Chapter One: The Disclosure
Charred Saffron sat amongst the purple flowers, thinking about his life choices. He wasn't quite happy with himself at the moment. He wanted to be free, out of his parent's house. He twisted quickly around as he heard the sudden crack of a twig behind him.
"Oh, phew. It's just you. You damn near scared the shit outta me, dude." He chuckles, streaking his mane back with his forehoof.
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," Applejack mutters, sitting beside him. "Seriously, though, how are ya' doin'?" She asks, concern spreading over her face like wildfire.
"Eugh. . . Just thinking about my life choices and decisions." Charred Saffron responds, frowning as he cautiously plucked the stems of the saffron flowers.
"Ah, I've been there once. You're not alone, y'know," She inched her hoof towards his, grinning softly at his presence. "Ever since Granny passed, I've been alone in my barn. I felt annoyed at myself for livin' with Big Mac and her before, that I wasn't out doin' my own shit. But I will assure ya', sugarcube, it always gets better." She reassured him, side-hugging his shoulders, in a friendly way of course. She knew how much Chrysalis meant to him. A tear ran down his cheek after her inspirational 'speech'.
"Fuck. . . look at me. I'm such a damn mess. . ." He mumbled as Applejack wiped his tears after the first drop cascaded down.
"I know, hun. Just remember what I told ya'," She stands up, gaining back her original posture as he glances up her stance. "It will get better."
"Yes, yes, AJ. I know," He says, a hoarse tone at the completion of his sentence. "Sorry, my goodness, sorry. . . I'm just a bit stressed out at the moment."
"No need for apologies, darlin'. I get what you're goin' through." She pats him on the head and scurries away back to her farm with a 'Yeehaw!' in the distance.
"It will get better," He repeats to himself. "It will." He stands up, carefully tip-hoofing his way to the barn. A large clatter of buckets tumble to the ground where the hay somewhat blanketed the fall.
"Phew. . . that could have ended well." He mumbles to himself, laying gently on the bed of hay. The fan that hung along the vertex of the barn began spinning more swiftly in the gusty morning, causing it to sway back and forth. It was an old fan, built sometime around the 80's, which meant the bolts had loosened after wear-and-tear. The stronger the wind blowed, the more aggressively the fan swung. It's almost like Mother Nature was praying on his death.
"What the hell. . ." He murmured, peeking around his hoof up to the fan. One last blast of wind unlatched the bolting of the fan, causing it to deluge toward the barn floors, right towards Charred Saffron's skull. Screaming, he attempts to dodge the fans blades. He fails. The blades shred the skin awning his skull. Clumps of pulverized brain soar through the morning wind, and screams were no longer heard from the stallion.
Saffron Masala bangs furiously on the door to Charred Saffron's bedroom, and he jolts upwards.
"AH! Oh. . . It was all a dream. . ." He exclaims, shivering in fright. "Shit. . ." Saffron sighs.
"Everything okay, bud? You've slept in this morning." She acknowledges.
"Just a goofy nightmare, don't worry 'bout it, mum." He rubs his eyes, readjusting his composure.
"Okay. . . Just holler for me if ya' need me," Masala says, closing the door to a crack. "Oh, and be outta bed by 10, got it?" He glances over at his side table, and zones out at the alarm clock. 9:50 a.m. Charred Saffron groans and twists his flank around to stare directly at the ceiling.
"I don't want to die. . ." He sighed, huffing as he was nearing the edge of crying out. His eyes coruscated as he stared unblinkingly at the sunroof of his bedroom. Stripping the covers off of his exposed stomach, he sits up and scootches to the edge of the bed. He then wipes a tear that had escaped out of his eyelid. He also pinches himself to come to reason that this indeed, wasn't another dream. Saffron Masala bursts in once again.
"CHARRED FUCKING SAFFRON!" She growls, looking furious. "OUT OF BED, GET TO HARVESTING, NOW." He peeks over his shoulder at the alarm clock. 10 a.m. Had the time he spent thinking about life really taken 10 minutes? God. What a stupid waste of time. Great, now he's self-loathing. Wasting more time. "Did you even hear me, mister?" She scoffs. "Crops won't pick themselves." Saffron nods, standing up on the wooden floor. The floorboards creaked from decades of use. He shivers. That's the same sound similar to the one in his dream.
"Eugh. . . yes mother. . ." He whispers, having a slight tone of fear in his voice. His hoofsteps pattered down the descending stairs, and Masala smiled at him.
"Sorry for raising my voice earlier, I am just so pumped up for harvesting day!" She yelps, pacing in repetitive circles, then trotting in place.
"Mhm. . . yup. . ." Charred Saffron mumbles, opening the kitchen door and carefully slipping outside. His jaw drops immediately at the sight of the wilty flowers that stood in rows in front of him. "What?. . . I don't understand, it was a perfect growing season! There's no reason the saffron should be so. . . so. . . dead!" He shrieks, causing Saffron Masala to bolt out of the kitchen to check on him.
"What are you shouting for, Saff?! Seriously, you really can be a pain in my ass sometimes-" She halts in her tracks, and speech, staring deep into the dull fields of what used to be beautiful saffron flowers. "What. . . happened?" Masala asks, as she scrutinized the flowers closely, sniffing them to ensure that they were still healthy enough to use and sell.
"Well, I woke up, or actually, you woke me up, and I just came down to this. Trust me, Mom, I have no clue what happened to the farm. I was asleep all night, not to mention, I also had that really weird nightmare," He lectures, walking up to Masala to sniff the flowers along with her. "They smell fine to me, may just be a mishap in the adaptations of them." Saffron says.
"Since when did you become such the nerd in science?" She scoffs, smirking at him.
"Since my passing score in the School of Friendship," He divulged. "Seriously, mom? Did you ever check my grades in school?" Saffron Masala stands up, attempting to admit to her mistake.
"Truthfully, no. And I'm sorry, I should have. I'm proud of you, bud." She compliments, smiling at him.
"Thanks, now should we go ahead and pick these bad boys?" He jumps up, leaving his flank lay in the air like a playful puppy. In response, Saffron Masala nods. She then took the first flower, plucked it, then motioned for Charred Saffron to do the same. He was alerted by her sudden movements, and also picked the saffron flower. Together, they both tear the three stigmas out of the center of the flower.
After hours of constant farming, Charred Saffron was drenched in sweat. The scolding summer sun constantly beat down on his dark-colored back, which caused him to feel even more boiled than his mother. Surprisingly, they both had worked for about 4 hours non-stop, and not even half of the field was pulled yet. Saffron is a very labor-intensive crop to farm. With that, he was also actually very close to passing out. He wipes the waterfall of sweat dripping down his eyebrow and sits down, lightheaded.
"Man. . . I don't feel well. . ." He complains, staring dizzily at his mother. "Can I please take a break. . ." Saffron Masala nods, shooing him away with her hoof. He heads inside, diligently sneaking one of the many saffron flowers into the house. He examines it closely, attempting to focus on the petals as his pupils concentrate elsewhere. His sight was somewhat dazed and blurry from the outside sun. Or perhaps, possibly from the few ciders he consumed the night before. Nah, he only had two, that couldn't have been enough to give him a terrible hangover, could it? His thoughts cause him to feel even more nauseated than before. Bile rumbles up his esophagus, into his mouth. It lay in his cheeks until he let it run out. Almost like a waterfall, or more specifically, a nasty waterfall. His legs lose their weight, and he collapses into the disgusting, acidic pile of vomit. Drool runs down the corners of his mouth, and straight into the puddle as well.
There it was. That same dream again. Although, it wasn't like the other time. This time, it seemed darker than usual. The morning clouds were darker, heavier, scarier. It felt otherworldly. The events were the same, fan bolts break, flies down, cuts open his skull, et cetera, et cetera. It had to have meant something, it had to. Charred Saffron again wakes up before death met him inside the dream. His eyes squint open, and he finds himself in a hospital bed.
"Wha. . ." He rubs his eyes with his hoof, and notices his mother standing over the cot. He gives him a very. . . what'd you call it. . . a look that a typical concerned mother would look at her son with whenever he hurts himself.
"Oh, good. You're awake," Masala sighs in relief. "I found you passed out in the kitchen, your head was laying in the shit you threw up," She continues, dramatically fake vomiting as a way to 'spark laughter' from Charred Saffron.
"Have you ingested anything that could have made you so. . . ill?" Doctor Horse, the more of experienced Ponyvillian doctors asked, as he stepped into the room.
"Well. . . I had two ciders last night, and all I really sniffed has been saffron flowers," Saffron responds, reluctantly easing his hoof near the climax of his head, caressing what felt to be a dip in his skull. "What the hell. . ." He quickly hesitates, but aggressively yearns and points at the handheld mirror, unable to use his voice due to the shock that went through his mind. "H-hand me that mirror! Right now!" At this moment he was yelling, unable to experience his usual, calm charisma. His mother sighs in disappointment, nervous to see the reaction of the dissolved skin tissue from his acidic vomit. It was very unusual for vomit to be that acidic to burn the skin, but in which this case, it had. He carefully takes the mirror out of the doctor's hoof, and shakily held it up to the top of his head. Saffron screams like a filly when he sees the dissolved mane and skin. It ate through so much of his head that you could see the skull.
"A...am I going to die?" He asks, and Doctor Horse shakes his head.
"Most likely not, I suppose if you were to drink more cider it would make it worse than leading to death," The doctor examined his acid burn more closely as he spoke softly. "I'd suggest you take a break from the cider, it can become a very unhealthy addiction." Charred Saffron peeks up in surprise at the doctor's suggestion, scrunching his muzzle up in disgust. He then furiously showed his yellow, sharp teeth and slowly began frothing at the corners of his mouth. His voice shifts swiftly from calm and caring, to aggressive, and ignorant. Not to mention, in every single sentence he spoke, a deepening gurgle emerged from the back of his throat.
"But I NEED cider. . ." He growls, jolting up in the cot. The doctor slowly backed away as Charred Saffron inches forward in his hospital bed. He pounces onto Doctor Horse, sinking his teeth into his skull and crushing his hoof with his own. The bone of his hoof thrusted through the skin, causing rapid bleeding. Saffron Masala gasps in fright, shaking in fear at what her son had become. The saliva in his mouth have caused the doctor to pass out, in which the bacteria inside the phlegm was now traveling through his bloodstream. He was now considered infected with this unknown infection.
Author's Note
Please note that this story is written entirely by me, with the help of Grammarly by my side. Please credit me and link my original story to your sequel if you decide to write any part of my story further with your own twist of events. If you find any grammatical errors please tell me! I will fix them immediately. Hope you enjoy it!
Me after writing this: (－_－) zzZ
