nopony would be coming to help her.

The little colt backed off, his eyes wide and ears plastered against his skull.

"I... I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" He cried, trying to be over heard.

Ivory got ahold of herself a moment later and watched the colt with fear, astonishment and awe.

"Y...You're a ghost!" She pointed her mouth wide.

He looked at himself and shrugged. "Yeah, I am... I don't know how though..."

She watched him carefully. While he didn't look like he wanted to cause her pain, she still was wary. How else was she supposed to react? He was a ghost for Celestia's sake.

"Can you help me find my mummy?" He finally spoke, he shifted his hooves and looked embarassed.

"Why can't you find her?" She replied, curiosity filled her voice. She was not mocking him or declining his request.

No. She was bizzarly taken with him.

"I can't find her, and even if I could... She couldn't hear or see me, like you do."

A sudden lump formed in Ivory's throat. She was special and not in the way she'd always hoped.

No... This was something she wasn't looking forward to. With her ears pinned back, she sighed for the third time that night.

"Okay, kid. I'll help you."

His eyes widened again, not fear this time but admoration and longing.

"Thank you!"