There's an Ocean Outside Your Front Door

by paperhearts

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Moondancer
Length: 2107

Swim deep.

Moon Dancer was not prepared for the flood that swept through Canterlot. Twenty days can really change a pony, though.

Published 2019-11-18 22:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-11-18 22:20:01 UTC

There's an Ocean Outside Your Front Door

On the first day, the flood came, and Moon Dancer forgot how to breathe. There had been no warning, no time to prepare; Moon Dancer saw the glint of blue outside of her window and her stomach contracted. She pushed and stumbled her way to the front door, panic stripping bare the interior of her house, and locked it against the rising tide. Then she retreated to her study with her candles and books, reliable guardians against the threats outside. She knew she was smart, but she also knew that this was a problem not easily fixed. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to fix it. But she read on; surrounded by flickering halos of light, Moon Dancer tried to ignore the sound of water seeping through the cracks in the wood.

On the second day, Moon Dancer awoke amongst comforting shapes. She pulled a page from her face and lit the small fire in her study. Erratic tongues of amber and gold danced to the beat of her heart. A memory, unable to survive the scrutiny of the day, faded quickly, leaving behind trails of colour, laughter and tears. Moon Dancer's ears twitched as she hunted for the sound of water, but the noises she found instead were soothing; birds tweeted from their perches, uncaring about the roiling world below. Moon Dancer watched them from between her curtains, her body shaking from jealous thoughts.

On the third day, thunder crackled and roared above Canterlot. Moon Dancer made sure the bolt was drawn tight across her front door, before dropping into the soft, broken sofa in her study. As the gentle lapping of water against her house became insistent, Moon Dancer sank into blankets and throws, losing herself within the folds and pockets of her own warm bastion. She stared at the book between her hooves, but the words within it were held in their own set of currents, unable to move or retain their form.

On the fourth day, Minuette climbed in through the window. She was a siren, soaked and laughing, her blue eyes as wild as the world outside. Her voice was a melody of concern, but Moon Dancer secured herself to her bookshelf and plugged her ears with her own shrill arguments. For a second something shifted behind Minuette's smile, but then she giggled again and left through the front door. Moon Dancer locked it behind her, her chest fluttering.

On the fifth day, Minuette's song became a chorus. Water oozed beneath the front door, pooling in bubbling shapes on the floorboards. Beneath the window where she had climbed in, dark spots of mould bloomed like dead bouquets.

On the sixth day, the chorus grew louder. The tide seethed against the walls of her house. Moon Dancer pressed her face against the door, pleading and begging. The siren song cut through her words, and for a moment they smoothed the rough edges of her lungs and her heart. She forced herself from their embrace with a snort, and fled up to her bedroom. Fleeting echoes of that same dream pushed out against her skull, trying to escape. The park had been blurred by her tears that day too, the pads and helmet she had worn constricting her body as she had galloped back home.

On the seventh day, Moon Dancer left at dawn. Canterlot was dew-kissed, shimmering in cold, pink hues. Bushes twitched and lurched as she struggled past them, their branches plucking at her sweater and her mane. The ground was sodden beneath her hooves; the tide had retreated, but its hold on the world remained. Canterlot felt too open, as though the houses had been pushed further apart, the streets between them becoming vast, cracked riverbeds. Canterlot felt too empty, but every glance drove a barb beneath her skin regardless. Moon Dancer flinched and snapped as she bought the supplies she needed, and then she galloped back home before the waters returned.

On the eighth day, the tide pressed itself once more against the stones of her house. Moon Dancer stared at the pile of discarded books on the table in front of her, half-listening to the songs. Moon Dancer stared at the bag of groceries that was still sitting on her kitchen worktop, the contents untouched. Moon Dancer stared at the mould that was spreading across her wallpaper—welts that were weeping brine and sugar.

On the ninth day, she wavered. The songs were beautiful, now that she wasn't drowning them out with her own, harsh voice. Moon Dancer paused in the sitting room, her ears greedily devouring the sound. Her eyes tracked along the walls, following the tributaries and deltas of every crack. Outside, she knew the tide was still waiting for her. Moon Dancer stood there for most of the day, her hoof reaching and retreating from the lock. Once the door was open, the waters would claim her. Moon Dancer knew there would be no coming back from that, not again. Outside, the song turned shrill with expectation, and Moon Dancer flinched. Her legs shook in protest as she stepped back, as though being asked to move for the first time.

On the tenth day, Moon Dancer stayed in bed. The stuffy, humid air clung to her coat and crept into her mouth and her nose. It felt as though her lungs were failing, that her heart was failing. Outside, the song carried through the rain and wind. It still promised the impossible, and yet its mere presence was a comfort of sorts.

On the eleventh day, Moon Dancer heard the water lapping beneath her bedroom window. Her ears twitched, betraying her in focusing on the sound. She stayed under sweaty, itchy sheets, watching black constellations spread across the ceiling. Downstairs, floorboards creaked and bookshelves collapsed. Moon Dancer didn't even blink. She couldn't remember the last time she had wanted to read anyway. She couldn't even remember the last time she had wanted to enjoy herself.

On the twelfth day, the chorus grew louder.

On the thirteenth day, the chorus grew louder.

On the fourteenth day, the storm finally broke. Moon Dancer screamed and raged. She pushed her bedside table over—tiny clay figurines, shaped by the hooves of foals, shattered across the floor. Water seeped from them, running like blood between the cracks in the floorboards. Moon Dancer snarled at the sight, and then brought her hoof down on the fragments again and again until they were dust. She screamed until she could taste nothing but brine and copper. Then she collapsed against the bed and cried. And finally, there was a sound in the world louder than the sirens' song.

On the fifteenth day, the tide grew still. The sound of the water faded into birdsong and muted chatter. Moon Dancer listened to it until the sun was heavy on the horizon, her insides uncoiling with every passing hour.

On the sixteenth day, Moon Dancer paced her room, trying to anchor down the promises that had been carried within the songs. Once it had been enough to know that they were there, but as echoes they betrayed her. Moon Dancer felt them slice into her as she tried to hold them, her hooves feeling too big, too useless for the task. She looked at herself in the mirror; red eyes stared back through the dust, the tide sitting within them and trying to escape.

On the seventeenth day, Moon Dancer watched them from the window. They skulked around her house, soaked from the deluge—whites and yellows and blues and pinks shimmering first in the light of the sun, and then the moon. They giggled and sang and danced, sometimes falling silent with their eyes fixed on Moon Dancer's bedroom window. Moon Dancer's hoof trembled as she held it against the window latch.

On the eighteenth day, Moon Dancer opened it. The world flickered and faded in a instant; a million sensations surged into her body as though carried by lightning. Crisp air plucked the breath from her lungs. Clean streams pushed across her coat, banishing the stale air and the stain of mould. Moon Dancer staggered backwards, her head spinning and reeling, white spots blooming unchecked. She sat down and waited for the world to dim, and when it finally happened she realised that her room was not her room anymore.

On the nineteenth day, Moon Dancer surrendered. The chorus had returned with the dawn, and with it the realisation that she wanted to sing, to join in. The memory resurfaced, of the park spinning and blurring, of her heart hammering through her ribs as she had run from them. Moon Dancer remembered how her outline had almost faded, her colours and essence almost escaping beyond her form, desperate to be absorbed by the waters beyond. Alone in her room, Moon Dancer's head felt as though it was full of fireworks, bright and noisy and wild. It seemed easy, to give herself up without being consumed. But then it had seemed easy before too.

On the twentieth day, Moon Dancer went downstairs. The floorboards creaked and groaned beneath her hooves; around her, blackened walls buckled and bowed as though unable to draw breath. Moon Dancer stood before the front door, her head lowered, her lungs burning. She could imagine the cold embrace of the tide as it swirled around her, pulling her from her house and dashing her body against the world outside until it broke. The thought made her teeth chatter, but Moon Dancer stood firm. Upstairs, she could hear her bed calling her, its own siren song warm and comforting. She paused to take a deep breath, set her jaw, and then pushed open the door.

On the twentieth day, Moon Dancer stood on her doorstep and looked out beyond the knotted tangle of her garden. Canterlot was vast and towering, the cold air like a hammer against her skull. Moon Dancer blinked away the sunlight and braced her body against the breeze. Beside the garden wall, Minuette and the others waited with expressions that were still and hopeful. Moon Dancer tried on a smile that felt sharp and misshapen, and which quickly fell in the shadow of the smiles she was offered in return. A hoof was held out, and Moon Dancer took it.

On the twentieth day, they sang and frolicked, surrendering themselves to the waters. Moon Dancer paddled on the surface, her mouth shut tight against the insistent tide. She could feel her legs grow tired, but she fought on, afraid that the song of mould and decay would again reach her ears.

On the twentieth day, Moon Dancer allowed herself to be guided down to where the waters ran dark and cold. She felt her lungs strain and swell, the air within her becoming desperate to escape. But still she laughed. They all laughed, loud and feverish and wild. Then a vast shadow fell across them, as though a whale had passed by above. The others continued to laugh like they hadn't seen it, but Moon Dancer felt suddenly small and vulnerable and scared. She turned to swim for home, but this time the others held her back. Moon Dancer swung and kicked, the sirens' song screaming in her ears, her mind full of laughter and tears and brine and mould and doubt. Her lungs twitched and failed; Moon Dancer struggled and gasped as water filled her body. Her outline faded, spilling out her colours into the water, and allowing the whites and yellows and blues and pinks to pour in.

And on the twentieth day, Moon Dancer finally remembered how to breathe.

Author's Note

Because friendship might well be magic, but it isn't always easy.

Hello, and thanks for taking the time to read my story. Given the volume of stories on the site, it always means a lot to me that you decided to give one of mine a go, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.

This is something of what I'll indulgently call a B-side to an as-yet unfinished story. I've taken to writing more off-the-cuff pieces during the research and development period of the stories I've actually planned to write, mainly as a way of keeping my skills ticking over. The style is a little different to what I usually put out, and it's probably a little more rough around the edges as a result, but I'm still proud of the end product. I'll probably include this in the retrospective for the aforementioned planned story when it comes out (probably next month). Until then! :twilightsmile: