‘I – I don’t understand. Why do I have to go? Why can’t I stay?’
The seapony swam circles around Apple Bloom, who – albeit deep below the surface, without gills or fins – could breathe and move through the water as easily as if she were weightless. The seapony giggled and swam farther away, getting faster and faster.
‘Come back here!’
Apple Bloom glided after her, determined to get an answer.
‘Come back!’
‘SHAN’T! SHAN’T SHAN’T! SHAN’T! SHAN’T!’
Apple Bloom cried out as a current gripped her, throwing her backwards. The seapony had reached a tunnel of light, whereas around Apple Bloom the water had darkened. Apple Bloom screamed.
‘Come back! Help me!’
‘SHAN’T! SHAN’T! SHAN’T! SHAN’T! SHAN’T!’
‘Help me! Help –’
The current punched her dumb. Her eyes rolled.
The darkness closed in.
Leaves rustled and swings creaked. Apple Bloom lifted her head off the tarmac and spat out a mouthful of stones. A stiff breeze whipped her mane, causing it to flap like sailcloth in a squall. She brought up a hoof to shield her eyes as a cloud of dust hit her face. Moments later, the scene had melted but for the swings, one of which was occupied.
‘Help her,’ said the seapony, whose fins were now legs. She swung.
Apple Bloom blinked.
‘Who?’ she said.
‘Help her.’
Apple Bloom didn’t understand.
‘Where am I?’ she asked. ‘What is this place?’
‘Help her,’ said the seapony.
‘I –’
‘GO!’ bellowed the seapony, leaping high into the air and never landing. ‘GO! GO!’
Apple Bloom awoke with a start. She was covered in cold sweat, but her bed was the one in which she’d fallen asleep last night; on her wall were the posters she’d plastered there; through her window she could see the family apple trees. She was home.
‘Apple Bloom!’
Granny Smith’s voice, harsh yet ever so welcome.
‘Come down them stairs! Come down and see this!’
Apple Bloom obeyed.
‘Coming, Granny!’ she said.
‘Come and see! You’ll love it! I promise!’
On the table lay a horrible sight – the seapony, her face slack, her eyes white, the contents of her belly laid bare. Apple Bloom watched in horror as Granny Smith speared a string of muscle with her knitting needles.
‘My, what a lovely quilt this’ll be. I’m making him just for you!’
The seapony’s eyes rolled back into place. Her mouth opened.
‘Hold on, gal,’ she said in a deep monotone. The ceiling started to collapse. Granny Smith barely flinched when a piece of plaster bounced off her snout.
‘Got to keep you warm during them winter months.’
‘Hold on,’ said the seapony. Her eyes had vanished. In their place were two gaping black holes that seemed to be swelling. Apple Bloom tried to run but found her legs were glued to the floor – literally.
‘Hold on.’
Apple Bloom screamed again. The holes got larger and nearer. They enveloped her.
‘Hold on.’
‘Apple Bloom.’
‘You,’ breathed Apple Bloom, staring at the seapony. They were back in the water, floating beside the tunnel of light. The seapony pointed.
‘At the top of that tunnel there is a life. It is not a good one. Terror, pain and suffering await the one who lives it. But it is a life, and there are those who would see you live it.’
Apple Bloom wanted to cry.
‘What are you saying?’ she said, her mouth dry. ‘I don’t understand! Where am I? Why do I have to go?’
‘You have a choice, Apple Bloom,’ said the seapony. ‘You have a choice. Now make it.’
‘I – I don’t understand!’
The seapony gripped her tightly and pulled her into the light.
‘AAAAARRRGH!’
‘She isn’t moving! Oh my god, she isn’t moving!’
‘Have you found those wheels yet?’
‘Hang in there, gal. Hang in there.’
‘You’ll have to feed her.’
‘I can’t do this no more! I can’t!’
‘Never should have taken her to him.’
‘Got to keep fighting. Got to, or you’re finished. And we are too.’
Voice after voice after voice clawed at Apple Bloom’s ears. Screaming, she writhed and kicked and bit and punched. But the seapony did not move.
‘Please!’ wailed Apple Bloom. ‘Please, make it stop! I can’t stand it!’
The seapony raised an eyebrow.
‘Is that truly what you desire?’
‘Please,’ begged Apple Bloom. ‘Please! It hurts!’
The light began to fade, and with it went the voices – the voices and the pain. Apple Bloom floated, barely conscious. The tunnel was gone. The water darkened once more.
‘Thank you,’ whispered Apple Bloom as her eyesight faded. The seapony shook her head sadly.
‘You’re one of us now, Apple Bloom,’ she said. ‘You’re one of us.’
‘Twenty-three minutes past five,’ muttered Doctor Wyeth, checking his watch. ‘She’s gone.’
Tears trickled down Applejack’s face, but she couldn’t wipe them. She was frozen. They all were – Big Mac, Granny Smith, Scootaloo, Braeburn. She watched as Wyeth covered up the body that had once been Apple Bloom’s.
Scootaloo fell to her knees.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m so, so sorry, Apple Bloom.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Scootaloo,’ said Applejack immediately, and she was surprised to hear how hard her voice was. ‘Accidents happen all the time. We see them, we read about them. But we never believe they’ll happen to us. Shows what we know.’
Scootaloo looked at Applejack as though the latter had cut her with a knife.
‘How – how can you say that?’
Applejack felt the stares of the rest of her family, but they aroused no guilt. Her tears had dried.
‘That’s reality, Scootaloo,’ said Applejack, ‘and the sooner you embrace it the better. Apple Bloom’s gone, and she ain’t coming back.’
And without another word, she left the ward. She knew she’d been tactless. She knew she’d crossed a line. She also knew that what she’d said was true. Apple Bloom was meat and hair now, no more a pony than a fire was coal and flame. On her way out, she picked up a knock off a trolley being trundled in. She shook herself steady and made her way home.
The pain would come later.
