Making Friends With Statues
An Antidote
My name is Skylla, and I’m not a pony, well not in the sense of being a normal pony. I am, in fact, a Gorgon, but I am also an Earth pony. A Gorgony, a play on word using both Gorgon and Pony. I have lived for the past twenty-six years, though for my kind that would be about thirteen pony years. It means that I am a filly, young, and friendless.
I moved to a little place known as Ponyville, I was told that it was such a small town that I couldn’t cause much trouble, and that I would be able to make friends. I was told that I would also be starting school there, and it would be very soon.
* * *
Skylla
“Do I have too?” I ask with a whine.
My father, an Earth pony, looks at me; avoiding a direct contact with my eyes, antidotes for being turned to stone are expensive. “Yes. You have too,” he affirms. He looks at the pair of glasses on the table, they are a special pair of glasses, tinted, they make it so I could make eye contact with others. “And don’t forget your glasses… we don’t need another incident.”
“Fine,” I huff, while putting on my glasses. Thinking back to the last time I ended up forgetting my glasses, all the ponies had been terrified. I would have been as well if I got turned to stone.
My mother, a Gorgon, shouts from the next room. “Is she leaving now?”
“Yeah, she will be gone in a moment.”
“I’m standing right here,” I state.
I take a blue hairbow using it to tie the snakes I have for a mane back into a ponytail. They are long enough that they can bother me by getting in my eyes. My scales are nice and wet, and my teeth brushed. I was ready to take on the day. Before I can leave out the door my mother slides in, her serpentine body snaking along the floor.
“Oh~ my baby is leaving for school,” she sniffles.
I let out a small groan, “I’m not your baby,” I whine. Looking up to my mother I can see the tears follow a small, salty trail down her cheeks. Before either of them have time to add anything more; I run out the door.
I run down the dirt covered path; tall trees, bushes, and a few critters adorning the sides adding to the natural feel of the town. The animals all shy away once they see me, though I can’t blame them… a monster like me running near. I would be scared witless as well.
I stand by the door, waiting. My nerves high strung, telling me to run. It feels as if there are tiny butterflies deep down within my tummy. Each passing moment is a battle to stay. On one hoof I could run, on the other if I stay I might make some friends.
“Come on Skylla, we will make some friends,” I assure myself. “Or… we will get ostracized,” my ears droop, I am now feeling sick to my stomach. “I guess it will be better if I just go home. I mean no gony will--”
“Skylla can you come in?” a voice, I had heard earlier, call from the other side of the door.
I take a deep breath. Readying myself, I push open the door; I am greeted with the sight of a classroom full of colts and fillies… and another, who happens to be the teacher. Her coat is a nice cerise color, and her mane a pale rose with gray running through the middle; as for her cutie mark it looks as if it is three flowers with smiling faces on them.
The thought ran through my mind when I first saw her, that she was a serial foalnapper, but I quickly found out she is just the teacher to my chagrin. However, she looks like somegony… er somepony who went through some weird phase; wearing strange accessories, putting her mane as something bizarre and unnatural, as well as having braces.
“Ew, what is that?” a filly scoffs toward me. She has a tiara on the top of her head, it also seems to be her cutie mark. I have the ‘rich-filly’ vibe from her.
“I don’t know Di. But look at her mane,” another taunts. She has a pair of glasses, regular non-tinted and wide-brimmed, sitting idly on her muzzle. Her cutie mark is... a spoon?
Panic swelling through me. “Why does this always happen,” I cry, turning and running out.
* * *
Stripes
I adjust my cap, today is going to be a simple round straw hat with a, just as simple, blue ribbon. Placing it over my mane, I make sure my ears make it into the ear holes. I wrap my scarf around my neck, before placing some books, and a few snacks into a saddlebag, my saddlebag.
I sling the saddlebag over, and onto my shoulder above the scarf. Finding myself with my apparel; I was ready. I open the door to my humble little shack stepping out into the, vile, morning rays of the sun. Nothing in particular truly is vile about it, but when it is the first, truly bright, light you see; then you would also find it to be a pain.
Today is a shopping day, I had placed my bits into the saddlebag last night, and I had several thing that I was requiring as of tonight; though mostly that is food, but I do need more paper.
There isn’t anything that beats the warm rays of the morning sun. I find that natural beauty is the best beauty. Things that occur without pony's involvement; even if it is a little insincere, what with leaving out all the other, non-pony peoples.
“It reminds me of strawberries. It is only one of many berries spread across the lands, all lands,” I say to myself. “Signature grape type-a land…” I begin to trail off.
I hear several small whine like noises, and it is very distracting; though now that I listen closer it is more like an onion being cut and the juices flew into somepony’s eye… not that I would think about it like that. That is long and unnecessary, it is somepony crying. Now to find out where.
I shift my ears, flexing my focus to pick out where the noise is the loudest, close my eyes to avoid auditory signals mixing and sifting the results; that is going to be the quickest, and only way for me to isolate the exact direction. All those concerts that play near my hut were starting to become a nuisance. Last night was one of Beethooven’s works… though, I couldn’t tell which one.
“Right… crying,” I smack my cheeks lightly, like I see so many young ones do in Ponyville.
After a few minutes, two to be precise, I was able to find the source. It's coming from behind my hut. ‘I really should go get my groceries before it becomes dark,’ I thought, ‘but wouldn’t it be rude not to see what is wrong?’ I contemplate, thinking, and thinking, ‘no. But if I want to be treated nicely then it will help to treat everypony kindly.’
The “Golden Rule of Life” treating others how you wish to be treated, something every foal is taught; though, many seem to forget it by the time they start to “Mature.” It is rather irking to think they just go about and call any…
I shake my head. Looking to the ground I let out a heavy sigh. I tread the soft upheaval soil, which leads to my backyard; though, really none of this land is mine, I just couldn’t understand the concept of land claiming. The ground feels moist, strange… the last water falling was two moonings ago.
No, that isn’t what they seem to be called nowadays. It is sprinklings, and fiery sun times. Well regardless of the names, the ground shouldn’t be moist. I freeze in my tracks. “It shouldn’t be upturned either,” I mumble in shock to myself.
My eyes shift back and forth as I scan the ground for something I could use, just in case I have to defend myself. I find a stick, crude as it is, it will have to do. A stick is what was used in that ancient war… though with so little information it is hard to tell if it was sticks or those ancient machines that have yet to be discovered.
I look around confused, finally resting my eyes on the sky. “Today? It is today?” I think aloud, “of course it is today.”
Ignoring the stick I trot, carefully, to the back of the hut… it might be a cottage; I’m not good with these structures. It is a house, and I live in it. The grass feels dry beneath my hooves, some wild mushrooms of some sort are starting to grow on the, slightly, damp walls of my house.
In the back I can see a small figure. It is going to be a small filly, though this one is different. She’s a Gorgony. Not only that, but she just ran away from her first day at school. That Diamond Sierra can be quite the rude little thing.
* * *
Skylla
I sniffle, but it is inevitable. I ran away from school, and here I am: crying uncontrollably against an abandoned cabin in the Everfree Forest. Even through my tears, and sobs I hear the hooffalls of somegony coming near.
“Look… not to be blunt. But you should get back to class, it isn’t good to skip the first day after all,” the voice soothes. It is a strange voice, almost lacking all the qualities one would try to use to figure out the defining gender. Whoever this voice belongs to has one thing going for them: they speak slowly and in a manner that seems to be calculative.
“What… do you… know?” I ask between sniffles.
The hooffalls draw closer. “I know many things. Like how you just moved here; how you were treated by the other children; how you ran as far away as you could… which happens to be my home, and naturally; how you can’t stop crying,” the voice states clearly and factually. “You are many things, but a monster… no.”
A hoof touches my shoulder, I look up into the kind red eyes of a strange looking pony. This pony… has stripes? There’s a blue coat, with red stripes… and wings? a Pegasus. This Pegasus is wearing a curious little hat made out of straw. I think the stripes are a candy red, the same as their eyes.
“Who… are you?”
They smile, “just somepony who wants to help; though for you it would be somegony, right?” they ask, still smiling down toward me. A pregnant silence hang in the air, finally the striped Pegasus speaks. “Look, things can get better. All you have to do is show that you are trying. Anypony can respect that you are giving effort.”
I rub my eyes with a scaly hoof. “Why are you helping me? Aren’t I a monster?”
The stranger pulls me into a tight hug, “don’t think of yourself as a monster. Monsters don’t exist. It is simply a misunderstood individual; an eccentric, somegony who is far better than anypony around her.” They release the grip looking me in the eyes with one of the kindest, brightest smiles I have ever seen. “She is just a good Gorgony trying to live a normal life. She is somegony I admire, for she has the strength to face the adversity and overcome it all.”
“You’re--”
“I am not. You are one of the bravest Gorgonies that I have ever known… given you are only the twenty-seventh Gorgony I have met, but that isn’t the point; though I have met some Gorgons as well, nice folks, even if the eye contact is minimal for whatever reason,” they trail off. “Right! Be brave, be strong, and be courageous. Don’t be afraid to make the first move.”
“You still haven’t told me who you are,” I inquire.
They look at me showing a little nervous flux in expression, flexing their wings they smile sheepishly. “Sorry,” with a flap they ascend into the air. They climb higher and higher until I can no longer see them, if they are climbing or not is beyond me.
* * *
Stripes
From my perch in the clouds I tremble, and quiver. I now remember why I don’t fly very often. The ground is spreading further and further away, I am getting higher and higher. Sweat beads down my brows. I have to get down, but first.
I gather all of my strength to look down, far below; I see the little filly running off in the direction of town. I lick my dying lips, fold my wings and step off the cloud.
Falling. I am falling. Worst of all-- I am far more focused on not screaming-- I close my eyes. If I can’t see it, then it won’t come to mind. The ground? I forgot about the ground. I spread my wings wide. Gliding, or falling with style; either way I wasn’t just falling to my death. Slowly I open my eyes, I am just above the treeline, another few seconds and I would have been smooshed against the ground. Become… jelly? that sounds far more accurate.
I land by a pair of dilapidated, and weathered trees. They are old and falling apart at the base. A few weeks, or a strong storm and they would come down. I can collect the leaves and put them into a soup. Maybe get some things to go with them… sticks? no. I can just buy things to go with them.
I trot in the direction of the foal’s schoolhouse. I should really check in to see how she is doing.
* * *
Skylla
That Pegasus looked awfully like a Zebra, but at the same time a pony. They are strange too, not telling me who they are; but I should listen to them. If it fails then I don’t know what to do anymore… maybe I could hide away in some cavern until the end of my days. The first monster, if what they said is correct, I would live in a cave and turn everypony, and everything else, into stone when they come in.
With a despondent sigh I think aloud, “guess I can try school once again.”
I could walk through the door, and be like, ‘hey’… or something. “But what if they make fun of us?” I ask stopping dead in my tracks. They would call me names. They would laugh and point, like every other school I have been too. And just like earlier I would run away to cry… and… and…
Be brave, be strong, and be courageous.
I can do it… I think. I begin to run. I run all the way to the schoolhouse. I run past trees, bushes and, like earlier this morning, animals, which run away from me once they see me.
Once I arrive at the schoolhouse I find myself out of breath, and sweat slowly dripping down past my brows and onto my cheeks, before falling to the ground. Hesitantly I reach for the door with my right forehoof. I pull it back just as it touches the door, “no… I can’t.”
Be courageous.
I swiftly reach for the door, my eyes snapping shut, hardly noticing that I don’t touch anything. “Come on Scoota-- ughf,” I crash into a short filly; a Unicorn with a light-gray coat.
Suddenly though, she becomes a solid gray when we make eye contact. I hear from behind her, “Sweetie Belle what’s wrong with ya?”
I look past Sweetie Belle to spot another filly; she has a red mane, with a bright crimson bow. Her eyes are shiny, before they become a solid gray. The realization that the gray is because I am turning them into statues, or rather stone, swiftly fell upon me.
I swallow audibly. Frantically looking for my glasses, which fell off when I knocked into the first filly, I take a step back and hear a resounding crunch. I close my eyes out of fear. Slowly, very slowly I look down. Shattered into pieces lies my special pair of glasses.
I look up to meet the eyes of yet another pony, they join the other two in a stone state. “Somegony help!” I yell out in distress. My rump falls onto the ground. I clench my eyes shut. I feel a hoof touch my shoulder. “No, stay away. I don’t want to hurt you.”
There is a small chuckle behind me. “No need to worry about that,” it is a familiar, slow, kind speech. “Though… they will be in far more trouble than I.”
“Why are you here? And who are you?”
I can hear the striped Pegasus sigh. “You… can just call me Stripes… my name isn’t exactly something you just… give to others. Now, I am here because of you.” I look up at them with confusion, but before I could open my mouth they continue. “I brought an antidote. I figured it would be needed.”
They look up towards the clouds before making eye contact with me. “No, don’t, you will be… turned… to… stone?” but they didn’t. They cock their head to the side. “How are you not stone?”
“I told you. No need to worry about me. I said it because it is true,” they explain with a smile. Somehow that isn’t exactly fulfilling my question.
“That… didn’t give me anything.”
They look around cautiously in all directions, as if making sure not to be overheard, before leaning close to my ear. “The snakes are lovely… but I’ve not been affected by other races' abilities… sadly. I wish I was… it would be nice to be normal again,” they sigh backing away.
“But--”
“Shh… go. Give them the antidote. If you explain that you didn’t do it on purpose I’m sure it will be alright; though it will take a long while… I am sure that you can make friends here.” They set the bottle filled with a swirling dark yellow, and green liquid down. Smiling they turn around and begin to trot away.
“Thanks… you… really helped me out. How can I thank you?” I call out with sincerity.
They stop, turning to me looking confused. “Now, why would you think you need to thank me?” They reach into their saddlebag pulling out a book. With it in their mouth they trot back over to me.
“What is that?” they answer my question with simply dropping the book in front of me. I look down and read the title aloud, “'Strange Anomalies of Equestria and Beyond: A Field Journal by Stripes'… wait… that is you?” I look up, but Stripes is gone.
I refocus my mind toward the bottle and the stone fillies I accidentally created. I take it in my mouth rushing over to the statues. Pulling the cork off I spray a few drops on the first statue, moments later I splash some onto the next two. After I finish I close my eyes, not wanting to turn them, once again, into stone. I turn around, and open them once again making my way for the book on the ground.
I pick it up, gingerly dropping it into my own bag. Drooping my ears I begin to slowly walk off to who knows where. “Wait!” my head droops lower fearing what was going to be said next. “Thanks fer savin’ us.”
“Yeah, that was awesome.”
“It was her fault that it happened though--”
“Quiet down Sweetie Belle… she totally didn’t mean it,” I close my eyes as I look toward them.
“What?” I ask.
Two Months Later
“Skylla come on! You’ll be late if you don’t hurry,” my friend Sweetie Belle yells. I throw the blanket off.
“Late… I can’t be late,” I hurry out of bed. Throwing stuff into my saddlebag, before gently setting my prized possession into it. I race down stairs, skipping breakfast once again, and running out the door. “Hey guys!”
“Hey ‘bout time you showed up,” Scootaloo huffs.
I laugh a little. “Sorry, I didn’t really want to get up.”
“So Skylla, how did yesterday go?” Sweetie Belle asks.
She is referring to my visit to the first friend here that I met. Their name is Stripes, or at least that is what they want me to call them. They helped me with a small thing I wanted to write, it is for school, and they were completely willing to help. With it I think I could get the best grade on the assignment. They also told me about something they wrote in the very back of the book they gave me two months ago, something I still haven’t seen, that is, until yesterday.
It read: For the Gorgony who I know is the strongest, bravest, and most courageous pony I ever knew. Always remember that friends come from strange places, and strange occurrences make great friends. Time can heal wounds, just as time can mend most problems in a friendship.
“Oh, it went great,” I reply.
“Did… they help you with the you-know-what?” Scootaloo ponders.
I nod, “they sure did.”
“Yeah,” we cheer together. We have everything that we need for that little plan.
Author's Note
I'd like to thank EverfreePony for the help, without whom this wouldn't be close to as good as it is... error-wise.
