Lyra grabbed the cereal box, but halted. It was light. She muttered, “No.”
Ignoring her denial, the box stood resolute in Lyra’s grasp.
Her heart pounded. Her breathing quickened. She stared at the interlocked flaps atop the box of sugary goodness. Slowly, she grabbed the corner of the top flap, lifting until—with a spring and a snap—the pressure holding the tab against its mate released. As she peered inside, a wail left her lips—a warbling cry of despair not uttered by her, but wrenched from her throat as hope fled. Stumbling back against the counter, she struggled to control her breathing.
”It's okay. It's okay. Think.” She glanced around the room. There! The pantry. “Bon Bon went shopping yesterday. She probably got a new box.” Lyra breathed heavily. Keep it cool, fool.
Trembling, she approached the cupboard, fear and hope battling within her. She opened the pantry door, blinked, and glanced at the light switch. ”Durr.”
Flipping the switch, she stepped inside and scanned the shelves. Pasta, Flim Flam Flakes, tomato paste. Acrid bile rose in her throat. ”No, no, no. Where is it?” She pulled boxes and cans off the shelf, tossing them to the ground as she frantically searched for her sweet savior.
Bon Bon leaned her head into the pantry. ”Lyra! What are you doing? Besides making a mess.”
Lyra turned, a wild look in her eyes. ”Tell me, Bon Bon. Where did you put them? I can't find them!”
Bon Bon flinched. ”Oh my gosh. Calm down. Find what?”
Stepping forward, Lyra grabbed her, shaking Bon Bon as she cried, ”The Honey Puffs!” She pointed at the sad, empty box lying lonely upon the table. ”The box on the counter is all out.” Raising her voice, she poked Bon Bon. ”You went shopping yesterday.” Trembling, her voice broke. ”Tell me—where did you put them?!”
Bon Bon rolled her eyes, shrugging off Lyra’s grasp. ”I didn't put them anywhere. They weren't on the list.”
Lyra dropped to her knees, a pitiful moan escaping her lips.
”I've told you a thousand times. If you want something, you need to put it on the grocery list. I can't read your mind, and I'm just going to forget if you tell me.”
Lyra's moaning shifted to a higher-pitched keening wail as she cradled her head in her hooves. ”Why?”
Bon Bon rolled her eyes. ”I'm going to work. Try not to make too much noise.” She departed, leaving Lyra alone with her agony.
———
Lyra stared at the bowl of Flim Flam Flakes and sighed, resigned to her fate. Scooping up a spoonful, she closed her eyes as she lifted it to her mouth. Her lips closed around the spoon, and the bland taste of sadness crushed her dreams of a sweet, happy breakfast, grinding them into the oats of sorrow.
She chewed slowly, turning the flakes into a mushy pulp that resembled her crushed dreams before finally gulping down the bland paste.
She stared at the bowl of despair, steeling herself for another mournful mouthful. As she prepared, her eyes wandered until, just as she was ready for a second bite, her eyes settled on the pink and white paper bag upon the counter.
Her eyes darted between the bag and her breakfast. Dark thoughts entered her mind. Do I dare? What would other ponies think? What would Bon Bon think?
What if Bon Bon never found out? I’ll just take a little. Nobody will notice. The bag will go right back on the counter where it came from, and I’ll be safe. Safe from their eyes. Their silent, judging eyes.
Rising, she crossed the room to the window and closed the curtain, hiding her shame. She paused by the door, closing it gently so Bonnie couldn't sneak up on her. Then—only after the room was safe from others' judgments—did she approach the counter, drawn by the bag's siren call.
Gingerly, she reached out to touch it, pausing to read the label: sucrose. Yes, sucrose, and it’s mine, all mine! Snatching the bag, she twirled, almost leaping back to the table to take her seat.
Placing the bag beside her bowl, she uncurled the top, heart pounding in anticipation. Looking inside at the shifting crystals, she smiled. A wicked smile. A smile that hinted at dark secrets of ages past.
She licked her spoon clean, wiping it on her fur to dry, then plunged it in. Cackling, she lifted the spoon, and white crystals cascaded off to rejoin The Unchosen. Overly eager, she moved the spoon to her bowl too soon—too soon! Crystals fell to the table like snow, creating a record of her crimes against breakfast.
Gently, she shook the spoon over her bowl, creating a mist of sugar that coated her cereal. When the spoon was empty, she lowered it towards the bowl, but a strange gravity tugged at it, pulling it—and her gaze—back to the bag.
”Lyyyyrrrraaa,” it seemed to call to her. ”Jusst one morrrre.”
Guilt washed over her. I couldn't. I shouldn't. What would Bon Bon say? What… what could it hurt?
With trepidation, she moved the spoon to the bag, but…it was already there? She stared, disbelieving. I didn’t… did I? It didn't matter. She'd made up her mind, and—once again—the spoon plunged into the mound, like hooves landing in the white sands of a beautiful beach on a warm summer day. But not any summer day. A summer day full of wicked lust and abandon. A time of pleasure, sunshine, and ordering strawberry daiquiris until she blacked out and woke up the next day with Bon Bon and a splitting headache, unable to remember how she’d gotten back to her room or what she’d done when she had, trying to piece together the past with no clues but a Zebrican data science textbook atop a pile of anthracite—which for some reason weighed exactly as much as Lyra did—and enough feathers to make a whole griffon if you didn’t mind it looking like an undergrad had pieced it together from a dozen specimens.
She smiled at the memory, but her attention snapped back to this dark morning as the spoon sent granules flying, pelting the side of the bag with a rattle that accompanied the shk of spoon entering sugar.
She moaned, eager for the sweet indulgence that overtook her better judgment. She dragged the spoon up and out, careless of the trail of sugar she left in her haste. With a flick, she flung the sugar over her bowl and plunged the spoon back into the bag a third and final time.
Her eager yearning subsided, replaced with anticipation as she salivated expectantly. Plunging her spoon into the bowl, she sent the soupy mixture flying, scattered across the table. The spoon seemed to move itself to her mouth, and her lips closed around the morning treat.
Electric chills sparked through her body, and she shivered in bliss as the infernal mixture touched her tongue. Slowly—savoring every sensation—she chewed, lost in the—
The door flung open and Bon Bon marched in carrying a brown paper bag. ”Lyra, I—why is it so dark in here?” She scrunched her nose, blinking as her eyes adjusted. ”I hoofed it to the Rich store while my chocolate was warming and he was nice enough to open the till early for me.” She crossed to the window, opening the shade as she spoke. ”I got you some Honey Puffs. It's a beautiful day out, great for busking.” She turned. ”It would be nice if we—”
Lyra, motionless since Bon Bon arrived, finally broke the paralysis that held her. She stood, spitting chunks of breakfast as she spoke. ”It's not what you think!”
Bon Bon—taking in the scene—inhaled sharply. She spoke haltingly, each word cutting like a knife stabbing in and coming out to be held aloft while her attacker gathered strength for the next. ”Oh—my—Celestia.”
”Bonnie, please, I can explain!” Lyra crossed the room, reaching towards Bon Bon, only to be brushed aside.
”No. I've seen enough. I don't need your 'explanation.'” She dropped her bag, marched to the table, and grabbed Lyra's bowl.
”Bonnie, no!” She lunged, but Bon Bon held her off with outstretched hoof.
”I want what’s best for you, Sweetie.” She glanced at the sink behind Lyra. ”Now step aside. It's for your own good.”
Readying to fight, she spread her stance, head held low. ”No.”
”Lyra, your grandmother is diabetic. Your mother is diabetic. I already feel guilty letting you take so many sweets from the shop and indulging your obsession with Honey Puffs. You need to take care of yourself, and this? I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it with my own eyes. You must have a quarter cup of sugar on here! Now move, so I can dump this down the garbage disposal.”
Lyra stood resolute, her mouth tightening with regret. ”No. I can't let you.”
Bon Bon's response was harsh, and brooked no dissent, but she finally found it—the secret incantation to defeat the obsession possessing Lyra. ”If you don't step aside, then you can sleep on the couch tonight.”
Lyra opened her mouth to respond, but could only force out a high-pitched whine. Bon Bon was winning, but it wasn't enough. She needed more.
”And I won't be joining you.”
That was it. Something broke inside Lyra, and she shrank in upon herself. Sitting back at the table, she watched sullenly as Bon Bon moved about the kitchen, dumping and rinsing the bowl. She opened her mouth to speak when Bon Bon tipped up the Flim Flam Flakes box to refill the bowl, but Bon Bon gave her a look that withered her resistance, and Lyra just sighed, sinking further into her seat and resting her head on her hooves while she waited.
Bon Bon slid the bowl of plain cereal in front of Lyra, who sat unmoving—not acknowledging it was there. ”I'll be taking these with me,” said Bon Bon, packing the sugar into the bag with the Honey Puffs. She leaned over and kissed Lyra on the forehead. ”I'm only doing this because I love you, and if you won't take care of yourself, then I'll need to do it.” She stroked Lyra's mane, leaned over, and whispered into Lyra's ear.
Despite her efforts to maintain composure, a smile crept onto Lyra's face. She sat up, positively beaming now. ”Promise?”
Bon Bon nodded, ”Of course,” and they kissed, lingering briefly with thoughts of the night ahead filling their minds. Bon Bon pulled away and booped Lyra's snoot with her hoof. ”I seriously need to get back to the store now. I'm already late opening. See you later.”
”Bye, Bonnie.” Lyra watched her leave—and waited. She waited for the sound of the door separating the apartment from the shop. She waited, straining to hear the sound of the bell to the shop's front door ring as Bon Bon propped the door open. She waited until she could wait no longer.
Thrumming with energy—dark and secret—Lyra crept to the drawer with the grocery budget envelope and took a few bits. Approaching the window, she lingered, straining to hear any sound of danger. Satisfied, she grabbed the sill, climbed through to dangle outside the house, and dropped to the ground below, bracing herself for the harsh landing from the second story, albeit cushioned somewhat with magic.
Across the way, Carrot Top stared, curious, from her garden. A dirty look from Lyra sent her back to her task with a roll of her eyes. Dusting herself off, Lyra trotted towards destiny, Rich's Barnyard Bargains, and a new box of Honey Puffs.
