The Broken House

Midnight Lancer was awoken by the full day sun shining through the window of his bedroom, and by the sounds of knocking from the floor below him.

Groaning, he sat up in bed, running his forehooves through his tussled mane. Sparing a hoof, he reached over to the window, pulling a single ratty curtain out in front of the sunlight. Rubbing an eye, he flexed his neck, popping several joints as the sound of knocking continued from downstairs.

He considered simply staying in bed, pretending like he wasn't home, and letting whoever was knocking simply walk away. However, as the knocking ramped up in intensity. Slight taps turned into heavy thumps, and Lancer eventually growled and worked his way out of his sheets. Shouting, he said "Alright, alright! I'm coming!"

Making his way down the stairs, he frowned as he could literally see the imprints of his hooves from the previous night in the dust on the floor. The house was just as big of a mess on the inside as it was on the outside. In the foyer, outdoor furniture had been roughly brought in and stacked on top of each other, shielding it from the rain but blocking off an entire portion of the sitting area. To the left of the stairs was an arch heading into a dining room and an extended lounge area, with a television and a radio. The wall the archway sat next to was filled with old photographs. He grimaced at the sight of her staring back at him, but was more concerned by the wall the photographs themselves were hung on.

The wall had swollen, with big lumps and bubbles showing through the cracks. Water damage. That was going to be an... expensive job. If he wanted the job done in the first place.

Opening the busted door, a moustached face greeted him on the other side, along with a raised hoof mid-knock. Giving him a nervous smile and lowering his hoof to adjust an orange hard hat, the stallion greeted him, "Ah, uh... Midnight Lancer, is it?"

"Yeah..." Lancer said, orange hard hats and yellow high-vis catching his eye from his periphery. Just outside the overgrown fences of the house, a group of other workers were sitting next to a wagon, packing up a large ladder.

"We're from the utility company," the stallion explained, "I wanna apologize. The Mayor wanted us to reconnect your utilities by yesterday, but a fallen tree busted a line yesterday and..." the stallion shook in an outward show of annoyance, "It was a whole headache. Anyway, I had to come onto your property and make sure your circuit breakers were all off so that the surge didn't break anything in your home. I'll go and switch it back on now..." he began to step back from the door.

"W-Wait wait wait," Lancer held up a hoof, "I uh. I haven't paid the reconnection fee yet, I forgot..."

The electrician paused mid-step, turning his head to look at him, "Oh, no problem. We'll just lump it in with next month's bill. Free of interest. The mayor wanted a nice welcome-back to the community! Sorry if I made you stumble around in the dark at all!"

"No that's... fine..." Lancer said, rather dumbfounded as the electrician stepped off and walked around the patio. A moment later, and the light suddenly flickered on in the foyer behind him.

Stepping back into sight, the electrician gave a short wave as he began to trudge through the wild grass, "We turned your water mains back on as well! Might want to make sure nothing's leaking!"

"Thanks!" He shouted after him. The stallion gave a wave of acknowledgement in return. Muzzle scrunched up and eyes narrowed, he watched as the utility ponies loaded back up on the wagon and shoved off back up the road.

Taking their advice, Lancer walked back through the home. Flicking on lights, there were only a few burned out bulbs and no real electrical faults, thank Celestia. Trying faucets, showers, tubs, and flushing a few toilets. While the first gouts of fluid splashed from the pipes were thick, brown, and foul smelling, eventually clear water poured forth from the plumbing. Washing off, Lancer once again took a look at the expired soap and hummed.

Unless he was planning on turning around and boarding the train back for Canterlot right now, which now felt rude in the wake of the mayor's kindness, he would need things. Soap, toothpaste, and... probably some food. His stomach was seizing on itself. Food sounded really good. Maybe he could check out what the restaurants were like in the area.He hoped there were hay burgers.

Flying helped to clear his mind, especially as the house disappeared behind the hills behind him. The hour long walk from the town was reduced down to around a fifteen minute fly.

Despite himself, he had to admit that the countryside of Ponyville was absolutely picturesque, and was even more so from above. The bright summer sun covered fields of grain, lively orchards that dotted the hilly landscape, and sparkling rivers and lakes rushing between them all coming down from the foothills of the Canterhorn. Flocks of birds flew between groves, orchards, and from the dark Everfree Forest miles to the southeast.

One of the major rivers snaked through the center of the tiny town up ahead, running past Lancer all the way to a nearby escarpment, where a giant dam had been built. Steel pylons carrying cables stretched out from the hydroelectric plant, eventually turning into wooden poles that fed into individual homes and farms. The steel pylons mainly journeyed north, carrying power to the big city.

Pegasi moved between the clouds up ahead. Some were wearing high-vis utility vests as they worked on the clouds around a central weather depot. A few Cloudominiums were positioned in strategic, low-wind locations near the edges of town. The weather depot was streaming some fumes into the atmosphere, likely the end result of some rainbow mixing. There was probably a storm being brewed as well.

Bleeding off some speed, Lancer made his approach to Ponyville proper. Landing on the cobblestone pavement of the town square, he scratched his head as he looked around.

There was a pop-up market in the square, with stalls and tents laid out in an array of bright colors, made to pry the eye away from the payment and towards their wares. Fresh vegetables, fruits, and hoof-made goods were all laid out. Walking between the tents, wide-eyed, he saw huge leafy heads of broccoli, mouth-watering carrots, baskets full of heads of lettuce, spices, grains, pears, apples, oranges, strawberries... he wasn't a big fan of anything that wasn't burger-shaped or served ready on a plate, but the fresh goods were certainly tantalysing.

"Buy some apples!" a small voice shouted from by his hoof.

Stopping and looking down, he met eyes with a small, yellow earth filly with a brilliant rose red mane. She stared up into his soul with bright, round orange eyes.

"U-Uh..." Lancer stuttered, looking up at a nearby stall. It was a wooden wagon-mounted stall, made to be carted around. An orange earth pony mare with a stetson negotiated (or was it chatted?) with some customers. The stall was wreathed with baskets filled to the brim with bright, whole apples.

"Can I interest you in some apples, sir?" the filly repeated, tapping his leg, as if Lancer didn't hear her the first time.

"I mean," Lancer looked at the apples, "They do look good."

"Then buy some apples! Give in to your lust for their juicy, fruit flesh!" the filly pressed.

"Uh..." Lancer began to back up, and the tiny salespony began to encroach on his rout.

"Listen to the call of your stomach! Observe the whispers of succulent quality, non-GMO policy, and gluten free harvesting-!"

"Apple Bloom!" a voice shouted from the stall, "Stop scaring our customers!"

Lancer stopped backing away from the small filly at the sound of the adult voice, the filly pausing her incessant advance towards him. They both looked over the stall, one pair of eyes terrified and one disappointed.

"But I almost had him on the hard sell!" 'Apple Bloom' moaned.

"I mean I-" Lancer started.

"And the apples aren't GMO free, Apple Bloom. They're hybrid. That's genetically modified by principle!" the older mare scolded, interrupting him.

"I mean I would've bought the apples either way..." Midnight mumbled, rubbing the back of his mane.

Both the adult and filly's eyes immediately went over to Lancer. The smaller of the two, however, reacted first. Wrapping her tiny hooves around his foreleg, she began to drag Lancer forward towards the stall, her hind legs windmilling at almost a blur. To his shock, he began to slide forward despite his want to stay where he was, his hooves dragging through the cobblestones behind him.

"Told ya it'd work, Applejack!" Apple Bloom grunted, sweating as she dragged the fully grown stallion behind her, "What kinda apples you lookin' for, sir?"

'Applejack' gave a disappointed look towards her... daughter? Baby sister? Probably the latter. Turning up towards Lancer, who was finally let go, she apologized, "Sorry about that..."

"No, no it's fine. Uh..." Lancer looked down at the apples in front of him awkwardly. He was used to them having stickers on them, speaking to their breed and pricing. The only things on them, instead, were painted prices on the sides of the buckets.

Apple Bloom strolled to the side of the stall, standing there and puffing out her chest as if she was important. After a moment of awkward silence, Applejack eventually said, "Uh. Well. What can I do ya for? Galas? Roses? Pink Lady? Granny Smiths?"

"Uh..." Lancer blinked, "Red."

"Red?" Applejack quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, uh, red..." Lancer nodded slowly, eyes drifting away from her gaze.

"Red. Right..." Applejack took several deep breaths, before calmly reaching down and getting a paper bag. Loading it with 'red apples' from one of the buckets, she said, "Pink Ladies. Quarter of a bushel?"

"Sure," Lancer nodded, reaching for his wallet, "How much?"

Placing it on a scale, Applejack did some maths in her head, "Five bits."

Lancer proffered the correct amount of coins and the bag of apples passed hooves. Applejack smiled, "Good doing business with ya, sir. Sorry again if my lil' sis spooked ya."

"No no!" Lancer swore off, placing the apples into his saddlebag, "I was out looking for groceries anyway. So, uh, yeah..."

"Are ya new here, mister...?" Applejack asked.

"Midnight Lancer," he answered, "And yeah."

"Oh, well looks like I might have to clear my schedule for tonight," Applejack said, adjusting her position behind the counter.

Midnight quirked an eyebrow. His ear twitched as he heard the sound of a... trombone, bearing down on him? Turning towards the sound, he saw a pink dot, on a pink bike, rapidly approaching his location. Blasting on the trombone like it was a high-powered combustion engine, the dot came closer to show a pink mare simultaneously riding a bicycle and pouring all of her breath into the trombone.

The trombone paused momentarily, allowing the rider to reach into a sack and throwing a bundle of paper directly at Lancer's face. With a slap, the paper smashed at mach-one into his muzzle.

The trombone continued as the bike zoomed onwards, down another side street. The blasting of the wind instrument stopped for the user to shout, "YOU'VE BEEN SEEERVED!!"

The paper slowly fell from Lancer's face, revealing his blinking eyes and scrunched muzzle. Looking down to the paper as it drifted to the floor, he got the chance to read what was on the front.

"WELCOME TO PONYVILLE PARTY - (The birthday pony is you) - You're invited! Town Square, tomorrow, 6PM"

"It's... not my birthday tomorrow.. or today," Midnight muttered.

Applejack, who was leaning casually onto her forehoof on the counter, "She knows."

"What."

"I really wouldn't be surprised if she knew the birthday of every single pony in Equestria," Applejack said, adjusting her hat as if it was just another Tuesday, "Heck. Granny Smith dun' remember her own birthday no more, but Pinkie does."

"So..." Lancer reached down for the paper and held it up, "Why did she invite me... to my own birthday?"

"Not yer birthday. It's pretty clearly your Welcome to Ponyville Party. Says right there on the top, don't it?" Applejack leaned over, tapping the title on the top of the invite, "I would suggest you come. She gets real... quirky when ponies don't come to her parties."

Lancer wilted slightly, "I'm uh, not really... uh, really up for a big party right now..."

"Eh," Applejack shrugged, "Suit yerself. Just gonna warn ya, if you don't go to the party, the party tends to come to you in the end."

Apple Bloom waved her forehooves in front of her spookily, "OoooooooooooooOOooOOoooooo!"

"Uh..." Lancer's nervous smile twitched, and he raised a wing to wipe some sweat from his brow, "I'll uh... get going now..."

"Have a good one!" Applejack wished, turning to another customer waiting to approach the counter.

Pausing, Lancer turned his head, "Hey, uh, real quick: can you drink from the taps here?"

"As long as you're on the main pipeline, yep," Applejack confirmed.

With a final thankful nod towards the farmpony, Lancer explored the town. He found a proper supermarket and entered through its automatic doors, relaxing as the more familiar environment of air conditioning and electric lighting enveloped him. Picking up some sundry items, including soaps, shampoos, dish soap, cleaning supplies, cereal, a loaf of bread, some chocolate butter, a bottle of milk, and an extra large pack of cheese.

Leaving the supermarket, he cruised around through the streets for a bit longer. Coming across a hardware store, he suddenly remembered the burned out lightbulbs in her house. Walking in through the doors of "Hay's Hardware", he picked up a new broom and mop, a few boxes of spare lightbulbs, and trash bags.

Walking out of the store, heavily laden with supplies, the next place he looked for was a place to eat. That's when he spied it: The Hay Burger on the edge of town square. Staring for only a moment, he began to rapidly approach its front doors, eyes wide and extra attention being made to inhale through his nostrils. Greasy, fried smells radiated through its open doors, promising comfort food and cheap hunger busting.

Hay Burger was a classic diner. Red and white coloring dominated the environment, from the checkered tiles below him and the multi-colored chairs and stools in the seating booths and along the bar. A glass cabinet showed off huge tubs of ice cream, and a drinks cooler hummed behind the counter.

Dragging a mop and broom behind him, whose handles clicked and clacked across the tiles on the floor. Wings unfurled and rapidly glancing around, he walked between the seating booths, filled with customers. Standing at the back of the short line extending out from the register, manned by a shabby pink unicorn with a carrot dog cutie mark, Lancer looked up at the array of panels above the counter displaying the different meals available for purchase.

Eventually, his turn in line came up. Standing there, laden with cleaning supplies, smelling faintly of disinfectant, and nearly frothing at the mouth, the checkout operator stared at him, slightly perturbed.

"Can I get a, uh, double hayburger with onions?" Lancer started.

The checkout mare blinked, before inputting his order so far into the register, "Any sides or drinks?"

"Uhm..." Lancer started, looking back up at the menu, "I guess the sides would be some... potato fries. Yeah just fries would be good."

"Takeaway or dine in?"

"Takeaway," he nodded.

With the ring of a bell, the order was finished, "Six bits."

The currency changed hooves, no questions asked. A moment later, he was awkwardly taking off again heading towards her home, slightly off-kilter by the weight of the broom and mop on his back, he took to the skies. The sun was now just a bit past high noon, and the summer heat was beginning to get truly baking. He regretted not getting a drink, and occupied himself with eating while he flew instead.

Fortunately, as he neared his house, he realized that with the power restored the ceiling fans would be functioning again.

However, his feelings changed as the house actually became near. The slouching, grey home almost seemed to suck the color from the day. With a sigh, he came to land past the overgrown gate. The house only creaked at him in greeting as he walked up to the patio, the wind blowing through its bulging rafters and peeling paint. Looking over his shoulder, he felt the feeling of low pressure overtaking the environment around him. Dark clouds were being shuttled out from the weather depot, just like he'd predicted earlier.

With a sigh, he pushed the door open and walked inside, casting his full saddlebags onto the nearby kitchen counter and letting the broom and mop fall lazily onto the floor behind him. Opening the fridge, he waved his hoof inside and felt nothing. The fan wasn't on, and neither was the light. Fortunately, all the contents of the fridge had been cleared a long time ago, but he wasn't putting perishable goods in there any time soon.

He frowned, leaning around the fridge's body and bracing himself against its side. Hauling backwards slightly, his well trained muscles easily pushed the giant appliance aside and revealed the plug and socket behind it. The switch on the wall was turned off, and he leaned down to flick it back on. However, as he did so the socket sparked with a nasty, grating sound, zapping his hoof. He retracted his limb with a hiss, fortunately having been unable to push the switch all the way and preventing the broken socket from being stuck on. Disappointed, he pulled the plug from the wall. The fridge probably didn't work either.

He opened his fries, putting it on the bed of a nearby lawn chair and taking a hoofful to stuff in his mouth as he yanked the cord on a ceiling fan. Standing there, he immediately regretted his decision as the wind in the room kicked up every spare flurry of dust the floor and furniture had to offer. Letting out a sneeze, Lancer walked over to a window and opened it, letting the dust begin to filter out of the house.

Sitting on a nearby armchair, right next to the stacked patio seating, Lancer sighed as he continued to eat. The sun began to disappear from the window and over the course of his slow meal, the room began to properly darken. At the very least, the kicked up dust dispersed, and the room cooled down.

A hollow, cardboard sound came from the empty takeaway container as he tried to root through it for more fries without looking. After confirming his meal was, indeed, all gone, he slouched. Getting up, he walked to his door and pushed it shut, before crouching to pick up his broom and mop.

Any good mood he'd been in while in town was quashed as he leaned the mop properly next to the fridge and took the broom. Hovering slightly, he began to sweep the thick curtain of dust on the floor, only to pause moments after.

Looking around, he saw the blanket of dust and scum lying on top of the furniture and the countertops. He saw the cobwebs on the ceiling, and the grime on the windows. He had to finish those first, so that he didn't sweep dust out onto clean floors. Then he had to find a bucket, mop... but he'd also probably want to move all the furniture out of the way first... had she even had rags? Where would she have kept them? Would they still be usable after all this time?

He looked around him. He imagined if Ponyville was a bigger city, hungering for expansion, it would have condemned this shambling ruin a long time ago. It was a miracle that powering the building hadn't caused an electrical fire. He wondered just how long it would be before he'd find leaks everywhere, a flooded bathroom. Hell, how long would it be until the roof itself just up and fell on top of him?

It was all just... such a big job. Would six months even be long enough to get the entire place fixed up? Any logical homeowner would just have the place bulldozed, sell on the land, and upgrade apartments out into the city. He... couldn't do that. But, he couldn't just let the house fall apart either.

He let the broom fall to the floor with a clatter, a small puff of dust cast up by its impact. His breath hitched as he reached up and ran a hoof through his mane.

Photographs stared at him from the wall, illuminated by the dusky, overcast light coming through the kitchen window. She was everywhere in here. Her soaps were in the bathroom, her door sat in the wall, the trellis he'd wait for her by was under her window, her candles were laid out in his room and on the table, and her memories hung from every open space.

He found himself at the foot of the stairs. It was a seat where he couldn't see the photographs, but he could still catch his breath.

There was a knock at the door.

Looking up, he wiped his cheeks and got off the stairs, offering an unintentionally weak, "Coming..."

The latch was still broken on the front door and only a pull on the handle was necessary to open it. Two faces met him on the other side of the door. One belonged to a sunny yellow mare with a carrot orange, poofy mane and green eyes. The other belonged to a cerise mare, also with green eyes, and a light pink mane. The latter carried a basket covered with a small cloth between her teeth, the fresh smell of something baked drifted from it.

"Hi. Mr. Lancer, is it?" the yellow mare asked.

"Yeah..." Lancer mumbled, quickly sniffing some snot back through his nose.

"Hi. My name's Carrot Top, and this is my housemate Cheerilee," 'Carrot Top' introduced, "We're your neighbors from up the road. Sorry we didn't come sooner, we only heard you'd moved back in from the utility ponies this morning!"

Spitting out the basket into an extended forehoof, 'Cheerilee' held it out towards him, "Carrot baked something for you, and I brought something over from my garden."

"Oh..." Lancer reached up and wiped an eye, before taking the basket and peeking inside, lifting up the cloth with a wingtip. Inside, a fresh carrot cake steamed.

Cheerilee reached to something that sat just out of sight beside the door, lifting a medium-sized clay pot into her forehoof. Inside, there was a green, bushy plant, "Winter Rose. It's called that because it blooms during the winter," she reached up and brushed a stray puff of mane from her cheek.

He blinked, placing the basket on a nearby countertop and took the pot as well.

"Just a few cups of water a day will do it just fine," Cheerilee suggested.

Lancer looked down into the plant dumbly. He looked back up at Cheerilee, mouth half-open and not knowing what to say.

Carrot Top raised an eyebrow in concern, "You okay? Your eyes are red."

He instinctively reached up and touched one of his eyelids, before quickly excusing himself with, "Yeah it's uh. It's hecking dusty in here, you know?" he offered an unconvincing chuckle.

Cheerilee didn't seem to mind, "No doubt! This place has been abandoned ever since I moved in down the street. That's at least a year and a half," she giggled, "I'll have to tell all the foals at school to stop playing Boast Busters over here. It's ah," she leaned in slightly, "Got a bit of a reputation as a haunted house."

"Oh..." Lancer grimaced, looking behind him, "If the place was haunted I really wouldn't be surprised. It's completely covered in dust. I think there's water damage in one of the walls too. The fridge doesn't work. If my luck holds, the washer isn't going to work either," he paused, "...Not that I have any laundry soap."

"Oh, well if you need laundry, you can come over to our place. Way faster than going to the laundromat in town," Cheerilee offered.

"Oh that's uh, really nice of you," he blushed slightly. For some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Cheerilee blinked before coughing into a hoof, "Ahem. Ah, well. We can't stay for that long. Not with a storm brewing."

Carrot Top glanced between Lancer and Cheerilee, an odd look on her face. Eventually, she nodded along and said, "Yeah. Well, Pinkie Pie probably met you today, right?"

Lancer frowned, "Uh yeah."

"We'll see you tomorrow at the party then," Carrot Top offered.

Lancer sighed, "Yeah, uh, I'm probably not gonna go. Not that big a fan of big parties."

Cheerilee and Carrot Top shared a look, then mutually giggled.

"What?" Lancer frowned.

Cheerilee stepped back from the door, "See you at the party tomorrow!"

Lancer stared indignantly out at them as they walked away, wanting to say something. Eventually, he let out a defeated sigh and pulled the door closed once again. Placing the potted plant next to the sink, he reached up into one of the cupboards and brought out a dusty, glass cup and washed it out with water from the faucet. Taking a drink for himself, he poured another one for the plant and watered it.

Rain began to fall against the kitchen window as he replaced the cup back in its place. With a sigh, he stalked off. Tomorrow would be another day.