On Some Days

by Chapter 13

Rating: teen
Tags: Profanity, Random, Lightning Dust, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1886

Lightning Dust, homeless and alone, meets a pony on a bench,

It's cold in Phillydelphia.

Silver Lining goes for a walk.

Published 2019-06-28 03:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-06-28 03:30:01 UTC

Two Ponies and a Bench.

The midnight streets of Philly were cold, but refreshing. The roads were illuminated by the soft glow of street lamps and the silver cast of Luna's moon. Spring had come, but the cold winds that blew in from the bay refused to let that fact be known—a common occurrence that the locals had dubbed 'the remnants of winter'.

I was one such local, and currently made my way down one of the many pathways by the wharf. My hooves clopped against the cobblestone path. I took a drag from the cigarette currently held in my mouth, a slight tingle flowed through my system from the combination of the nicotine in my veins and the chilling breeze. As I exhaled, the smoke rose and was instantly blown into the city at my side.

I had been told countless times that the things would eventually kill me, but I never cared—it was a warning that fell deaf to my ears.

As I continued forward, I didn't have a destination in mind. No, I had gotten out of work a while ago (late night meeting with a client), and decided to take the long way home. I was a plumber by trade, but had the fortune and luck to have started my own successful company. It was nice, but I had lost some of my passion when I had hung up my wrench for a pen, spending my days tackling payroll and meeting instead of leaky drains or rusty pipes.

Looking at me, however, you never would have guessed this. I was a slightly small, grey earth pony stallion with a short gruff beard, yet styled main. My coat, gruff and mane had spots of silver grey, betraying my middle-age. I always wore my trademark vest, and my cutie mark was that of a set of clouds with a single, silver ray of light poking through. Ponies always assumed I was some big-wig from the weather bureau, but nothing could have been further from the truth.

I stopped my walk and turned toward the water. I looked emotionlessly at the bay in front of me. I craned my neck down and pulled a flask from my vest pocket. I unscrewed the cap with practiced ease and took a swig. It had taken a while to be able to do this with a still lit cig in my mouth. The sharp burn of aged brandy hit my tongue, but it went down smooth. A warmth hit my stomach and I returned the flask to my pocket before continuing my journey.

It was a quiet night, not much to be seen. I passed a few other ponies along the way, most couples, but a few trotted alone, just like me. Maybe they had a similar desire as me, to simply enjoy the cool breeze. I took another drag from the smoke.

My hooves eventually came to a stop. My head focused toward a single vagrant that sat huddled in a dirty blanket, illuminated softly by the glow of a neighboring streetlight. She sat on a bench not more then a hundred hooves in front of me. This wasn't out of the ordinary, as many homeless littered the streets of my home city, but there was something about her that caught my eye. Here eyes stood forward, gazing emotionlessly at the bay in front of her. I knew those eyes. I knew that gaze. It was fightenly familiar.

I shook my head, ash fell from my smoke, and I continued onward. I stopped once I hit the bench, then sat on the vacant section besides her. Her gaze flicked to me, golden eyes meeting mine for only a second, then back toward the bay. She seemed to pay me no mind. I followed her gaze and looked out toward the water with the same eyes.

"It's cold out tonight," I finally spoke, my voice scratchy. "Might be another cold spring."

The made nodded. Her dirty, two-toned gold and orange mane bouncing slightly. She didn't say anything, just stared forever forward.

I paused for a bit. I pulled out the now butt from my mouth and flicked it forward. I quickly pulled out another with my lighter and lit up, taking a deep drag before closing the lighter and returning it to its place. The smoke wafted into the bay, then dissipated into the moonlight.

"You got a name?" I ask, honestly not expecting a response.

"Lightning Dust," the mare muttered to herself, to my surprise.

"Silver Lining," I replied, though she didn't acknowledge it.

A breeze washed over us, and I watched as the mare pulled the blanket tighter to her opal coat.

We sat in silence for a bit. She remained quiet, and so did I. I don't know why I had sat down. It wasn't like me to take an interest in a stranger, let alone a vagrant. But, something about the mares gaze had caught my attention. It was lifeless, lacking purpose. That hit home.

"What's your story," I finally ask.

I got no response, only a quick snort. I took a drag and sighed, then removed the flask from my vest and unscrewed the top. This gained a response: one of the mare's ears twitched, a quick glance thrown my way. I took note. I shook the flask lightly. It seemed mostly empty, about three swigs left. I took a quick sip, then offered the open flask to the mare besides me. She turned to me, then the flask, then back to me. I let out a soft nod. An opal hoof emerged from the blanket and grabbed the flask. I noticed a familiar shake to it. The mare brought it to her lips and took a deep swig, then hoofed me the now empty container.

Silence returned, but not for long.

"I fucked up," she began, her voice dry—as if it had been some of the first words spoken in a while, "and now I'm here."

I nod, but say nothing.

"I lost. I tried, but I lost. I had it made—my dream so close I could taste it, but I fucked it up."

I flick my cigarette, but pause as I reach for another one. Part of me thought of offering the mare one, but decided against it. I had a feeling she probably wasn't a smoker.

"So, you gave up?"

The mare snorted angrily, but didn't say anything—just huddled closer into her blanket.

Against my better judgement, I ask, "Why?"

The mare grumbled, then turned toward me. "Because I was forced too."

"And you let that stop you?"

The mare rolled her eyes. "It's not like I had a choice otherwise. Flying was all I could do—not like there was much else for me."

I was confused by this, but didn't pry. I hadn't even noticed she was a Pegasus. I shrug.

The mare turned away. "You wouldn't get it..."

I let out a chuckle, and she flicked an angry eye my way. "Try me."

She was silent, then sighed. "I was a Wonderbolt recruit a while back. A shoe in for the team. Apparently I was too reckless and they booted me out of the academy. After that, I wandered for a bit before coming home. I tried, but couldn't hold down a job. And, now I'm here."

"Got family?"

"None that care."

I 'tsk' then turn toward the bay.

"I was a painter," I speak up. "A graffiti artist, to be honest. And I was good at it. Used to make murals all over the town. Little bastions of color on this grey city. Got my cutie mark doing it," I paused with a sad sigh. "But, I quickly learned that there was no money in putting unwanted tags on other people's property."

She turned and looked me over with a raised eyebrow.

I chuckle. "I had an uncle who owned a plumbing business—he got me through my apprenticeship and I got my masters. I branched off with my own company."

"And you're happy with that?"

"No," I let out a wordless laugh, "but it pays the bills."

"So, you gave up?"

"Eeyup."

"And you're okay with that?"

"On some days," I shrug.

She bit her lip, then looked down. I could see shame on her face.

"But on others, I regret not trying again," I continue. "Maybe I could have made it. Maybe someone could have noticed me. Maybe I could have gotten a job actually doing what I loved." I shrug. "But, it's all in the past. I haven't held a paintbrush or spray-can in years."

It was quiet again after I finished. I lit up another smoke. I was running low, I noticed. Needed to pick up a new carton tomorrow.

"Do you," the mare began. I turned to look at her, but her eyes remained downward. "Do you think it's too late for me?"

I thought for a moment. "Honest opinion? Probably. Doubt they'd take you back, and you look a little out of practice."

She let out a sad sigh.

I bit my lip, then added, "But, you never know. 'It's never too late to try and turn your life around,' as they say."

"Yeah, so they say," she snorts.

It was quite again. Another breeze washed over me, and I finally noticed how cold I was getting. I looked over the bay, watched the moonlight reflect of the slow wake of the water, then back to the mare. I bit my lip. A though popped into my head, but I pushed it away. I wasn't that altruistic of a pony. I hopped off the bench, then turned toward the pony. She looked me over, and I noticed that here eyes held a bit more then when I first had seen them

Our eyes locked for a moment, but she eventually turned away. I wondered to myself if there was something else I should say, but nothing came to mind. I turned to walk away, then paused. I took a deep breath, then reached into my vest and pulled out my bit-bag. There was about a good hundred or so there, enough for food for a week if a pony was smart. I pulled out about half and placed them on the bench besides the mare.

She stared at me, wide eyes, then opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "If you ever decide to try again, and it works out, give me a shout out."

She blinked, then nodded. I let out a small smile. With one last nod, I turned away and made my way home.

I never did check up on the mare after that. Judging by the shake in her hoof, I figured I knew where my donation had gone. But, I still found myself checking to news every once in a while and hoped to see a certain new pegasus on the Wonderbolt roster.

I never did.

I don't know why this exchange remained with me. It wasn't like anything became of it. I didn't change. But, part of me hoped that little talk lead to something. I hoped that mare had found some form of hope and turned her life around—and that I was partially responsible.

Here is to hoping, I guess.