On moving and standing still
I’d like to think they do
~Today I met you.I am not proud of this~
Moonlight came through the windows filtered through wispy tendrils of mist. Siggy yawned, a quiet squeak escaping through her thin lips. She blinked away the fatigue, redoubling over her desk with practised determination. She dragged the pen across paper, barely comprehending the words she scratched out. The open window had allowed an almost intolerable chill to settle across the room, but she felt no urge or rush to get up and close it. If anything, the bitter chill only served to hone her focus.
A pale, almost sickly illumination emitted from her little desk light, barely revealing anything in the room beyond her work station. Half finished projects, sketches and stories lay scattered in the receding darkness, disgusting reminders of broken promises and self interested decisions. A grand tapestry of dead ideas and rotting dreams, sprawled all around her in dizzying patterns.
Glancing upwards, she took note of her reflection in the fogged up glass of the window. Ruffled grey fur stuck up in odd directions all across her body, strong, or sharp facial features, a pair of thin, tired blue eyes that peered down the bridge of a long nose. Her mane hung limp across thin shoulders.
She squinted, watching as the marred reflection of a ghost peered back curiously at her.
*
I’ve been thinking about ponies from my past recently.
They are all ponies I used to apologise to for simply being myself.
*
No matter how many years passed, he always managed to catch her off guard. She inhaled sharply, unable to drag herself away from the ghost in the lamplight. She blinked furiously, and a second later he was gone. Siggy shook her head and scoffed, dismissing her tired eyes as simply playing tricks on her. Perhaps the continuous long nights of solitude were starting to get to her? She didn’t even know how long it had been since she’d seen another pony in the flesh.
Had it been days? Weeks even? She couldn’t be sure. The days bled into one another, each one as tedious and monotonous as the one before. She didn’t care all to much for keeping track.
Visibly rattled, Siggy pushed her chair backwards, pulling the curtains tightly shut with a quick burst of mana. She swallowed a guilty lump in her throat, choosing instead to direct her mind to sunnier, far warmer destinations. She hummed quietly to herself as she sauntered across her workroom and towards the kitchen, content with pretending that her empty stomach had broken her concentration.
She busied herself with preparing a small meal. Nothing too fancy, just boiled pasta with pesto and tomatoes. She poured herself a small glass of red wine as she waited for the water to come to a boil, allowing her mind to wander along errant destinations.
She sighed discontentedly, eyes moving along the wall to land on the various framed photos of her old friends from school. She glanced along the photos, a smile made of paper hanging off her tongue. Snapshots of tangled bodies, laughing faces and strange midnight adventures stared back at her, time stood frozen in glossy ink. The memories were hers, and she could recall every single moment the camera had captured in crystal clear clarity.
But she wasn’t there, not really. She never had been.
Instead, a young colt, with a scraggly mane and braces, smiling like an idiot, stood in her place. An overwhelming feeling of guilt ripped through her soul.
*
The strange thing is, I haven’t seen them in years.
Not even in dreams.
And in truth, I didn’t owe them an apology.
The only apology I’ve left unpaid is to you.
*
Siggy felt the familiar urge to bolt, keep running until her head made sense once again. It wouldn’t matter though. She couldn’t let go of the thought that, even after all these years, she hadn’t really grown or changed all that much from when those photos were taken. That despite everything that had happened, beneath the surface, beneath the clothing and the makeup and the practised smiles and poise, not a single day had passed. The thought upset her, sending a cold, uncomfortable shiver down her spine. She tried tearing her eyes away from him, but he proved as inescapable as always.
A freckled face, huge grin full of teeth. A dark mane and tail, scraggly and unkempt, framing a pale grey face. A lazy arm clung across a friend's shoulders, bright eyes gazing warmly at the camera.
Siggy bit her bottom lip, frowning.
*
You’re dead.
I pushed you away.
Disowned you.
Drowned you out.
*
She expected to feel something, but her mind was a blank slate, her heart grasping listlessly into an unending void. She scrunched her face at the photograph, leaning inwards for a closer inspection, pale eyes blinking at the glossy, too perfect image.
*
Are you still a foal?
Or did you become an adult, like me?
Do ghosts grow up with us?
Do they learn and change and love?
Or are they trapped in who they are?
*
Siggy mouthed a name she’d long forgotten, the words dying just short of being spoken. As she stood staring at the image, the familiar clawing sensation of guilt built in the pit of her stomach.
It was irrational, she knew that. She was still the same pony as the one in the photograph. They shared one another’s dreams, their likes and dislikes, their loved ones, they had the same smile…
*
I can’t help from wondering what you would have looked like as a young stallion.
How you would have spoken.
Who your friends and loved ones would be.
What you would have done with your life.
*
Siggy tore herself away from the wall, stifling a cry as she stumbled out of the kitchen. She fumbled clumsily against the front door lock, stumbling out and into the small garden beyond.
She fell to the ground with a panicked breath, holding her head between her knees as she fought to get her breathing under control again. Something akin to the sound an injured animal would make finally escaped her lips, filling the otherwise peaceful night with its haunting noise. Tears filled her eyes, dripping down onto her trembling limbs.
*
I’m sorry.
If I could take back what I did to you, I would do so in a heartbeat.
I was scared, confused and alone.
I didn’t know who I was.
*
She remained where she was for longer than she cared to remember. She stared upwards from her prone position, the speckled fires of the night sky reflected in the dark pools of her eyes. The air was cooler outside, and it allowed her to think clearly, perhaps for the first in months.
Allowing herself a moment to breathe, she eventually picked herself back up onto her hooves. She brushed off the loose dirt and leaves that had stuck to her fur, and slowly made her way back inside. She pulled the door shut behind her, not checking to see if it even closed all the way.
It didn’t matter.
*
Whatever the truth is, I dearly hope you grew up.
Like I have.
But I can’t keep apologising.
*
Siggy sat down at her desk, a few fresh sheets of paper laid out in front of her. She lifted her mane out of the way of her eyes, tying it up in a loose bun. Her horn flickered with mana, and she slowly lifted a pen over the pages.
She took a deep, measured breath, and began writing.
*
I’ve apologised enough.
*