The Home - Unknown

I had enjoyed the meal Pinkie Pie had brought to the table at the Sugar-cube Corner. The only problem is that I ended up feeling a bit too full afterwards, which made me choose to go back home to rest for a while.

Of course nothing had changed since none had there since I left. Why should I ever have imagined such a ludicrous notion in the first place? This is Ponyville, after all.

Since I had the time to enjoy my breakfast, I am now noticing all the little details about my home. The first is the wooden fence lining the garden before the small cottage I had found myself living in. I choose to imagine myself owning it, not illegally occupying it as if I had the reason that was even a thing in Ponyville. Or even the surroundings of the village.

Ponyvile doesn’t exactly look like the overly rich neighbourhood, but it is clearly flourishing. Just all these well kept little cottages every Pony is living in. Of course we even have the Royal castle overlooking the entire village on one side. Then we do have the large orchard; known as Sweet Apple Acres.

Behind the simple wooden fence, I can clearly see a well kept garden with green grasses covering the front of my yard. Or, what is to pass for my yard. it is what I think it is.

I notice the smooth stone tiles covering the path from the street, all the way up to the building. Peonies are growing to the right and left of the path. To my delight, I see the bright, cerise blossoms at the top of the still moderately small bushes.

I trot past the peonies and right up to the door and pull it up, before I step right in. Just as expected, nothing had changed and nothing had been touched during my absence. None had entered my home, for any or no reason.

While I move through the hall, I had considered to just sit down in the comfortable sofa and rest. Yet, as I spot the door to be backyard, I change my mind and step right out, after I had opened the door.

“How long had this building been left abandoned, before I had moved in? Or, had it just been spirited into place for me to take possession of?” I ponder.

Little by little, I am growing used to being a Pony. I learn that it isn’t as strange or different as I imagine I had been expecting. Of course, a Pony is not a Horse such as I knew them to be where I still think I came from.

I live in a cottage, just like the home I had been living in before. I still enjoy the beauty of the flowers growing outside my home. Just that I never had put the time into actually growing them there before.

What came next should have been a shock, shouldn’t it? The garden up front, before the building is just the taste of what is to come. I have a small inner face before which I have more peonies. Bright, brightly purple peonies now standing a full three feet tall. In bloom, of course, just as the once on the front of the building.

As a Pony, I have little interest in a grill and barbecuing. At least, that is how it turns out for me. Maybe I had loved it before, but that is when I should have been drooling over the juicy stake as it slowly fry over the red hot coals.

Only once I had trotted out past the fence did I realize, just what it is I had been all along. I have an orchard, just like the earth-pony I am. I have Maples and Rubber trees. Since it is the warm season, revealed by the Peonies in full bloom; my trees are fully covered with the green leaves. Each tree has a small tap crafted out of stainless steel.

As I trot closer to the trees, I notice the small buildings, one for each part of the orchard. Lacking better words, I am distilling the sap from the trees into valuable and highly desirable Syrup and latex in these two buildings. Maybe my rubbery hooves were not an accident, as much as one may have thought?

With the realization, I am made aware of a shimmer from behind. The light is emanating from my flanks, right and left. As I look back, I notice the cutie mark I had just received. I think the mark is resembling the tap and my love for the plants in my garden.

I had been given a place in the community, and a purpose of my very own. I have the mark of a Pony on my very flanks to prove it.

“There goes, if I can sell my products on the local market?” I ponder.

It may look like an easy job, but I need to make a living. Selling the products would grant me the funds in bits for me to maintain my life, such as it is now. I guess I have everything I need, at the very least.

“The question is; how do I market my products in order to make a living out of what I have?” I ponder.

I had picked up a few bottles of my products as samples to be given away to a select group of Ponies I meet in town. The idea had been to market my product, by showing the wares. I don’t have many friends, and I don’t have a stand at the market. The syrup in the right main pocket of my saddle bags, and the latex in the left one.

I do not know who would be appreciating the sample gifts yet, but I imagine I will know, when I meet them along the way. Of course, I feel secure in my impression of Pinkie Pie; who I imagine should enjoy the syrup.

While I am starting to grow secure with my nudity as a Pony, I still do feel an urge to have something to wear. Maybe just something casual, like a vest and a skirt? But still, just to have the option to put something on is the entire point.

I have the address to the local supplier, by the name of Rarity. According to the card I had found earlier, she is to live and work in the Carousel Boutique. I guess the building should be hard to miss, from the image of the building I had.

If the image of the local cafe is anything to go by, a Carousel Boutique should be standing out like a sore thumb. I still do have a map and the description to go by, in case my image and impression had not been sufficient for me to go by. Yet, these Ponies have a very peculiar and special architecture.

“Who doesn’t like Syrup? Unless it is very poor quality, of course!” I think.

I had chosen to see Pinkie Pie first, mainly because she had been so nice and friendly to me before as she was serving my breakfast. Since I don’t know many of the Ponies yet, maybe I could afford to be extra generous towards her?

My path towards the boutique had taken me past the library, located in a massive oak in the middle of town.

“The Golden Oak Library!” the sign announced, for anyone who was passing by to read.

“Maybe I should have a look inside later, just to see what books they may have available?” I think, as I read the sign outside the local library.

I continue on my way towards the cafe, trotting slowly and with reasonable confidence. This looks like a small town, where everyone knows everyone else in town. I had seen a few towns like this, but never really taken the liking to them.

As I spot the cafe, I hasten my steps, while making an effort to use a measured gate. No gallop would make due here. I am not in a haste and I don’t feel like drawing too much attention towards myself or my person right now. It isn’t the person I had been, and it isn’t the Pony I am now.

I slow down and open the door to the cafe and step right in. Of course, Pinkie Pie is behind the counter. Naturally. She just had to be there, as if she had known I was coming and had been expecting me.

“Hiya, Pinkie Pie!” I greet her.

“I have a sample for you to try, hope you enjoy Maple Syrup!” I added, as I opened the pocket of my saddle bags and extracted three bottles and placed them before her.

“Sweet!” she squealed.

“I was hoping you would say that!” I responded, “but I had never expected her to express it so intense and enthusiastic!” I think.

“I will just have to try it out, on my pancakes and in my baking!” she then adds.

“Thanks, Pinkie!” I say.

“Every Pony knows me, and I know every Pony in town! Of course, now I will have to prepare a “Welcome to Ponyville Party for you!” she exclaims.

“Sounds like fun. Then I should leave you to it! I need to go to the Carousel Boutique, anyway!” I concluded, as I trotted out of the cafe, on my way to the next destination.

Of course, the boutique just had to resemble a carousel. It isn’t just a name. Nothing is just a name for the ponies? It was not very far from the cafe, nothing seems to be far in Ponyville.

I had stopped before the building, just taking in the site in awe. This is indeed a very peculiar architecture. This is a house and a boutique, not an attraction at some theme park.