A Cold Morning In September
A Cold Morning In September
“I was just finishing up breakfast when Spike burst into the kitchen with the letter,” Twilight told me. “I remember I had made oatmeal – nothing special, I just wanted a warm breakfast that morning. The night before had been a late one. Applejack wanted me to look up the best soil for growing Honeycrisp apples, and I needed to find Simple Soil Solutions. For some reason, it was filed in the How-To section rather than the Reference section.”
She took a sip of her hot chocolate. Her eyes were glazing over at the memory, a look with which I had become intimately familiar over the past few days of collecting interviews.
“The first thought in my mind was about my parents. They still lived in Canterlot at the time, and I was worried that Mom had decided to go in to work early that day. She occasionally went in about six or seven to get home earlier.” Closing her eyes, the unicorn let out a deep sigh. “Thank Celestia she didn’t.”
“Oh, I was beside myself. Even though I’ve never lived in Canterlot, I know a lot of ponies who do. Not only that, but I was supposed to be downtown that very morning. Hoity Toity wanted me to showcase my new line for autumn at his boutique. The only reason I wasn’t there was because there had been a break-in two nights earlier. He cancelled all of his appointments for the next day to ‘recuperate’, so I had to delay my arrival.”
Rarity magically pulled something from one of her drawers, placing it on the table in front of me. “That was my original round trip ticket. Look at the departure time.”
I squinted at the tiny, faded print. When I finally found it, all I could do was let out a low whistle. It was five minutes later than a date and time permanently imprinted on everypony’s memory.
“So, you were gonna be right there, like, right there when…” my sentence trailed off into silence.
Rarity nodded. “Indeed. Somewhere in Canterlot, there’s a burglar who deserves my sincerest thanks.”
“I was workin’ the south fields that mornin’, so I didn’t hear nothin’ till Rainbow Dash found me.” She paused to deliver a powerful blow to the tree behind her. Dozens of apples rained from its branches into large wooden tubs below. “It was pretty darn cold that morning’, I remember that clear as day. I was ‘bout t’give that pegasus a piece o’ my mind about the temperature when she told me.”
She adjusted her Stetson. “Now, I’m not one to go ‘round, accusin’ other ponies of lyin’, but when Rainbow told me, I was plumb sure she weren’t telling the honest truth. Dunno why she’d go an’ lie ‘bout somethin’ like that. I just couldn’t believe it.”
Another tree received a buck. “When she said she weren’t lyin’, I thought maybe she’d misheard somepony. More likely, she was makin’ a mountain out of a molehill. She’s plenty liable to do that, you know. Everything’s a big deal with that girl.”
I followed the farmer around a particularly large puddle, hoping to keep my hooves at least somewhat clean. “So what finally convinced you she was telling the truth?”
“Well, she jus’ kept at it so stubborn-like. I figured she must’a been right about somethin’, so I went back to the barn to see if Big Mac had heard anything. He’s not much the touchy-feely type, so when he galloped up and hugged me, I knew right then that Rainbow knew what she was talkin’ about.”
“I wanted to write a letter back to Celestia. She had made it sound so awful.” Another sip of cocoa. “I mean, I understand it now. That morning, though, it didn’t really make sense. The words were there on the scroll, and they made a logical sentence, but I couldn’t comprehend it. Does that make sense?”
My reply was a simple nod. I was too young to comprehend what had happened at the time, but I’ve learned that people speak more freely when they feel their audience understands them.
“Anyway, I was about halfway through a letter begging for more information when I realized that the Princess must have been overwhelmed as it was. The Royal Guard was probably tripping over themselves to make sure she and Luna were still safe. I later found out that their mail was being checked for dark magic before it was delivered to them, so a letter materializing right in front of her might have given them all heart attacks.” She looked down into her cocoa, then back at me. “I guess, sometimes, nothing is all you can do.”
“Sometimes.”
She finished the last of her drink and stood up, walking to her sink. “It wasn’t easy to stop myself,” she continued, washing her mug with a dishrag. “I was so worried about Mom. I was a nervous wreck. Spike made me tea, which helped a bit, but I was still shaking.”
The mug, scrubbed clean of chocolate residue, was dried and placed back in a cupboard. “An hour later, Rainbow Dash walked in, looking to check out a book about aerobatics. She found me on the floor, wrapped in a blanket Spike brought down from my room. Obviously, she asked what was wrong… She didn’t believe me until I showed her the letter.”
“How did she react?”
Twilight exhaled heavily, eyes wide. “She was torn between distraught and mad as Tartarus. Practically enlisted in the Guard then and there. It’s a good thing Ponyville is too small to have a recruiting office, otherwise she really might have.”
That did not surprise me. I’d met Rainbow once or twice before, and she seemed like the type to charge in headfirst. “What did she end up doing?”
“I asked her to spread the word. Not my best idea, but I wasn’t thinking straight. In hindsight, I should’ve told the Mayor first. I suppose Rainbow Dash did a good enough job, though.”
“The first thing I did was write letters to everypony I knew in Canterlot. I knew it would take ages for them to respond, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t very well have Spike send the Princess a list of everypony about whom I was concerned, so the Equestrian Post Office would have to do.”
Rarity hung her head, eyes closed. “I don’t think I fully understood what had happened until the local mailmare came by on her evening route. I had been waiting for her very anxiously, so when she showed up, I galloped out to give her my stack of correspondence. Her eyes were red, and I could see the tracks of tears on her coat. She normally gave me an enthusiastic greeting and the most adorable smile, but that day, she was completely silent.”
The air hung thick for a moment before Rarity continued. “I later found out that she lost her brother that morning. We didn’t see the poor dear again for nearly two weeks.”
Tears began to build behind the designer’s eyes. Sniffling, she rubbed them away with a foreleg. “Twilight ended up pulling some royal strings to get my letters delivered quickly. Two…” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Two never wrote back.”
I felt a pang of regret for asking Rarity to do an interview. I had never talked with anypony who had lost friends or family that day. It was obviously a very sensitive topic, but I didn’t really appreciate that until it was right in front of me. My editor had told me that ponies reacted differently to questions about that day than about any other kind of loss. Maybe it was because it happened so suddenly, maybe because it all seemed so senseless.
Sitting next to me at her round kitchen table, the unicorn was still on the verge of tears. I’d been a journalist for a while, but I had never been at such a loss as to what to do next.
“Um… do you want to stop, Miss Rarity?”
“What? Oh, no, dear. I’m sorry.” She sat up straight, attempting to regain her composure. Anypony could tell she was still hiding strong emotions, but she did an admirable job of controlling them.
“Two of my friends never returned my letters. I’ve never felt so guilty in my entire life before or since – why was I, who should have been there, still around, but they were gone? If it hadn’t been for a lucky roll of fate’s dice, Twilight Sparkle would have probably written me a letter that would never get a response.”
She looked out her window in the direction of Ponyville’s library. “’Survivor’s Guilt’, Twilight called it. She said it was a perfectly natural reaction, but it didn’t help make it any better.” Her eyes unfocused into a thousand-yard stare. “Thank Celestia Twilight had us over so often that week. I doubt I would have been able to deal with it by myself.”
“Dinner was a pretty half-hearted affair that evenin’. Nopony felt like cookin’ nothin’. None of the Apple family lived in Canterlot, but it shook us up pretty good anyhow. Jus’ thinkin’ about it was enough t’make you light in the head. Why would somepony do that to Equestria? All those ponies were innocent, hard-workin’ citizens. They hadn’t hurt nopony. It didn’t make no sense.”
We were getting close to the barn again. The interview had taken most of the afternoon, and the sun was already flirting with the western horizon.
“It was ‘bout this time o’ day when Apple Bloom came back from playin’ with her little friends after school. Ms. Cheerilee, bless her heart, hadn’t told her class what happened. She taught a full day’s work after gettin’ the news herself. If I heard right, she’s got family in Canterlot, which must’a made it mighty difficult to hold a straight face.”
Applejack began carrying saddlebags full of her crop into the storage bins in her barn. “She could tell somethin’ was wrong the minute she set her hooves in the house. I didn’t have a clue what to say to her. She was just a filly – she was in your class, wasn’t she?”
I nodded.
“What was I s’possed to say to her? I couldn’t rightly tell her what had happened, she was still a foal! But like I said, she knew somethin’ was up. Me ‘n Big Mac just held her close when she asked. I knew I’d need to tell her sometime, but the time jus’ wasn’t right, y’know? It was too soon.” She dumped her saddlebags, repeating her justification to nopony in particular. “Jus’… too soon.”
The last of the apples rolled into the bin, settling around the edges. “When I finally worked up the courage to tell her, she asked me what went wrong. I said to her, ‘I jus’ told you what went wrong, sugar cube’. But she kept askin’ how it happened. Took me ‘n Big Mac a few minutes to realize that she didn’t even know it was done on purpose.”
Twilight returned to the table, eyes glossed over with memories. “It’s a good thing Rainbow left as quickly as she did. I’ve never seen her so angry. The things coming out of her mouth…” She sighed. “I suppose somepony as loyal to the crown as Rainbow Dash would take it poorly, but more hate was the last thing we needed. She’s hotheaded as it is, but I’d never heard her curse aloud before that day.”
I vaguely remembered the cyan pony’s vocabulary from my foalhood. It was as colorful as her mane, but it included very few swear words. The vast majority of it was comprised of different ways to say ‘awesome.’
“Of course, she went straight to Applejack with the news. I had hoped she would take it to Ivory Scroll or tell the crowd in the marketplace or the town square or someplace. But she thought of her friends first. I can’t fault her for that.”
She cleared her throat. Talking for so long about such a difficult topic must have been very taxing. “A few hours later, Spike ran out of the kitchen, clutching another scroll. I couldn’t bear to see it. All I could think was, ‘Oh, please no. Not another letter. Not today.’ But he was persistent. He started shouting, ‘Twilight! Good news!’ It turned out that the Princess had taken the time to make sure my mother was okay and had written me a quick missive telling me so.” A bittersweet smile graced her lips. “Of all the things that Celestia has ever done for me, with the exception of making me her student, that is the one for which I am the most grateful.
“It felt a little strange to be so relieved, though. I mean, there were thousands of other ponies who wouldn’t get that burden lifted. They’d have to live every day with a hole in their lives that could never be filled. They’d never get to say all the things they wanted. What if somepony had gotten into an argument that morning and told themselves that they’d work it out in the evening? How would they react?”
I hadn’t considered that. That morning would have started out just like any other. Ponies would make plans for that evening, unaware that they would never happen. Everypony would take that day for granted, not knowing how tragically wrong they were. Offhanded, distracted mutterings of “See you later” and “Love you” would be the last things some ponies would get to say to their loved ones.
She must have noticed my pensive look, as she took the liberty of continuing without waiting for another question. “That’s why I gathered my friends so many times that week. I didn’t want to live another day simply assuming that they would be around tomorrow.”
“I spent a lot of time at Twilight’s that week. We weren’t necessarily doing anything, but the poor dear was so insistent that we all be there for each other.”
Rarity stood up, slowly walking into the boutique’s main showroom. She motioned for me to follow her. “Nurse Redheart held a blood drive the next day, and we all went. It took a while to calm her enough, but even Fluttershy donated. So many ponies arrived to give that everypony with medical training was helping by the end of the day.
“I’ve never seen such a widespread display of generosity. I was so inspired that I gathered up as much fabric as I could carry and brought it all to Twilight’s afterwards. With Fluttershy’s help, we began making these.”
She opened a drawer and produced a small stuffed pony. It was fairly unremarkable, a light blue coat and orange mane. I didn’t realize what was so special about it until I plucked it out of the air and felt the fabric. It was smooth. It was very smooth. In fact, it had an oily sheen to it, reflecting the light from the window.
“Is this… silk?”
She nodded. “When I said that I gathered as much fabric as I could, I didn’t spare anything. I had a bolt of silk out from storage, so silk is what I took.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. “But… silk is so… expensive! How much does one bolt even cost?”
“A little more than three hundred bits.”
Her answer was so simple, so matter-of-fact. I had heard stories of her generosity, but this one example must have set her back over a thousand bits.
“How many of these did you make?”
Rarity tapped her chin with her hoof, looking off into space. “Oh, it was so long ago, I can’t possibly remember exactly how many it was.”
“Can you guess? Maybe an over-under?”
“Hmm… if I absolutely had to guess, I would say we got close to five hundred by the end of the week.”
Five hundred. Five hundred stuffed ponies. She must have been working non-stop. Even with Fluttershy’s help and the simple process of making each, five hundred was a mind-bogglingly high number to make in one week. “It must have taken more than one bolt of silk to make them all.”
“Oh, it took dozens. Fabrics of all kinds, too. Linen, wool, polyester, a blend or two…”
“How much did that end up costing?”
Rarity shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not really comfortable discussing the impact on my finances…”
I lost all sense of professionalism. I needed to know. “What did this cost you?”
She sighed. “The bill for the shipment I used was seven thousand, three hundred and forty-eight bits.”
I was stunned into silence. A dressmaker in Ponyville, even one as well known as Rarity, couldn’t make more than fifty thousand bits in a year, and that would be before taxes. Such a sizable loss in raw material must have put a serious dent in her income.
“Why did you give so much?”
She looked straight into my eyes. “Hundreds of innocent little foals lost those dearest to them that day. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandparents. I did what little I could to ease their suffering. If Sweetie Belle had been there that day, I would have given my horn to have her back.” The stuffed pony floated out of my hooves, settling back into its drawer. “Money is no issue when taken next to a loved one.”
Night had fallen over Sweet Apple Acres by the time Applejack finished her chores for the day. I felt guilty for distracting her for so long, but she brushed my concerns aside. “Horsefeathers, sugar cube. I work past sundown all the time. ‘Sides, too many ponies seem to have forgotten what happened that day.”
She offered me a place at her table for dinner that evening, which I politely declined. I had been unprofessional enough earlier that day. My editor would have my head if I made any more rookie mistakes. Applejack was persistent, though, and I ended up reluctantly accepting her generous offer. Once the food had started to cook, however, I felt much better about staying. The smells were delicious, and after everything I had heard today, I was feeling a bit down. I needed a good pick-me-up.
Despite the stereotypes about Apple family cooking, the majority of dinner was not apple-based. Hay, alfalfa, corn, soybean and carrot dishes dominated the table, graced by the presence of one plate of baked cinnamon apple slices.
The rest of the Apple family joined us in the kitchen. Apple Bloom almost fell over when she saw me. It had been nearly six years since we had seen each other, and the embrace we shared spoke of good times long since passed. She still wore a large pink bow in her hair, even now that she was a fully-grown mare.
I wished that I could reconnect with my old classmate under better circumstances, but I was still here on business. Luckily, Applejack seemed to understand that, as she continued with her story over dinner.
“A cousin of mine was in the Guard at the time. He was attached to the same unit as Twilight’s brother, and they shipped overseas less than a month later. Me ‘n Twi always got letters from them on the same day.” She chuckled to herself. “Both of ‘em was always whinin’ ‘bout the heat.”
The smile on her face diminished, but it did not disappear. “They sure did wanna come home somethin’ fierce, though. Can’t say I blame ‘em. But they knew how proud of ‘em me ‘n Twi were. I think that helped. Bein’ stuck in some Celestia-forsaken desert is hard enough as it is. It had to help, knowin’ that we supported ‘em.”
Her grin finally disappeared entirely. “Twilight and me had a few arguments, though. She said we shouldn’t have kept our Guardsponies overseas for so long. Said it would ‘breed more hate.’ Horsefeathers, I say. Nopony does somethin’ like that to Equestria and gets off scot-free. We made darn sure of that.”
A pile of letters levitated into the kitchen. “These were the letters Shining Armor sent me while he was fighting the war. I kept every single one of them.”
The stack was of impressive size; her brother must have been deployed for a long time. As if she could read my mind, Twilight quickly explained, “He was in the Guard for five more years before he was injured in a skirmish on a mountain trail. The Princess gave him full retirement pay and sent him home.
“I spent a lot of time with Cadance while he was away. It was so hard on her. They hadn’t even been married for a year when he was called away. I lost count of the number of times she cried on my shoulder. We both missed him so much.”
I had some knowledge of the Guard’s deployment schedule. Hay, there were still some Guardsponies over there. “Didn’t he come home between tours, though?”
Twilight nodded, but the solemn look on her face spoke to a difficult truth. “He did, but it was still difficult for her. After all, he was never home longer than he was away. Being such a high-ranking Guardspony meant that there were only one or two officers in the entire Royal Guard capable of taking over for him. They had to rotate between being home and overseas.
“I wish they had come home sooner. We found the group responsible and completely dismantled their ability to do anything like that again. After that, the only thing that happened was more families were told that their fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters wouldn’t be coming home at all. Every family hurt by that war was another place for hate to take root – the same hate that started all of this.” She shook her head dejectedly. “Where does it stop? Where do we draw the line, say ‘enough is enough,’ and allow our friends and neighbors to heal?”
As a journalist, it wasn’t my responsibility to answer her rhetorical questions, but as a pony, I felt a pang of guilt when I couldn’t come up with an answer with which I was satisfied. It was difficult to say with any certainty.
She closed her eyes, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “I love Equestria, and I never want to see anything like this happen ever again. But I think we need to move on at some point. We’ve twisted everything beyond recognition and nopony knows why we’re still fighting, or even whom we’re fighting. I was lucky to get my brother back. So many others aren’t so fortunate. I pray every day that I’ll hear that the Guard is coming home for good. We need to allow those families to have normal lives again.
“We can’t let hate dictate our lives. We need to respect that day by allowing it to be peacefully remembered by those it affected the most. An eye for an eye will leave the whole world blind.”
“I still wonder what could make a pony do something so horrible. They arrived that morning with the sole purpose of hurting innocent ponies, a goal they were willing to sacrifice themselves to achieve. What could make somepony do that? Anger? Jealousy? Fanaticism? What could inspire such determination to cause harm?”
I had stopped offering answers. Rarity didn’t need my input any longer. “I just don’t understand the purpose of any of it. Whatever it was, it took awful dedication to carry it out.” She stomped her hoof in determination. “I knew I had to match it with dedication of my own. To counter their harm, I wanted to do good. If more ponies lived for kindness, the whole world would be better off. Since then, I’ve been active in dozens of charities and philanthropies. I still host an annual benefit soiree for the families of the victims.
“I’ve often thought of concentrating on my career more, but I always remember that there are ponies out there, somewhere, who are working tirelessly to make the world a darker place. They won’t wait for me to finish my fall line to resume their planning.”
She calmed herself with a deep exhalation. “I don’t mean to make it sound so melodramatic, but I feel very strongly about my work. Everypony can do something to help, no matter how small. Together, united, we are stronger than any hatred.”
I was never a big eater, but I must have consumed half my body weight in delicious Apple family food. It may seem like a cliché, but there really is no match for a farm-fresh meal. It also helps that Applejack was one of the best cooks in Equestria.
I insisted on helping with the dishes. I wouldn’t be able to report to my editor until tomorrow, so I figured I could show my gratitude for such an excellent meal. Applejack wasn’t done talking, either, so I was able to get a few more details on my notepad.
“I’m darn glad we stayed as long as we have. The world has to know that we won’t take nothin’ layin’ down. We’re more than happy to stay here an’ live our lives in peace, but if you hurt innocent ponies on our soil, we’ll come after ya ‘til there ain’t nothin’ left to come after.
“Ponies like Twilight say we’re just makin’ things worse by stayin’ there so long. I understand where they’re comin’ from, but what would they say to the foals who fell asleep with only one parent that night? We’re jus’ gonna make a mess for a while an’ then let ‘em get back on their hooves to cause more trouble?”
I was having difficulty drying the dishes and writing at the same time, so I abandoned the notepad and concentrated on listening.
She shook her head sadly. “As much as I wish it weren’t the case, there are some ponies who just want to hurt other ponies. There ain’t no convincin’ ‘em otherwise. Ponies like that are dangerous. They only gotta get lucky one time to cause so much pain. It’s our respons’bility to protect our own, and lettin’ a bunch of fanatics like that sit around and get stronger ain’t very ‘protective.’”
An idea came to mind that I hadn’t considered earlier. “If you felt so strongly about it, why didn’t you sign up to fight?”
Applejack stopped cleaning and shot a dangerous glare at me. “Now you listen good. I was ready to march over there all by myself an’ find the ponies responsible. I felt it was necessary to protect my family. But that same family needed me here. Workin’ these fields jus’ ain’t a job for one stallion, no matter how strong Big Macintosh is. If I had run off to the desert, my family wouldn’t have been able to afford nothin’.”
Her expression softened as she realized how angry she had sounded. “Don’ get me wrong – I was scared. But I still wanted to go. Me an’ Rainbow both, actually. But she got an offer from the Wonderbolts soon afterwards. They were goin’ overseas to perform shows for the Guardspoines while they were away from home, and they wanted to replace one of their agin’ members so he could stay with his family here.
“She went there dozens of times an’ always came back with a buncha stories. She said she ain’t never met a more dedicated group of ponies than them Guardsponies. They was stuck in the middle of a big, hot, desert, thousands of miles from home, and they was still glad to serve.
“When she got back from her first show over there, she told me a story about a young Guard she met. They talked in the hangar for hours while the Wonderbolts’ dirigible was bein’ prepped. He told her about everything them soldiers go through every day. He was scared, homesick, and lonely, but he said there wasn’t noplace he’d rather be. When it was time for Rainbow to go home, the Guard said ‘It was my honor to meet ya, Miss Dash.’ Dash replied, ‘No, it was my honor to meet you.’ She says she still thinks about that soldier every day.”
The last of the dishes had been washed and dried. I thanked Applejack once again for the wonderful dinner. She offered me a pie to go, but I refused on the grounds that I would probably have to work my flank off just to make up for the meal. She chuckled heartily. “Yeah, I guess that’d be a bit much for a stallion used t’eatin on a college budget.”
Making sure my notepad was secure in my saddlebag, I stepped outside and took off in the direction of home. The flight didn’t take long, but all the food still in my belly weighed me down considerably. By the time I made it to my front door, my wings felt like they might simply give up in midair.
I opened the door, took off my saddlebag, fell on my couch, and instantly fell asleep.
The next day, I looked over my notes. I hadn’t realized how much I had written – over thirty pages of the little flipbook were covered in my chicken scratch. This was more than enough for an article. In fact, it was enough for a feature story.
I walked in to the office and sat at my desk, thinking of how to write an appropriate story with the very personal accounts I had collected over the previous day. I had hardly been there for five minutes when an office intern told me that my editor wanted to see me. I scrambled into his office faster than I’ve ever moved before.
The boss was leaning forward on his cluttered desk. I hoped it meant he was eager to hear what I had to say and not that he was ready to chew me out for spending the whole day doing interviews. His first question assuaged my fears.
“So, Featherweight, did you get enough for your article?”
I was quiet for a moment. I had enough; far more than enough. But it was so personal. I didn’t know if it would be appropriate to publish. “Yes, sir, but I’m not sure-“
“That it’s suitable for publishing?”
I nodded.
He cracked a rare smile. “Now you see what I meant when I said this would be very different from anything else you’ve done?”
If only I had known. “Definitely.”
He nodded knowingly. “I had just started as editor when we covered the events of that day. Ponies just react differently. I don’t know why, but they do. I hope you weren’t too pushy about anything to anypony?”
“No, sir.”
“I figured as much. If you had been, somepony woulda chased you halfway to Los Pegasus.”
I didn’t see the conversation going anywhere important, so I changed the topic myself. “Boss, I think I’ve got enough here for a feature story. If I can get my other assignments delayed, I can get it out in time for the morning edition on the anniversary.”
To my surprise, he chuckled aloud. “I know you do. That’s why I put you on this. It was my intent all along to get a feature out of you, and this was the perfect opportunity. Not just for your career, but for everypony who was too young to remember that day properly.” He leaned forward again. “It’s your responsibility to write the best story you can about what it was like to experience that day. Your point of view will be a fresh perspective, and you’ll be able to better relate it to other ponies your age.”
He shooed me away with his hoof. “Go. Write. You know the deadline.”
Ten days later, my story, “The Generation After”, took the front page of the Ponyville Courier. We sold out of the morning edition faster than ever before. We had to shift some of the presses from the evening edition to reprints of the morning one. Everypony wanted a copy, especially the now-grown mares and stallions who had been little fillies and colts eleven years ago.
The story generated such a buzz in Ponyville that papers from all over Equestria began contacting my boss, asking for copies of the story to run in their publications. By the end of the month, every major paper in the country had run my story. My boss called me into his office again to congratulate me every time it ran. I couldn’t believe what a runaway success it had become.
It ended up winning several major awards for excellence in journalism. I was getting job offers from papers from Vanhoover to Baltimare. I turned them all down – I didn’t want to leave Ponyville just yet.
The awards and accolades were nice to have, and I had made a name for myself in the world of journalism. For me, though, nothing could match the letters I got from victims’ families. They said that they were so glad to see the memory of that day brought to such a personal level. For so long, it had been covered as a news event, not something that caused actual pain and suffering. Their colts and fillies already had history books that mentioned that day, but teachers were using my story in class.
It’s been a while since I wrote “The Generation After”. That day has taken on a new meaning for me. It is no longer an event in the distant past that affected ponies I didn’t know. I had been moved by the stories I heard. They had made a deep impression on me. The only ponies who knew it better were those who had been there on that fateful, horrible day.
