Mosely OrangeView OnlineCrumbsMosely Orange Once upon a time, there were two foals named Hansel and Gretel who lived with their parents; a woodcutter and a housewife. The house wife told the woodcutter to take their foals into the woods and leave them there as they could not afford to keep them. Overhearing, the foals took several baked goods with them and left a trail of crumbs behind to follow back home. Unfortunately, the crumbs were eaten by birds and Hansel and Gretel were lost. Wandering the woods without direction, they came upon a cottage owned by a witch. The witch tried to eat them, but Hansel and Gretel managed to trick the witch and return home. The woodcutter, left alone by the loss of his wife who had died earlier, welcomed them back, glad they were safe. Then they lived happily ever after. Granny Smith rocked back and forth on her worn down rocking chair, the wood creaking in time to the light breeze that blew through the apple trees. The sun had begun its journey downwards, bathing the warm coloured leaves of the orchard in intense orange light causing the trees to look like they were ablaze. Appropriate considering her mood. Though the acres stretched far towards the horizon, Granny couldn’t have felt anymore claustrophobic. She loved her home, the farm, the trees, and everything that had been built by her family over the years, but recent events had made her wish that she could leave it behind for newer pastures far away from this place. The present had trapped her at a time when all she wanted to do was slip away into the past. Think of better times, when she felt that she could be happy instead of being on the cusp of breaking down at any moment. She shouldn’t be hiding out on the porch. She should be inside, being there for her family, tending to those swallowed in their grief. But, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, to go into that horrible house. To participate in the motions of mourning. She hadn’t even seen— no, she never would. Her dreams were haunted enough. A creak signified the opening of the front door followed by the soft click of it being closed. A yellow stallion with bright green mane sat beside her, hanging his hooves over the railing and staring out across the acres alongside her. Though normally a walking beam of sunshine, her nephew, Mosely Orange, was more akin to an overcast cloud, threatening to rain at any moment. “Can we talk for a moment, Granny?” Mosley asked. “I don’t know where you expect me to run off to if I don’t want to,” Granny curtly replied. “Don’t exactly gallop like I used to.” “It’s polite to ask.” “And ya couldn’t even be patient enough to wait until after all this was over?” “It’s important.” “So is letting an old mare have her peace,” Granny sharply retorted. Mosely flinched. Taking pity, Granny sighed and said, “What is it, Mosely?” “Well, I was trotting about the wa—” He coughed at Granny’s harsh glare “—house, trotting about the house, and I couldn’t help but notice that Applejack and Big Mac weren’t taking things very well.” A grunt of acknowledgement was all Granny offered as a reply. “Mac is technically an adult and I think he just wants to be left alone after Bright and Pear—” Another glare from Granny. “—After recent events,” Mosely corrected. “But Applejack is still young, and I was thinking, and, of course, you don’t have to agree, but if you think it would help, and I do want to make sure you’re okay with it and—” “I’ve seen a dog chasing its own tail get to the point sooner than you,” Granny interrupted. “Make like a dog and catch the darn thing or drop it.” “Can I take Applejack to Manehattan?” Granny whipped her head toward Mosely. Mosely leaned away from her, startled by the force of the motion. “You want to do what?!” Granny exclaimed in surprise. “No, actually have you asked her yet?” “Not yet,” Mosely answered. “I wanted to run the idea by you first before asking her since I wasn’t sure if you’d be willing to let her go.” “Course I wouldn’t want her to go!” Granny snapped. “What kind of uncaring grandmother do you take me for?!” She raised a hoof to stop Mosely from replying. “No, absolutely not. Her parents would never…” She trailed off as she took in her own words, a familiar sense of sadness enveloping her. “Look, Granny. I know this is hard for you, but we’re not trying to take her away from you. We, Citron and I, think that maybe it might do Applejack some good to get away from here for a while. Give you some time to sort things out with Mac and figure out where to go from here.” She wanted to respond by saying he had no right to butt in like this. To not stick his nose where it don’t belong. But she felt tired and her inner fire was beginning to die out in the wake of her own grief. “Give me some time to think it over,” Granny finally said. “I just want to be alone right now.” Mosely nodded. “I’ll leave you be then. Just let me know before the end of the service.” Granny looked back to the acres, the creak of the door signifying Mosely’s departure. She released a weary sigh. At no other time had she ever truly felt her age as in that moment. Nothing had felt right in the past few weeks and she didn’t feel it would get better any time soon. What was worse is that her grand foals felt it too. Her grandson had gone nearly mute. Her eldest granddaughter got angry at everyone and everything. Her youngest still had some of her usual cheerfulness, but that was born more from youthful innocence rather than any ability to cope. Speaking of, the creaking of the door followed by the thumps and pitter patter of hooves on wood brought a rare smile to Granny’s lips as she took in her newest visitor. The smallest apple, a rambunctious filly with a bright red bow on her head that was far too big for her, dragged an old worn book backward toward her. When she was within range, she turned around and dropped the book before Granny, looking up expectantly at her similarly to Winona when she was looking for a treat. “Whatcha got there, Sprout?” Granny asked bemusedly. “Story!” She cried out, raising her hooves up in glee. “And which one would you like to read to you?” “Story!” Bloom repeated. Chuckling, Granny scooped up both foal and book into her lap to the tune of her aching joints. “Definitely not so small anymore. Gonna be big as your sister at the rate you're going,” Granny remarked. “What story do you feel like listening to?” Opening up the book gently with her hooves, Apple Bloom turned the pages until it came upon a familiar story with an image of a gingerbread house under the title. “Hansel and Gretel, eh?” Granny smiled wistfully. “One of my favourites when I was your age.” Granny settled into her rocking chair, Apple Bloom nestled into the crook of her foreleg with the storybook held between Granny’s forehooves. “Once upon a time, there lived two foals named Hansel and Gretel,” Granny started. “Fine, go! Do that delivery you’re so keen to do.” Shaking her head to clear away the echo of a memory, Granny continued, “Their father loved them dearly, but his wife didn’t take kindly to them.” “We’re going, Ma. And I hope when we get back you’re ready to apologize for the way you acted.” “The wife told her husband to leave them in the woods, which he obeyed. But the foals overheard them talk and snuck several loaves of bread with them to leave a trail of breadcrumbs behind to follow home.” “Okay, you were right. I shouldn’t have— oh, excuse me, officers. I thought you my colt. What’s the problem?” “Unfortunately, the crumbs were eaten by crows and the foals were unable to find their way home, becoming lost in the woods.” “No, no! Bright! Pear! I’m sorry, just wake up, please! I’m sorry!” “As they wandered alone, they came upon a house made of gingerbread. They thought they had found a peaceful respite, but little did they know that a witch lived there who gobbled up lost foals.” “This can’t have happened! It can’t! I have to tell them I’m sorry!” “The witch invited them inside—” “That can’t be the last words I said to them! Give them back! Please, please, I’ll do anything! Just Give THEM—!” Granny slammed the book shut, fighting back the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes. Bloom looked up at her grandmother, concerned confusion on her face. “Granny?” She asked. “I’m fine, Sprout. Granny is just… not in the mood to read anymore.” She managed to bite back the sobs in her throat and calm herself down. “Maybe your brother Mac might be up to it.” Bloom frowned, her ears pinning to the back of her head. “Now, now, don’t give me that look. I’ll read to you another time, Sprout, promise. Just not today.” Dejectedly, Bloom got off of Granny’s lap, taking the book with her. She looked back hopefully, but upon not getting a different response, she began dragging the book after her, presumably to seek out her brother. Once she heard the creak of the door opening and closing, Granny finally let the tears and choked sobs go, hunched over in her chair. She mentally chided herself for her moment of weakness. The matriarch of the family didn’t lose herself over a fairytale. Even if she felt no small amount of jealousy at the woodcutter’s good fortune. If only her own life could have such a happy ending. Granny stretched back with a sigh, her mind wandering back to the horrid moment she had learned her foals were dead. The memory of seeing their mangled bodies from the storm that had taken their lives. It had been horrifying at the time, but now that she looked back, the bodies seemed wrong. Furrowing her brow in thought, she began to recall more details. She had thought they were her foals, but the colours of their coats had been off. The damage had been so severe that it was nearly impossible to identify them, so there wasn’t even a guarantee that it was them. And really, how many ponies had an apple or a jar for a Cutie Mark? Just amongst her present relatives in the house, there were at least a dozen with similar marks. It began to make much more sense to Granny. The coroner had been wrong. Her foals were still alive and probably just couldn’t find their way home. It struck Granny how terrible she was being by sitting there in her chair and not searching for her poor lost foals. She stared out over the acres, her mind coming back to the story she had read to Apple Bloom. As she recalled the details, her eyes widened as an idea came to her. A smile graced her face as a plan came together in her mind. She would have Bright and Pear back. And all she needed were some pies.
Big MacView OnlineCrumbsBig Mac Once upon a time, there were two foals named Bright Mac and Pear Butter who lived with their parents; a woodcutter and a housewife. The house wife told the woodcutter to take their foals into the woods and leave them there as they could not afford to keep them. Overhearing, the foals took several baked goods with them and left a trail of crumbs behind to follow back home. Unfortunately, the crumbs were eaten by birds and Bright Mac and Pear Butter were lost. Wandering the woods without direction, they came upon a cottage owned by a witch. The witch tried to eat them, but Bright Mac and Pear Butter managed to trick the witch and return home. The woodcutter, left alone by the loss of his wife who had died earlier, welcomed them back, glad they were safe. Then they lived happily ever after. Big Mac crunched through the snow, each hooffall leaving behind a deep pit. He’d had another growth spurt and he now towered over nearly all of his peers. He hated it. It was also cold out, the kind of cold that burrowed itself under a pony’s fur and chilled them to the bone. He hated that too. Also! His baby sister had been crying all morning for no reason and with AJ off in Manehattan which meant Mac had to handle it. He didn’t hate Apple Bloom, but he definitely hated how bad he was at caring for her. It was pretty obvious to Mac that his life wasn’t all that great between dealing with the deaths of his parents and the general requirements of being a farmer. Having to trudge through snow piled up to his fetlock was not helping matters, but, admittedly, at least it wasn’t bucking farmwork. The panic induced worry he felt was just an unfortunate addition to his reprieve from mundanity. A mundanity that had no end in sight. He never had time to talk to anyone anymore let alone hang out with and he was annoyed that he didn’t have an easy target to blame for this turn of events. Sure, there were two notable ones, but that was a line he wasn’t willing to cross no matter how bad his life got and he knew that if they were still around, they would never have chosen to inflict this kind of pain on him. Mac released a startled shout as he tripped over a taller than average snowbank, creating a Big Mac sized hole in the ground. He mentally cursed up a storm as he growled at the snow falling in from the edges and burying him in white. Teach ya for getting caught up in your own darn head, ya doofus, Mac thought. For those that had known him, Big Mac becoming near mute was not something that would have ever been expected of him. His total word count had gone down to barely three sentences worth in the last few months and his mental speaking had risen higher than when he’d been a chatterbox. He didn’t want to speak so lightly, but he just… didn’t want to talk aloud either. Clambering out of the hole and cursing his stupidity for not putting on any outerwear before racing off into the White Tail Woods, he happened to spy a strange sight past the snowbank he’d tripped over. It dipped into what seemed to have been a path prior to the snow fall and was littered with specks overtop small careful hoofprints. Moving his head closer to the ground to inspect, his eyes widened as he recognized the pieces as crumbled pie crust. Invigorated at finally finding what he had been looking for, Mac galloped down the path, following the trail. Puffs of white blew from his nose and mouth as he pushed himself to catch up to his quarry before he lost them. Just as his lungs began to burn and his legs began to weaken, he came upon his tightly bundled target. “Mac?” Granny Smith said, startled as she dumped a pile of crumbs from her saddlebag onto the ground. “What are you doin’ here?” Without answering, Mac trotted past his grandmother and planted his hooves on the other side of her, breathing heavily as he caught his breath and regained his strength. “What are you plannin’?” Granny narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Lowering his head, he pushed into his grandmother’s side with a loud grunt, slowly moving her back the way she’d come down the path. “What in tarnation?!” Granny exclaimed as she failed to keep her footing in the face of Mac’s raw strength. “Mac, stop it!” In lieu of an answer, Mac snorted. “Oh, you varmint!” Granny whacked Mac over the head with her saddlebags, spraying pie crumbs all over. “Knock it off!” “Ow,” Mac noted, rubbing the welt on his head with a hoof. He pouted. “Oh, don’t give me that look!” Granny reprimanded. “I didn’t raise you in a barn! You don’t move your elderly grandmother like a cart that got stuck in a mud hole, ya doofus.” Rolling his eyes, Mac pointedly glared at Granny then the saddlebags on her back. “What—” Granny sighed in exasperation. “Not this again! I don’t need you racing after me every time I want to go outside. ‘Sides that, how do you expect Bright and Pear to get back home if I don’t leave’em a trail to follow?” Mac felt his body stiffen as he heard his parents name, as he did every time Granny told him her purpose for being out in the woods. She had been doing it consistently every Sunday since the funeral and it was driving Mac mad with worry. But that wasn’t important. What was important was that he got Granny back home before Thunderlane got bored foal sitting at the house, took Apple Bloom off “adventuring”, and got them both covered in tree sap. Again. Bringing himself up to his full height, Mac glared down at his Granny releasing a heavy snort. “What exactly do you think that’s gonna do? I’m not going to be intimidated by my own grandfoal.” Mac deflated. “And I’m not going home until I finish off this batch. Gotta renew the trail since—” Granny noticed her empty saddlebags. “Oh, consarnit! Look what you did! How am I supposed to make the trail now?!” Scrunching his face up into something between a pout and a glare, Mac jerked his head back down the path toward home. “Nice try, but I’ll just do what I can with what I got.” Granny huffed. “Honestly, it’s like you don’t even want your parents to make it back.” Mac recoiled, his face screwed in pain. Granny ignored him, and adjusted her saddlebags back into their original position to be better able to spread crumbs. “Now, you can either go back by yourself or ya can stay and help me get this one,” Granny stated. He frowned at Granny’s ultimatum. She shouldn’t even be out in this cold. Not with her hip. Not with her age. Not when there was still so much to do at home and he was only one stallion. But mixed in with the frustration was a disgusting undercurrent of hope. A horrible part of him that wanted to believe Granny and throw pie crumbs around the woods so his parents would come back. But it wasn’t true. It was wrong to believe it. Life was hard enough as is and there was no sign of it getting better. Things sucked and they would for a long while, potentially forever. This whole endeavor was a waste of time and no number of pies was going to fix it. Despite all of this and with no small amount of disappointment with himself, Mac grabbed one of Granny’s bags and sowed a decent spread of crumbs about him. “Thank you kindly.” Granny smiled. “Now, let’s get this done so we can get you home. Not sure why you think you have the coat of a yak, but next time you should wear some clothes if you’re gonna come out here in this weather.”
ApplejackView OnlineCrumbsApplejack Once upon a time, there were two married ponies Bright Mac and Pear Butter who lived with their mother, the housewife. One day, the house wife said something unforgivable to her beloved daughter Pear Butter. Overhearing, her son, saddened by what the house wife had said, took several baked goods and left with his wife, leaving behind a trail of crumbs to follow back home. Unfortunately, the crumbs were eaten by birds and Bright Mac and Pear Butter were lost. Wandering the woods without direction, they came upon a cottage owned by a witch. The witch tried to eat them, but Bright Mac and Pear Butter managed to trick the witch and return home. The housewife, very apologetic for the horrible things she had said, welcomed them back with a heartfelt apology just glad they were safe. Then they lived happily ever after. Applejack stopped through the woods, wet grass squelching under hooves from the recent spring rains. She snorted every so often, muttering darkly under her breath as she followed a literal trail of pie crumbs deeper into the White Tail Woods. Granny had run off into the woods. Again. The fact that it apparently hadn’t been the first time had been the topic of one of several rather heated arguments she had had with her brother since she had returned from Manehattan. Though ‘argument’ was a bit of a strong descriptor since their conversations had been mostly her yelling and him just replying with either a facial expression, an ‘eeyup’, or an ‘eenope’. She certainly hadn’t been fond of her brother’s nonstop yapping, but she preferred that over whatever this newest habit was. It had only been three weeks since she’d come back and the only reason she never noticed this habit of Granny’s yet was that Mac would always go with her early in the morning to do sun knows what. All Applejack knew was that Granny left with saddlebags stuffed with pie crumbs and that she returned with them empty. Apparently, the bonehead had slept in that morning and granny had gone off without him. When Applejack had woken up her brother to ask about where Granny was, he’d explained her Sunday habit. When she’d panickedly asked why, Mac had just told her that it would be easier to just go ask Granny herself. Which is why Applejack was stomping through the woods. Mac might have been lenient, but she was going to get Granny to knock off this nonsense. She was too old to be gallivanting off in the forest. Besides, what could she possibly need to do in White Tail Woods with a bag of pie crumbs every Sunday? It was ridiculous! Tartarus or high water, Applejack would get her answer then drag her stubborn Granny back home and tell her to knock it off. Her ears perked as she heard humming from up ahead. Racing ahead, Applejack stumbled upon Granny, humming a wordless tune and tossing pie crumbs behind her as she went. “Granny!” Applejack shouted. “Good mornin’, Applejack,” Granny called back over her shoulder. “Come to help?” “No, I’ve come take you back home.” Applejack stomped forward until she was next to Granny. “What are you even doin’ out here?!” “Ain’t it obvious? Leaving a trail for your Ma and Pa to follow back home.” “Ma and— are you out of your mind?! They’re dead!” Applejack exclaimed. “Don’t speak ill of your parents,” Granny chided. “What will they think if they hear you saying that?” “I— What? Granny what are you goin’ on about? You sound more confused than Aunt Orange when she sees kumquats in the market.” “I’m leaving a trail of pie crumbs for Bright and Pear to follow back to the farm since they got lost fighting the witch.” Applejack stared intensely at her grandmother, her mouth in a firm line as several questions vied for her attention. She decided to ask the obvious one first. “How are they supposed to come back if they’re dead?” “Because they ain’t dead,” Granny retorted with a harsh glare. “Thought I told you to mind what you say?” “Are you—” Applejack shook her head. “You know what? I’ll play along. How are they supposed to follow a trial of pie crumbs? They’ll get swept away by the weather or eaten by critters.” “That’s why I redo the trail every Sunday using leftover crusts from Saturday.” “Right. And the witch? Whose that?” “The one that tried to kill them when they got lost, but failed,” Granny explained in a patient tone as if she were explaining a simple fact to a foal. “Tried to get’em good but there ain’t no way my son and daughter would fall for some old hag’s tricks.” “Okay, so let me see if I got all of this right. Ma and Pa got lost, defeated some witch and, to help them get back, you’re gonna leave a trail of pie crumbs in the middle of the woods for them to follow?” Granny nodded. “And you’re just gonna keep doin’ this until they show up?” Applejack took her hat off, breathed in deeply, shoved her mouth through the open end and screamed into it. “You’re gonna wreck your daddy’s hat doin’ that,” Granny commented. Shoving her hat roughly back onto her head, Applejack growled in frustration. “Course I’m gonna wreck it! Specially with that load of hooey!” “You can’t speak to your—” “I can speak how I want when my granny is acting nuts! And you know what? Go wander around in the woods!” Applejack threw her hoof in a random direction. “Get lost! See if I care!” Turning away, Applejack began to trot back the way she came. “Applejack, where are you going?!” Granny called out after her. “Home! I ain’t dealing with your malarky, Granny!” Applejack shouted back. “Come back here! That is no way to treat your grandmother! Applejack. Applejack!” Ignoring Granny’s calls, she continued her trek through leaves and dirt on her way back home. When she could hear Granny no longer and was sure no else was around to hear her, Applejack cried, letting the wind swallow the sound whole. Tears poured from her eyes as frustrated screams escaped her throat. She pummelled the earth below her hooves, willing it to make more sense, to right her life back on its correct course. When all her anger and sadness were finally spent, when only a feeling of numbness remained, she collapsed onto her rump and stared up at the blue sky overhead, her hat falling off and gently drifting down to the ground. It was a gorgeous morning. Fluffy white clouds, bright sunshine, and a forecast of clear skies for the day. She hated it.
Apple BloomView OnlineCrumbsApple Bloom Once upon a time, there were two married ponies Bright Mac and Pear Butter who lived with their mother Granny Smith. One day, Granny Smith said something unforgivable to her beloved daughter Pear Butter. Overhearing, her son, saddened by what Granny had said, took several baked goods and left with his wife on an early delivery to Trottingham, following the well worn trail. Unfortunately, the trail was destroyed by a sudden storm and Bright Mac and Pear Butter were lost. Wandering the woods without direction, they came upon a cottage owned by a witch. The witch tried to eat them and succeeded as Bright Mac and Pear Butter were no match for the witch. Granny Smith, very apologetic for the horrible things she had said, waited for them to come home, but they never did. Then Granny Smith never lived happily ever after. Apple Bloom didn’t really know what to make of the situation. She was old enough to understand something was wrong, but too young to understand the grief of losing her parents. Thus, on a hot summer day, Bloom found herself thoroughly confused by the three way standoff happening in the kitchen. She sat at the end of the Apple family dining room table. To Bloom’s left was Granny merrily baking apple pies while humming a wordless tune, a large stack of premade crusts towering next to her that was meant for purposes other than consumption. Baked apples permeated the room, made stronger by a light breeze that blew in from the open window. “Are you gonna use those ones for pies too?” Bloom asked as she pointed toward the stack of pie shells. “No, those are for tomorrow,” Granny replied. An angry snort caused Bloom to look to her right where Applejack tended to the dishes, washing each with an intense fervour and a glare that could scorch wood. “Waste of perfectly good crust,” Applejack muttered darkly. “What’s that?” Granny asked. “Can’t hear ya over the runnin’ water.” “It’s a waste,” Applejack repeated louder. “Maybe for those that don’t wanna see their parents again.” Applejack glared harder at the dishes as she muttered words low enough to be drowned out by the tap. The sound of a heavy sigh drew Bloom’s attention to the last member of the Apple family who sat at the opposite end of the table from her. Big Mac sat hunched at the table, his bulk squeezed into a ball of misery. The bags under his eyes were deep as was the burden on his back that caused it to sag when he trotted about the farm. She couldn’t understand it at the time, but, when she was older, she would learn that when Granny and Applejack were fighting, it became harder for the chores to get done. When that happened, somepony would have to put in extra work to ensure it was completed. Big Mac always ended up being that pony. One was cheerful in her delusions, one was angry at the other for ignoring reality, and the third was just desperately trying to keep everything together. But Bloom was too young to understand that. The part she did know was that her family was sad and she didn’t like that. “Story?” Bloom called out. Granny brightened considerably as Mac and Applejack both flinched at the request. “Certainly!” Granny happily exclaimed. “I’ll grab the book right after I finish up these pies.” “She don’t need those stories,” Applejack muttered. “Speak up,” Granny said. “She don’t need those stupid stories!” Applejack slammed her latest clean dish into a rack, rattling the whole piece from the force. “We already got one pony going crazy, we don’t need a second!” “And who exactly do ya think has gone crazy?” Granny narrowed her eyes. “Who else?!” Applejack shouted. “Mac barely says anything anymore—” Mac hung his head lower “—so I’m obviously talking ‘bout you!” “How dare you!” Granny angrily retorted. “You can’t talk to your granny like that!” “Don’t even give me that load of hogwash, you—!” The argument became muffled as Bloom snuck into the adjoining living room. Her ears were pinned to her head and guilt at starting their latest argument caused her to whimper quietly. She’d only wanted to make everyone happy, but instead made it worse. She had to fix this. Scanning the room for something to help, she was quickly disappointed by the drab room with nearly nothing but some old knick knacks and various momentos of the past. There were some puzzle boxes and books, but Bloom didn’t feel that anyone would be up for that at the moment. One item managed to pique her interest. A photo frame tucked neatly between some books in a night stand near the couch. Trotting over to it, she pulled it out and perked up as she took in the two smiling ponies in the dusty frame. She had only known them briefly, enough to know they were her parents and that they gave her a feeling of warmth and safety. Curiosity filled her as a desire to know them took over her thoughts. In a rush, she realized she could solve both her desire to know more about them and get her family to stop fighting. If everyone was busy telling her about them, then they couldn’t keep arguing with each other. Bloom rushed back into the kitchen, tuning out the ongoing argument between Granny and Applejack, and placed the frame onto the table with a wide grin on her face. “Look what I found!” Bloom exclaimed. All three members of the apple family turned to look at the youngest’s find. On looking, each reacted in a different way. Granny stared at the photo, eyes wide. She put a hoof to her mouth, the limb shaking from a turmoil of emotion. She started to say something, but couldn’t speak. Seemingly unable to handle the sight any longer, she shuffled out the kitchen door and onto the porch. Applejack was equally distressed, her facial expression a mixture of sadness and horror. Her mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. Mac, of all ponies, was the one to answer Bloom. “Where did ya find that?” He asked. “On the shelf,” Bloom answered, her tone uncertain. “Can ya tell me more about’em?” That was too much for Applejack. She raced out of the kitchen, past Bloom, and up the stairs, each step creaking as she climbed to the second floor. When the noise stopped, Mac cleared his throat. “We got a bunch of stories about’em.” “Can you tell me?” Bloom asked, a note of desperation in her plea. Silence fell between them. “Maybe when things get better,” Mac finally responded. “When?” Another silence stretched between them. In answer, Mac rose out of his chair and left through the door behind Bloom, the banging of the front door indicating his exit. Bloom hung her head at the table. Old enough to know something was wrong, too young to understand why. Tears fell from her face as Apple Bloom sobbed, the tears staining the wood.
Granny SmithView OnlineCrumbsGranny SmithC5: Granny Smith Once upon a time, there were two wonderful married ponies Bright Mac, a devoted father, and Pear Butter, the daughter Granny Smith treated terribly, who lived with their awful, horrible mother Granny Smith. One day, while throwing a toddler tantrum after a series of honest mistakes, Granny Smith said that an Apple wouldn’t mess up as much as Pear Butter did. Overhearing, her son rightfully tore a strip out of his own mother who deserved it, and decided to do the Trottingham delivery a day earlier with his wife. They departed immediately with that no good varmint Granny Smith stubbornly refusing to apologize despite feeling awful about having even thought to say such a terrible thing. Telling Granny to wise up, they departed for the White Tail Woods, taking the well worn trail to their destination. Unfortunately, the trail was destroyed by a sudden storm and Bright Mac and Pear Butter found themselves lost. They desperately sought out shelter, but they instead came upon a mountainside. A landslide happened. It killed Bright Mac and Pear Butter. Their awful, horrible mother who took her grandfoals’ parents away from them, received their mangled bodies from the guard and hated herself everyday for what they had done. Then Granny Smith never forgave herself and lived in misery forever after. As she should. Granny rushed out the door, the wood slamming against its frame as she galloped into the orchard. She pushed through her weak lungs and old limbs as she ran to the White Tail Woods, sheer panic driving her forward. Apple trees turned into open fields and finally into tall maples in the midst of shedding their leaves for the coming winter. She slowed to a canter then a stop on the worn path, grinding her hooves into the dirt as she caught her breath. Her head swiveled about as she did, desperately searching for something. When she couldn’t find it, she allowed her rump to collapse to the ground, hopelessness beginning to settle over her. As she wallowed in her misery, a spark of determination lit up inside her. She forced herself back onto her tired hooves, and drew in a deep breath. “Apple Bloom!” Granny screamed out into the woods. No answer was given. Unwilling to give up, Granny galloped blindly into the trees, crashing through shrubbery and past low hanging branches as she continued to call out for her youngest grand foal. She’d find her. She wouldn’t lose another. She couldn’t lose another. Stumbling over a root, Granny fell to the ground with a thump, a twinge of pain lancing through her bad hip. Ignoring the pain, she pushed herself to a sitting position and readied to call out again. “Apple Bloom!” Granny cried. “Granny!” Granny turned toward the sound as two ponies raced out of the thicket. Both showed signs of relief before one morphed into seething rage. “Applejack! Big Mac! Thank Sun, you’re here. I need—” “What the hay, Granny!” Applejack shouted. She stomped towards the elder, grinding her teeth in frustration. “What do you think you’re doing tearing off into the woods at your age?!” “I-I had to,” Granny stuttered out. “She’s missing.” “Who’s missing?” Applejack asked. “B-Bloom,” Granny said, her body shaking. “She wasn’t—” The words caught in her throat “—She’s gone!” “She was hiding in the cellar, you, you—!” Applejack growled in anger, turning away from Granny to vent her frustrations onto the nearby ground. At the words, Granny felt tears of relief pour from her eyes. She clutched her chest with her hooves. “Oh thank, Sun,” She said. Soft hoofsteps approached her. “Why’d ya think she was out here?” Big Mac asked. “I couldn’t find her in the house and I panicked,” Granny explained. “I’d already lost two foals to—” She stopped “—I-I mean ponies get lost in these woods all the time and, since Bloom likes to play—” Applejack whipped her head around, triumph on her face. “You admit it!” She shouted. “You know Ma and Pa are dead!” “AJ,” Big Mac chided. “No!” Applejack stomped her hoof. “She’s been doing this stupid pie crust trail thing for nearly a year and I’m sick of it! If she don’t even believe it—” “I do believe it!” Granny defended. “They’ll come back. They have to!” “They. Are. Dead!” Applejack seethed. She stomped towards Granny, shoving her face against hers. “They aren’t!” “How do you know?!” “Because they just can’t be!” “That’s not how this works!” “AJ,” Big Mac chided again, his voice growing in intensity. Shooting a glare to her brother, Applejack retorted, “Lay off, Mac! I’m getting to the bottom of this.” She returned to Granny. “Why can’t they be dead, Granny? How are those bodies at the funeral not real? Why do you keep insisting—” “Because my last words to my own daughter can’t have been that she wasn’t an Apple!” Granny screamed. Applejack stepped back startled, an expression matched by Mac. Granny released a terrible grief stricken scream as words began to spill from her mouth. “She might not have been of my own blood, but she was family and I-I told her—” A sob tore through her. “She left thinking that I thought she wasn’t family. Because I had an off day and acted like a git to my own kin. Ya asked who the witch is? “It’s me. I’m the witch. I’m the one they were running from and now they’re gone.” Granny huddled in on herself, her regrets overflowing from her as she let out the grief she had been containing. Bright and Pear were dead. They weren’t coming back. She knew that. But she didn’t want to believe it. “I killed your parents, my own foals, because I’m a horrid pony. If I hadn’t said what I did, if the shipment had gone out on the day it was supposed to, they’d still be here. It’s all my fault.” A quiet descended upon them, broken only by Granny’s sobbing. The one to break it, was the one most unlikely to. “I thought it was my fault,” Mac whispered. Both Applejack and Granny turned to Mac, his eyes on the verge of tears. “What do ya mean, Mac?” Applejack asked. “Pa got mad cause I told him I didn’t wanna be on the farm anymore,” Mac explained. “I thought he was so angry with me, he couldn't stand being around and left with Ma to Trottingham early.” “T-that’s—” Granny started. “Crazy!” Applejack interrupted. “That ain’t the reason they left early. He woulda calmed down and talked to ya about it later. You know Pa is the type to think things through first.” “He was real mad, AJ.” “Couldn’t have been more mad with you than me, since I’m why they left,” AJ retorted. Mac stared at AJ blankly, confusion clear on his face. “Why do you think that?” Granny asked. “Got mad with Ma for not letting me go out with friends. Told her she was the worst,” Applejack spat out bitterly. “What kinda daughter tells that to her Mom?” “She wouldn’t have held it against you,” Mac said. “Your mother was too forgiving for that,” Granny added. “Yeah, well, she still left with Pa.” Applejack sniffled, rubbing her nose with a hoof. “And now neither of ’em are coming back.” The wind blew through the woods, rustling the warm coloured leaves. It was the only sound amongst the three stationary figures who settled into their grief and guilt. Their beliefs in who was truly at fault for the loss they all felt. “We said a lot of things we regret,” Granny said, breaking the silence. “They didn’t deserve it,” Applejack bitterly added. “And now we can’t apologize for it,” Mac commented. “I—” Granny sobbed, “—I’m so sorry. To both of you. And Bloom. I’ve been chasing this… hope that it was all some lie and that they would be back, but all I ended up doing was hurting all of you.” “I shouldn’t have gotten mad with you,” Applejack said. “I was acting like a real varmint.” “And I should have talked to you about it!” Applejack retorted. “I should have talked you through it and then maybe… maybe we coulda already dealt with all of this.” “I wasn’t ready to,” Granny morosely replied. “I still felt awful about what I’d said and couldn’t face the consequences of it.” “But I was acting like a total doofus!” “We are all acting like that,” Mac commented. He smirked. “Apple doofuses to the core.” Granny and Applejack snorted. “New family motto.” Applejack giggled. “Carve it in wood and hang it right over the fireplace,” Granny added. “Gonna be hard to explain that one at the next family reunion,” Mac said. They all released a sharp bark of laughter which quickly turned into bales of it. When they calmed down, Granny lifted herself, biting back the pain in her rear, and opened her hooves to her two grand foals. In answer, they walked into their grandmother’s embrace, letting themselves be enveloped, and released the tears they had been holding back as they cried into her fur. It would be a while longer before the tears stopped, and an even longer while still before they were able to pull away from each other. But when they did, there would be an unspoken forgiveness between them, a silent acknowledgement of their shared pain. The grief would never truly go away, just dull with time. But, together, they would forge ahead, planting new seeds out of damaged soil for it to one day sprout into something akin to true happiness. Because that was what the Apples did. They pulled together and they pushed through. Stronger together than alone.
CrumbsView OnlineCrumbsCrumbsC6: Crumbs Once upon time in an apple orchard at the edge of Ponyville, there was an elderly pony named Granny Smith who lived with her three grand foals Big MacIntosh, Applejack, and Apple Bloom. She regretted a lot of things, especially the final words she had told her daughter Pear Butter. Though she would never be able to apologize, Granny Smith had decided that she would earn her forgiveness by ensuring the happiness of her grandfoals in their parent’s stead. In honour of that vow, Granny would bake several apple pies every Sunday to share between family. Whether that be just their small herd or include the ponies closest to them. No matter whom they may be, all were welcome as kin at Sweet Apple Acres. After every meal, Granny would always grin and cheekily tell her assembled guests that they should keep the pie crumbs. So they would always be able to make a trail to follow back home.
