Tales from the Average Joe

by The Prodigy

Rating: teen
Tags: Other, Science Fiction, Crossover, Fallout, Anthology, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Death, Alternate Universe
Length: 1885

An anthology series of stories about the Equestrian wasteland!

Fallout: Equestria belongs to Kkat.

This 'story' is a collection of smaller tales about the inhabitants of post-'nuclear' Equestria.

The Balefire: written by me, Prodigy man. I wrote this one day when I was bored, and decided to post it here, but then discovered it was too short (this gave me the idea to turn this into an anthology). An indistinguishable pony learns the hard way about booking reservations.

Pilgrimage: written by HatterTheThird. Since he doesn't have a Fimfiction account, I'll credit his Discord ID: HattertheThird#5225. A ghoul reminisces on his past, but fails, his brain going to the start of his damnation.

[Coming up soon] My Spot: written by Prodigy. A drunken Unicorn finds another pony has taken his stool at the bar, and he's not happy about it.

Published 2018-12-22 15:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2018-12-22 15:40:02 UTC

The Balefire

It was chaos.

The cornucopia of ponies continued to push and shove. They pushed. Shoved. Galloped. Ran. Tripped.

It was chaos.

I was somehow caught up into the mix of colorful ponies. Ponies who pushed, shoved, and ran. One two three four, one two three four, one two three four. I counted as I ran with the cluster of panic. One hoof after another.

The sirens roared a bellowing vibration of sound. It was not a pleasant nor a quiet sound. The growl of a gargantuan beast, fixating on its next prey.

It was chaos.

I galloped and galloped and ran and ran. I pushed and pushed and shoved and shoved. One, two, three, four. I could see the ponies running into the hill. One two three four. The large steel door rotated to block the gear shaped hole. One two three four! It screeched and slid closed, the number ‘55’ inscribed on it in yellow. One two three four! one two three four! One two three four! One two three boom…

I turned around and saw the suburbs illuminated in a green light. The light that came from a large green flame. It pushed upwards into the clouds, the green rolling over and making a sort of toadstool. It was both mildly amusing and greatly terrifying to see. It looked as if it was miles away, and yet I could still feel it’s heat from here. At this last thought I realized the state of adversity I was in. My hearing came back and heard screams. Ponies were banging on the sealed door of Stable 55. We were locked out.

It was chaos.

I galloped home. As I ran down the street, I could see the green beast. It ravished everything in its path as it attempted to quench it’s unquenchable hunger. I had no time for keys. I bucked my door until the wood splintered around it’s hinges, knocking it to the floor. I kicked the rug out of the way. I pulled up the hatch in the floor. I climbed down inside. Many boxes resided in my small basement. They were made from cardboard and the local maple trees. Beautiful trees…

… soon to be gone.

I waited patiently for a minute. Listening. Thinking.

I felt a rumble.

Then an earthquake.

Then I heard the wind.

Before my eyes the green monster tore away the floor that was my ceiling. It burned. I felt my flesh melting away. The beast ate up the wood boxes, sucking them out of the hole my basement was. I screamed in a great pain. I would have cried, but the flame would only consume my tears. I screamed as the flame sucked me out too, and I was plunged into the concrete ground outside.

It was chaos.

I was alive.

I opened my eyes. I was under a metallic and ceramic air-carriage. It was charred and the windows busted. It had cracks and dents all over, with a few loose wires as well. The cement foundation I laid on must have been where my home was. The only thing keeping this heavy machine from crushing every bone in my body was what was left of the kitchen wall. I crawled out from under it. My vision was clouded and it hurt to walk; I felt a sting with every step I took. Most of my skin was gone. I shook my head and looked to the sky in the distance. The massive mushroom cloud remained.

Dead ponies littered the ground en masse, as well as what looked like their shadows. Shadows of the ponies who were once there, engraved into the ground and walls. As shadows, forever to witness the ruins that were once their colorful and happy home. All of it was gone now. Everypony and everything. I was alone and in pain.

I was what remained after Equestria died.

It was chaos.

The cloud looming over the ashes and remains of my friends and family. My home, and neighbors. All of them were gone. Everything no longer had meaning. I was going to die here, alone... no, not alone. I sat there and counted the bodies and shadows.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

It was...

Ten.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

Fifty.

Chaos.

One hundred. Two hundred. Three hundred. Four hundred...

There were too many. Millions of souls incinerated into damnation, never to be seen or heard from again, never to be remembered. All of them forgotten as I hold their memories, remembering the times I said hello to them, played with them, cooked and ate with them, but they were lies. I never did this things, hell, I barely knew any of these ponies! I never once thought to know my neighbors or to be friends with them, oh how much I regretted.

It was chaos.

Pilgrimage

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”