Untitled Documents

Apples.

Apples and apple trees for as far as she could see.

Perhaps it was the way her stomach rumbled that brought her to these orchards. Presumably maintained by the pony named “Applejack”. Another name that rang like a bell in her mind.

Fluttershy had been an Element of Harmony. And, if context served any purpose, Fluttershy seemed to be the Element of Kindness. The way her words were formed, the way it was presented and portrayed… Compass Rose did not doubt that she was a kind soul that cared for others. And yet…

Rose stared up at an apple as she stood beneath an apple tree. It’s red skin glistened in the sunlight, and it’s delectable quality came from it’s plump figure. Judging by the sheer quantity of apple trees in and of itself, she suspected Applejack must’ve been apple farmer. If her name was any indication at all.

Rose shook her head. She was getting sidetracked. Turning around, she positioned herself in front of the tree. With a quick jab of her hind leg against the tree’s trunk, a few apples fell. Not enough to send all the apples falling, but enough for Rose to devour. After all, her food was beginning to run in short supply. Any longer than today, she estimated, and she would have had to start rationing her food even more than she already had been.

Finding a nice spot against a tree that had been somewhat dried by the effects of the sun, Rose sat down, taking her saddlebags off. Leaning against the trunk, she could feel the flowing energy that radiated from the tree. An energy that spoke volumes of how well the trees had been taken care of in their tenure under the care of an earth pony apple farmer.

Sighing, she stared at her saddlebags intently. Opening the flap, she rummaged through the contents of her bag before pulling a little picture book. Smiling nostalgically at it, she let her hoof run across the fading text and the roughed up edges. The Mare in the Moon and the Elements of Harmony. A classic. She remembered when her mother first read the story to her. How one of the princesses of old, Celestia, had to banish her sister because she had been corrupted. How a thousand years later, the same princess asked a big favour of her student and asked her to find the Elements of Harmony.

How the student had had her mind set on thinking that friends were of no use to her, but that all changed when she met five other ponies. Ponies who would eventually come to aid her in her venture into the dangerous menacing Everfree, facing off against manticores, sea serpents, ghastly trees and menacing shadows of ponies. Getting into scrapes, and eventually facing off Nightmare Moon. And then, with the power of friendship, they defeated her, purging the evil from her and restoring her true self back. The sovereign of the night, Princess Luna!

Whenever Compass Rose closed her eyes, she could envision how the journey had taken place. The first adventure of the Elements of Harmony after a thousand years. The redemption of Princess Luna. The start of something great. A story she had regarded as just that, a story. A story with a moral of looking for the good in oneself and the value of friendship.

In her travels, Rose had met many people. She could still remember the words a wise old stallion she had met so many moons ago, when she had started her journey as an explorer. The stallion had said that “Every story ever told really happened. Stories are where memories go when they’re forgotten.” At the time, she hadn’t really understood what he meant by that. But now… An epiphany of thoughts and words...

Her heroes were her manifestation of everything she could hope or dream to be. To find out that these fairytales were more than fantasy was more than she could’ve ever dreamed of, but it inexplicably saddened her beyond measure.

Sighing, she closed the picture book, shutting her eyes and placing her hooves on the ground. In an instant, she was whisked away in her musings of how things would’ve… and should’ve been.

A bright sunny day would’ve shone down on the orchards, baskets strewn under the trees in a uniform manner. A single orange pony working hard to be efficient and effective getting ready to buck a tree. With one single buck, the tree would’ve shaken, and all the apples harvested. In the distance, another loud smack could be heard and the stetson-wearing mare would’ve smiled at the sight of something a ways away.

Applejack. She must’ve been Applejack.

Packing her book away in it’s safe place, her gaze lingered on her saddlebags a moment longer before she put them back on. Looking up at the sky, she studied the position of the sun. Early morning still. Not high enough for noon.

She trudged along, studying the many apple trees. All were mostly the same. A small grove that was fenced off in a clearing was unusually devoid of live trees, and only a few seemed to actually have leaves. Strange dark clouds hovered above the secluded orchard, visible sparks of lightning weaving through the clouds layers.

She could see a barn in the distance.

A barn that she knew would’ve housed the ponies who lived here.

Committing the odd orchard to memory, as she did with all her findings- most of which she took a piece of in one form or another, she headed for it. With an open field surrounding the barn in a wide perimeter, nothing but grass and overgrown paths occupying the empty space, she had no trouble making her way towards it. The grass and the ground was still wet in most spots, a few ditches and grooves in the ground holding puddles of mud and water, she knew most of it was likely undrinkable. Spotting a well just a short trot away, she set herself a reminder to resupply on that front.

The barn still stood tall after centuries of resiliency. Parts of the roof were caved in, some boards eaten and rotted away. Some spots still had traces of paint, their original colours still shining through. A nice rosy red. Most of the walls had lost their paint and colour altogether, having been bleached in the sun. White boards remained where paint apps would’ve been present. The barn was still moist from the night previous, and Compass closed her eyes. Putting a hoof up onto the wood, she felt it’s grain.

A peaceful scene of farm life burst into her mind’s eye. A chicken keep not far from where she stood housed plump clucking avians, ready to lay eggs at a moment’s notice. The paint was vibrant and sharp, still fresh from a recently applied coat. A wafting smell of indescribable scrumptiousness would’ve filled the air, the scent of cinnamon and apples mixing seamlessly together in a chorus of absolute delight.

All the trees were bright green and well kept, the land a nice beige from the constant travelling. An orange building in the distance showed that another farm was not too far away from this vast land ripe for apple farming. Fences were straight and uniform, unyielding to any that didn’t pass through a gate or crossed over. And yet for all it’s glory… it was only an illusion.

Taking her hoof off of the wood, the world around her faded away. The colours dulled back. The wood was still decomposing and wilting. The land overgrown. The buildings mere shadows of their former selves.

Stepping back a little, she breathed. With a sigh and a wry smile overtaking her face, she moved to the door. Finding it a little bit stuck, she gently tapped the wood with her hoof. When that didn’t work, she closed her eyes, focusing her magic. If she asked nicely…

The wood released the door, and Compass Rose smiled. Still got it, she thought, moving into the barn.

Inside, everything was musty and dank. Dust covered many surfaces, and it floated in the air across the windows. Much of the wood was still intact, but it was decomposing in some places, moss having grown in. The door had opened up to the living room, and she found herself confronted with a rug that had grown into the floor. A rocking chair that was wilting from age lay centered around a fireplace, the mantel decorated by empty broken picture frames.

The kitchen was not much better. Forgotten pans lay in a kitchen sink, both rusting from time and negligence. The table still had four chairs surrounding it, plates still adorning the waxy surface. A few cabinets lay open, a few even having some scratch marks on them.

The light filtered through the windows was beginning to strengthen, and Compass Rose looked up. In the distance, behind the tainted glass pane of a window, she could begin to see the emergence of a bright red-orange light appear over the horizon. The sky burst into hues of magentas and blues, heliotropes and lilacs, soft pinks and the last traces of the night.

Taking in the rays of sun as they warmed her face, in turn warming up her very soul, she closed her eyes. The gentle heat was nice against her closed eyes, the golden light still piercing the veil over her eyes that were her eyelids.

With a deep breath, she smiled. Sunsets always reminded her of home. Of the beach she had visited every morning with the sole purpose of witnessing the glory of the sun, and it’s beauty reflecting off of the rolling waves. The clouds that were ever so present in helping illuminate the sky.

With a final contented sigh, she finished her exploring of the main floor. Stopping at the stairwell, she looked up the stairs. Testing each step, she made her way up, and found herself in a short hallway that had a small view of the living room. Five rooms were spread out across the hallway, and she saw a bathroom, it’s door still open.

Going to the first room down the hall, it seemed to not have been touched in a long time. A long, long time. Longer than the other rooms. The bed was still neatly tucked after all this time, it’s sheets and framing still in surprisingly good condition. On each side of the bed was a trinket of a sort, one that was a necklace and another that was a simple stetson. the room was otherwise plain and untouched, save for a letter that she had found, a page that had been torn at the edges and set carefully between the items on the bed.

The room next to it was just as quaint, and there were more signs of activity. Another rocker, similar to the one downstairs, lay facing the window. Not faring any better, it’s frame was less touched by the earth, but moreso still in disrepair. Needles entwined in cloth mostly eaten away were still there, ready as ever to make a new quilt. A faded green apple could be seen marked on the wall above the headstand, and Compass Rose took it to be the cutie mark of the room’s resident. Finding a faux-leather bound  journal, she was disappointed to see it’s contents were smeared from the effects of the humidity and general moisture.

It made her wonder how the page on the bed in the previous room was still intact when something like this was beyond repair. Setting it down gently, she left the room.

Another room, another bed. This time, a faded view of an apple sliced in half. The bed was nearly twice her size, and it seemed to have accommodated a large pony. If Compass Rose held her abilities to any truth, she would say this belonged to the elder brother. That, and the fact that nopony else but a stallion would have ponyshoes that looked as heavy as the ones that were surprisingly still on the wall. Rusting and hanging by a loose nail, they were impossibly still up.

Not daring to let it fall lest it drop straight through the second floor and down to the main, she let them be. She continued to look around, inspecting everything. The bed was still in good shape as well, it’s make of as intricate craftsmanship as the bed in the room previous. Testing the sheets, she drew her hoof back to find it was bone dry. Unsurprising, seeing as how the other beds were just as well, but what did surprise her was the fact that this was three consecutive cases of perfect maintenance. Unlike Fluttershy’s Cottage, it seemed that this house was protected by some earth pony magic.

As an earth pony herself, she just knew. The feeling of the wood beneath her hooves. Though the downstairs had been in a state of decomposition, it was because it was closer to the earth. Closer to the ground for Mother Nature to reclaim, and thus, the process was faster. But up here, it would take many more years to begin to break down. Thus was the blessing of earth pony magic. Built to last.

And for all it’s worth, Compass Rose was surprised to see a patchwork button-eyed doll set neatly in between the pillows, centered for symmetrical pleasantry. Looking it over, it seemed to have aged well along with everything else in the house. Smiling softly at it, she set it gently back, this time tucking it underneath the sheets as well. Nothing else in the room was of interest. It was simple and straight to the point.

One room over, Compass Rose swore her eyes were literally being assaulted by the sheer amount of colours in the room. Posters and sheets covered the walls, all of which had images of activities and pictures on them. And with each image was accompanied a large crayoned X, indicating this little filly had finished it, accomplished it, or it didn’t work. Walking up to one, her eyes nearly bulged at the picture of three fillies lava diving. Even earth ponies weren’t sturdy enough to survive lava!

To her relief, she noticed a red X did not appear with the picture. It still bothered her that somepony could even rationalize jumping into lava of all things was a good idea.

The bed itself was a little small compared to the others; the perfect size for a post-adolescent filly. Beside the bed was a nightstand, and off to the side was a chest filled with all sorts of trinkets and toys. Pulling one out, she didn’t think too much of it thinking it was a toy, before she squinted her eyes at it in surprise and impressed shock.

Why would a filly have a history-accurate steel broadsword!?

Scrutinizingly staring at it in disbelief, she gently placed it back into the chest. Closing the chest with just as much care, she tore her gaze away from it. Best not to dwell on the specifics.

In any case, there was a mostly empty wardrobe, with the only items being a few light crimson bows. Beside it just a few paces away was a large vanity. Unsurprisingly, the mirror was warping from ages of lying in the open. On it were even fewer items, and a couple being jars of something Compass Rose couldn’t quite identify. Her best guess? It was tree sap. Why a filly had tree sap in her room? She couldn’t think of a reason for the life of her.

Opening a drawer, she found a diary. A diary titled with crayons, ‘The Crusader Chronicles.’ Opening up one entry near the end of it’s written life, she slowly began to widen her eyes at the story told before her. Hang gliding off of a cliff! Apple Bloom, the owner of the diary, went hang gliding off of a cliff with her just-as-daring friends. With no prior experience to boot! Unfortunately for her, the dates were all earlier than the ones she had seen prior, so she knew this was before such a tie where they would’ve needed to leave everything behind.

Chuckling at the thought of a few fillies worrying their family, she placed the diary into her satchel. It wouldn’t do for a gem of literature to be left to rot away. When she had the chance, she would copy out all the text that was useable and useful within. All of it seemed amazingly hilarious to her, and she hoped she would get a kick out of reading it. Silently whispering her own thanksgivings to the owner of the diary, she moved on to the final room.

This last room bore an insignia of three red apples in a triangular fashion, it’s paint faded and worn away. Set across the headboard of the bed that was stationed beside the door, she also spotted a painting old and cracking, it’s image barely interpretable as a pony frolicking through a field of flowers. Looking around, she found that the room had a great view of the rolling hills and orchards stretched out across the apple farm.

The sun had no broken above the horizon, it’s light shining through the warping dirtied windows. Smiling at the morning light that illuminated the room, she looked further around.

The room was quite small compared to the others. With only one main window, it seemed homely enough. A desk was set across from the window, faced against a blank wall with the light coming at a pony sitting behind the desk from behind. Above the door and imprinted upon it were more red apples, each styled to be slightly different than the last.

On the desk were a few books that she had never seen before. Antiques. Rarities she was sure she would not find anywhere else unless she journeyed to the shining capital of Canterlot or if there was a library around town. Hoofing her way gently through some of their pages, she carefully tucked them away, putting them into her ‘Safekeeping’ pocket.

Finally, she found a diary. The diary of Applejack. A member of the Apple family, and apple enthusiast.

It detailed many parts of her life with her five best friends, going to galas, traveling places, saving ponies and defeating evil villains. Just like the stories she read in her picture books.

Even now, she couldn’t really believe what she was reading. The fact that this even existed, and everything else, blew the mind of her inner child. It was like all of her dreams were coming true… but they were already dead.

Finally, she came upon the last entry in the book. The next page was ripped at the spine, and, seeing the shorn edges, brought out the page she had found lying on the bed of the other room. Laying it in the diary, the edges nearly matched perfectly, save for the stray rip and fraying that made it imperfect.

Finally having found the missing pieces, she began to read the last entries.

Dear Diary,

I don’t know why I’m still writing in here.

We’ve got to leave almost anything we got, only bringing the essentials. Twilight keeps telling us to bring our diaries and journals and the like, but I just got this gut feeling that we need to leave it all behind.

Us friends, we’ll never forget the times we spent together. But other ponies may not have the same benefit of learning the same lessons we did if we keep em to ourselves, which is why I’m leaving this here. For others to find. Everypony else agrees with me. Pinkie especially, for some reason. Something about an ‘explorer from the future’ that might stumble upon alla this here diaries and journals.

Which reminds me that she’s going to be throwing one last party as a town in Sugarcube Corner. One last hurrah for the township of Ponyville. One last party in our homes.

I’m not much of a writer. I sure like to speak my mind but I ain’t one for writing words. I will say this, though. The forest near the orchards have been… I can barely feel stable when I move near them, and it scares me. Something has been happening. Something big. And I think Twilight may be right about leaving.

Anyways, I don’t think I have anything more to write here. There really isn’t much else to say. If somepony out there is reading this… I hope you benefit from the stories that we’ve left behind. Maybe one day, we’ll come back and get these. And…

I guess that’s all I have to say about that.

This is Applejack, signing off.

…

…

…

Dear Ma and Pa,

I don’t know if we’ll ever come back… but I…

I want you to know how much of an inspiration you were to me. How much y’all meant to my brother, to Big Mac.

I want you to know that we forgive you.

I want you to know that Apple Bloom grew up to be a fine young mare, strong headed just like me and you. That she found her purpose in life. To help other ponies.

I want you to know that we’ll’ve gone to another place. Another land. One where we’ll be happier and safer. As much as want to stay at these age old apple farms… we just can’t no more.

I want you to know that we love you, and you will always be our Ma and Pa.

Applejack

Big Macintosh

Apple Bloom

Granny Smith