My name is Pinkie Pie; ‘Hello!’
and I am here to say; ‘How ya doin’?’
I'm gonna make you smile
and I will brighten up your day!
Well, actually it was night; a dark, cloudless night, lit only by the waxing moon high in the sky. Inside the apartment bedroom it was dark as well, similar to the nightly darkness outside, but instead of a moon, the room was dimly lit by the screen of a laptop. There was a silence inside, broken only by the soft, regular breath of Parker, the guy with the laptop on his lap.
On the laptop screen, a pink cartoon pony with enormous eyes grabbed two sad-looking fillies, tossed them onto her back, and slid off an unrealistically long handrail, landing right in the cart of a big, red pony. All the while she sung gaily about smiles and cheering up other ponies:
It doesn't matter now
if you are sad or blue
'cause cheering up my friends is just
what Pinkie's here to do!
‘A Friend in Deed,’ Parker’s favorite episode of My Little Pony, Friendship is magic. A long time ago he had watched an episode, and had instantly fallen in love with the colorful characters, surprisingly deep plot, and funny little songs. Although it was a cartoon series aimed for little girls, Parker usually didn’t feel that weird about watching it himself, even though he was obviously no girl, and not little too. He was twenty-seven years old, and had a beard. Parker knew there were many people like him: bronies, adult male fans of the cartoon-horse show.
Pinkie Pie met a couple of fillies on the playground, and soon she started rope-skipping alongside them, an enormous grin still edged on her face—and of course, still singing:
I like to see you grin
I love to see you beam…
Parker wanted to—he wanted to grin and beam. He hadn’t put on the cartoon show and his favorite episode just because he was feeling like it. He had put it on because he didn’t feel like it—he needed it.
…the corners of your mouth turned up
is always Pinkie's dream!
Pinkie extended a hoof for a hoof bump, and Parker gently bumped the screen with his fist. “I wish it was my dream too,” he said, his voice low. Of course he was all alone in the apartment, otherwise he wouldn’t say that out loud.
Parker missed the next couplet, as his thoughts went astray. They ended up on the many nightmares he had had during the last couple of weeks. Of course he had gone to his psychologist, but he hadn’t been of much help. “it’s most likely just your age,” he had said. “Or likely an imbalance in the brain caused by hormones.” As if he knew what Parker was feeling. As if he knew the large, dark, empty hole filled with desperation he experienced—not only during the night, but during the day just as strongly. Even when he wasn’t dreaming the dark hole managed to find him and suck him in. It had happened a couple of times where he ended up lying on the ground in tears for no other reason than everything he felt, mixed with the remnants of that day’s terrible dream. He had done his best to forget most of the bad dreams, but yesterday there had been another one which he just couldn’t shake away. It involved his parents, his elderly home, a gun, fire, and a desperate feeling of rage and sadness.
But if you're kind of worried
and your face has made a frown
I'll work real hard and do my best
to turn that sad frown upside down! Pinkie sang, as she skipped over the rope on the rhythm of her own song, carrying a now smiling filly with a pink ribbon on her head.
But if the pastel-colored horse was really trying to do that, she wasn’t trying hard enough. Parker had neither a frown nor a smile; just a blank, neutral expression, the one you would normally see on Maud Pie, Pinkie’s rather stoic sister.
Grabbing a brush with her teeth, Pinkie Pie climbed a ladder and helped a pony wearing a cowboy hat with the hard task of painting a barn. Pinkie seemed to have her own interpretation of painting, however, as soon the camera zoomed out to reveal a giant image of her own face, smiling down on her friend from the wooden walls of the barn.
…just give me a joyful grin, grin, grin
and you fill me with good cheer!
Normally that scene always painted a smile on Parker’s face. Seeing the big Pinkie-face on Applejack’s barn, he always liked to think whether the cowboy-hatted mare would enjoy having that image on her barn all the time—it wasn’t her initial intention, after all. Now however, his favorite scene left him cold. Parker could barely even pay attention to it.
The melody changed to a somber piano piece, and now the pink pony sat alone in a gloomy ditch, her ears drooped down.
It's true, some days are dark and lonely
and maybe you feel sad
but Pinkie will be there to show you that it isn't that bad
That was Parker’s intention, but somehow it didn’t work. Parker saw the colors on the screen mingle with each other in a watery haze.
Luckily another Pinkie Pie appeared, and pulled her up out of the ditch.
There's one thing that makes me happy
and makes my whole life worthwhile
and that's when I talk to my friends and get them to smile!
“I can’t, dammit!” Parker suddenly yelled, and closed the laptop with a loud smack. Through tear-flooded eyes, he shoved the machine off the rim of his bed, and it clattered to the ground. “I just can’t.” shifting his cramped legs, Parker sat down on the rim of his bed, his head buried in his hands. “I just can’t,” he said again, his voice muffled and dry.
There it was again: the pit. That black, infinite hole full of despair and darkness. It came at him without a warning, without a reason, and without a heads-up. Parker plunged right into it, falling, falling. He couldn’t help it—it just happened. Right now he was all alone, surrounded by nothing but gloom. With the laptop now on the ground, probably broken, he actually was alone in the darkness. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the blackness yet, which made it all the more pressing. “I’m so alone,” he whispered, tears dripping down on the carpet. Parker’s shoulders shocked up and down as he sobbed. Occasionally he tried to say something to himself through his sobs, but his voice sounded cracked and broken, like an indistinguishable echo in a cave. His mind was gone. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive either. He was just… there.
My Little Pony…
It’s all so pointless.
Dumb.
Ridiculous.
Why am I even watching it, if it can’t make me happy?
It’s all so random… so random.
Rotten dreams.
Why?
I hate it. I hate it all. Everyone. Everything.
I’m so broken.
There’s nothing left of me now. Nothing positive anyway.
It’s so done.
I’m so done.
Parker couldn’t possibly control what he was thinking. It was the face without the mask of happiness he often had to wear. It was all natural, despite what any doctor said or may say.
Almost an hour later, Parker’s sobs became shallower, and his shoulders stopped twitching. Even crying can make one exhausted. He reached for his glasses, ruined with salty tears, and dropped them on the desk to his left. “Depressed piece of shit!” he said to himself as he rubbed his wet eyes, red from the strain. “I don’t understand. Why does it have to be so difficult. Everything!” As his mind returned to him and his eyes adjusted to the dark, Parker thought about the past weeks. This was the sixth mental breakdown he’d had, and they were only getting more frequent and more intense.
On Wednesday he hadn’t even eaten anything. To his girlfriend’s puzzlement, he’d just stood up, quivered, and walked out the door, retreating to the bedroom as fast as he could so Sandy wouldn’t see a thing. Of course she knew. She’d known about her friend’s illness for a long time already. But even though she knew, Parker had never told her a single thing. He had never really told her what was bothering him so much, or what made his days almost as hellish as his infernal dreams. This pained Sandy, and made her wonder whether he trusted her at all.
But she wanted to help her friend, whether he trusted her or not. Not knowing what to do, she had urged Parker to go and see a psychiatrist. He and the psych had many talks together, but none of those had made him feel any better. The talks never worked because Parker could never express himself in words. Not because he physically couldn’t, but because he did not at all feel comfortable telling the psych about his inner struggles, the darkness, the void, his fears, his worries and his troubles. He barely knew the man! He didn’t even have those pointless chats in order to help himself. Parker didn’t care about himself anymore—he was way past that station. He did it for his girlfriend, and sometimes for no one.
The day after that, Parker almost had a breakdown during the history lesson. The dark cloud had swirled and grown inside his mind during the teacher’s explanation of World War Two. Perhaps the trigger to the misery in his head had actually been this dark episode in human history, or perhaps it had once again triggered randomly, as was usually the case. Whatever the reason was, Parker had acted quickly, gathered his stuff and marched out the door, ignoring the questioning stares at his back. Parker hadn’t spoken about it to his teacher yet—nor was he planning to.
Suddenly, his breath became short and spasmodic again as he thought of his poor girlfriend. Parker knew she knew, but he still kept his lingering depression a ‘secret’ to her. Sometimes, Sandy had hinted at Parker about his feelings. The simple question, “How are you doing?” had a double meaning—a very earnest one. On one occasion, when the hour was late and the house quiet, she had made an attempt to talk with him about his feelings. But that one time, Parker had said that he had some work left to do, and quickly rushed upstairs. He couldn’t talk about it—he just couldn’t. And because of that, he knew there was nobody who could help him.
Parker never showed his breakdowns to anybody, as among the swirling bitter cocktail of emotions which ran through his mind, shame was one of the biggest. Shame that he, a grown-up guy of twenty-seven, cried more than the average two-year old.
Parker’s hand strayed around in the dark, searching for the switch of his night lamp. The glare hurt his eyes for a second, but then he returned to the visible world. Parker still sobbed heavily, but forced himself to look up. Before him on a shelf, his My Little Pony toy collection looked down on him, dozens of tiny plastic horses neatly lined up in order of most favorite to least favorite, with the mane-six up front. Their big eyes gazed cheerfully and silently at the poor man in front of them, perhaps filled with pity, perhaps filled with contempt.
Parker’s eyes still leaked tears, as he gazed up to his dearest possessions. To him they were more than just ordinary toys. To Parker they were a reminder of the cheerful, funny, and entertaining world he could lose himself in and escape the horrible weather in his head. They were also a reminder of the cheerful, funny, and creative part of himself. A part that had now shrunk so much, he didn’t even know if there was anything left. Maybe it was all gone. Maybe it was all dead. Now, as he watched the colorful army of ponies, they looked to him as if they were laughing, saying mean things and grinning maliciously at the hopeless shell he was.
“Look at that pathetic thing,” Rainbow Dash said. “Man up, jerk!”
“Have you got any idea how ridiculous you look?” Pinkie scowled.
“You don’t even have a reason to act all dejected like that,” Twilight said. “According to my calculations, you have everything: a house, a girlfriend, a well-paid job, and, most importantly, an education.” Her tone was mocking, although the words could have been used to cheer Parker up.
Fluttershy let out a cruel chuckle. “You’re even weaker than me, loser!”
“Shut up,” Parker said, but his voice was broken and soft.
“You’ll never ever reach anything’, ya know, NEVER!” Applejack yelled. “You’ll never accomplish anythin’, you idiot!”
Now Rarity was last. She laughed her high, elitist snicker, filled with disdain. “Just look at you! Oh wait… I’d rather not. You disgusting creature!”
“SHUT UP!” Parker yelled at the figurines. Were the voices real? Or were they in his head, part of another dark hallucination? Parker couldn’t tell, and it filled him up with frustration. Suddenly he jumped to his feet and flailed his arms around. He wanted to hit some things, but at the same time he didn’t want to do anything.
During the past few days, Parker had found it so terribly hard to find any joy or even distraction in things, whether it be music, books, or films. Even My Little Pony no longer looked like fun to him now, just a ridiculous waste of time. This train of thought took him to the cloud.
The cloud in his head was back. A big, black, mean cumulonimbus, ready to unleash a violent thunderstorm. Parker grunted and reached for his head, as a headache struck him like a thunderbolt. He staggered across the room, knocking things over and battling the dark thoughts which grew in his mind. Grabbing a few of the ponies, he flung them around the room in a haze of anger. They bounced a few times off the walls and the floor, before finding a spot to hide: underneath the bed, the closet, or out the window.
Finally he succumbed, and he fell down on his knees, still grasping his head. “I can’t take it anymore,” he whispered through his teeth. “I… I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to anymore. There’s nothing left of me. I don’t want to anymore.”
Quite often Parker had been thinking about death. Quite often he had thrown the blankets off his head and felt disappointment that he had woken up—ranging from a little to a morbidly high amount. Quite often he had looked at high buildings with a strange shadow in his eyes, or at trees with branches just high enough, or at deep, dark lakes, or at lightning fast trains. He was just scared—so scared for the pain.
“Wimp!” Rainbow Dash said from underneath the bed.
“Gritless doofus,” Applejack added.
But those weren’t the only means to end it. There was another way. Quick, easy, painless.
Parker shivered. The mere thought of it scared the living daylights out of him. He shook his head, sending his hair flying in every direction. “I-I can’t.”
“Sure you can. Free yourself, and find some rest. You deserve it.” Parker wasn’t sure which pony’s voice it was, but the soft texture of it couldn’t be mistaken.
Without even realizing it, Parker shuffled back in the direction of his bed. His hands had a will of their own, and snaked into the darkness underneath it. The feeling of the cold metal against his hands felt like an icy snakebite, and the feeling spread through his body like poison. With a grating sound, the strongbox came into view. It was a tiny, army-green box with a combination lock. Not even knowing what the hell he was doing, Parker’s shaky fingers began fumbling with the sliders. Two, one, eight. Season two, episode eighteen. Parker’s favorite: ‘A Friend in Deed.’
CLICK! The safe opened and there it was: a shiny, vintage Colt 1911. Parker had gotten it for his eighteenth birthday from his dad, who was a bit of a gun nut. Parker had been so enthralled by the gift, so happy and proud that he could finally call himself a gun owner. For him, the gift had been like a rite of passage, a ticket to genuine adulthood. He had often gone to the shooting range with his dad and shot at targets, testing out his gun and just having fun with it. He was getting better at shooting every time he went, and his dad often called him the ‘little marksman’ of the family.
Parker had wanted to hang the gun on the wall, but Sandy hadn’t let him, since she hated guns of any sorts and kinds. That didn’t matter. It was perfectly normal to have differences of opinion in any relationship, and, to be honest, Parker didn’t care about it that much to start a fight. He hated fights. So instead, he had safely stored the gun away in the little metal box, along with an extra magazine and eighteen 9mm para cartridges. At first the metal finish had looked so shiny in the summer sun, and the wood of the handle so soft and warm. Now the gun glimmered a cold silver in the bed light, and the wood looked dark and ominous.
Cold sweat formed on Parker’s forehead, and the gun felt slippery in his hand. Slowly, not entirely against his will but not entirely convinced either, Parker pressed the tiny magazine release. With a metallic clink which sounded like a bell to the young man, the empty magazine jumped into his other hand, eager to swallow a bullet or two. Naturally, Parker needed only one.
I… I have to. There’s no other way, echoed through Parker’s head. He paused for a few seconds and looked at both his hands. Magazine in his left, weapon in his right. The whole pose felt as if he were standing in the toy shop, deciding which toy he would buy, while looking around to make sure there weren’t any other customers watching. This was how he felt every time he wanted to buy a pony or two… or three. Vinyl Scratch or Octavia? Doctor Whooves or Derpy? A sudden death or a life in which he could never be happy?
Parker stuck his hand in the box of bullets. It was lined with dark-red silk—the color of blood—to prevent any annoying rattling. To Parker’s hands, the bullets felt like marbles, but colder somehow. He took one out, but trembled too much and dropped it on the floor. Putting his nose almost to the ground, Parker looked in the gloomy light for the bullet, all the while holding the two components of the gun in his hands. If he laid then down, he was sure he would be doubting. Life or death: doubt is worse.
“You’re just procrastinating,” Twilight Sparkle’s voice said from somewhere behind him. “You should always be diligent and never delay things, you know.”
Parker swallowed. The princess of friendship was right. He reached inside for a second cartridge, tried his mighty best not to drop it, and slid it with some effort into the top of the magazine. He sat up straight again and both hands came together. The magazine disappeared into the handle with a sliding sound. Everything was in place. With another loud click, his hand retreated the slide, cocking the hammer in the process. It all went automatically. He had done this a thousand times before. Yet today, the thousand-and-first time, it might be his last. As he handled the gun, only his thoughts slowed him down, black thoughts with a sharp, negative lining. Clouds of corrosion and bitterness. Nightmares, traumas, black voids ready to swallow his soul. And voices in his head—pony voices? It didn’t matter anymore. Just a few seconds away from salvation.
Everything was done. There was no going back. In a flash, Parker thought of some last words, but his mind was totally blank. Then he remembered Sandy. She would come home after her job, give a call to know she was here, arch her brows as she got no response, go upstairs, and find his wretched body. Did he really want her to see that? No, he didn’t. Yet, he weighed his options. The darkness in his mind grew.
“Surely she will understand, darling,” Rarity said from—very fittingly—underneath his wardrobe. “Now chop, chop! Get it over with.”
Parker realized she was right. Sandy would understand. Even though he hadn’t said a word to her, he knew she would. True lovers understand each other without words.
But still, the scene would be traumatic and shocking to view. About that, however, Parker could do nothing. At last, he blinked, tears falling from the corners of his eyes. The darkness pressed down upon him, making raising the gun a challenge of its own. The weapon rattled in his trembling hand, as it traveled upwards. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Parker said. Slowly he raised the gun to his temple. His finger found the trigger. “I’m so sorry…”
**
“Don’t do it!”
A distant voice—strange yet familiar. Parker didn’t hear it. He was alone in the desert, surrounded by nothingness. He didn’t feel anything, didn’t hear anything, didn’t see anything. There was just himself and the gun—man and death. He felt his finger tense, and his hand trembling. It was now or never. Why was he doubting?
“Parker! Stop!”
Again the voice, high and squeaky, like a rubber duck. Things got stranger, as more voices and groans sounded from somewhere.
“Rainbow Dash, Applejack, come give us a hoof!”
“Alright. Applejack, you take the left side, I’ll take the right.”
“You got it!”
“Okay, are you ready?”
“I am.”
“Let’s push on three, as hard as we can. We have to get it up.”
“Roger.”
“One, two, three!”
“Hnghnghng…!”
“Is it going yet?”
“I think it is! Keep pushing! Put your legs into it, y’all!”
“Hnghnghnghng…!”
Parker’s head was a blank slate of paper, as blank as the day he was born. There was nothing left of him. He was out of this world, out of his body, out of reality. The voices didn’t pique his interest, didn’t spark his curiosity. Right now, it took only one twitch, one spasm to be gone forever, gone from this reality. His hand was shaking, yet somehow his finger remained calm. The gun rattled louder and louder in his hand, eager to spit fire, to help the young man in his deadly desire.
“Don’t do it!”
I-I have to… A sliver of his mind returned from the void of oblivion, answering the voice with a thought. Parker felt his spirit sink down into his body again, landing into the here and now. He opened his eyes—he hadn’t closed them—and looked around in reality, taking in the shape of his bedroom, with a vague film before his eyes. The My Little Ponies were still scattered all over the place, unblinking and still. The night lamp was still on, casting a pale yellow light which competed against the silver moonlight streaming in from the window. Instinctively, unwillingly, automatically, Parker followed the new source of light with his eyes. His mind was still blank, and this seemed like a distraction mankind had gotten used to over the years: follow the light. The beam stopped at his laptop, which still lay on the ground to his right, close to his foot. Everything in Parker’s room seemed the same. No one had come to help him, to release him, or to help him press that little metal trigger which would end it all.
The only thing that was different, was that the laptop was open.
But that wasn’t right. It had been closed when Parker tossed it to the floor. Yet now a stripe of light came from the screen. He noticed it, another sliver of consciousness processed it, and a third one forced Parker’s arm to move and pull the machine closer to him. With his foot Parker held the laptop on the ground, and with his free hand he slowly lifted the screen up. Parker didn’t know why he did it or what he expected to find. He just did it. The young man was an animal now, driven only by impulses and desires, and choosing between the strongest ones.
Slowly, the slit of light became bigger, and then he opened the laptop completely. Through narrowed eyes against the light, Parker saw a big crack curve and twist diagonally across the screen. One half of the screen was completely black, and the other still showed the last scene from the episode: a dirt road, a house and a cart of apples—an ordinary Ponyville street. But that was it. There was nothing else. With one impulse fulfilled, Parker once again returned to the matter at hand: ending his own life. His widened pupils turned to his right, to the gun in his hand, and he did his best to concentrate on the task. Drops of sweat dripped off his forehead and down his cheeks—or were they tears?
“Oh, oh! Let me try it now!” a particularly squeaky voice resounded.
With his remaining mind, Parker decided to count down. A new course of action.
Three…
“I, don’t know if that’s such a good idea…”
Two…
“Of course it is! I can do it!”
One…
“HELLO, THERE! What are you doing?” Pinkie said, as she pressed her big, smiling face against the screen.
“Fire,” Parker whispered, but his finger wouldn’t move.
“Fire?” Pinkie Pie tilted her head sideways. “Oh! That sounds super-duper dangerous! You have to be careful with fire, you know. I mean, I like fire very much, especially in fireworks, or lanterns, or funny smelling candles… But it can be a real party pooper too, if it, you know—”Pinkie stepped back and waved her hooves in the air”—burns down your whole party! Snacks, stage, streamers, DJ setup—Everything! Then your party doesn’t fall into the water, but into the fire!”
“Not that kind of fire,” Parker whispered, his voice cracked of crying. If he had been feeling like his normal self (he couldn’t even remember when that was, if that had once been, and if that was supposed to be the real him), Parker would have been surprised, captivated, maybe even delighted. Now, however, he was in neutral mode. The swirl of emotions still swam through his head, and the gun was where he wanted it to be, but Parker’s eyes were on the laptop screen, where Pinkie Pie was in full view, on the good side of the crack.
“Oh…” Pinkie raised an eyebrow. “Then what kind of fire? Oh! And what is that thing you have in your hand? It looks shiny! What does it do? It kinda looks like my party-cannon. Does it shoot confetti too?”
The questions Pinkie fired off at the young man made him think just a little bit. But then desperation threw out rational thought again. How in Equestria was Parker going to explain the purpose of a weapon, the concept of suicide and death to a pony as carefree, cheerful, and innocent as Pinkie Pie? He wasn’t, of course. He couldn’t. It would probably break the poor pony’s spirit to know that eventually people on earth die, that there were people who wanted to die sooner, and that there were tools which could accomplish just that—the taking of life—with just a single, miniscule movement: the bending of one’s finger. Parker felt the emotions and feelings heap up again. They heaped up until there was an enormous mountain covered in mist, of which he couldn’t possibly see the summit. Only the dark bottom remained. The only thing he had to do was take the step, and fall into darkness—a never-ending fall. Parker looked to his right, and noticed that his index-finger had shifted from the narrow trigger to the trigger guard, where it rested comfortably. The finger took off shakily, and stuck inside the ring once more, pressing against the trigger. Only four pounds of pressure, four pounds of will, separated the fire from the head.
“Alright, Pinkie, you got his attention, now watch me handle this!” a kind of rough, direct voice said, and Pinkie was shoved aside. A blue pegasus appeared, inhaled deeply, and then yelled, “STOP, PARKER!”
At the sudden sound, Parker jolted. He recoiled from the screen and almost pressed the trigger. His free hand made a wave. His gun hand stayed where it was, yet the finger jumped to the trigger guard, instead of the trigger itself.
“You see, Twilight, I told you,” Rainbow Dash said, “the hard way is always the best way.”
The hard way… Parker thought. His lips moved along, but made no sound. …is always the best way…
On the screen, Rainbow Dash read his lips, realized what she’d just said, and then flew up in panic. “No, no, no! That’s not what I meant!”
Parker stood still, as still as a statue. His eyes stared at nothing.
From all the My Little Ponies, Rainbow Dash was the one who understood the concept of death and finality the best. She was obviously the least innocent of them all—being the cheeky daredevil that she was—and had pulled off many death-defying flying tricks in her career as a stunt-flier. What most of her admirers forgot, however, is that even Rainbow Dash had to practice her performances—and sometime that didn’t end well. She had probably broken every bone in her body at least once, and every feather at least thrice—especially in her early days. The hospital got pretty used to seeing her face at least once a week, and the doctors had treated her more times than the oldest mare in Ponyville. On one occasion, Rainbow Dash had been out cold for a few days after an attempt at a quadruple corkscrew-looping. It was at that day, at that moment, right after she woke up from the coma and saw her friends’ worried faces, that Rainbow Dash had realized she could well not have woken up at all. She took things a little easier from that day on: a little slower and a little safer.
With her big rose eyes, Rainbow Dash looked through the screen at the young man with the gun. Dash knew damn well what Parker was going to do. “Hey! Look at me, Parker!” she yelled.
To Parker, the harsh cry only sounded like a whisper, but nevertheless he heard it, and obeyed. His eyes lowered to the laptop screen, resting on the blue winged pony with the rainbow mane and tail. He saw her too. The nothingness was replaced by his favorite action heroine, staring at him with a concerned look in her eyes.
“You gotta look at me, Parker,” she repeated.
“I am,” Parker said back, surprised to hear his own voice, as if he hadn’t spoken for millennia.
“Good!” Rainbow’s eyes flashed from side to side, wondering what to say. She was always more of a doer than a talker. “Eh… well… I know what you’re gonna do, Parker, and you shouldn’t do it.”
“Oh.” Parker’s face was unreadable, his voice blank and toneless.
Rainbow Dash made a few slow flaps and landed on the bottom of the screen. “Let me tell you something.” She bit her lip. “Something secret. Something nopony must ever find out, ok? You think you can keep the secret?”
Parker said nothing.
“Oh, come on!” Rainbow Dash said with a frown. “You gotta help me with this one! If you don’t wanna talk, just nod! You promise to never tell anypony else what I’m gonna tell you now?”
Parker nodded, a bit daunted at the harsh tone.
“Nice! Well… let’s go then.” Dash took off and hovered in the middle of the screen, just below the point where the crack would cover her head. “You know everyone loves me, which is logical, because I am the best and most awesome flier in Ponyville.” Rainbow let out a chuckle. “Hay, Scootaloo almost worships me like I can do every trick ever and raise the sun and the moon all by myself. And she’s right, of course. Eh… not about the sun and moon thing, I mean about me being able to do every trick ever.” Rainbow Dash cleared her throat. “Scootaloo’s right about thinking I can do that, but the truth is—which I sometimes like, by the way—greatly exaggerated.”
On the opposite side of the screen, Parker still looked and listened to Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow Dash let out a shallow laugh. “You’re probably wondering where I’m going with all of this, aren’t you? Let me get to the point then, I hate long histories. The thing is: I can’t do every trick in the book… yet.” She puffed her chest a little. “And you know why I’m sure that one day I will be able to do every single one of them?”
“N-no,” Parker stuttered. His lips felt bone-dry.
“Because I NEVER give up!” Dash flew closer to the screen and tapped her hoof against it. “And you shouldn’t either!”
Parker said nothing.
“Even I have trouble with tricks, sometimes,” Rainbow Dash said, and she flew back until her whole body was back in view. “I know those tricks are pretty hard, otherwise I would be able to do them at the first try. But I can’t. I’ll have to practice, and practice, and practice, and practice.” She made a small looping every time she said ‘practice,’ leaving a streak of rainbow behind on the screen. “Sometimes I practice for MONTHS on a single trick, but the bottom line is: I don’t give up—EVER!” She hovered closer again. “I know giving up on stuff usually seems like the easiest solution, but the truth is: it won’t solve your troubles. If I gave up practicing, I would never become the best flyer Equestria has ever seen. I would still be good, of course, but not the best. And that’s basically the thing I want most in life: to become the best in the world. Flying, acrobatics, and athletics are pretty much all I do. They’re my way to get there, my lifestyle. So if I gave up on practicing my abilities, I would basically give up on life itself.”
Parker’s eyes turned to the left and the right, and his brains did the best they could to take in this lecture and give it a safe place—safe from the tornado of emotions. It was hard. Really hard.
But Rainbow Dash didn’t wait for that, and started talking again. “You know, other ponies always say: ‘survival of the fittest,’ which is partly true. But I like to say: ‘survival of the hard-shelled.’ And I bet that’s what Daring Do would say too. She never gives up, just like me. No matter how tough things get, whether she drowns in quicksand, or is attacked by snakes, or drowns in quicksand while being attacked by snakes, Daring never gives up.” With a few flaps of her wings, Rainbow leisurely flew on her back, like a swimmer relaxing in a pool. “I guess I made my point.”
But if Rainbow Dash really had made her point, Parker’s face didn’t show it. In fact, the young man had no idea what to think of all this. His laptop had shown two of the My Little Pony characters now, and there was no doubt about it anymore—they were talking to him. The ponies knew his name, and they could even hear Parker talking back to them, although he didn’t have any microphone attached to his laptop, nor did he have a webcam; not even a build-in one.
Don’t give up, no matter how hard… The message did come across. But it’s so hard…
Suddenly, his face unfroze and Parker frowned at the flying pony on the screen. His mind turned dark. “You don’t understand,” he said back, and closed his eyes with his left hand. “I can’t go on like this. I’m so weak… Too weak…” His right index-finger curled up slowly. He was already in darkness again.
“Oh, Rainbow Dash, please! You’re only making things worse, as always.” A blue, sparkling cloud enveloped Dash’s rainbow tail and jerked it backwards until she was out of view.
“Hey!”
“Excuse me, Rainbow Dash, but desperate times call for desperate measures,” Rarity said, and trotted towards the good side of the screen, her horn still glowing.
But Parker didn’t see anything of that, and continued focusing his attention on his trigger finger.
Rarity cleared her throat and swept her elegant purple mane back, revealing her sparkling eyes. They were sparkling with determination, focus, but most of all, with compassion. She looked at Parker, and saw him in the moment of desperation, his eyes closed and strained. Rarity realized the gravity of the situation. She had to act now. Nevertheless, she remained as calm as she could, breathed in delicately, and spoke.
“Excuse me, Mister Parker… is it? My name is Rarity Belle, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Something in that voice made Parker stop. His finger stayed still. His ears had clearly heard the crystal-clear voice coming from his laptop speakers. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked at the laptop once more. There, Rarity had extended a hoof against the screen. Not knowing how or why, not even realizing it, Parker extended his own, trembling left hand and gently touched the screen. It was a digital hoofshake.
“Ah, how delightful,” Rarity said in her sing-song voice. “I love a good conversation with somepony—I mean someone—well accustomed with etiquette, unlike my acquaintance Rainbow Dash.”
“Hey! I heard that,” said a rough voice from the left.
But Rarity ignored her. “I am a fashion designer with stores in Ponyville, Canterlot, and Manehattan. I know I am still a long way from becoming as popular and famous as I want to be, but perhaps you might have heard about my endeavors. I’ve designed dresses and gowns for many, many a celebrity, and for my friends, of course. And of course I try to partake in as many fashion shows I can find the time for. But enough about me, I would love to get to know you better, Mister Parker.” Her eyes diverted up and to the right. “Why don’t you put that old, greasy piece of metal away so we can talk more comfortably.”
Parker didn’t move and said nothing. He merely stared at the laptop screen.
Rarity’s eyes wavered at the uncomfortable silence. She found it verging on the edge of impoliteness, but correcting the emotionally disturbed young man didn’t seem like a good idea to her. If it came to formal conversations, Rarity was the best. She knew exactly what to talk about, and cut right to the question. Although she felt the directness of it a bit rude, Rarity knew there was no other way, and she had to adapt to the young man’s reluctance to speak. She cleared her throat once more, and spoke. “So how are you doing, Mister Parker? How do you feel today?”
“Bad. Really bad,” Parker said back, to his own surprise. Rarity’s words hinted at something magical (and perhaps they were—she was a unicorn, after all). The last words she spoke still echoed in his head, swirling counter-clockwise against the twister of emotions wrecking his mind. The voice of hers simply invited the listener to say something back. It invited for a long, cozy discussion, preferably while enjoying a cup of tea on a long summer afternoon.
“So I thought,” Rarity said, and raised a white hoof to her chin. “I knew Rainbow Dash was wrong the moment she opened her mouth. It’s all about emotions, isn’t it?”
Suddenly Dash’s head popped up next to the crack, bearing an angry stare. “Yeah?! Like you know—.“ But a vacuum of blue magical energy cut her short. With a nod of her head, Rarity whisked Dash out of view again, looking after her with narrowed eyes. “Please excuse me for that, she’s giving a really bad example.” Rarity brushed some invisible dust off her hooves, then looked at Parker. “But I think I was right, wasn’t I? You’re not experiencing physical hardships—you’re battling against emotions.”
Rarity’s voice resonated with something deep inside Parker. “Yes,” he said, and accompanied his voice with a small nod.
“I know emotions can be a difficult thing, Parker,” Rarity said. Her gentle smile turned into a mournful curve, and her eyes radiated pity. “I struggle with them sometimes as well. Quite often I feel joy when I am with my friends or when I finish a dress I have been working on for months. Sometimes I have to get angry or assertive, or even use my charm to get what I want, or when I have to correct certain ponies’ most uncourteous behavior.”
From the right came the distant objections of both Rainbow Dash and Applejack, but Rarity paid no heed to them.
Suddenly Rarity sighed, and her ears drooped down a little. Her graceful mane fell on front of one eye. “But being a rising star in Equestria’s fashion scene can also be a very stressful thing. Orders, deadlines, appointments, and just the general managing of my three boutiques brings a lot of stress and worry, and sometimes, even I feel desperate and lost at those moments.”
She paused, and looked at Parker. When she saw that the young man was still paying attention, Rarity breathed in—now came the hard part.
“At those moments, Parker, I feel like giving up.” She breathed in and out, a long, strengthening breath. “And that’s what I do. I give up. Then I lie down on my sofa, grab the nearest bucket of Bon Bon’s Vanilla Extravaganza ice-cream, and eat it all up while a waterfall of tears rains down my cheeks, making me look like a fool in front of everypony.”
Parker heard all this, and his face changed. The blank expression cracked and broke, and in its place was a look much like Rarity’s: one of concern. Of course he had seen the episodes where Rarity confirmed the stereotype of desperate crying women eating excessive amounts of ice-cream on the couch. It had seemed rather comical in the show, but apparently it was something Rarity really didn’t like to talk about. Parker felt sorry for her now. “That’s really sad.”
Rarity’s head snapped back up. In her mind, the unicorn was delighted to hear her patient speak out a whole sentence. Quickly she recomposed herself, and said, “Oh thank you, darling. You have probably seen it yourself as well. Those moments are some of my darkest. I really don’t know what to do anymore and feel lost. I feel like I am all out of options and help. Do you feel the same, Parker?”
“I do.”
“It’s really quite horrible. My mascara gets ruined by those awful tears, my singing voice is quite upset after wailing so loudly.” Rarity shivered. “And, however tasteful the icy delights of Bon Bon are, they are not that good for one’s figure, If you understand me.”
Rarity stepped closer to the edge of the screen, her face still worried. “But I think what you’re going through is quite more intense than my temporary ramblings. It is difficult to compare breakdowns like that with each other, but I think what you are about to do far exceeds my intentions during those moments.”
Parker nodded, the burning of shame igniting in his chest. He knew what Rarity meant.
“Drastic measures do seem to be the easiest solutions, Parker. But let me tell you how I overcome those dark, horrible moments of desperation.” She paused for dramatic effect, then revealed her secret. “I just call my friends to me.” Rarity looked to her right, where—although Parker couldn’t see that because of the cracked screen—the rest of the ponies were standing, watching Rarity with hopeful gazes.
“Yup! Darn right she is,” a loud, clear voice sounded from the right, and after a second or two, an orange earth-pony with a cowboy hat crammed herself next to Rarity on the narrow slit of screen.
“Applejack! Do you mind?” Rarity said to her friend, just a hint of irritation in her voice at the lack of personal space. “I thought we agreed that one pony at the time would be the most logical course of action.”
“Yup,” Applejack said once more, not the tiniest bit uncomfortable with the lack of space. “But I had the feeling I could add somethin’ to that lesson of yours.”
Rarity tried her best to stay calm and collected. “Well, then. I am burning with anticipation. Please, Applejack, speak out your mind.” And with that, she shuffled back a little so her orange friend came into full view.
Applejack touched the rim of her hat and looked at Parker. “Howdy there, fella. Well… you know I ain’t exactly much of a thinker, or a pony of many words, for that matter, but I do have something to say here.” She threw a glance at Rarity. “You know I work and live at Sweet Apple Acres, and let me tell you something: running a big apple orchard like that ain’t no easy task. And then I haven’t even talked about the farm yet. Jeez, Parker, you don’t even wanna know how much it takes to get all those chores done. Feeding the animals, irrigating the fields, repairing fences and the barn, bucking apples once they’re ripe, and Celestia knows how many more things that just pile up in front of your muzzle.”
Despite the change of speaker, Parker still listened attentively. Where Rarity had been soft-spoken and full of comfortable pity, Applejack was wild, energetic, and speaking like nothing was the matter. Both felt different to Parker, but both felt good in their own way. It felt like there was some more room inside Parker’s head now, more room for thoughts, an airy feeling which touched the boundaries of relaxation, almost giddiness. But in the background, the embers of embarrassment still glowed.
“I can’t do all of that stuff by myself,” Applejack said. “And—although it took me some time to learn that—I ask my family and sometimes even my friends for help. There’s nothing strange about that, you know? At first it did feel a bit shameful and embarrassing, I give you that, but it’s really nothing to fuss about. Before you know it, the chores are all done, and you can even have a good time with your friends while doing them. Doing things together makes everything so much faster and better, even yourself. You gotta trust in that, Parker. Set aside your shame, and find somepony who can help you.”
In the background, Rarity couldn’t help but flash a smile at the country pony in front of her. Obviously she hadn’t expected such wise and deep words out of Applejack’s muzzle. Not only that, but Rarity realized they really did amplify the message she had tried to convey—however crude the language and horrible the country accent was.
“Now come on!” Applejack called out. “Let’s put that nasty metal thing of yours aside and find somepony nice who’ll listen to you!”
Parker’s right hand shook wildly. It felt as if it were made out of ice, and was about to crack when he moved it. His whole right arm felt cold and stiff, frozen in place. It was almost as if his whole arm and body wanted him to do the deed. He simply couldn’t lower his arm, let alone drop the gun. While Parker concentrated on his right arm, the words of Applejack reverberated through his head. Find somepony nice who will listen to you… “But who would that be?” he said out loud.
“Anypony you want,” Applejack said.
“Someone close to you,” Rarity added.
Parker frowned in thought. He was actually making an effort to think now. “Maybe Sandy. She’s my girlfriend,” he said to the laptop screen with a weak voice. She would be back later, after her night shift was over. But how on earth was Parker going to tell her that he was just about to shoot himself? “She’ll be upset. It will break her heart,” Parker whispered. “Sandy won’t be able to handle it. She’s concerned about me already.”
Applejack tilted her head. “Then what about family? I can tell everything to my brother Big Mac. He’s a great listener and he’ll never tell it to anypony else or spill any embarrassing secrets.”
“My mum and dad,” Parker said. It was the first thing that came to mind. Then he thought about how they would react. Of course they would be concerned as hell, and his mother would probably drive all the way from the east coast to come to him. He didn’t want that. Parker wanted no one to feel concerned about him. No one should have sleepless nights just because he wanted to sleep forever. And his dad would be worried too, of course. He was always so easy-going and giddy. Parker couldn’t even begin to imagine how a worried face on his dad would look. It looked strange and out of place. A frown didn’t belong on his dad’s face. And who was responsible for that? His own son! Parker shook his head, trying to chase away the image of his parents’ gravely worried faces. But they lingered on for far too long, and a few tears rolled down Parker’s cheeks, dripping down on the keyboard of the laptop.
“Oh this ain’t good,” Applejack whispered behind her back to Rarity. “Did I say something wrong?”
“I don’t believe you did,” Rarity said back, looking over the orange pony’s shoulders at Parker.
And what about Parker’s friends? He wasn’t lonely at all. In fact, Parker had many friends, at work, at school, and some on the internet which he had met at a couple of My Little Pony conventions. Images of the familiar faces flashed by his mind like a film reel, but Parker felt his hopes wane. The only moments he shared with his friends were happy ones: gimmicks, jokes and laughter. He had never shared anything heavy or even remotely serious like feelings to them—unless they were feelings about certain girls, of course. “My friends…” Parker said. “They won’t take me seriously. They won’t listen. They won’t know what’s going on inside of me, and… and I can’t tell them.” Parker’s left hand covered his eyes, as if trying to extinguish the burning shame. “I just can’t…”
On the laptop screen, Rarity and Applejack were looking at each other now, not knowing what to do. They could see and feel the energy and desperation radiating towards them, and they realized this was not going well. Both ponies looked at the gun in the young man’s hand, which stopped shaking and shifted a little to the right, to be against the exact center of his skull.
“We gotta do something,” Applejack hissed through clenched teeth. “This is going south.”
“Let’s group up and make a plan,” Rarity said, and together the ponies ran out of sight.
Parker realized the falseness of the images before his eyes, as he looked at the now-empty laptop screen. “It was just a hallucination… Now I am alone,” he whispered through some sobs. “Even the ponies have given up on me.” He blinked hard. “I know. I’m so hopeless. Nobody can help me.”
“We gotta do something! We’re running out of options,” one voice said from the right.
Nobody can help me.
“But we don’t have anypony left!” another voice said.
Nobody cares.
“Twilight said she would be back in time…”
Nobody understands.
“What about her?”
“M-m-me? B-b-but I don’t think I can…”
Nobody listens.
“You have to. Go!”
This is it. Parker heard the shot in his mind, but then opened one eye, as he noticed the shot sounded unusually soft and high pitched, almost like a squeak. The first thing he saw was the laptop screen, the second was a tiny yellow pegasus with a flowing pink mane trembling on her hooves.
“Eh… H-h-hello, Mister,” she said, her voice shaking as much as her legs.
“Fluttershy,” Parker whispered. Then he opened both his eyes.
Fluttershy said nothing, but just stood there, right in the middle of the good half of the screen. Her big blue eyes looked down on the ground; her wings were cramped against her barrel. Why did Rainbow Dash just shove me up there, she thought. I don’t know what to do.
Parker didn’t do anything either. He was staring down as well, right at the frightened little pegasus, the gun pressing against his head.
With clattering teeth and buckling knees, Fluttershy gathered her courage and dared to look up. She realized that she had to do something, or at least say something, but no words left her mouth.
And so they stood, together in the desert. Just Parker and Fluttershy. There was nopony or nobody around them, no sound disturbed their being. There was only nothingness. Endless sandy seas.
Parker felt his breathing slow down as he looked into the worrisome blue eyes of Fluttershy. She almost looks as desperate as I, Parker thought. The giant, multi-colored swirl of emotions slowed down a bit, as if Fluttershy alone tried to blow it away with her tiny wings. Suddenly, Parker felt an urge, something rational, and he obeyed.
“I feel so lonely.”
Fluttershy jolted at hearing Parker’s voice, even though it was a soft one. She tried her best to hold the gaze.
Parker sighed. “I want to do something really nasty. But I just can’t. I want someone to help me, but I just can’t think of anyone. My head, it’s so terrible. Sometimes I get these terrible feelings, coming out of nowhere like a panther pouncing on its prey. It tears me apart, from the inside. Every time the thought of…” He couldn’t say the words. Couldn’t say, ‘Killing myself’ in front of Fluttershy. Every time the thought of… you know… comes into my head, I get this feeling—this feeling that I have something unfinished, that I have to do something before I go. But I know I have to do it. You’re put here on the planet to live, but when it becomes too heavy, well… you don’t necessarily have to live. It’s natural selection, just like diseases. The weak perish and the strong survive. That’s just how nature works. You know how nature works best of all, Fluttershy. My! I’m so desperate…”
Silence reigned again, broken only by a few soft sobs.
Meanwhile Fluttershy had listened to everything the young man had said. She mulled over it silently, looking back and chewing her lip in thought. When Fluttershy finally figured out what to say, Parker wiped his eyes and continued.
“I’m so glad I have you. I now this is just a hallucination or something—the doctor said those could happen. But I feel less lonely. If anything, Fluttershy and the rest of the ponies, you have given me a few hopeful last minutes. I don’t know how long I can take this. I have to get this over with. I have to do it now.”
“Please don’t.”
The words came out as a whisper and a squeak, barely audible. Yet Parker heard them.
Fluttershy had covered her eyes with her hooves, but a single tear managed to break through and fall on the bottom of the laptop screen. “Please don’t do it,” she said again.
Now Parker felt it again: a cool sensation in his head. It was pity for the poor little pony who so sadly sat there, on the ground, caring.
When Fluttershy didn’t hear what she feared to hear, she peeked through her hooves, staring right into the eyes of Parker. “I-I-I think it’s a d-d-disease, Mister.” It was now or never, Fluttershy realized that. “I have treated so many animal diseases in my life. A-a-and from what I have seen, every disease can be cured.”
“But I don’t want anyone to be concerned about me. I don’t want anyone to go through so much effort for me. I screwed up. It’s all my fault.”
“No it isn’t.” Fluttershy stood up. Her voice gained strength without losing its calming softness. “It’s not your fault you got a disease like this. Nor is it a pony’s fault if he or she catches a cold. The shame you feel is like… like being ashamed of a broken wing. It doesn’t make sense. Now I know you have a mental disease, but in the end, a disease is a disease, and should be treated carefully and with soft, caring hooves… I mean hands.”
“I-I-I,” Parker stuttered. Everything the little pegasus said made perfect sense, yet the dark cloud didn’t allow any sunlight to shine through, and did its best to overshadow everything.
Fluttershy stepped closer to her patient. “You really should find a doctor, Parker. Somepony who will listen to you, somepony who knows how to cure you, maybe even somepony who has been through the same thing you’re going through right now.” Fluttershy’s eyes jumped to the ground again. “But not me. I have never really dealt with mental diseases before. Animals don’t tend to have those very much. But… But I think there will be lots of other, better doctors who can help you.” Their eyes locked. “I’m sure of that.”
“I already have a doctor, but he doesn’t understand me,” Parker said.
Fluttershy shook her head. “Then find another one. We have many doctors here in Ponyville, and probably dozens of them in Canterlot or any other big city. I’m sure that even while you live in another world, there will be hundreds, maybe even thousands of other doctors.”
Parker sniffed. That idea hadn’t entered his mind before. Everything Fluttershy said made him think and open his mind a little, if only just a little. “M-m-maybe…”
But Fluttershy didn’t want a ‘maybe.’ “My tip is to go and find an expert. If one of my snakes feels ill, I take him to a reptile specialist. If one of my pigs feel queasy, I take him to a veterinarian. It’s simple.”
“O-o-okay,” Parker found himself saying. He felt the warmth of Fluttershy’s words and her advice seep through the laptop screen. He felt how the tornado in his head slowly, gradually, came to a rest. The dark clouds shifted color, turning gray, and then very close to white. “T-t-thank you, Fluttershy,” he said. “You’ve helped me already. You’re a really good doctor, you know that? I mean it.”
Fluttershy blushed. She looked at Parker and saw the changes to his features. His eyes looked less cloudy and his face looked less tense. It was as if a mask had been pulled off the young man’s face. The gun, which Parker hadn’t dared to let go, rested on the floor beside him, and he reached for the laptop.
“Are you going to be okay?” Fluttershy asked.
“I think so.”
“Promise me. It would break my heart if you went on with what you were doing.”
“I promise.”
Suddenly, Pinkie Pie bounced on the good side of the screen and landed on Fluttershy’s back with a thud. “Pinkie promise!” She yelled.
Parker felt a smile curl on his face. That was a miracle. “Pinkie promise.”
“Good!” Pinkie said, and jumped away again. Fluttershy didn’t know what to think of this and rubbed her back.
“Thank you,” Parker said, “all of you.”
A chorus of pony voices answered his gratitude. Fluttershy just smiled.
Suddenly, the sound of a creaking door could be heard. It came from downstairs. Parker stiffened and let go of the laptop screen. For a moment, he looked lost.
“Whoever it is, talk to him or her,” Fluttershy said. “You will feel much better after you talk about it, trust me.”
“It’s Sandy, my girlfriend,” Parker said. The thought of her conjured a smile on his face, but then it quickly disappeared again. “But should I really tell her everything? I don’t want to trouble her with… well… everything I have done—or rather, everything I haven’t done. I love her so much.”
Fluttershy just blinked and smiled. “That’s great! If she really loves you, then she will understand everything you will tell her, don’t worry about that. If anything, she must be really worried about you, don’t you think?”
“Well, yes,” Parker said. “She’s smart, and I’m sure she might have figured it out already that I’m not well.”
“She deserves the truth!” Applejack yelled from the blind side of the screen.
Parker smiled again, as if a horrible load just fell off his shoulders. Thanks to that one outcry, he made up his mind in the blink of an eye. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll tell her everything.”
Fluttershy made her cute squeaky noise. She beamed like Pinkie bursting into song. “You do that, Parker, and after that, go and find professional help.”
“I will,” Parker said. “And I will never forget you. Will I ever see you again?”
“Eh…” Fluttershy said, looking to the right for support from her friends.
Pinkie, Dash, Rarity, and Applejack crammed themselves on the screen. “Only when you need us,” said Rarity.
“But what if I just want to see you again?” Parker said.
“Just watch the show, silly,” Pinkie said.
Parker scratched the back of his head. “Right, of course.”
“Bye, Parker!” everypony shouted, waving as good as the limited size of the screen allowed.
Waving and blinking a last tear—one of joy—out of his eyes, Parker said goodbye one last time.
With that, Parker closed the laptop and stood up. His limbs felt as cold as the grave and very stiff, but he didn’t care about that. Carefully he shoved the gun underneath the bed with a foot, and headed towards the stairs, ready to change things once and for all.
**
The ponies stood in a circle, with Fluttershy in the middle. She was still taken aback and shook a little bit, but nevertheless she smiled.
“Holy hay! I can’t believe you pulled that off!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, and she took off in excitement.
“Mighty fine job, Fluttershy,” Applejack added.
Pinkie Pie cheerfully jumped up and down. “That was super-duper amazing!”
“But how, may I ask, did you succeed where we failed?” Rarity asked.
Fluttershy looked down at the ground. “I-I… eh… I don’t know. I guess all he really needed was a listening ear.”
“A listening ear… of course!” Rarity said, and put a hoof to her chin.
Applejack stepped closer and looked everypony in the eye. “Well, we did it, girls. We saved that poor fella’s life there. I’d say this might have been the toughest friendship problem we ever had, don’t you agree?”
The ponies nodded and hummed in approval, but suddenly Pinkie frowned. “It’s just a shame Twilight isn’t here.” Pinkie’s head turned from left to right, expecting to see the purple alicorn appear out of thin air. “Where is she, actually?”
A bright purple flash emanated from the inside of the pony circle. Fluttershy jumped to the side just in time. With a flash and a bang, Twilight Sparkle appeared out of thin air. A few purple glitters fell down her mane and tail, and she looked around with wide open eyes.
“I’m back, girls,” she said, gasping for breath. “I’ve gathered as many books on psychology as I could and—hey, where is he?”
Fluttershy scrambled up and walked over to her friend. “He’s gone, Twilight.”
A shadow crept over the Twilight’s face. “Oh no! Did you…”
“Don’t worry Twilight,” Fluttershy said. “I think Parker is fine now.”
“Fluttershy talked him out of it,” Rainbow Dash said. “You should have seen her! She practically stared the sadness out of him!”
“Now that’s mighty poetic of you, Dash,” Applejack said, only the slightest hint of mockery concealed in her voice.
“Thanks A.J.,” Dash said.
“So you did it?” Twilight asked, as if she wanted a thousand confirmations to know for sure.
Fluttershy laid a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Yes I did. He just needed someone who listened to him.”
With a sigh of relief, Twilight Sparkle sat down on the ground. “Phew! I guess that wasn’t an easy task. Thanks Fluttershy.” She looked at the rest of her friends. “And thank all of you as well. I knew I could count on you to buy me some time, but actually solving the problem before I returned… That’s just fantastic! I can’t imagine better friends than you, girls.”
The ponies smiled, some chuckled awkwardly, some let out an ‘aw,’ and one jumped up in ecstasy. “GROUP HUG!” Pinkie yelled, and stretched her forehooves as far as she could to lock all her friends in a tight hug.
Twilight Sparkle smiled. “I’m sure someday we’ll face even bigger problems than this one,” she said, both to herself and to her friends. “But after this crisis, I’m sure we can handle everything—together!”
THE END
Author's Note
I am going to be honest with you. I wrote this story a long time ago when I was feeling the same things Parker was feeling in the story. Only now, using the proper medication, going into therapy, and generally feeling a little better, did I find the strength to read this story once more and edit it. This story is dedicated to everyone who suffers from depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, bipolar disorder, or other mental illnesses. If you can identify yourself even just a little bit with Parker, then stop reading this afterword and find someone to talk to. Know that you are not alone, and know that you will get better with professional help. You just need a listening ear.
So why write this story in the first place? Just as with ‘A Story Worth Telling,’ it had to be told. This story is a part of me, and it wanted to get out of my broken mind and onto the paper. I want to make a difference with this story. I want to give people a mirror, and after that, the best case scenario that might happen. But for that to happen, you have to take the first step, and the first step is always to talk. That’s the only advice I want to give you. Place a comment or give a like if you agree. Stay strong, dear reader.
Note: All human names used in this story are purely fictional.
