The Journey

by SuptMrSeaUnicorn

Rating: teen
Tags: Death, Sad, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1703

She made it up this hill to wait for him to come.

South of the town is a hill where no pony has been too frequently. She made it up this hill, and she waits for the stallion.

Published 2018-01-26 03:50:05 UTC
Last updated 2018-01-26 03:50:05 UTC

The Start of A Journey

It was late. And she was late, too.

Better I hurry up, said she to herself, I needn’t stay in the dark. A quality of the atmosphere sent tingles up her spine that coursed through her nerves and veins and everything. Sullened by the fact that she haven’t the time to fully absorb the cold of the air and sights of the sky, she pressed on.

Every twilight, it sweepeth the horizon with the feared power almost all knew and a certainty it would remain in all the ages like the moon of old. The sun threw the last rays of luminescence whilst the evenfall shrouded the rest of the canvas with a shade of subdued lavender and the nethermost regions with orange and a pitch black so dark that only the stars bright in night had the vigor to awe and illuminate. Most definitely was she awed by the spectacle.

Quickened. Her pace quickened at the sight behind. Receive more of her attention, they could get not anymore. This lady was late.

She pulled herself up a steady incline far not from the town being swallowed up the dark of night. Levitating the scroll, she read it once more. Stop, she can’t seem to. The X appeared on this hill down south near the woods. It somewhat piqued her curiosity for a reason unknown.

She rested on top of the mound and moved on down the map. Thick trees surrounded the plains beyond this knoll; vines sprouted out of them and blocked the view, which made it the more frightening seeing the shadows large and small alike lurk in there.

The X was of small size, no larger than a cherry on a cupcake. Whilst investigating the map on her travel, she noticed the level of detail implemented on it could not be made by any mere pony; a cartographer of experience would be left saying it is unbeknownst to her and not possible. It made it all the more interesting to her on how it came to fruition.

Long and far and here and there and everywhere from the top above, her eyes scanned the reaches of land. Not a thing except for the sky and the plains. She scratched her head with a confusion she hadn’t known. She swore that he would be here.

The tree casted long shadows of twigs and branches. These forests were the source of fear and bedtime stories in the town of Ponyville, albeit she saw the thick underbrush and void beyond littered with the lights of fireflies as a welcoming sight; the sight of the calm and melancholy air made this a place of tranquility and a million more adjectives. She sat her haunches on the wet rolling carpet of blades of green.

It was a nice thing, seeing nature this way up above. A whole new point of view, mused she with a light chuckle. The mare imagined a tune of a guitar out of boredom, and she eventually started to whistle the simplistic melody of chill vibes. She laid back on the tree stump as she watched the orange disc fall, thinking of the beauty when it will rise again in a dawn of a day new—knowing that it was either a new day or just another day.

Odd, she thought. The shadows behind were dancing under the canopies, playing a game of tag it seemed. All except one dared to move. It was the scariest to her—tall, deceiving, watchful.

There he was. A stallion with a smile and an aura of warm, his body was a silhouette in the setting sun. He held out a hoof for her. She needn’t the help; she shot up and tackled him with a face of coy and happiness when she saw the full face of his when they both landed—the mare on top.

The stallion noted her with a tiny wink. She laughed and playfully punched him in the chest.

“How’re you doing, dude?” she said with a smirk.

The stallion tried to pull himself to his hooves, but she refused to let him go. He slacked his muscles in defeat. “I’m doin’ fine. You?”

“Just wonderful,” she replied, “now that you’re here.”

“That’s good to hear. Now can you let me go?” he told as he fought against her mighty grip and pin. The mare laughed when she heard the whimpers of him as her lock didn’t alter. She looked at his eye when he surrendered under her gaze. “Fine . . . you win. Again.” That was when she let him go.

“You never win in this game, do you?” teased the mare.

The stallion studied her for a moment. “At least I know how to swim.”

She rolled her eyes. He was good at swimming—unlike most ponies. Uncountable were the times he had won a race, and she knew the consequences she’ll have to bear when he received a medal or a mere certificate even. The last time she swam was at a foal’s pool. It did not go well. “Yes, yes. Poke me all you want,” the mare told in a manner jestful.

He flashed a grin large. He looked stupid. Very stupid. She slowly drifted away and landed her attention to the sunset. There was the sound of his voice in her ears, albeit ignore it, she did; eyes glued away from him. How long had she been looking there? She haven’t a clue. “. . . Made you go swimming in that pool for foal’s. Good stuff, good stuff.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I—I wasn’t paying attention again . . .” She meekly hid behind her hair, shrinking. “M—my . . .” Her words were incomprehensible.

“Dude, dude. Listen; it’s alright. You’re like that. Always. And I honestly can’t change that.” His words had the power of a thousand stars, and it struck her in a second. It was the only thing that could alleviate the harshest of pains, no matter how severe.

“I . . . thank you, Leon.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shot his head around. “Let’s have a walk. I’m kinda bored.”

“Whatever you say.”

At the foot of the small hillside, the two sauntered to the east to the falling sun in the far distance. How silent it had been—the duo glancing at each other once in every while, not a word exchanged or a thought expressed. They simply walked for a long so great that the sun had been replaced by the moon, overhead and prominent.

“You were great in those contests,” she complemented. “I can’t believe still you swim that fast. You could outswim a shark.”

“Heh.” It was a half-smile and half-snort, it seemed. “Don’t be so sweet, honey bunny,” he teased.

“S—Stop it!” she screamed. “Um . . . I . . . I didn’t raise my voice like that . . . did I? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The mare yelped as he pulled her close. She blushed shades of red that would make the sun blush. He noogied her like a father would to a son, and she melted in his hooves. “You’re like . . . what was his name again? Auriga, yes Auriga. Always so . . . critical and concerned. Not exuberant, though.”

“Auriga . . .”

He eyed her. “Is there something wrong? You don’t look well all the sudden.”

“Well . . . you know what happened to him, right?”

“Of course I do.” He smacked his lips. “And he died pretty horribly,” he said a tad insensitively. “I’ve heard he drowned and his last words were, ‘Goodnight.’” he emphasized with a move of his hooves.

Still, she looked sick. The mare’s coat paled like moonlight. “Dude, seriously. You look like you’re gonna throw up. Tell me what’s the matter.” She could feel herself shrink in his soft grasp.

“I . . . I’m going to miss you.” she admitted. No, why would she even admit it? It was true to the very definition of the word.

He smiled small. “I know you will,” he comforted.

“It just occurred to me the fact, when you mention Auriga and all. When you’re gone I’ll have no one with me.” Her ears sogged down like her mood.

“Don’t say that,” told he encouragingly. “I’m going to miss you too. But remember always, always, that you’re never going to be alone. You’ll always have somepony.” He paused. “I will be here until the end of time.” She looked up. “All those times we had together . . . that will be a symbol of what we have together. For as long as you’ll be here . . . I’ll be there for you.”

She laid limp in his hooves. “But . . . but you’re dead . . . and you died with Auriga . . .”

“That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if I’m dead.”

“I . . . I know you’re not real.”

He smiled once more. “That doesn’t matter, too. All those memories we have gave us both emotions and feelings and a million other things. It made us look forward to something and love someone. So who can say I’m not real?”

She looked at him. She looked at his face, full of sadness yet smiling all the same. He let go of her, and she only stayed still.

For a while stood the stallion, as if appreciating the mere sight of her.

“Thank you for making all of this possible, Flaura. Thank you for making me feel something; happiness, sadness, whatever it may be, thank you for that. Those experiences we have will never be forgotten, and bad some may be, it will be engraved in history forever. Let us appreciate the good but not forget the bad. Thank you for just being here.” He put a hoof on his chest. “No one can say we’re dreaming . . .”

His figure started to break down to dust, and the wind blew it away to the lands unknown. She couldn’t move for a long while, but when she could, the first thing she did was look up at the stars always watching.