Half In the Bag

Courier

The stars, the moon, the way the grass flowed, how the leaves gently hushed against the warm, night-time breeze. Everything was perfect tonight, the temperature, the slight breeze, and the clouds above that didn't block the stars, but instead magnified them. He knew it wouldn't stay this way long. He had always been taught that this kind of perfect weather never ended up being as perfect as it was the day before. But he also knew that the upcoming storm would not hit his family's lush, green orchard. Granny had taught him that when the leaves utter only a soft whisper in the perfect night, the wind isn't going to be strong enough to bring the big storm all the way to Ponyville. Still, it was hard to believe that a night this wonderful, a night so beautiful that even the work of a thousand pegasi could not replicate, was going to produce a storm. The issues about to arise from this stunning night began soon after the hard-working family of Sweet Apple Acres shut their eyes.

Applejack woke up, looked around her room, rubbed her eyelids, and then lay her head back down on her chicken-feather stuffed pillow. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then sighed. Pressing her two front hooves into the mattress, she sat up, and then shuffled out of bed. Her hooves hit the oak floor and made a soft clack. As she started to walk around the room, she looked up at the photographs by her wooden dresser, of her and her family. Turning her head, she stared into her mirror. "sigh.. Another day in the orchard, it seems. Can't keep up with them darn trees, me and mah applebuckin'." She paused, then took her path out of the room, grabbing her hat off a hook by the door. As she made her way down the stairs of the old, cranky farmhouse, she didn't hear a sound coming from the kitchen. Well, tha's strange. Normally somepony'd be up makin' pie or som'pin by now. She led herself into the kitchen and was taken back by what she saw.

"I can't believe it!", Granny Smith said, in anger. "That dun went and did it! First 'e got the ol' run-in with the buffalo, now we got this?! How we gonna help the sorry bastard this time ah'roun'?"

                      "Now, calm down here, Grandma..", Big Mac broke his argument with Granny. "Applejack, ya might wanna take a big look at this here letter Braeburn sent us. Paid good money to a feller to get it to us."

                      "Wait a second, what in the hay is goin' on in here!?", little Applebloom stepped out from the hallway.

                      "Applebloom-", Applejack was intterupted.

                      "WILL EVERYPONY, JUST SHUT UP N' QUIT ASKIN' QUESTIONS? READ THE LETTER, I SAID." Big Mac's voice boomed throughout the house, commanding everyone to listen. After an awkward silence, Big Mac drew a large breath and sighed, his head hung low. "Now, everypony, look at this here letter Braeburn sent us. All the way from Appleoosa. Remember what I said about them perfect nights n' all? Causes other parts of 'questria t' get all nasty-like. Cousin wants us to haul on down there n' help 'im out.", Big Mac pointed to the piece of paper, which looked like it was hastily scribbled on. The two younger farmers of the family leaned in to read the sloppy, crumpled note.

Cousins,

I am sending you this letter to try and inform you about something terrible that just went on in Appleoosa. This morning, a great big storm hit, it blew away half of my family's house, and tore up most of the town. All that's left is the good old saloon, the supply store (mostly in tact) and the train station. I had to send some good folks to give you this letter, because the entire post office was blown over. My crops have all been lost, my lady and fillies left me in the night (I was getting suspicious about her having affairs, anyway) because all of our hard work is gone and I'm supposedly the one who couldn't protect the entire farm from falling down. I'm sorry to tell you this so suddenly, but I need you to come over as quickly as possible to help me rebuild the house. Thank you, cousins.

                      Applejack's mouth was hanging slightly open, in awe of what she had just read. This can't be happening? Our dear Braeburn? She looked up, sighed, and then slowly walked down the hallway. As she made her way up the stairs, the small clack of her hooves against the hard wood returned. She had to take all this in before packing her necessities. Granny Smith had fallen asleep by then, slumped down in her chair, her snoring barely audible. Applebloom trailed Applejack up the stairs, she wanted to talk to her sister. Her efforts were useless, and this was communicated by a large, oak door slammed into her face as she tried to follow her sorrowful sister into her room. Applebloom simply plopped down on the floor outside, and frowned. She felt bad for Braeburn, but couldn't understand why it was such a big deal. As Applebloom started to trail off to her room, Big Mac simply sighed, and clunked his heavy head onto the breakfast table.

Poor Braeburn, he thought, and then drifted off to sleep.