Card Board: a rainy night
*KRABOOM* with a shuddering gasp I snap into alertness, tears spilling from my eyes to my muzzle,
I had to, I was, what? what was I doing? where am I?
After a brief moment of confusion as I shake off the grog of sleep as memories flow in. you are card-board homeless pone.
Alone in your sole possession, a cardboard box. you huddle further back to get away from the rain that must have started while you slept the afternoon away.
Shaking in the cold the tears refuse to stop, you feel as though your missing something, something very important that you've forgotten.
Whatever you try to do though it seems to slip from your thoughts. with another boom of thunder, you put your forelegs over your muzzle, shutting your eyes tight and trying to both ignore the storm and stem your tears.
Slowly they fade and the sniffles clear, unlike the rain. You look at the front of your box with a forlorn look, the water is easily an inch deep and has completely soaked the bottom of your home (home for now) your mind corrects, trying to push some of the water out of your box you stop when it begins to tear the bottom. Tears back in full force now you begin to sob at the situation, knowing that your box won't last much longer and then you’ll have to try and find another, which means potentially days of roughing it with no cover at all.
As if it couldn’t get any worse with awareness comes the aches and pains of hunger, sharp and merciless they are eager to let their displeasure be known. You sip at the water pooling in your box at least calming your thirst, the water tastes of bitterness and dirt but it won't make you sick, at least you hope it doesn’t.
After sipping for a minute the worst of the pains subside for now fooled into believing you ate. The itch kicks in then right on a large purple bruise on the crook of your right foreleg, you gnaw at it for a moment but the itch doesn’t fade, you should know better, that it never fades. You sigh enjoying the moment of relative peace knowing that soon the cravings will kick in.
Regardless of Celestia’s love for all her ponies, she can only do so much to care for so many millions of subjects. After the changling wars and technological boom that it caused pony society had changed greatly, peace and love and Harmony still ruled, but only so much could be done. Ponies still fell through the cracks and couldn’t always be cared for, there's only so much room in the shelters after all, and it's better to reserve it for somepony who needs it more than you.
You were lucky after-all, you had food more often than most like you, and with the ponice busy quelling the last remains of lunar rebellions in the area, you were mostly ignored by the law, not that you regularly did illegal things, never anything beyond loitering and the occasional swiping of an apple (Celestia bless magic) you were a model citizen, well, besides the homelessness, and lack of a job, and lack of talent, hmm maybe not as model as you thought, not even mentioning the, NO don’t think about it right now, it makes the cravings worse.
Though even as you think this your vision begins to drift to the far corner of your box, where a small pile of empty glass bottles sits light glinting off thin metal next to them, you don’t bother checking them, you know they're all empty, you checked. You made sure of it.
With a small shudder, you tear your eyes from the stash, with an itch of your leg you look over at your other stash, this time of slightly dulled metal coins, you remember when bits gleamed like the gold they were made of, nowadays their made of bronze, cheaper to produce after-all and the gold was needed to build electronics.
Looking closer you suck a small bit of air through your teeth, you only have 4 bits left after your last… visit. You should have known better but the urges grew to be too much and you had begun to get sick, and now you pay the price, it'll be days before the weather is clear enough to do any labor work so for a few more days you’ll go hungry, you know you make it, you’ve made it longer than this before. Normally you would graze on the grass in the nearby park but lately they've been spraying something on it to make it far too bitter to eat, and the nearest field is more than a few days walk from where you are.
With a sigh you resign yourself to the urges and hunger and watch the rain pour down in the ally you’ve put your box, one of the last in the city, the rest being choked by ever-expanding buildings and public venues.
You scowl thinking of them, the rich ponies who take what they have for granted, never needing or wanting for anything, their status pre-determined by the mark on their flanks. You grow angry thinking how lucky they are to not be born with a mark that destined you for a life of homelessness, of living in a box. So useless that even your parents left you, your whole life you’ve fought for every scrap and morsel, for every bit, for even the box you stay in, and, and, and taking a deep breath you lay your head on the ground, “what's the point” you sigh, the first words that you’ve spoken in days. Your anger won't change things, won't fix them, you’ve long since learned to not hold onto it. Anger like this that is so deep-rooted leads to darker magic. A lesson you thoroughly learned the last time a ponice squad hauled you off for questioning, you were lucky you were just beaten and released. They have no patience nor quarter for dark magic users, not after the Sombra bombings and more often than not users were locked away till they died or were forgotten.
With a deeper sigh, you stand and spin for a moment trying to get a more comfortable spot to lie down, in your state though you stumble and knock a hoof into the pile of bottles sending them rolling, you simply sigh before beginning to pick them up and move them back to the corner, as you do you stop for a moment, a bottle in your telekinetic grasp. It's heavier than the others, noticeably heavier, your breathing picks up as you cast your mind back through the haze you spent the last months in trying to remember when you had bought another bottle when had you had the bits? You cant remember but, there's no doubt that this bottle is full to the brim. the cravings rear their head stronger than ever, desperate to feast on the contents.
Changeling venom, it was used by enemy operatives during the changeling wars to drug ponies for later love harvest. It’s Incredibly illegal to have and even more so to produce and sell. When made correctly it puts ponies into a magic-fueled coma, where all their dreams come true. With the most excitement in days your cravings win, you scream in your mind as you wrap the needle in your telekinesis, unheard by your own body you sob as the bottle flips and the needle plunges into it pulling the entire small bottle into the needle. You line up the bruise in your foreleg and with a small sigh, you feel the bubbles under your skin as it floods your system.
‘Honey? Are you alright?” you shake yourself from your thoughts turning to your wife in bed with you, the rain beating on the windows of your home. You look at your wife who is giving you a worried look at this point.
“I'm sorry dear, just lost in thought for a moment"
She gives you another concerned look before chuckling for a moment, she leans to give you a kiss on your cheek, “more like thinking of that book huh” she gives you a deadpan stare, “while your beautiful wife is lying next to you?” she shakes her head, “for shame”
You chuckle before giving her a nuzzle, scooting so that you're pressed together, you revel in her warmth.
She sighs for a moment “I still say you're pushing yourself too hard on that but I know you won't listen to me“ she gives you a small smirk “you darn workaholic you”
With a mock gasp, you reel as though struck “how dare? My beautiful has turned on me!” you give a sad look to the roof of your bedroom a single glorious tear falling from your eyes “Oh woe is me!”
A moment of silence passes before you both laugh at your combined antics. The laughter bleeding off you both lean your heads toward the other simply sharing your breath in the silence. With a small flick, you turn the bedroom lights off and pull the blanket over you both.
“don’t forget we have daisies new garden class tomorrow, you said you would keep the shop closed so you could go” your wife murmurs to you
“I wouldn't dream of forgetting, I'm so happy she's found friends that enjoy something she likes”
“I love you dear” she whispers to you already drifting off to sleep
after a moment her breathing levels off entirely. You always envied the way she could fall asleep so quickly.
You stare over at her for a moment more before closing your eyes yourself thinking of the mare who saved you from the streets,
Of how you met her in the rain
Of how she took you in to dry and feed you
Of falling in love that day
you smile
“I love you”
and sleep claims you, and you know no more
Author's Note
the first story I've ever written. made this in a half drunk daze in a single day