Kirkyard Rest Halloween Event

The stallion before me coughed, blood spraying from his lips. I could feel the warm droplets hit my face and nausea roiled within my guts, threatening a re-enactment of my lunch. He coughed again before slumping back onto the rock and coat that was the makeshift bed I’d created. He closed his eyes wearily.

“Never thought this’d be it, hey?”

Pain lanced through my heart. No, I’d never thought it would end between us this way. Sitting by a dusty, empty roadside waiting for death to finally slide her loving blade between the ribs of the pony I had once called brother. Forcing my way past the lump in my throat, I gave a shaky smile.

“No, never.” I shifted, moving the weight off my hind leg where he had bucked me. “I had always wished that eventually we would saddle up together again. You, me and Buckbale, just how it was when we were kids. Things were better then.”

Dusk sighed, a blood drop bubbling from his nose before bursting. He looked so small, so much smaller than the monster he had once lived as within my mind. “Things were simpler. Then we grew up and it all went to shit.” His voice sounded so weak, so vastly different from the robust laugh I remembered. Tears swam in my eyes and I blinked them away as fast as I could, hoping he didn't see. I didn't want him to think I pitied him, not now, not at the end. Let him have that dignity of being the big brother his baby sister always looked up to. Please Celestia, don't let my pain show.

A hoof brushed my face, moving a lock of hair out of my eyes. “You never could lie to me, dipshit. It’s okay to cry, you know. I brought this on myself. It was never your fault.” Even now he was trying to be kind, holding the blame away from me. I started sobbing into his chest, great heaping ugly cries that bawled my grief into the uncaring stars. He stroked my mane, taking all of my pain away with each slow movement of his hoof.

Things had never been easy for us, growing up with a damaged mother who had too many foals to the wrong stallion. We had struggled for every bit, every scrap of affection, but through it all we’d had each other. The unshakable bond that came from siblings who knew that the great maw of poverty was always waiting beneath them, ready to snap shut at the slightest misstep. It wasn't until we were teens that the cracks began to show, when mom finally found herself another stallion, just as bad as the first. It broke the bond that had once been so strong, and we had drifted, slowly, almost without noticing, into distant hatred. Once loving embraces had transformed into violence and neglect, each of us turned to different coping mechanisms. For me, it was the warmth of unknown stallions. For Buck, it was delusions of grandeur and control. And for Dusk, it was Dash. horribly addictive, easy to find and cheap to make, he had slowly spiralled out of control.

I had spent the last years ignoring him from across the wasteland, hoping he’d straighten out on his own. I had only seen him through rumors, whispers of a homeless transient huffing in alleys. I hadn't wanted to see him, and he wouldn't want to see me. At least, that's what I told myself. Maybe I never saw him because I was afraid of what I'd find when I did.

Then one day, I’d gotten the call. The game of who could ignore the other harder was over, he needed me.

“You’re so stupid,” I lifted my head and smiled down at him, smoothing his mane back. He was so pale and sweaty, shivering despite the warmth in the air. It wouldn’t be long now. “I should have been stronger, been able to see what was happening to you.”

He inhaled and chuckled, a wheezing mockery of his own rich laugh, the sound bubbling and rattling in his chest. The noise of it made me wince. We had always fought, but somewhere that friendly sibling fighting had turned into something sinister, something painful. Then it had turned into a silent war, bricks quietly filling up the invisible wall we had put between us. I’d often imagined slaying him with my own hooves, a bullet to the back of the head or knife between his ribs. Anger had fueled my hoofsteps, hatred at how he had treated me. We had gone beyond sibling rivalry, and descended into the realm of mortal enemies.

Yet here we were. He had called me from across the dust and dirt. His organs were done. Too long had they been abused, too long had they suffered from the side effects of dash. Now they were slowly shutting down. Yet when I had arrived, answering his call, the bastard had tried to rob me. It was only by his own body giving out from underneath him that he had failed, but I was going to be wearing the bruises for months. Whomever said a kiss with a hoof is better than none had clearly never had the shit kicked out of them by a strung out dash addict.

He drew another slow and painful breath. He was weakening. I could feel the air itself getting colder, as if death was sitting right beside us, ready to pounce upon him. I scooted closer, wrapping my tail around him as if I could hold him to the earth.

Neither of us spoke. There was too much to say and not enough words in all the language of the lands with which to speak. Regret. Remorse. Guilt. Anger. All these feelings swirled within me as I sat there holding his hoof, stroking the thin grey fur gently. He’d lost a lot of fur over the years. His coat was patchy, stretched across his thin ribs. They rose and fell in the campfire light, each pause between breaths stretching for an eternity.

Silence, once our weapon of war, now our companion.

“Will you see to my kids?” His gravelly voice startled me out of my reverie.

“Of course. My home will always be open to them. I’ll make sure they never go hungry.” His cheekbones looked hollow in the camp light, a skeleton wearing the face of my brother. His body shuddered and convulsed with a strength given only by addiction. I wanted to weep again, knowing that if he could, he would kill me and sell my corpse for more dash. The pull would never let him be free of its grasp, not even now, not even at the end. I wanted to take his suffering away, pull it into my own heart and see him as the colt I remembered.

“Do you remember? You wanted to be a sheriff once.” I started speaking, if only to fill the hateful silence and keep death at bay for a moment longer. “You used to go around, writing up infringements on things in our home simply for fun. You even collected sheriff badges. We used to play so many games.”

He didn't reply, I don't even know if he was conscious. Blood decorated his muzzle with each breath, his lungs collapsing in on themselves. I wiped it away with my sleeve, ignoring the stench of unwashed stallion.

“I remember. I remember you giving me your lunch when I had forgotten mine. I remember you threatening to beat up the boys who bullied me. I remember you playing your guitar, practising endlessly with that old thing until you could play any song you wanted by ear. I remember being so fucking proud of you.” Tears were streaming down my face freely now, my heart feeling tight and throbbing in my chest. Now that I had started speaking, I couldn't stop. I sat there, telling him everything I remembered of who he used to be. The good, and the bad. The shenanigans that he got up to when our mom wasn't looking. The nonsense games we used to play. The times he supported my imaginary fun. The times he didn't. The times he used to threaten to punch me. The times he did. Everything came out, slowly, then quicker. The invisible wall we had built between us slowly crumbling down, each brick bucked out with a howl of anguish. All our lives we had competed, had played at being the better pony.

All our lives for nothing, for this empty moment by the roadside.

His breath drew in. Out. A sigh escaped him, and like that he was gone. No fanfare, no big showdown. Nothing. He was gone and I was left there holding the empty corpse of the stallion who had once been my biggest rival and closest friend.

Throwing my head back into the night, I screamed. I screamed for the colt who had been filled with such promise. I screamed for the stallion who had lost his way. I screamed for the wall we had built together, and most of all I screamed for the love that I had buried deep, pretending that it wasn't there. The lie that I was immune to the pain, that I was the stronger pony. The better pony.

I screamed because despite it all, despite the bruises and the pain, I would have given anything to have my big brother back.