Today would mark the start of her new life, whether she wanted it or not. “Won’t you retrieve that for me, dear?” Her hoof pointed to an old journal that sat on her once shared dresser. It, along with the rest of the room, was in disarray. Clothes were thrown about, legal documents here, bags of bits there. The thought to take a few fine gems didn’t escape her. The rock farm produced enough for a down payment on a Manehatten brownstone. They would be okay; her and her fillies. They would be just fine. Her good scarves were already folded and stored in the suitcase, her sewing kit, and picture albums just the same. The journal was the last thing she would carry to this new adventure that awaited her.
Marble held the book between her teeth. She, like most of her fillies, was a torpid thing, more of the tortoise than the hare. Even in the presence of her mother she shook, so fragile. She held the journal towards her, eyes diverging from her gaze, yet filled with curiosity.
“Thank you.” Cloudy Quartz took it, nuzzled her daughter as she did, and this appeared to spook Marble. “We were never very affectionate towards you.” It was the better thing to say than the alternative. If not affectionate than neglectful, if not neglectful than overbearing. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an awful mama.”
Marble hid behind her mane. She didn’t say anything, she rarely did.
“I used to write.” It was a shock, she was sure. “I can read you some.” Marble stepped a little closer in curiosity, and she was still so hesitant as if her own flesh and blood would gobble her whole. Cloudy opened the journal, her eyes peaked above her glasses. She found a passage to read. “There once was a princess who was given the world. She would become a mare at the stroke of midnight, and the changes were gradual. All day they happened; from stringy chicken legs to that of a graceful swan. From a turtle neck to an elegant elephant’s trunk.” Cloudy blew through her mouth to mimic a trumpet. Marble smiled, giggled, poked behind the curtain of her mane to steal a glance at the journal. Her mother kept reading. “No longer did she squawk but her voice was as heavenly as a dove. With the end of her fillyhood approaching quickly, this princess was determined to do all of her favorite things one last time, but now outside the safety of the palace walls…” Cloudy’s eyes scanned the sentences following. The soft grin she held dimmed. It’s been a while since she wrote this. It’s been a while since she read it too.
“Well, enough of that,” the older mare closed the book. It was gently placed on top of her scarves before the suitcase was zipped up. Cloudy grabbed the handle with her teeth. “Have you finished packing?” Her body language told of her desire to leave, not just the room, but this old riggedty prison. Marble shook her head when she entered the hallway. “You better hurry. Maud and Pinkamena will be here any minute now.” And Marble nodded. She left her mother’s side to disappear into her own room, and for a moment Cloudy was reminded of a time not so long ago when all her fillies were just that; small and impressionable. They could be molded into greatness, and with enough pressure, with enough love, they could be sparkling diamonds.
Soon they’ll have it all—the world, the moon and the stars—even if it was a few years too late.
Slowly, she made her way down the stairs. Photographs of flat faces watched her pass them by. The lower she got the bigger the fillies, and yet only Pinkie ever smiled, and yet even Pinkie’s smile was forced. Maybe Cloudy didn’t realize how long she was unhappy. Maybe she ignored her happiness for so long that she forgot how to smile. But that was silly. Cloudy Quartz was just as dull as the town she was born in, and her husband just the same. It’s why her parents supported their union and it was why she held on for so long despite it all. Why have everything when she can become another cookie cutter, another housewife, like all her peers?
Not anymore.
The backyard was visible from the living room, and it was nothing but a field ripe with holes, carts of gems, shovels, and despair. In the big city this wouldn’t be a common sight, and half of her would miss it. What else is there if not rocks?
There’s family, is that what Pinkie told her? She had her daughters, and despite being such a poor excuse of a mother, they forgave her. Cloudy returned to the stairway to take the last photo from the wall. It was taken at Pinkie’s wedding, and unlike her own, she looked happy.
The princess left the palace determined to play one last time. She brought a bright red ball with her, so big, so bouncy that when she gave it a kick it flew into a nearby forest. She couldn’t enter adulthood without a proper goodbye, so she slipped between the trees with the confidence of a filly with the world on her shoulders. Nothing would scare her, not even the wolf ahead.
The hallway was quiet. Cloudy held her breath expecting her husband any second now. She couldn’t spot him outside, but then again she wasn’t watching long enough. Sometimes she’d sit and observe, and it was one of those things; don’t blink for the second she lost sight of him he’ll strike. He’d tease her about it, assume she was just bored and nosy. She’d play along.
The front door was just in hoof-reach.
The wolf had teeth, a whole jaw full. He was huge, hairy, hungry perhaps. He held the ball in his claws, drooling over it, and yet the princess marched right up to him with a smile. She waved, she greeted. He watched and he blinked. She pointed at her ball then offered to play and the wolf agreed. Together they kicked the ball back and forth and as they did they exchanged stories of withering childhoods and the future ahead. The princess saw so many possibilities, but the wolf could not see beyond being a wolf. The forest is where he’s from so the forest is where he’ll stay. The sun was setting, the moon came to take its place, and the wolf revealed that the princess was his only friend.
There was more but she could not recall the rest. Pages were missing from the journal. She wondered if she was the culprit.
Cloudy Quartz opened the front and took in a deep breath. The paved walkway greeted her, empty, but in any moment her daughters would arrive and it would all be over; this life of hers. The life she’s lived with for nearly three decades would be a closed chapter in her story, and yet she felt uncertain. And what would she do with herself afterwards? What will she do in the great big city of Manehatten? Despite planning this since she walked in on her husband, despite knowing that she was a carriage ride from freedom, Cloudy didn’t know what she would do. She’s never thought of a career for herself. Her job was to raise the foals, care for the home, and be a helpmate for her husband. There was no room for individual wants, desires, dreams—now, she hadn’t had one of those in many moons.
As a filly Cloudy swore she was destined to write. There were sheets and sheets in the chest beneath the bed, stories filled with the imagination she no longer harbored. In her tales she was the princess, not a princess with magic, no horns, no wings, just as plain as the rocks on the ground. And despite her plainness she was the most valuable thing to the wolf—
A loud pop broke the mare from her head. She spun around to see the darkness of her previous home. There was a crash afterwards, very shortly afterwards, but time slowed in those moments. A whimpering cry followed, and that is what caused her to gallop towards danger against her better judgment. There was a light in the kitchen, a voice, and the source of the pop. She ramped up speed towards it. All the fear she’s held inside for far too long bubbled in the pit of her stomach. Nothing good was ahead.
When Cloudy passed the threshold of the dining room she gasped.
Last year a traveling circus came to town. It was all the rage seeing as not much happened in their little community. There were flying pigs, ponies leaping through rings of fire, and a showhorse from a land she could not pronounce. He revealed an item in a box; long barrel, plated in gold, and deadly. He called it a shotgun, slipped a few tin capsules into the barrel, then shot them at a target in such rapid succession that nopony saw the bullets leave the gun. It let out a piercing roar, a boom to shake the hooves, perhaps a warning of its danger. Cloudy couldn’t believe it did much an alarm clock couldn’t do, until she saw the target shattered into chunks. Limestone’s leg was that target. Broken, shot to bits, but unlike her leg the target never bled. Igneous bought a shotgun from the showhorse that day. He brought it home, polished it, and promised it would be the sole thing to keep their family safe.
Perhaps Cloudy should’ve seen this coming.
“W-what are you…?” she couldn’t finish that sentence. Their daughter dragged herself on the tile in an attempt to get away. Her left hind leg was blown from her hock. Her blood painted their floor in blackened red. Cloudy Quartz ran to her foal’s side, circled around to see where best to carry her out of there—circled around to see what she could do.
Igneous pointed the barrel at her head.
Two shots. She remembered that much when the showhorse aimed for a gorgeous glass bottle next. It, like her, was a faded moss, and though she did not sparkle in the light she remembered that feeling in her gut when it shattered.
“Igneous, please—“
“Quiet, mare.” He didn’t raise his voice, he never did, but she smelled the hard cider in his breath. His eyes were bloodshot, his gaze hazy, his words as unstable as his mind. She stared at him not in disbelief, but a sort of rageful fear. They challenged each other in those moments, not with words, not with physical contact, but through a language as old as equines themselves. And with her ears erected and her sights fixated on him, her former husband’s lip quivered. “I’ve given you my all, and all you do is take, and take, and take.” The barrel shook but he kept it aimed. “I love you.” His voice cracked. “I loved you.”
The shotgun was held around the waist with a strap. Two slots allowed hooves and the shoulder to steady it, a trigger at the bottom, a rope looped around it with the tail end resting between the teeth. The showhorse pulled and the shotgun went off. He stood on his hind legs, more adept to it than most ponies Cloudy had seen, and when he fired he did not miss. Igneous was far from skilled, he lacked the focus, his posture sloppy and that could be due to the liquor. But she didn’t want to give him that credit.
“Then why do this? Why hurt her?” Cloudy tried to hide her fear. She knew she couldn’t fool most, but she only needed to fool him. “You don’t love me, you don’t love anyone but your selfish desires.”
He lowered the gun from his eye, no longer interested in aiming, not until he proved his words true. “You’re trying to take my family from me! I won’t live without you and none of you will live without me!” As he screamed lines of intoxicated spit flew on the chunks of their daughter's bursted leg. She was losing a lot of blood as her body grew colder and her lips lost color. Cloudy removed the scarf around her neck and tied it tightly around her amputation. “Don’t touch her!”
Cloudy didn’t stop, though she moved slower to keep an eye on the weapon. “You know that’s not what I meant. You wouldn’t have hurt her if you didn’t want this to happen.” Igneous wasn’t the shiniest stone in the cavern, but he could read between the lines. He knew what he did. He knew this day would one day come, and the consequences would be noponies fault but his own. “You don’t love anyone but your selfish desires.” Cloudy repeated.
“I was sick.” He claimed.
She shook her head.
“You were so unaffectionate. I just needed someone.” His mind was rolling for a better excuse. “I couldn’t help myself and she asked me—“
Cloudy Quartz smacked him. It happened so quickly, in such instinct, that she couldn’t recall how she got in front of him or why her hoof stung so much, and yet she still managed to say, “You were right the first time.” And she grabbed the burning barrel of the gun and in those moments of adrenaline she allowed it to heat up her silver horseshoes. They tussled for the weapon, him heaving, her hoing, back and forth. The hard cider caused Igneous to stumble. He knocked the bottle on the ground, it shattered into a billion shards and came down like crystal rain. She tugged again, he slugged her in the nose, she let go, and the gun flew into the air. It clattered next to the whimpering Limestone. Her inhales were slow, her lids heavy as she fought against unconsciousness.
“Look what you’ve done!” He screamed at her, he never did, but Cloudy held her bleeding nose and that was not new. “This is all your fault…if only you’d mind your goddamn business I wouldn’t have to do this!”
In this circus of flying pigs and ponies leaping through flaming hoops, was a mare in a top hat. She wore a coat of rich silk, a smile that could rival Pinkie’s, and a voice as loud as a bear. She’d command and others would follow. She’d roar, and even the lions in their cages would cower. But it wasn’t the power over ponies that Cloudy envied, it was the power over her life. This mare approached Cloudy, picked her out of a large crowd in a big tent, and she asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. It was such a silly question, Cloudy was in her 40s, hardly a filly, and yet all grown up she couldn’t provide an answer. Housewife was not one. Doormat wasn’t either.
Cloudy Quartz punched him right back. “You shut your mouth!” She punched him again, and no it did not cause his nose to bleed, and he likely fell back from shock and cider, but she still punched him like she was the bigger pony with all the power. “It’s your fault!” She punched again. “Nopony forced you to shoot her!” And again. “Nopony told you to treat us like this!” And again. “Nopony told you to touch your own daughter!” This one got him off his feet. He was on the ground in a puddle of Limestone’s blood, and she hoped it would forever stain his filthy coat. “You were right, you are sick.”
Cloudy breathed heavily as she looked down on her former husband—her foals' abuser, and for the first time since she said her vows she felt alive. “You’re sick.”
They stood there, him on his flank, her on her feet, for a short while. Neither said a thing, but they kept their eye contact. Then Igneous slowly got to his hooves as he snarled at her. Cold was he, yet he burned with a growing rage. He opened his mouth to say something before reconsidering. Words weren’t enough, words were hardly exchanged, so he resorted to his usual by snagging a mouthful of her mane. He pulled her towards the kitchen sink. Cloudy tugged back enough to rip strands from her scalp, but he’d simply gather more, pull harder, until her snout hovered over the lukewarm dishwasher from that morning. The soap suds were gone, the dishes absent, yet the water remained as a means to save on bills. This too was per her husband’s request like everything else in her life.
He dunked her head under.
Cloudy could remember the second half of the story; the princess went home just before midnight to celebrate. Among her many gifts was a magical fish that could only grant one wish. Whatever she desired, whatever she wanted, and yet she wished to return to the wolf. This was the right choice, that’s what she told herself. This was the selfless choice because what were dreams when she could have a wolf to protect her, to provide, to produce little pups she did not want. She didn’t want foals and it showed? But now she loved her daughters, she swore she did. But unlike the princess, Cloudy Quartz was a fading soul full of regret.
Another pop rang in her ears. Though muffled underwater, she heard it as loud as the first time. Then, like lava on ice, she felt the burning hot on her back, she felt the twitch, the collapse, the release of her head, and she gasped for air as she resurfaced. Igneous Rock no longer had a head. He was as broken as the bottles, and near the hallway stood Marble on two feet with the shotgun in her hooves. She turned it on herself next, pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. She pulled again, and again, and again, verbally growing more upset.
And yet nothing happened.
“I’m sorry, papa.” Marble wailed. Cloudy didn’t remember how she got there, when she moved to approach her daughter, but she held her close.
What a mess she made of her life. With one wish she could’ve had anything in the world, and though she regretted her decision, it came with the blessings—the blessings she left to fend for themselves. “No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” What a mess she made. If Celestia would have mercy on her she promised to fix her wrong. This time she wouldn’t ignore the signs, this time she’d be a proper mama. “It's noponies fault but his own.”
The sound of hooves on their paved walkway was drowned by their shared sobs. Limestone weakly reached out for them to give confirmation that she was still holding onto life, and Cloudy Quartz fell to hold onto her too. It was okay, they would be okay, and that was a Pinkie Promise. Today would mark the start of their new life, whether they wanted it or not.
