Purpose

by mobius_

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Sad, Original Character, Human
Length: 2065

A small, courageous pony fights to keep hope and love alive in the face of empty oblivion.

It's easy for a small pony to feel lonely in the vastness of the modern world, but what happens when that loneliness leads to complete abandonment? For one such mare faced with that reality, she must choose between a promise of hope and love, and the reality of despair.

A short inspired by anonymous art done on a /mlp/ draw board on 7 Oct 2022.

Featured on 14 October 2022 - Thank you to the anonymous artist who drew the cover picture!

Published 2022-10-10 18:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-10-10 18:20:01 UTC

Hope

You have been here for a long time.

That lone thought occupies your mind as you stare out into the empty school classroom that had been your home for as long as you can remember. At one point it had been filled with life and joy—brought on by the children that inhabited it on a daily basis. But those days had long since passed, and it was unlikely that these hallways would ever again hear the song of their laughter.

…A really long time.

The matter of your past was a fuzzy one. Memories and what you thought were memories swirled and diluted in the absence of any interaction, replaced by a hollow buzz that occupied your mind throughout the endless day and night. Things like your name and age, and when your owner would return were all concepts that may have once held significance but don't anymore.

…Too long.

You were a keychain pony from Equestria, you knew that for sure. Not much bigger than a credit card and no heavier than a pencil bag, you had a long piece of rope attached to a fastener in your back. You were meant to be displayed somewhere, perhaps on a holiday tree or for a birthday celebration, but you always liked the idea of being on a keychain. That way you would always be there to bring happiness to your owner wherever they might go.

…

Hollow ringing starts to echo in your head and you fight to maintain your grip on a thread of something that isn’t pure emptiness.

Warmth.

The setting sun warmed your back legs as it often did around this time of year. Golden-red rays filled the stagnant air and painted the room in a beautiful glow that cut through the dust in your eyes. The light was a privilege you didn’t always receive. Sometimes you would hear loud rumbling and the pitter-patter of raindrops on the windows. When that happened, you knew the light wouldn’t come to warm you.

A thunderstorm.

You knew about the weather phenomenon because of a poster hanging behind the teacher's desk. Or, at least you thought you knew. A tornado might make the same noises. You would be able to tell the difference if you were facing the window, but your rope had settled so that you faced the classroom. When your owner comes back, they were going to put you on their keychain, then you would see out of all kinds of windows.

The light is warm.

The same sight, the same three empty walls and waterstained ceiling had stared back at you day in and day out for so long that you began to doubt there was anything outside of this secluded place. You’d heard cars, voices, and even footsteps nearby before, but they always passed through as if they didn’t know there was a whole world in here, with you in it. The light knew you were here, but it too passed by just as it was doing now, leaving your world cold and dark.

It’s ok though because your owner is coming back! They had to come back eventually because they loved you. Otherwise, why would they have given you such a pretty polka-dot mane, and deep blue coat? And your reins were so carefully crafted to fit your muzzle. There must've been a purpose to that!

A purpose. This train of thought, this empty feeling, it felt so familiar. As if it were a road you'd traveled many times. A cyclic journey that extinguished more of your thoughts and memories with each passing.

Somewhere in the distance, a car engine stops. Sounds fade and your sight grows dim as another night besets the empty classroom.

You don't want it to get dark again.

The fact that the light would return tomorrow was not something you could take for granted. The light was all you had as a companion, and seeing it go felt like a final goodbye to your only friend. No matter how much you wished it to stay, it left you anyways. It seems that your world didn't much care about what you wanted, otherwise it would have more love in it.

Is it the polka-dots in your mane? Or your deep blue coat?

Thoughts glitter behind your orange eyes.

No. No that can’t be it. You’re a pretty pony. You’re sure of it because…because otherwise…

Core memories that made you who you are, sit at the bottom of a precipice in your mind—unretrievable. The pillars of your identity had long since crumbled without their support, but the fact that they existed to be demolished in the first place meant that there was something good about what once was.

That had to be true. It just had to be.

Still, there must have been a reason why everyone left you. There must be something wrong with you, otherwise, your owner would’ve come back by now. Your thoughts pour over every possibility but end up at the same conclusion they had countless times before.

Maybe you don't have a purpose. Maybe no one wants your love. Maybe you don't matter...

...No. No that can't be it.

Bland colors in the empty room fade to black and white as the last vestiges of red and orange slip over the horizon somewhere behind you. The sound of footsteps outside provides a welcome distraction from the aching thoughts that plague the loneliness.

You follow them from where they started somewhere in the distance, all the way to the front of the building. A seldom-felt tremor in your suspension string accompanies the sound of a door being broken open. Footsteps enter the dark building, seeming to wander about aimlessly for a moment before ascending a staircase to the floor you were on.

A flicker of warmth in the form of a memory splits the calcified emptiness of your mind.

You'd forgotten you were on the second floor.

But that warmth is snuffed out when another memory surfaces with it. You’d heard footsteps and even voices in this building before. They were never looking for you, though, they just talked about ‘removing this’ and ‘clearing that.’ They sounded very harsh. You wished they would’ve found you, you would’ve made them happier, you think.

They never did, though; they always passed through without so much as a glance at your secluded corner, and these footsteps seemed no different.

Until they stop outside your classroom.

Light flitters under the door jam, and your ears ring at the sound of a rusty doorknob being turned. Brilliant, blinding white light floods the room and casts shadows at odd angles you'd never seen before.

Is this the light from before? Had it come back for you?

If you could squint, you would, but you can't, so you watch. The footsteps and light draw closer and closer until the edge of the glowing cone touches your cold hooves. It freezes then centers on you.

Oh no. What did you do wrong? Was it the polka-dots in your mane?

You can't see past the glaring beam as footsteps hurry closer.

"There you are..." Soft words suddenly thaw your frigid body.

Are they talking to you? No one ever talks to you.

For the first time in ages, you feel yourself moving under your keychain. The flashlight person was untying you and you don’t understand.

Were they...throwing you in the garbage? You don’t want to go into the garbage. You still have so much love and joy to offer to the world.

You feel as if you’re flying around at the end of your rope, but you still can't see past the blinding light. Suddenly, your hooves touch something warm. Something alive. You were resting in their hand.

"Polka. I can't believe you're still here."

Polka. That sounds familiar. That sounds like...

…You.

You're a Polka! A polka-dot pony. That’s what your owner named you!

"Oh I'm so happy I found you!"

The warmth closes up around you now, and you feel another sensation. A rhythmic thumping that quenched the hollow buzz like rainfall in a desert. It was their heartbeat. You were being hugged.

But why?

You're so confused.

What did you do to deserve this?

"I thought about you ever since I left."

The voice was filled with emotion. You were filled with emotion. You remember that you can feel something besides empty, and it's so much to feel.

You're being carried now, but the sound of gravel and crunching glass underfoot isn't loud enough to drown out the sound of their heartbeat. That was a good thing because you like the sound of their heartbeat very much.

"I'm so sorry I left you. When mom and dad split up I had to move. I couldn't finish school. I thought I'd packed you but..." The voice chokes up.

That sounds familiar. Are they crying?

"...so much was happening and, *sniff...when I realized I'd left you in art class we were already gone."

That crying. That voice.

You remember it, you’d heard it before. In fact, it was one of the first things you’d ever heard. The same tremble, the same silent sobbing, but this time without the yelling in the background. Accompanying this memory is a realization that is just as tumultuous as your sudden discovery.

This person is your owner!

They came back for you!

You knew they still loved you!

You descend the stairs and exit the front door, carried past lockers and hallways that you remember seeing once before. Back then, the building was full of conversation and warmth and people, now it was empty, dark, and covered with funny-looking checkered tape.

The hollow groan of the front door shutting behind you reinforces the feeling that you've just been liberated from a dungeon, and in turn, all those feelings of sadness and loneliness. They simply didn’t exist anymore. They couldn’t exist.

Not here. Not in your owner’s warm hug.

"I tried to come back and visit to see if my teacher still had you, but I found out the school had been shut down by the city. They blocked it off and boarded it up." The sound of a crowbar getting tossed into a car trunk startles you, and you get squeezed a little tighter, "When I finally moved out, I knew I had to try. So I snuck in and thank goodness I found you!"

Between their warm fingers, you feel wetness.

"I couldn't stand to think of what would've happened if I hadn't done this tonight...with the scheduled construction..."

A car door opens and closes and you come to a rest, still cradled in their embrace. They wipe the dust off of you with their fingers and a sweater. In the stillness of the car, they bring you up to eye level and you see their face. It was streaked with tears, and older, but their eyes were filled with the same affection that you'd seen those many years ago when they created you. They could only belong to your owner.

You wanted to tell them. You wanted to scream out.

It's all ok now. You don't have to be sad. Just look at my polka dots! Just look at my dark blue coat and my yellow reins that you carefully crafted for me!

Remember why you made me?

Remember how much you love me?

Remember how much I love you?

You don’t need a voice to convey that kind of message, "Oh Polka!"

A kiss lands squarely between your eyes. For once, the infallible laws of the universe permit an exception, and the line of your lips curls up into a smile.

"I'm never going to let you go again."

Impassioned words are echoed through and through, and you feel your heart start beating again as the lifeblood of love courses through it.

As the last warm memory falls into place, the nightmare of your recent past is quickly forgotten. You were home now, and you had found your purpose.

Author's Note

This story was inspired by an image of what looked like a sad Christmas tree pony posted by anonymous on a drawing requests board. I couldn't stand it, so I had to write her a happy ending. I'm pleased to report that she's feeling much better now! Remember to be courageous and keep loving just like Polka!