Often when you hear a rumor, you think to yourself 'Somepony is desperate for attention'. That seemed to be the case with the latest one coming out of Ponyville. Word had it that a mare was crossing the Everfree Forest on foot as fast as pegasi were flying over it. And the real kicker? She was a pegasus too. It sounded like a load of crap to me. But our agency heard it multiple times from independent sources. So, either this mare was really good at making ponies believe her, or there was something to it. I was betting on the former, myself.
Unfortunately for me, I drew the proverbial short straw on this wild goose chase, landing me in the small but famous town known for its friendship school and the princess running it. I wasn't there for them, however. After debarking the train and asking directions, I found myself standing in front of a small single-story house.
I knocked on the door and drew my notepad and pen from my saddlebag. After a moment, the door opened cautiously inward, a grey face with two golden eyes peeking back at me. Or to be more precise, one eye was peeking back and the other was aimed well above me. The sources had mentioned she was an oddball, so I was sure I had the right place.
"Miss Derpy Hooves?" I asked.
She nodded and smiled an uncomfortable smile that told me she didn't trust me yet. "That's me!" she said in a surprisingly cheerful tone. "How can I help you?"
"My name's Scoop, and I'm with the Manehattan Herald," I said.
She brightened up a bit. "Scoop? Like ice cream?"
I chuckled amicably. "No, no, I'm a reporter for a news agency. We heard some interesting stories about you. They say you can go from Ponyville to Hoofington on hoof as fast as a pegasus can fly. Through the Everfree Forest. Would you care to tell me more about that?"
The mare relaxed visibly when she learned why I was there, opening the door fully. She probably gets some harassing visitors, I thought.
"Oh, you mean my shortcut?" she asked.
"A shortcut? Well, there must be more to it than that," I said.
She tilted her head, looking genuinely perplexed. "Why do you say that?"
"Well, pardon the amateur geometry here, but if the shortest distance between two places is a straight line, then it stands to reason that flying along that straight line is going to be the fastest route between them. So if you're hoofin' it through the trees, zigzagging about, that line isn't so straight," I said.
She giggled as if I had missed something obvious. "Yeah, but if you start with a straight line, then you can't make any improvements," she said and punctuated her statement by reaching her hoof up to boop me on the nose. As condescending as it felt, she didn't seem to mean it as anything but a friendly gesture.
"Well, even if you find a straight path through the forest, you're still on hoof. And, no offense, but you pegasi aren't exactly known for your running speed. In fact, I've never met a pegasus who can run faster than they can fly."
She smiled a mysterious, knowing smile. "Well, that's why you don't try for a straight line. That way, you can always keep improving," she said.
That was all I needed to hear to know what I had already suspected; that this was a waste of time. She was just going to keep spouting some nonsense to try to convince me she really could do what she claimed. I already had it figured out. She was making a show of walking into the forest, flying when she was out of sight, then landing near the other side, and walking out with witnesses there to tell the story. And of course she was going find some convenient excuse as to why nopony else could see this 'shortcut'. I decided to cut to the chase and get the charade over with.
"I see. So, can you show me this shortcut?" I asked.
"Sure!" she said cheerily. That took me by surprise. What I expected was a string of excuses about needing to be somewhere, or being too busy to be going for walks.
"Great," I said with false confidence. "When will you be ready?"
"Oh, sorry, I can't go today," she said. Ah, there it was. "I gotta pick up Dinky from school soon. We can go tomorrow morning though! I have a delivery to make to Hoofington anyway, so it'll work out perfectly."
I knew it wasn't going to work out, and that she would forget or plans would change. No matter, though. It was standard procedure to give them a chance to prove themselves when it came to stories like hers. I'd get a nice paid day off visiting Ponyville, and the agency would be happy. Win-win.
"Sounds good," I said. "Care to point me to the nearest inn?"
She literally pointed a hoof behind me and to my right, wordlessly. I smiled awkwardly and thanked her, leaving her standing in her doorway with her friendly smile and odd eyes.
I found the inn she meant, as her hoof had quite accurately indicated. It was a small place, owned and operated by a family of friendly ponies. I booked a room for that night, forwarding the bill to the agency, and placed my saddlebags inside, noting that the room was well kept and had some items hanging on the walls that were presumably the family's personal belongings. A well-used wooden oar sat on some nails protruding from the wall. Above it, precariously perched on a shelf, were decorative plates painted with the smiling faces of the owners. The place reeked of small town friendliness. I hated it. It was trying to feel like home, but it wasn't my home. I was already missing the city and the ponies with their don't-give-a-shit attitudes. I needed a drink.
Ponyville's one and only bar was a nameless, unassuming place. The sign above the door was just a picture of a dull gray mug overflowing with white froth. Inside, there were a few tables and booths scattered about, plenty of walking space between them. The bar looked well-stocked, hundreds of bottles kept neatly organized on the shelves behind the counter. A layer of straw was evenly spread across the floor, a hint of meadowsweet and lavender (or perhaps rosemary) emanating from it. Being midafternoon, there were not many patrons, but I could see it becoming a rowdy place at night. I took a seat at the bar and ordered an apple rum.
"So," I said to the bartender as he poured my drink, "you must hear a lot of gossip."
"Yessir," he said with a nod.
"You happen know anything about Derpy Hooves?" I asked.
"That oddball mare? Yeah, I hear about her sometimes. Never seen her come in here myself, but ponies like to talk," he said.
"Any of 'em mention her shortcut through the Everfree?" I asked, nursing my drink.
"Shortcut? No, but I know what you're getting at. You're talking about her Hoofington deliveries," he said. It wasn't really a question, but I nodded anyway. "Yeah, when she told ponies she was walking the route, nopony believed her. Couple of mares followed her one day, and they say she walked into the forest. They swear she didn't know she was being followed, so she had no reason to not just fly, either. Thing is, she does get her Hoofington deliveries done as fast as their fastest pegasi. And Derpy isn't exactly their best flyer either. Or runner, for that matter.
"The reason I'm telling you all this is I think there's something to it. So far, nopony has really followed up, it was all just gossip. I'm pretty curious myself, but I don't have time to go poking around in another pony's business just to satisfy curiosity. Derpy also keeps to herself. It was just one little offhoof comment that got everypony talking. She's really not the attention-seeking type. She got some harassing visits and letters after the latest round of gossip, which I hear didn't bother her much, but really upset her daughter."
At this point, I had my notepad and pen out, scribbling furiously. Bartenders didn't only tend bars. They also tended to know all the latest gossip. "And what do you know about her daughter?" I asked. A story Involving kids always sold better.
"I know she gets picked on at school over her mom being walleyed. Her father disappeared a few years ago. Just told them he was visiting a friend in Hoofington and never came back. I actually think that's why Derpy walks instead of flies. She thinks he got lost in the Everfree and she's going to find him some day. That's my theory, anyway. She doesn't talk about it," he said. He was idly wiping one spot on the counter that was already spotless. It seemed to me that he liked partaking in gossip himself.
"Can you tell me about him? What was his name? How long were they together? Was there an official statement about his disappearance?" I asked. A story was already forming in my mind. I could paint him as a dissatisfied husband who left his wife and child, making her go insane from grief. And now she walks through the Everfree Forest in denial, hoping to find him alive and simply lost. Her insanity has been making life hell for her daughter, an innocent child caught in the aftermath of their bad breakup. Yes, it was beginning to seem printable even without the mare's secret route. Lots of city ponies liked some good small town drama.
"He was an earth pony, like you. His name was Acorn. They were together for about six years, married for five of them. And if you wanna find the official statement, there was a local article written about it. Could probably find that at the town hall," he answered.
I finished my drink and tipped him well for the information before heading out toward the town hall. It was an odd round structure, looking like a carousel that was converted into a building. The large wooden doors looked like they were twice as old as me, but swung inward smoothly and noiselessly when I opened them. Inside, behind a tidy wooden desk, sat an older mare, a pair of semicircle pince-nez glasses resting low on her snout. She looked up at me with a welcoming smile.
"Hello! How can I help?" she asked.
"Hi. I'm Scoop with the Manehattan Herald. Looking for a newspaper article from a few years ago about a stallion's disappearance? Name was Acorn," I said.
"Ah, yes, I know the one. Let's go to records storage and find that for you. Mayor Mare, by the way," she said, turning to lead me into the back area.
"Your name is 'Mare'?" I asked as I followed. She laughed heartily.
"No, no, my name is Mayor Mare. And yes, I am the mayor," she said. "Gosh, I haven't gotten that one in a while." She laughed again as she led me into a small room lined with tall cabinets. I waited patiently as she searched for the article, sneaking a few shameless glances at her admittedly fit rear. I looked away before it affected me in any kind of way she might notice.
"Ah ha! Here it is," she said, pulling up a newspaper from the drawer she was leaned over. She placed it on a table and smiled. "Need anything else?"
"No thank you, ma'am," I said, returning the smile.
"Alright, well, I'll be at the front desk if you need anything. Just leave it on the table when you're done, and I'll put it away later," she said and left the room. I took one last look at her behind as she exited, then got to work.
The article was written only a few days after Acorn had disappeared. It outlined much of what the bartender had already told me, but it did include some things that were new, and also surprising. Apparently their marriage was a very happy one. Not to say that private problems don't happen, but usually when a stallion walks out, there is at least something that comes to light. Some hint that things were headed that direction. But according to the article, it took everypony by surprise. Not a single negative thing seemed to be said about their marriage. I figured it could be bias from the writer not wanting to add salt to fresh wounds, ignoring rumors or claims that their marriage was anything but perfect. I made a note in my notepad to ask the bartender about it.
The other surprising thing was that Derpy was not upset by it. According to the paper, she was completely convinced that he was either lost in the woods (and would soon be found), or had an emergency come up and would turn up any minute. She wasn't even the one to report him missing. It was a coworker that reported it after Acorn had missed two days of work.
The story that he was meeting a friend in Hoofington checked out as well, as the friend said he had been expecting him, but he never showed up. I was beginning to suspect he hadn't walked out on his family at all, but had been attacked by timberwolves or something. I still planned to frame it as though he left them, however, as it was still believable and would sell better. As it stood, I could add a timberwolf attack as a nice what-if to get readers gossiping and sharing the story by mouth. Ponies like to think they are detectives, after all, while sitting comfortably in their overstuffed chairs. I knew my audience would eat it up.
The rest of the article had nothing useful, so I stood up and went back to the front of the building. Mayor Mare flashed me the same friendly smile. "All done?" she asked.
"Yeah, but before I go, I have a question," I said. The mare tilted her head slightly and nodded once. "Was their marriage happy? Were there any rumors about domestic troubles? Cheating, abuse, fighting, that sort of thing?"
Mayor Mare was taken aback, looking offended that I would even ask such a thing. "Heavens, no! They were one of the happiest couples I knew. What in Equestria gave you... those ideas?" she asked.
"Nothing, ma'am, just being thorough is all. I meant no offense," I said.
"Oh. Well, I presided over their marriage myself, you know. It wasn't extravagant, but it was one of the most beautiful weddings I ever officiated. They just couldn't stop staring at each other. And until he disappeared, they were nothing but happy together," she said, smiling at the memory.
I scribbled a couple notes and nodded to her. "Well, thank you for the clarification, ma'am. I'll make sure our readers know that."
With a quick wave, I was back out in the afternoon sun. I still wanted to stop by the bar and ask the bartender. Any kind of rumor could be good fuel for my story, true or not. I returned to the nameless little drinkery, with its pleasant aromas of alcohol and strewing herbs, and sat on a barstool. It was a bit busier now, so I waited for the bartender to finish serving another couple of patrons before he got to me.
"Back already? What'll it be?" he asked.
"Just a glass of water and some more of your time. Don't worry, itll be quick," I said as he looked uncertain at first. He nodded and grabbed a clean mug from below the counter.
"What do you want to know?" he asked, voice raised to be heard over the running water.
"Their marriage. You know who I mean. Were there any problems with it? Was he banging mares on the side? Was he hitting her? Was she frigid? Anything like that?" I asked. He turned to me and got real serious.
"Look, I've been here a long time. I've heard plenty of rumors about Derpy. I mean, really moronic stuff that nopony in their right mind will believe. And I've heard rumors about Acorn, especially after he disappeared. But not once, not a single time, have I heard a rumor, not even a whisper, that they weren't happy together. And that's saying something," he said, giving me a serious stare as if daring me to contradict him. I must have looked surprised or baffled, because he rolled his eyes. "Look, the water's free. So is what I told you. Take it however you will. I got other ponies to get to."
I downed half the mug in a few quick gulps and left three bits on the counter for him. On my way back to the inn, I questioned my decision to write Acorn as deadbeat family deserter. On the one hoof, it would likely sell better. On the other, poking the beehive that was Ponyville could easily backfire. Pissing off a small town with a powerful princess in it could be a bad idea. I decided to instead present it more as a possibility to consider, with the timberwolf attack as the more likely story. Then all the Sherclop Poneses could feel like they were solving a mystery, and I could tell the angry bees that I was simply trying to cover all the angles without bias.
Back at my room, I removed my little portable typewriter from my bag and spent the rest of the day working on a rough draft. Then I ordered a bottle of wine (on the company's bill, of course) and drank until sleep took me.
I woke up with my eyes still closed, feeling the warm sun blanketing my face. I opened my eyes, realizing it was a bad idea the instant I did. I hissed and squeezed them shut again as direct sunlight entered them, crashing into my head like a battering ram.
"Damn you, Celestia," I muttered.
I got up and showered, washing away the morning grump. I still had to be cheerful for one more pony, then I would be on the next train out of there. I had enough for a story, but if I didn't follow up and let Derpy make her excuse, the boss would not be happy.
And so I found myself, once again, at the little cottage of the walleyed mare. I trotted up to the door and gave it three loud, solid knocks. As before, when she answered, it opened slowly and carefully. When she saw it was me, the door swung open and there was Derpy, smiling and happy to see me.
"Scoop! I've been waiting for you! Ready to go?" she asked.
"Yep," I replied, masking my surprise that quickly became annoyance. Was she seriously going to walk me all the way to Hoofington and back just to say she forgot where the shortcut was? I didn't expect her to drag it out like that. Oh well, better to get the charade over with with a smile than piss off the boss.
"Alrighty!" she said, coming out and locking her door. She was wearing a cute little brown mailmare outfit with a matching long bill hat. Her mailbag, strap slung over her neck and tucked behind one wing, was stuffed full of letters looking dangerously close to spilling out.
She walked ahead of me at a brisk pace and I followed. She stopped to make a couple deliveries, surprisingly efficient in how quickly she found the right letter to put in each mailbox, given the chaotic state of her bag.
As she walked in front of me, I stole some peeks at her ass. It was a nice one, making me think that Acorn fellow was a lucky stallion, disappearance aside. It also got me thinking about her cutie mark. Just a few light blue bubbles. She certainly did seem like a bubbly mare, so that was the obvious significance there. But I felt as if there was more to it. Bubbles also rose, and she seemed like the type to rise above negativity. The bartender and article about Acorn's disappearance had both confirmed that she was extremely optimistic about the situation. How long did it take for the reality of it to hit her? Did it ever? Was she still convinced she would find him, tousled mane and rough beard, sitting on a log in the forest, smiling as if he had only been inconvenienced? And what would happen to her and her daughter if she ever gave up that hope? After all, bubbles were also notoriously fragile. Would she also burst, broken beyond repair, if she ever realized he was not coming back? Maybe some part of her knew she could not handle it and was fiercely protecting her with a lie that she couldn't see through. Maybe she was already broken in a way that prevented her from being a worse kind of broken.
Eventually we reached the forest's edge. The trees, overgrown with vines and moss, loomed menacingly, as if warning outsiders of danger ahead. I had heard rumors about the magic of the Everfree, but I pushed my worries aside as we entered, still following a well-trodden path.
Derpy rattled off a few standard warnings to me. Don't touch any plants or flowers, don't leave the path without her, and don't antagonize the wildlife. Seemed simple enough. I wasn't there to be adventurous or daring, I just wanted my story. I wasn't about to go poking at burrows or experimentally rubbing leaves on my pelt. Leave that for the scientists.
At our present pace, I knew we were not getting to Hoofington in a timely manner. "So, where is this shortcut?" I asked, hiding my impatience behind a conversational tone.
"Oh, don't worry. You'll see," she said mysteriously. "We're almost there."
I bit my tongue so as not to snap at her. I reminded myself that I was still being paid for this, and that helped a little. I let the monotonous shuffling of our hooves on the dirt path calm my mind. I zoned out, thoughts wandering home to my small studio apartment and friends from work. I realized I had some lettuce in the pantry that wouldn't be any good by the time I got back. Damn unfortunate waste of bits.
"Here we are," she announced, pulling me from my mildly unhappy thoughts.
"What?" I asked, surprised. She pointed off the trail, into thick vines and undergrowth. Was she seriously going to take me tromping through mud and brush just to keep up her stupid pretext? What a pain in the ass. Swallowing my irritation, I forced a smile. "Oh, okay. After you."
"Okay, just stay close to me. I know a safe way through and it's not far," she said.
I did what she asked and kept right behind her, close enough that I could smell the berry-scented shampoo in her tail. It was a nice distraction from the scratching branches and clinging brambles. True to her word, after only a couple minutes of struggling through stymieing forest growth, we stopped in a small clearing.
"It's right here," she said, approaching a tree that was much larger than any others around.
She pointed at the base of its trunk, where its thick, twisting roots stretched away from it, burrowing deep into the damp soil like greedy little arms always reaching for more. And there, at the base, was a hole just large enough for a pony to squeeze into. I looked at Derpy incredulously.
"That hole? That's the shortcut?" I asked.
"Yeah!" she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'll go first. Just follow me through and you'll see."
She trotted over to the unsettling tree and lifted her mailbag off of herself by its strap, setting it down on the ground by the hole. She pushed it inside and followed behind it, wiggling into the tight space, and was swallowed up by inky darkness. I stood, suddenly very alone in a possibly hostile place. I had the urge to follow her, but I began to think about what had just happened.
She obviously wanted me to go inside this literal hole in the ground. Was she planning on murdering me? Was that how her husband disappeared? Was she some psychopathic killer looking for her next victim? It made no sense, but I felt as if nothing did. Why had she brought me to this place?
I tentatively approached the hole, trying to peek inside. The darkness inside seemed to swallow up any light that entered, despite the clearing being relatively well lit. I leaned down closer, still seeing nothing.
"Derpy?" I called. There was no reply. No shuffling of a mare crawling through a tunnel. No panting breaths of a pony struggling in a tight space. Only silence. She couldn't have gotten very far in. I reached a hoof inside to see if I could feel her, and instantly, a spike of dread shot up my spine. I instinctively flung myself back from the hole, landing painfully on my ass and rolling over backward. "What the hell?" My voice was a whisper. I hadn't felt anything with my hoof. It was as if fear itself had just been shot into me as soon as part of me crossed the terrifyingly black threshold.
I stood up, shaking for some reason. I suddenly wanted to turn around and find my way back to the path where it was safe. Where I could go home and forget about this with a bottle of whiskey and a porno mag. I had come far enough. I had played her stupid game and she won. She could keep her stupid shortcut story. I turned away and took a step back into the thick undergrowth and growled. No.
She was not going to win. This was what she wanted. She wanted me to leave and tell everypony what happened. She didn't think I had the balls to follow her. It was a damned hole in the ground. At worst I was going to get a little dirty. And I could show that bitch not to mess with me. I marched back to the hole and glared at it, as if daring it to try stopping me. Despite my forced grin, my heart was hammering in my chest and my legs were shaking. For all of my false bravado, some part of me, deep down, was certain that crawling under that tree was going to end my life somehow. It didn't matter. Dirt and wood. That's all that was down there. Just dirt and wood. It became a silent mantra.
I lowered myself onto my belly and crawled forward, my nose inches from what felt like a curtain concealing an infinite void. I sniffed at it, only smelling the faintly wet soil and bark of the tree. Just as I suspected. Dirt and wood. I inched forward and my nose disappeared from in front of my face. The overwhelming terror gripped me again, and I gritted my teeth as I fought the urge to flee. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to push back and away from this emptiness. I fought back, using my anger to overcome the all-consuming fear. My mind was numb, two primal emotions fighting for control. Then, with a frustrated growl, I pressed my hind leg against a root and propelled myself forward into the blackness.
For an instant I felt an overwhelming feeling of experience. Like I had lived a million lifetimes and amassed a fortune in wisdom and knowledge. I had spent millennia in utter loneliness and fear. I had witnessed the births and deaths of thousands of worlds. I had been a god, created life and destroyed it. Nurtured it to glorious civilizations and reduced it to crumbling ruins. I had wandered the furthest reaches of space and conquered them all numerous times. I had experienced the worst pain and anguish imaginable as well as the highest peaks of pleasure. Every possible combination of sight, smell, taste, sound, and feel, I had partaken in. And in the same instant, it was all ripped away.
Just dirt and wood.
The next thing I remember was light. Bright, painful, new, like a sensation I hadn't felt before. It was like being born as a fully formed adult, but with the mind of a newborn foal. I remember confusion. According to Derpy, the first thing I did was vomit violently onto the ground. I don't even remember it. Every physical feeling was something I had never felt before. Every nerve in my body was receptive, overwhelming me with sensations. None of it made sense, it was all just a raging storm, meaningless and chaotic.
After vomiting, I screamed. This, I do not remember either. Sound made no sense, it was just more sensory input overwhelming my brain. Derpy said that I didn't stop screaming the entire time she was there. She tried to comfort me, to help me. And I just screamed, not even aware she existed. Not aware anything existed. When she realized I wasn't stopping, she ran for help.
By the time she came back, the inside of my throat was torn and bloody. I was on the ground making panicked, gurgling whimpers. The doctors said I breathed in some blood, but I was lucky I didn't fall on my back or I might have drowned myself in it.
My muscles didn't work. My brain could not control them yet. Some were slack, some tensed, and others twitched unpredictably. This made it especially difficult for them to carry me out of the Everfree into Hoofington. Luckily, the town wasn't far.
At the hospital, they had to strap me to a bed and put a gag in my mouth to keep me from damaging my throat more. They kept me heavily sedated for a few days before I finally calmed down on my own. That's about when I formed my first real memory since the incident. I recall recognizing shapes. Ponies. They felt familiar, like I had seen them an impossibly long time ago, but they were there. Instinctual imprints that my mind was finally recognizing. I didn't have a word for them yet, just a deep familiar connection to them. They made me feel safe, even though I still had no real concept of danger.
Over the next week or so, I slowly regained use of muscles and recognized more and more things. I had stopped screaming, so they took out my gag and removed my restraints. Memories slowly came back to me, and I finally remembered my first word; food. I tried to say it in a sudden burst of excitement, producing nothing but a harsh rasp that caused a sting of pain in my throat. I cried in frustration. Ironically, I wanted to scream. When a doctor noticed me trying to speak, I received the bad news. My throat damage was too extensive to fix with magic or surgery, and I would likely never be able to talk again.
Past that, I slowly learned to walk again, having to relearn basic muscle coordination. After a month, I began remembering how to write. I could finally communicate without ringing a bell to yes or no questions. So I wrote. I kept a journal, just writing a constant stream of ideas and feelings, often making no sense to anypony but me. It felt natural. I knew why. I learned about my past life from friends and coworkers from the Manhattan Herald. They filled in as many details as they could. It all felt so surreal, like I was being told I was wearing the wrong skin. Was that me? Could it have been? I had no memory of anything before the bright light. But everypony said the same things about me. My name was Scoop, and I worked for the Manehattan Herald as a journalist. I lived in a small apartment two blocks away from their office. It felt more like being told a story about a stranger.
Derpy visited me whenever she made deliveries to Hoofington. She apologized profusely every time she saw me. I didn't like seeing her cry. She didn't do it on purpose, whatever 'it' even was. Nopony could figure out what happened. Doctors just settled on severe mental breakdown. She never mentioned the shortcut. I now suspect she was still using it, but at the time I had no memory of it.
After two months, they told me I was well enough to leave. To go back to my old life. I wanted to tell them the hospital was my old life, and Manehattan would be a new life. I didn't bother. Coworkers said they would help reacquaint me to everything. They seemed pretty nice, but I wondered if they just felt sorry for me. Did it matter, though? I didn't have much of a choice. I went back (back? I'd never been there!) to my old home. Part of me hoped it would spark something in me, help me regain a memory. I opened the door, expecting familiarity. It was all alien to me.
Work wasn't bad. They had me editing, since I had a pretty good grasp of written Ponish, and it didn't require speaking. It made me feel useful, productive. Meeting ponies who recognized me but I didn't recognize back was disconcerting, but they had all been informed of my amnesia. I began picking my life up where I had left off (apparently).
A year passed relatively uneventfully. Then one day I remembered something. Something before the accident (incident?). I remembered knocking on a door. And that was it. Whose door, where it was, or why I was there, I didn't know. But I distinctly remembered the knocking. Three loud, solid hits against a wooden door. The next day, I remembered an intimate encounter with a mare. I didn't tell anypony about that one. Then memories came more frequently, longer and more detailed, some important events. Over the course of a month, I regained most, if not all of my memories.
The worst was just before the hole. I did it to myself, despite the very nature of the place yelling at me not to. When I remembered it, I laughed. Derpy's shortcut was real. Then I sobbed uncontrollably as the biggest mistake of my life was finally made real to me.
The Month of Recollection, as I like to call it, happened only a few weeks ago now. My first thought upon recalling that day was that I had to see Derpy. I had to tell her that I remembered. When I tried to contact her, that was when I heard the news. Derpy and her daughter, Dinky, were missing. They had been for nearly a month. Why hadn't anypony told me? I immediately demanded two days off work. I told them I was going to Ponyville, and they could fire me if they didn't like it. They gave me the time off.
The train ride was agonizing. Emotions overwhelmed me. Fear, sadness, even a little bit of Derpy's naive but infectious optimism. I managed to stay sane as I pulled into Ponyville. I knew where I had to go.
The sign above the bar remained unchanged since I had last visited. The familiar smell of straw and herbs hit me as I entered. The same bartender was still there, just as I had hoped. I sat on a barstool and produced a notepad from my saddlebag.
"What'll it be?" he asked. I finished writing and turned the notepad around to him.
Mute. What happened to Derpy Hooves and Dinky?
"Derpy Hooves? Oddball mare that foalnapped her daughter and went missing?" he asked. I nodded, despite not believing that she was capable of foalnapping. "Well, I hear she came into town a couple months ago excited about something or other. Just kept saying 'I found him!' over and over. Who she found, or where, or whatever she meant, she never told anypony. Then a week or two later, she up and disappeared. Took her poor daughter. Some say it was a murder-suicide, others think she's living under a fake name in another town. I don't know what to believe, myself. But she's gone and there's no indication she'll be coming back."
I absorbed the information with a heavy heart. I felt I knew what happened. I wrote him a quick 'thank you' and gave him a hoofful of bits for his help.
I walked to the Everfree Forest, passing by her house, windows boarded up and grass overgrown. I still wish I hadn't, but I felt like I needed to see it for myself. Inside the forest, I walked along a path that felt familiar, but a familiarity I was experiencing from somepony else's perspective. That day was burned into my mind, regardless, and I recognized the part where she had brought me off of the trail. A short trudge through thick brush later, I was in the clearing. My heart raced and tears sprang unbidden to my eyes at what I saw.
The tree, bigger than the others, its shape seared into my memory, was still there. And at the base, nestled between its roots, was... nothing. The hole was gone. Not covered up or filled in, but gone. It was as if it never existed. The tree just kept going, right into the ground. A deep sob left me as I cried for her. I would never get to tell her about my memories. Never get to see those curious golden eyes again. I touched the base of the trunk with a hoof. The shortcut was gone, and so was she.
Just dirt and wood.
I've decided to share her story. Now that she is gone, and I am sure of it, nopony else can harass her. The old me would have happily made her a foalnapper for a better selling story. I wouldn't have cared how it affected her, as long as it didn't come back to bite me in the ass. She deserves better than that. She was no criminal.
I believe she was a bubble, and this world was going to destroy her. And I believe she found a way to rise above it. I believe that somewhere she, her husband, and their daughter are happy.
Author's Note
Whew. This one felt like a doozy for me. Partway through, I started wondering whether it earns the "horror" tag. What do you think? It's my first time writing horror, or at least attempting to, so feedback is very much appreciated!
This was heavily inspired by both Mrs. Todd's Shortcut and The Jaunt, both excellent short stories by Stephen King.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!
