Tales from the Average Joe

The cold June winds fluttered across the ashes of the earth, stinging the eyes of the gaunt pony with dirt, and smearing his dark overcoat with dust. Atop the smolder of wood he’d scrounged up, a campfire flicked at the burnt remains of ponykind fluttering through the atmosphere. The ghoul who had spent the last century of his life in the hollowed-out burrows and crumbling ruins of a lost civilization rested his hooves on the cremation-dusted rocks, closing his eyes and holding tight against the storm.

In his imagination formed a brighter image. A kinder, gentler world of friendship and folly. Ponies all around frolicked in the meadows, galloped through the quaint dirt roads, and trotted about the marketplaces. Suffice it to say, it was a fond, distant memory. It hardly mattered how hard he closed his eyes and focused, however; the details of the world he loved, of the ponies he cherished, and of those who cherished him remained blurry and incomprehensible. It was nought but a dream to recollect his former identity. Seltiq was the name he had taken, and the one he had been given - the defining features of himself prior to the war - had been taken away by tragedy. It was in this state of solemn loneliness that Seltiq closed his eyes, perchance to dream of this past life. The only hope he had of finding happiness in a world of perpetual warfare and bloodshed.

Teak Rosary sat at his desk, clicking away at a calculator. Working as an accountant, he busily crunched numbers in his favorite desk, beside the window. The view outside was beautiful, with a lovely sun in the clear blue sky. It did only a marginal amount for the dank, musty accounting office, but it was enough for Teak to enjoy his day. Good pay and reasonable hours made him a very happy stallion, and he figured he needed all the positivity he could get. Mainly because he had a reason to, though he couldn’t quite recall.

Lunch was easily the easiest part of the day, a time to unwind with his peers while he dug into a good old fashioned PB and J.

“How’s it hanging, Teak?” asked one Ratio Goldberg. “Working hard or hardly working?”

Teak chuckled at this remark. “You know how the grind is. Always looking up, right? Anything going on for you this weekend, perhaps?”

“Nothing fun, believe me. The ball n’ chain’s having me dig a shelter out back.”

“... Don’t usually think it’s fair to-” he stopped. “Why would you dig a shelter, of all things?”

“You hadn’t heard? There’s this huge trade war going on in the Zebra lands. I hear if things go too far south they’re gonna drop some magic hellfire down on high. It’s all over the news.”

Teak shook his head. “They wouldn’t. It’s suicide. We’d annihilate them the second they annihilate us. Mutually Assured Destruction, right?”

“That’s what I said. Still, better safe than sorry I suppose.”

“Well, you sure will be.” Teak shrugged.

“Rancid meat rancid meat rancid meat” Ratio muttered rabidly. His expression turned to that of a pony who had been driven mad, starved for years.

Noon passed, and work passed rather quickly. Soon, Teak had his shift end, and he was on his way home. He remembered ponies who sold all kinds of stuff at the booths. Flowers, radishes, apples, guns, apples, lettuce, balloons, meats, bounties, beers, merc cards, dresses. The list could go on, but he decided he would rather continue forward to return home to greet his wife and foal. He could barely remember any of the stuff they had said when he got there, but their embrace was one he fondly recalled. Teak laughed and played with his daughter, Aurora, and he enjoyed every second of her presence, before sitting to talk.

“Daddy, I have a question.” she asked.

“Anything, Ambrosia.” Teak smiled. “Whatever you need, my little Angel.”

“There’s a recital for my dance class coming up.” Angel beamed. “I need a dress. A pretty one, that makes me look all foofy.”

“... Foofy. Got it. Pink or blue?” Teak nodded.

“Green.” Angela smiled, her characteristic gap-toothed grin.

Teak chuckled. “Anything for my little tickle monster.” he hugged her tight, tousling her mane.

Walking to his wife, he pecked her on the cheek. “You’re going to the recital too, right?”

His wife nuzzled back. “Of course. Just as long as you get her dress. I already ordered it from the Carousel Boutique.”

Teak pecked her again. “Sure thing, I’ll do it in a little bit, just give me the chance to settle down a bit first.”

With that, he took a seat in his favorite armchair, and propped open a newspaper. “Clestaie saerotps rwdon ni awke fo ttkasc on qeuEustiar rdobob” read the headline, but the picture seemed much more grim than the goofy gibberish implied. A strange building in the picture had erupted in a blaze of smoke. The picture was black and white, so it likely did no justice, but it reeked of smoke. Or glitter, if that made any sense. Smoke was something that seemed more likely, with what Teak knew well.

Finally getting up, he wandered out of the house, and through the streets to the boutique. Sure enough, the beautiful pink dress was completed. Teak dusted off the protective sleeve, dumped the caps onto the bartop, and started out when a loud noise perked up his ears. Everypony’s ears, actually. Green meteorites. Squinting at this, Teak realized too late that it was headed right for the boutique. Looking around at the panic, he realized all the ponies were scrambling for shelter, running and screaming from the hellfire from above, the frantic screams drowned out by the war cries of the raiders and the whistling of the fireballs in the air. He saw too late that the bright flame lit up the boutique in a horrendous emerald fury, and the sign crashing into him was all he could see before the cloud of dust engulfed him.

Seltiq stirred amongst the rocks once more. Hardly visible against the canopy of brown, the sun began to climb over the wasteland, much like Seltiq clambered to his hooves. His jacket had gotten unbuttoned, and he caught a glimpse at the neat square scar that had been burned into his flesh. The wound that read his new name after the end:

“sel

tique”