And All the Colors of the Rainbow, Too
It was all so hopeless.
Kerfuffle frowned and pushed the bolts of faded gray fabric away, slouching back in her chair as she did so. Her wings hung loosely at her sides, the gray feathers brushing the gray floor of her little gray boutique. What is the point of it all? she wondered as she stared at her latest failed attempt at creativity. What she had wanted to turn into a beautiful summer dress was nothing more than folds of fabric in differing shades of gray with only the barest hints of color to distinguish them by. No matter what she did, it never felt right, and it frustrated her to no end. How was she supposed to make beautiful creations if she couldn’t even see the colors?
With a sigh of defeat, Kerfuffle gathered the cloth up in her wings and tossed it into an ever-growing pile of scrap fabric. Maybe she’d tear the seams apart and salvage the cloth for something new. Maybe she’d pull it back out of the pile tomorrow and try it again. Maybe she’d just let it sit there with the rest of her failed creations. It wasn’t like she really needed the cloth. She already had more gray fabric than she knew what to do with. And that was exactly the problem; she didn’t know what to do with it.
And it was bleeding her dry, slowly but surely. She angled her head to the side, where several dresses she had ordered from Rarity’s catalogue stood proudly in the storefronts. They weren’t much better to look at, the magic that had sucked all the color out of Hope Hollow swiftly following suit on them within days of arrival. But Rarity could see and work in color, and she had a talent for design that Kerfuffle had lost when sepia saturated her world. They looked right and fashionable, even in muted purples and faded blues, and maybe that was the only reason ponies bought them. They certainly wouldn’t buy anything Kerfuffle herself had made, and she’d slowly boxed up all the old creations she had once proudly displayed in her storefront. Nowadays, they sat in the back and rotted right alongside her creativity and the meager savings she had left to her name.
Maybe I should just pack on up and go, Kerfuffle thought, and not for the first time. It was a sinister temptation that preyed on her daily. Ever since the mayor had broken the rainbow generator, there was scarce anything that made her feel like staying. The cheer of the town was gone, once thriving businesses had shuttered their windows, and her friends had grown cold and distant. She had been left to her own thoughts and her own failures in her little gray boutique for years now, and the walls might as well have been the concrete blocks of a prison cell. She certainly couldn’t remember what color they had been. Not that it really mattered.
But it wasn’t iron bars that kept her imprisoned in this hopeless, empty town. It was her own apathy and lethargy. Every single time she thought about leaving it all behind, she came up with a hundred different excuses to make her stay. It would be too much effort. She was too tired. She didn’t even know where she would go. And above all else, she knew that leaving wouldn’t bring her colors back to her. Ponies left the town all the time, but that didn’t make them any less gray. They carried their emptiness with them and faded away. And Kerfuffle knew that if she left Hope Hollow, one day she’d fade away too… and nopony would care.
She stood up from her worktable, four gray hooves bumbling over a gray carpet that might once have been green. She looked back at the stairs that led to her apartment above the store, and for a moment she considered just closing down the shop and retiring for the day, even if it was only one in the afternoon. There was a lumpy couch upstairs and a lovely bit of gray ceiling to stare at until supper finally came and went without her taking so much as a nibble of bread, and then it was off to the same dreamless sleep she always had. She slept so much now; it seemed like she was always tired. But for once, she wanted to try and do something else. Maybe if she just took a walk, she’d find some inspiration for her gray dresses.
“A walk’ll get me feeling right as rain,” she murmured to herself, making her way to the gray door. Sure, the forest outside of Hope Hollow was as gray as the rest of the town and the ponies within, but just getting away from her prison might do her some good. Even if the colors were gone, nature had a smell and sound to it that her struggling boutique lacked. Maybe it would be enough to help her finish a dress for the first time in what felt like years.
It’s worth a try, she thought to herself as she locked the door behind her, leaving one gray world behind for another.
They found her just before suppertime at the edge of the forest.
It wasn’t clear how long she had been there before Petunia came across her, but it was clear that she needed the doctor’s attention right away. A few ponies dutifully took her from the gray trees to another gray cell, and the doctor worked throughout the evening to stitch her back up. Nopony waited outside of her room to see how the operation had gone, and nopony was waiting by her bedside when Kerfuffle woke up the following day.
She spent three days in the doctor’s office before she was finally discharged. Petunia and Mayor Sunny Skies had been the only ones to visit her while she remained bedridden, though Kerfuffle was simply happy to have any visitors while she convalesced. They had asked her what had happened, and Kerfuffle had tried her best to remember. A manticore had ambushed her on her hike, a gray beast unnoticed in the gray undergrowth of the gray forest. How she had escaped, Kerfuffle couldn’t say. She had the scars around her shoulders and sides to prove the attack was real, and she knew they meant she should have died. But while everything else was fuzzy, one memory had burned itself into her mind and would not leave her be. She shivered as she remembered the blood, how vivid it was, a sea of red in a world of gray.
The first steps out of bed had been the hardest. The doctor had warned her they would be. It was as if her brain had not yet accepted the fact that the doctor had amputated her mangled leg. Some part of her mind was convinced her hoof was still there, even if she could only feel three on the ground, her bandaged hock kicking uselessly at the air. The doctor told her she was lucky, being a pegasus and all. She could use her wings for balance, and though she’d lost some feathers in her fight with the manticore, she could still fly. But Kerfuffle didn’t feel lucky. She’d lost a part of herself, nearly died, and nopony in Hope Hollow seemed to care. But then again, why should they?
The doctor sent her home with a crude crutch, a simple metal peg looped around her hock to give her something to put her weight on. Kerfuffle didn’t like it very much. The metal itched and chafed, and it slipped on the hard floors of her home despite the rubber grip on the end. But the worst part was when she saw it in her reflection, a lifeless piece of steel attached to an equally lifeless gray ghost. It was like it mocked her, a reminder of the one time she dared to try and break her slump in search of inspiration. She had hoped to find some reason to stay and continue making dresses, but instead she’d only found more misery. Her bolts of cloth remained untouched for a week as she struggled to find the energy to even get out of bed in the morning… or at all. She simply couldn’t face her reflection and look once again at what she’d done to herself. Even her dreams were troubled, haunted by the vivid memories of her red blood staining her gray coat and the gray leaves of the gray world around her.
The mirror didn’t last long, broken late one night with an anguished strike of a hoof, and the prosthetic tossed out the window to the street below. Kerfuffle had gone to bed that night in tears, and when the morning came, she saw no reason to get up and begin her day. The hours slowly ticked by as she lay on her side, hoof following the wrinkles in her sheets. She tried not to think about the red, and was only partly successful.
A knock on the door downstairs raised her ears, if only for a moment. “Kerfuffle?” a muffled mare’s voice asked. “Are you open? I, uh, I got somethin’ I need to talk to you about.”
Kerfuffle wanted nothing more than to just pull the covers over her head and pretend to not be home, but the knocking persisted. “I know yer in there, Kerfuffle,” the voice droned. “Why don’tcha open up the dang door ‘fore I have to go bust it down myself?”
Sighing, Kerfuffle mustered the strength to get out of bed. She stumbled and nearly fell to her side when she tried to take a step on a hoof that wasn’t there, but she caught herself with her wings before she hit the ground. Right, the dang metal peg, she thought to herself, remembering what she’d done with it the night before. Hopefully nopony had run off with it, though she didn’t see why they would bother. At least she had her wings to get her down the stairs without too much difficulty.
The last pony she expected to find on the other side of her door was Torque Wrench. The handymare never seemed to have an interest in dresses and expensive clothing, given her line of work, and so Kerfuffle was at a loss for why she would be here on her doorstep of all places. “Torque?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“You gonna ask a mare what she’s doin’ at a clothin’ store?” Torque countered with her usual slight frown.
“No other mare I’d be askin’ but you,” Kerfuffle said. “Unless one a Rarity’s ensembles caught yer eye or somethin’. I wouldn’t blame ya, they’re the best you’ll ever find, don’tcha know.”
“It ain’t that,” Torque said, and she rolled her shoulders to shake something wrapped in a bundle of cloth. “You gonna let me in or no?”
Though she wanted nothing more than for Torque to go away and leave her to her misery, Kerfuffle nodded and pulled back the door, hobbling awkwardly on three hooves. Torque walked right up to the nearest table and dropped her bundle on top of it. “I heard about what happened, ya see,” she said, unwrapping the fabric. “And then I saw yer dang leg lyin’ on the sidewalk this mornin’. Figured it must not’ve been comfortable.”
The pegasus let her head fall. “It ain’t the worst…”
Torque snorted and flicked her tail. “‘Ain’t the worst,’ she says. Ain’t the best, neither. Didn’t have much to do today, so I figured it’d make a good way to pass the time.”
“What would?” Kerfuffle asked, confused.
“This.” Torque gestured to the unwrapped bundle, and Kerfuffle stepped closer. It was a leg, she quickly realized, more lifelike and natural than the simple prosthetic the doctor had given her. It had been carved from wood and fashioned with what Kerfuffle assumed was brass, dull as it was. The hoof pivoted on a sturdy hinge, and the cannon could rotate a limited range from the socket. Springs let the hoof and cannon move almost like a real leg with each step it took. The bottom of the hoof was wide and knurled for grip, and Kerfuffle knew just from looking at it that it wouldn’t slip on her floors.
“Not my best work, but it’s somethin’,” Torque commented. “Had to guess at the socket a wee bit, but it looks like it’ll fit. At least it’s a hind leg and not a foreleg, otherwise I’d have to get creative with the articulatin’, don’tcha know. Should hold yer weight fine and dandy.”
Kerfuffle’s jaw hung agape. “This is… fer me?”
Torque rolled her eyes. “No, it’s fer the other little mare in this stupid town who ain’t got no leg. Yes, you ninny, it’s yers.”
Still, Kerfuffle hesitated. “How… how much?” she asked, worriedly trying to remember just how small her pile of bits had gotten.
“Not a penny,” Torque said. “I didn’t just make the stupid thing to go and rob ya blind. Celestia knows you need the coin more than I do.”
Kerfuffle didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Instead, she sniffled once, and again, and her eyes felt hot and prickly as tears began to form. She lunged forward, forelegs and wings wrapping around the sturdy earth pony before she could react, and Kerfuffle threw all her weight into the embrace, little as it was. Torque took a step back for balance, and she awkwardly held Kerfuffle upright as the fashion designer began to cry.
“Geez, no need to get all emotional on me,” Torque grumbled, though she gave Kerfuffle a light squeeze in return.
“I-I’m sorry,” Kerfuffle blubbered, her wingtips dabbing at her eyes. She hastily pulled back from Torque, awkwardly finding her balance on three legs. “It’s just… I-I didn’t think anypony cared!”
Torque awkwardly coughed and brushed one hoof against the other foreleg. “Oh, it ain’t that, per se, but, well, I was worried about ya. ‘Specially when I saw your leg outside, I figured I had to do somethin’ about that.” She cleared her throat and pointed to the prosthetic. “Well, don’t just stand there, put it on so I can make any adjustments or nah. Might need to shorten it a little, you pegasi ain’t exactly the tallest ponies…”
Torque showed her how to attach the leg to the end of her hock, and Kerfuffle soon had it on in a minute. The socket was snug and comfortable against her stump, and when she put her weight evenly across her hindquarters, the prosthetic gave a little bit but held her firmly upright. It only took Torque a few adjustments to get the length and tension right, and if it weren’t for the lack of sensation in that limb, Kerfuffle never would have known her leg was missing.
“Now, you just focus on takin’ it easy, alright?” Torque told her when she was done. “It’ll take some gettin’ used to, I’m sure. Might need to change yer gait a little bit to get it workin’ fine and dandy, it’s only got springs and rods, no muscle to pull it here and there.”
Kerfuffle sniffled again, but she kept the tears in check this time. “Thank you, Torque,” she said, her smile thin and trembling but real all the same. “I just… I don’t… thank you. I owe you for this.”
Torque snorted and waved her hoof. “You don’t owe me nothin’, Kerfuffle,” she said. “I’m a handymare, I’m s’posed to fix things. Guess that includes ponies too.”
It made Kerfuffle’s smile a little brighter to hear that. “You don’t know how much it means to me, to know that… that…”
“Like I said, it’s nothin’.” She awkwardly shifted in place, her eyes wandering over the display cases slowly gathering dust from disuse. “But can ya promise me one thing?”
Kerfuffle blinked. “Oh, of course, anythin’.”
“Go make more of yer dresses,” Torque said, much to Kerfuffle’s surprise. “They might not be my thing, but, well, you always had a way about you that made every little thing brighter. I… miss seein’ that.”
Surprise stifled any words Kerfuffle might have had, and Torque simply nodded her head once. “Anyways, I gots plenty of work that needs doin’. Gotta get back to it. Take care with the leg.”
“I will,” Kerfuffle managed to reply.
Then Torque was gone, leaving Kerfuffle all alone in her store once more. The pegasus stared out the windows long after Torque had left, her mind still trying to comprehend what had just happened. It wasn’t until she looked at her new prosthetic, sturdy and strong, that she managed to process Torque’s words.
“A dress… I can do that,” she quietly proclaimed, turning toward her work station.
Evening fell, and Kerfuffle had precious little to show for it. She had tried once more to go and whip up something from her piles of gray fabrics, but the colors and design continued to elude her. She could make something that was built nice, sure, and something that had the shape of a dress, but the way the grays and faded colors overlapped each other left her feeling like something was wrong. She didn’t know why she cared so much; one dull gray dress would look like another, no matter what color the fabric originally was. Rarity’s designs were remarkable for their patterns and distinct shapes, not so much their colors. But that was a lie, Kerfuffle knew. You could live in a black and white world, but that didn’t make the rainbow any less important.
She eventually gave up and retired for the night, feeling the same old slump beginning to smother her once again. The magic from Torque’s present felt like it was already wearing off. In the end, nothing had changed, and her inspiration was still nowhere to be found. And after what had happened last time, she didn’t think she was going to go for any walks in the forest anytime soon.
A simple dinner sufficed to sate her meager hunger, and she decided that maybe it would be best to go to bed early tonight and get some rest before the red dream came to her again. Yet when she went to brush her teeth before bed, she wilted as she saw the remains of her mirror. A million little Kerfuffles stared back at her through a million shards of glass, each one aghast at what they saw. But what did they see? Rather than run from her reflections, Kerfuffle leaned in closer. Gray mares peered back at her, each one familiar, yet so different. Had she always been this gaunt and tired?
She snatched a picture of herself off of a little table in the hallway and looked it over. Even the picture had lost its colors, but she could tell the Kerfuffle behind this glass was different that the ones in the mirror. She was happier, livelier, full of inspiration and creativity. A shawl lay half-finished between her hooves, the sewing machine running at full speed. Where had all that energy gone? Maybe the colors weren’t the only thing that the rainbow generator had sucked out of the world when the Mayor broke it. Maybe it had sucked away the mare she used to be as well, leaving behind something gray and dead.
But she wasn’t gray and dead, was she?
She closed her eyes, and she saw red again. She saw the red of her blood painted on the trees and grass like oil on a canvas. It stood out so sharply from the gray that it had to be real. Her blood was red, it had always been red, and it always would be. That hadn’t changed, and it had taken a manticore attack to see that underneath her gray coat and gray feathers, she still bled in color.
She took the picture back into the bathroom and held it against the cracked mirror. She stared at two Kerfuffles, side by side, and realized that for all their differences, they were still the same mare. The only difference was memory. The Kerfuffle in the picture remembered the color red and all the other colors of the rainbow; the one in the mirror did not. So which one was her reflection?
A strange fantasy overtook her, and she went back down the stairs into her workshop. There was little light left in the sky, but she had lamps, and she made sure they were all topped with oil. A match lit each one, and soon she was digging through her yarn. But instead of pulling a shade of gray out at random, she stopped and looked at each one in turn. And then she found it: a bundle of dark gray yarn with just the slightest tinge of red to it, but to Kerfuffle, it may as well have been the brightest crimson in the entire world. She knew what the color was supposed to be, and she could see the red as plainly as if it was right there in front of her.
She took the yarn back to her workstation and dropped it on the wood. She dug out a pair of needles with her wings and found the end of the yarn. And then, wingtips trembling ever so slightly as she grasped the needles between her feathers, Kerfuffle set to work.
Hours rolled by like minutes, but she never once stopped. Her needles flew through the red yarn until she’d woven it out to a suitable length, and then she was back at her yarn closet. Her eyes settled on the next color without a moment’s hesitation: orange. She could see it as clearly as she could see the red before it. The colors were there, she’d just forgotten what they looked like. When all she could see was gray, the rainbow in her mind became gray as well, but no longer. Now she saw the colors with her heart, and orange turned to yellow, and yellow to green, green to blue…
It was the dead of the night, or maybe the early hours of morning, when she finally finished. In front of her was little more than a simple wool scarf, but one look at it and she knew it was beautiful. The colors may have been faded ghosts of what they once were, but in her mind’s eye, they were as vivid and real as could be. The scarf was the rainbow made hers to hold, and when she wrapped it around her neck and held it up to her nose, it smelled like creativity. She giggled and laughed to herself even as the lamps around her flickered low on oil. She had done it, finally! She had made something!
Her laughter was cut off by a sharp yawn, and even that amused her. When was the last time she had worked so late through the night, chasing her passion? Those days felt like they were so long ago… but now they were back again. Her hooves tip-tapped on the wooden floor, her prosthetic even adding its own clink of metal on wood. Her wings fluttered, ruffling the pile of unfinished dresses in the corner of the room, and even they seemed colorful once more. She could see all the little mistakes that had been holding her back, but now she could also see everything she’d done right. And when she picked up the last dress she’d tossed aside, she knew she only needed to shore up some of the needlework and it’d be good to sell as it was. Had she really thought this was awful?
She yawned again, and she set the dress aside, smoothing it out on her worktable to get some of the wrinkles out of it. The dress could wait until morning, however soon that was. Right now, she needed to catch some sleep. Once more, she made her way up the stairs, and once more, she stopped at the bathroom to actually brush her teeth and get ready for bed. This time, when she looked into the mirror, she didn’t cringe away from what she saw. The Kerfuffles that looked back at her were all smiling, and they all had a spark in their eyes. Even the prosthetics hanging from their hocks looked beautiful in their own way, as a token that somepony actually cared.
As Kerfuffle settled into bed, she stared up at her dark gray ceiling and imagined the brown of the wood it really was. Maybe she had been wrong; maybe she had found inspiration in the forest. She hadn’t expected to trade a leg for it, but did that really matter? Torque’s prosthetic was as good as any of her other legs. She had lost nothing to the manticore, but she had gained everything. It took the claws of a monster to open her up and show her that she was still Kerfuffle, and she was still alive.
When she finally closed her eyes that night, she dreamed of a vivid red… and orange, and yellow, and green, and all the colors of the rainbow that came along with it.
Author's Note
Kerfuffle is such a cutie and I absolutely had to write something involving her. The fact that she had a prosthetic and nopony said anything about it says a lot about Equestrian society. Still, I felt it was a story worth exploring, and sometimes it's good to show that even happy people can be sad and depressed from time to time. I hope I did it justice.
