Sing Out My Soul

Do I Die Unsung

I dreamt of a small church on top of a mountain. It was old and the bell didn’t toll, it creaked. That creaking of iron weight dragging down from ancient rafters was so loud that it echoed off the summit where the church sat, lonely and forlorn, across the empty plains.

I dreamt that I climbed that mountain and that the air was still. There was no wind and no sound but the endless creak-creak from the church above me.

Hand over hand, I climbed. It wasn’t dark but it wasn’t light either. It was that curious sense of seeing without really knowing how you’re seeing that’s endemic to dreams. Like a muted, all-encompassing awareness that simultaneously feels totally natural and deeply wrong.

creak…

Time passes strangely in dreams. I feel like I’ve been climbing forever, one hand over another, again and again and again, always climbing to the tune of creaking timbers.

And then suddenly I’m at the summit.

Suddenly, the mountain simply ends, and I’m up and standing in front of the old decaying church and I can’t properly account for when I went from climbing to standing.

Dreams are funny like that.

The door was open and it beckoned me like an outstretched hand. My feet moved me forward, stepping in time to the creak-creak of the church’s wooden bones.

Into the church I walked, past rows of pews that seemed to go on for far too long for the size of the church I had entered. It felt like there were thousands of them, and somewhere in-between the door and the altar my brain dithered between deciding if I was alone or not.

The pews were empty, though. I’m confident of that.

creak…

I moved past the altar to a staircase that rose up and up and up to the high and narrow steeple where the creaking bell groaned its subtle rhapsody. Every step felt heavier. Every breath I drew in was more ragged. When I’d started at the base of the steps, I’d felt fine, despite having just climbed a mountain. Now, just climbing these steps felt more arduous than scaling the cliff.

creak…

Like the hall below me, the stairs seemed to stretch and stretch until I thought I had been climbing for hours until, just like the summit of the cliff, suddenly they ended.

creak…

My heart was thundering in my chest, beating a harsh tattoo against my ribcage until it felt as though it were about to slam right through. I swallowed hard as the creaking above me grew louder. I knew if I looked up, I’d see the churchbell. I’d see the creaking, groaning thing that echoed across the gray and empty landscape.

All I had to do was look up.

creak…

…

creak…

…slowly I raised my head, just enough to see the beginnings of a pair of scuffed and dirty converse heels and—

—my eyes snapped open with my heart beating a million times a minute. Cold sweat was soaking through my shirt and shirts, and I hissed as I forced my hands to unclench from around what they were clinging to.

The empty mug tipped against the mattress, and my geode fell from numb fingers. Pain lanced through my palm a moment later as I realized I’d been gripping the geode so hard that the rough edges of the stone had actually bitten through the skin and drawn blood.

“Ow, sh-shit.” I pulled my hand against my chest and held it there as I tried to get my breathing under control.

The pain was bracing, though. It was the most real thing I’d felt in days ever since…

I closed my eyes and forced that thought out of my head as I stared down at the empty, stained tea mug that held the last remnants of matcha. Given what I’d been doing right before I’d fallen asleep, it was no wonder I had such a fucked up dream. In fact, knowing me, I probably had a lot more of those to look forward to in the future.

Another hiss escaped me as I flexed my hand. The cut was shallow but painful, but the pain sharpened my senses and brought me back around to the world. At first, it was almost welcome. The world suddenly felt present and real again, however briefly.

That presence, though. That realness…that’s probably the only reason I noticed the sound at all. A slow, measured creaking like old timbers groaning beneath a pendulous weight.

creak…

My heart went from beating thunderously to nearly a dead stop.

When I was young—very young—I used to have what the human world calls ‘night terrors’. Back in Equestria it was called being moon-touched, after the infamous Nightmare Moon. I would have nightmares so vivid that I swore they followed me into the waking world for a little while. I would wake up, and for moments at a time I would still be there.

I would still be in my nightmare.

I guess if anything was going to bring them back, it would be this.

creak…

Closing my eyes, I turned back to my pillow, buried my face in it, and curled into ball as I waited out the terror that was crawling from my gut, up my spine, and into the back of my skull. A voice that was back there with it screamed at me to ignore it. Just ignore it. That it was just a bad dream and to let it to be and to keep my back turned, my head down, and to go. Back. To sleep.

creak…

It was just a nightmare. Just a bad, bad dream. Just close your eyes and it will go away.

creak…

cre—

…

I started to shiver violently. The sound had stopped, but it had stopped wrong. That’s not the way it should have stopped. That’s what my mind was screaming. Something was very, very wrong! The sound. It shouldn’t have been there at all but it certainly shouldn’t have cut off partway through.

I gathered up my geode and Wally’s mug and hugged it to my chest as panic clawed at the inside of my ribs as I waited. I don’t know what I was waiting for. Maybe for the creaking to start again. Maybe for something else. All I knew was that if I raised my head I would see something I didn’t want to see.

Some primal, neolithic part of my brain was certain of it.

…thump…

The corner of my bed drooped as if someone had sat on it, and my shivers turned into full-body shakes. A strangled sob escaped my throat as a sound like radio white noise washed over me.

…amshihshhillsshprshhcioushhshhtshou…

The bed shifted again as I clenched my eyes shut harder.

“Just a nightmare, just a nightmare, just a nightmare~” I muttered the words like a mantra over and over and over until eventually, the world faded away.

I woke with a sharp jolt as my heart briefly jumped into my throat. My sheets were clinging to me, the result of dried sweat and tears, and it took me a moment to grasp while I was so irrationally terrified.

The dream.

The creaking.

It all came back to me in a rush as I sat up and took several shaky breaths to steady my heart rate while reassuring myself that it was, in fact, just a dream.

Here and now, with the thin winter sunlight drifting in through the windows of my apartment, that was a much easier prospect to believe in. It had to have been a dream, although I wasn’t going to go so far as to say it wasn’t entirely self-inflicted.

I grimaced as I looked down at my hand, and instantly let out a quiet hiss as I realized that that much, at least, had not been a dream. I’d definitely gripped the geode hard enough to break skin, and although it had mostly scabbed over, it wasn’t pretty.

A soft knocking at my door echoed up to my loft bed, informing me in no uncertain terms what it was that had actually woken me up.

“Coming!” I shouted groggily as I forced myself to sit up, pull on some clothes, and stumble out of bed.

A traitorous part of my brain drew my eyes to the edge of my loft that overlooked the kitchenette, but I pushed that thought out of my head as I moved quickly down the steps. Thinking was overrated and probably would be for a good long time.

I hissed as I banged my hip against the counter in my rush to reach the door and ended up limping the rest of the way on the tail end of some colorful curses before getting my hands on the doorknob, throwing the latch, and pulling it open.

On the other side of the door was a face I could probably recite the stress lines of in my sleep considering I’m pretty sure I put most of them there. As far as social workers go, Sticky Note was, at least in my opinion, the best. He wasn’t the nicest nor the warmest, but all that meant in his case was that he didn’t let good intentions get in the way of actually helping people.

Normally, his expression was somewhere between bored and severe, but today his soft grey eyes were set low over shadows that darkened his already dark red complexion.

Carding his fingers through soot-colored hair, Sticky let out a quiet sigh as he looked me up and down, and then just said: “Sunset, how are you holding up?”

I opened my mouth to answer. To tell him that I’m managing or that I’m keeping busy, or maybe that I’m getting a little better, but none of that came out. Nothing came out at all. My throat just…locked up. I tried to pull in a breath and have another go at it, but in the end, all I could do was click my jaw shut, bite my lip as I tried not to fall apart, and raggedly shake my head.

Then, Sticky Note did something that I’d never seen him do to anyone else.

He nodded, stepped close, and pulled me into a hug.

Unsurprisingly, he smelled like an office. It was that curiously muted scent of carpets that were neither old nor new but saw regular cleaning with an industrial vacuum. Beneath that was an almost smoky scent. All of that passed through my mind in an instant before I let out a shaky sob and wrapped my arms around his middle before burying my face against his chest and letting out a brittle, painful cry.

“Sticky, is she—oh dear.” I heard Bright Eyes come up from behind him and felt him settle a hand on my shoulder. “It’s alright, just let it out.”

All in all, I ended up sobbing away almost a full minute against Sticky’s clean button-down and tie before I finally managed to get a hold of myself and step back.

Per usual, Bright Eyes was dressed in a tweed circa eighteen-fifty, and he patted my arm gently as I drew away from his partner.

“Ugh, I’m uh…wow, I’m sorry, I just…” I shook my head as I tried to catch my breath but Sticky Note spoke up before I could find the words I’d been flailing for.

“Don’t apologize for the tears, Sunset, please,” he said softly. “We’re all due our fair share of them when something like this happens.”

I nodded as I turned and stepped back into my apartment, gesturing for them to follow. “Grab a seat, I’ve just gotta throw on some clothes and stuff, and we can go.”

To be honest, I wasn’t hungry, but I knew myself well enough to know that the state I was in now combined the fact that I couldn’t really remember the last time I ate beyond the tea I drank last night meant I needed to eat something. I probably wouldn’t taste it, but it would keep me going. Right now, that’s all I could really ask for.

I grabbed a pair of jeans and a blouse from a pile of clean laundry and slipped into the bathroom. My head was pounding and my chest ached, and just past that, I was vaguely aware of the twinge of pain in my hand.

Running some warm water, I did my best to clean the cut before gritting my teeth and spraying some antibacterial on it before wrapping it up. My hands were shaking throughout the whole process, and I had to tie and retie the bandage three times before I managed it. I briefly considered taking a shower, but I’d already overslept, and I didn’t want to make Sticky and Bright wait, so I settled for wetting down my comb and dragging it through my hair to tame the worst of the snarls.

No one expected me to be looking my best anyway, and frankly, I didn’t have the energy to try it.

At least my brain felt almost centered now. The last few days were a blur, but today everything feels real again. At least to a certain extent. There’s still a malaise over everything, a kind of encroaching greyness, but I clench my fist, digging my fingers into the shallow cut on my hand. An ache jolts up my arm and chases away the grey, and I take a few steadying breaths before giving my hair one last pass with the comb and emerging to find Bright and Sticky chatting quietly.

“Sorry,” I said softly. “I’m ready.”

Bright Eyes looked up with a faint, sorrowful smile, and nodded.

It wasn’t a long drive, but the Commonplace Apartments were sort of in the middle of the bad side of downtown. Not the worst side. I didn’t live in the East End, at least. We arrived at a little cafe off the side of Balleymont street, and Bright Eyes parked up along the curb. I’d spent the whole drive silently stewing in the backseat, feeling like a kid in my parent’s car despite never having known my parents, and having grown up in a place where cars didn’t exist.

I stepped out into the cold morning air and took in a deep breath as Bright Eyes moved up alongside me with a small smile.

“Come on, everyone will be waiting by now,” he said, and I froze in my tracks.

“Everyone?” I echoed, and I heard Sticky let out a long-suffering groan.

“Bright, did you not tell her?” Sticky asked, and Bright winced.

“It…may have slipped my mind,” he admitted as he looked up at his husband who I turned to for answers.

“It’s not many,” Sticky assured, and despite the indignation that was welling up in my chest, I forced myself to stay quiet and let him speak. “What you have to understand, Sunset, is that this…” he gestured vaguely outward, “isn’t the first time that…that something like this has happened. It’s a peril of the job, I’m afraid, that sometimes we fight as hard as we can, do everything right, and we still…”

He trailed off, and Bright Eyes picked up the thread of his words. “…sometimes we still lose,” he said softly. “And we all made a promise that, when that happens, which is blessedly rare, we would meet, and talk, and…and try to hold each other up.”

It was a support group.

Not in so many words, but that had brought me to a support group. Or rather, to their support group.

I turned to look at the cafe window which bore the name ‘Near & Far’ and briefly considered turning my back on all of it and walking back to my apartment. I could probably use the fresh air.

Bright Eyes put a hand on my shoulder as if sensing my intentions.

“You don’t have to stay but at least come in and have a bite to eat,” he pleaded. “If you want to leave, that’s alright, but please…at least come in.”

And that’s how they get you. Just a taste. Just a little. Just come in and cry about it and throw down your frustrations and inadequacies. Come before me, ye miserable and contrite, and be forgiven. Even if there’s nothing to forgive. Or if there is, maybe I don’t want to be forgiven.

Maybe I don’t deserve to be.

I say yes anyway.

We walk inside with Bright Eyes and Sticky Note flanking me, and I can’t decide if I look like a sullen daughter with her two gay dads or a crime boss with two most nebbish enforcers in Canterlot.

The cafe was a quiet little place with a small counter leading down into a cozy dining area. It wasn’t the sort of place where families crammed in by the dozen to get at the early-bird special, but I could easily imagine Near & Far being somebody’s favorite little hole-in-the-wall. It’s warm and cozy, and probably has about eight too many doilies, but all of that adds to the charm.

Personally? I kind of hated it.

“It’s like someone barfed nostalgia onto the walls and didn’t mop up.”

“Charming,” Sticky said flatly while Bright chuckled, and he patted my shoulder. “Come on then, then others are waiting.”

I grimaced but followed along.

I’m not sure what I expected. I probably should have expected the obvious but for some reason, it didn’t hit me who exactly would be here until I saw the three of them sitting at the table. Vice Principal Luna was no surprise, obviously. She was the ringleader of sorts, and she looked up at me with a weary expression.

At least she was polite enough not to smile.

The other two caught me off-guard, though.

I barely recognized Witch Hazel out of her scrubs and white jacket. I hadn’t really kept in touch with her either, but I had a healthy respect for her all the same and that hadn’t diminished in the slightest. The final woman, though, I recognized with a barely contained flinch.

She towered over the other two despite the fact that she was leaning back in her chair with an odd, felid grace. Her long teal hair fell arrow-straight past her shoulders, framing wicked, harlequin-green eyes set into beetle-shell black skin, and they were fixed steadily onto me with a predator’s focus. My heart did an unsettling flip as my breath caught in my throat. It had been almost four years since I’d last seen the woman, and yet Chrysalis Hive still scared the sprinkles out of me.

“Morning, Lu,” Bright said as he leaned down and hugged Luna, giving her a chaste kiss on either cheek. “Hazel,” he repeated the process, “Chrys—”

“Touch me and lose the cats-eyes, Bright,” Chrysalis said dully.

“Lovely to see you too, as always, Chryssy,” Bright Eyes riposted without missing a beat.

To my surprise, Chrysalis’s lips actually twitched faintly.

Sticky Note’s greetings were more sober, but just as warm, andhe pulled out a chair for both myself and his husband before taking a seat.

“How are you holding up, Sunset?” Luna asked as we settled in.

“The last person who asked me that is still covered in tears and snot,” I replied, flicking my eyes over to Sticky Note, who pressed his lips to a thin line.

“Sunset.” Bright Eyes put a hand on mine. I hated that tone he got whenever he flipped his ‘therapist’ switch. It was a soft, warm tenor carefully modulated to put people at ease and despite knowing that, it still worked on me. “We talked about this…”

“I just put my f-friend…can…can you just…” I grit my teeth and let out a shaky breath as tears threatened the corners of my vision.

“Jesus Christ, Bright, would you give the girl a fucking pass on the talking therapy for today?” Chrysalis said, and her flat tone took on an edge as she raised her coffee to her lips and took a sip.

“Chrys…” Luna reached a hand out, only to draw back in silence at the death glare that got shot her way.

Of all the people to leap to my defense, I had not expected it to be Chrysalis.

“Burying and deflecting pain under the guise of jokes avoids processing them,” Bright replied, as he straightened to face Chrysalis, who snorted softly into her cappuccino.

“Yeah, and I’m saying maybe let the girl get some distance before you get her on the couch about this shit.” Chrysalis looked back at me and this time I didn’t flinch.

I met her gaze, eye to eye, and shivered at the cold soul I saw there. There was something deeply and fundamentally broken inside of Chrysalis Hive, but I’d never been able to put my finger on what that was. When I’d met her first, the idiot part of my brain could only think about how strikingly pretty she was, but the follow-up visits…they didn’t so much change that as modify it.

She was beautiful. Definitely. But she was cold and hard-edged, too.

I think I appreciate that look a little more today.

“Bright, it’s fine.” Sticky put a hand on his husband’s shoulder, and Bright Eyes let out a breath, then nodded, and relaxed back into his seat.

The mood at the table softened significantly after that, enough for one of the waitresses to inch in and take our drink orders; a black coffee for Sticky Note—surprise, surprise—and rosehip tea for Bright Eyes.

I ordered hot green tea.

“Sunset,” Luna started, “I just wanted to say how sorry I am, truly,” she put her hand over mine, and I had to force myself not to flinch back. “I know how close you two were, and I know how much Wallflower meant to you.”

Hearing her talked about in the past tense was, I decided, just about the worst thing in the world. It jammed my throat full of cotton and dried up my mouth, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe much less talk, so I settled for nodding raggedly as I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets.

I bit my lip to keep a yelp from escaping as I jammed my fingers on something cold and hard.

“Losing someone like that isn’t something anyone moves beyond easily.” Luna was still talking, but I was only half-listening as I tried to figure out what I’d just nearly lost a fingernail on that I’d left in my pocket. “But I want you to know that all of us know what you’re going through, truly…and that we’re here for you.”

Seriously, what the fuck did I—?

My hand closed around it and I instantly recognized the shape. My fingers found all the rough, familiar edges of the raw stone exterior that made up my geode. The geode that was supposed to be back in my apartment. I’d put it away, hadn’t I? Or at least…had I left in my bed? I couldn’t remember.

Maybe I’d had it in my hands when I’d been getting ready, and I put it in my pocket without thinking?

“Sunset?”

“What?” I looked up and found all five of them looking at me with odd expressions.

Luna furrowed her brow. “I asked if you’d like to stay with my sister and I for a little while, just so you aren’t alone.”

“I…no,” I shook my head, “no, I uhm, I’d rather be in my own place, you know?”

“Alright,” Luna said, although her eyes stayed on me for a moment longer, as if weighing my reply. “But at least let Bright or Sticky check in on you now and again? Please. Let them take you out for lunch sometimes, or just visit?”

“Just for a few months, until things settle a little,” Sticky said, picking up the thread. “Losses like this…it hits all of us.”

I took a deep breath that rattled its way down my throat before looking up at them.

“How many times have you done this?” I asked, although I wasn’t sure I actually wanted an answer.

All of them looked pensive as the silence stretched out, but it was Witch Hazel who eventually spoke up.

“More times than I have the heart to say aloud,” she replied. Her lean features seemed a bit more sunken than the last time I’d seen her, and her auburn hair hung a little more lankly around her face. “Sufficed to say, it’s enough that we know how far one can spiral…these people we try to help? It’s the ones we fail that haunt each of us the most.”

The scrape of a chair echoes through the dining room as Chrysalis stands sharply and moves out from around the table.

“Chryssy?” Luna’s gaze followed her warily.

“Bathroom.”

Her voice was tight and angry as she vanished around the corner, following the signs, and I took a deep drink of my tea as I watched her go. It was bitter and hot, but the taste was familiar, and I needed that right now.

When I looked back at Luna and Doc Hazel, I gave them my answer. That I’d think about it, but that I needed some space. I needed time. They accepted it on the condition that I at least check in with one of them every couple of days. Bright even threatened repeated wellness checks over it.

Chrysalis spent longer in the bathroom than I think was strictly necessary for any manner of bodily function, only emerging just as our food made it out. I ordered the oatmeal with honey. I wasn’t hungry, but it was easy to eat, so I figured I’d be able to get it down my gullet at least.

The meal was quiet, interspersed with soft conversation mostly led by Luna or Bright Eyes. Sticky was his usual taciturn self, but he animated a little when he was talking to Hazel. I know the two of them shared a lot of cases.

Chrysalis stared at her eggs benedict in silence, and while I never caught her at it, anytime I wasn’t looking at her, I had the distinct impression that she was looking at me.

I was halfway through my oatmeal when she stood up. Her chair scraped deafeningly against the floor as pushed the remaining third of her breakfast away.

“I think I’m done,” she said tersely, before moving sharply around the table again, her heels clicking against the tile with every step. “Let me know when the next one drops.”

“Chrys!” Luna snapped.

She didn’t stop, or even flinch, she just kept walking, and, driven by some unnameable urge, I stood up and followed.

A hand caught my wrist, and I looked down to find Sticky Note giving me a worried look. It was strange, seeing that much emotion on the man’s face. He wasn’t the sort of emote easily or even very well, but when he did it was a stark difference.

“Sunset—”

“I want to talk to her,” I replied, pulling my hand from his grip.

For a moment, it looked like he wanted to take my hand again but, thankfully, he didn’t. If he had there might’ve been a fight to follow, but Sticky always seemed to know when my temper was near its edge, and backed off.

“Come back when you’re done?” He asked. “Just to drive you home, that’s all.”

I flattened my lips to a line but nodded. That was as much of a compromise as I was going to get out of him, and I was actually a bit grateful he didn’t make a bigger show of it. Undoubtedly, from the look Bright Eyes was giving us, there would be words had at this table after I left, but he was letting me go.

“Yeah, fine.”

Then I followed the sound clicking heels out into the cold, Canterlot air.

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