Author's Note
I always loved reading. I've been doing it since I was very small. Long books, shorther stories, everything. So I decided I'll try writing, but don't expect it'll be any good since I wrote the story in my second language, English, in which I didn't read many books.
A Cold Day
A stallion with a scarf was standing in the empty street.
The weather was very unkind that day, and even though everypony else was at home, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of hot coca in their hoof and enjoying the coziness of their homes, the pony stood still in the pouring rain.
He always loved the rain, the smell of it, the taste of it, it's feeling on the pelt. It felt like death itself was stroking it.
They called him "the thin pony".
A drunk pony stumbled across the empty road towards him. It didn't seem like she was in a very good mood. A normal pony would probably get out of her way.
The thin pony looked up at the gloomy clouds, his long scarf fluttering in the wind.
The drunk mare passed him.
"What a bucking cold day..." She murmured to herself.
He was used to it. Ponies almost never seemed to notice him, even if he was right in front of their snouts. He turned around and gazed at the door of the house he was standing before.
Grieving voices could be heard oozing from the window like a thick fog.
The thin pony opened the heavy oak door.
He slowly walked through the hallway with evenly steps.
Step, step, step, step
Like the rain, dripping from the roof.
Like the ticking of a clock.
He stopped at a door. It was slightly ajar and undoubtedly, it was the source of all the voices and whimpers.
He entered what appeared to be the living room. The room was full of ponies wearing black. On the couch was a crying mare, holding hooves with a stallion. He was saying something about it not being her fault and that she is in a happier place now.
The Fireplace was crackling, but didn't bring any warmth or color to the house, sunken in dread. Above the fireplace, there was a picture of a pony, surrounded by flowers and letters.
The atmosphere was heavier than a boulder and the scent was bitter.
Even with all the ponies standing in the room, there was absence. A dark void. Something was missing.
The thin pony didn't like to dwell for long, even though he wasn't exactly interfering or irritating anypony. He slowy walked to the end of the room, his hooves sinking in the cold carpet.
A few ponies trembled and some wrapped themselves in thick blankets. Some mare took a sip of hot tea. The thin pony closed the door behind him without a sound.
He found himself standing in front a long pine staircase. The tooth of time took a toll on the stairs, as they were old and creeky.
The thin pony ascended up the stairs, which remained silent and didn't creek. One of the last stairs was bent and broken. He carefully stepped over it and arrived at the second floor.
The storm outside had somehow grown even worse. The voices from bellow died out and he was left in complete silence, listening only to the whispering rain and the howling wind.
Then, between the sounds of the weather, there was a different sound. A much softer and kinder one. It was coming from behind a nearby doorway.
With no hesitation, the thin pony approached the door. He carefully pushed it open, revealing a room, full of furniture which was all covered with white sheets.
The source of the noise lied in the middle of the room. Sitting in the lonely room in the far corner of the house there was a filly playing. She looked up at him in confusion.
"W-who are you?"
"I'm the thin pony," Said the thin pony.
She didn't immediately respond, but she wasn't afraid of him. For a moment, there was silence. And the rain.
The young filly shivered slightly.
"Come with me, I-" He started, but was interrupted by the stuttering of the filly.
"M-M-Mr. T-Thin pony? Would you mind if I borrow your scarf for just a little...? It's so cold...."
The thin pony didn't amswer, but instead offered his hoof to her.
"It will be warmer where we are going. Don't worry."
She accepted his hoof. It wasn't as cold as she expected it to be. Actually, it wasn't cold at all.
The two ponies stepped out of the room and down the hallway. They stopped at the stairs for a just a moment. For just a heartbeat.
"I hate those old stairs!" Grumped the filly. She didn't say anything else.
They stepped over the gaping hole, and walked down the stairs, holding hooves. The staircase was as silent as the rest of the house.
They passed the living room. The mare wasn't crying anymore, she ran out of tears. Her eyes were empty and she was looking at the ground. The filly took a step closer to her.
The mare firmly wrapped her coat around her and moved closer to the fire. Somepony threw some more firewood in the fireplace. The mare stared at the flames with a blank expression.
"The weather is getting better," Said the thin pony and lead the filly out of the living room.
A member of the grieving family was waiting outside the house.
"Come on, Pillow. You'll have to go in eventually. Just remember to smile. Khm. Actually... Maybe don't..."
His every breath sent a small cloud of vapor into the rain. It was a cold day.
There must have been a breeze of cold wind, because as he reached for the door, his entire body shivered in the sudden wave of frost. His teeth even clattered.
And then the air was back to normal.
"Damn wind!" He mumbled to himself.
"It's freezing!"
The weird thing is, the wind seemed to come from inside the house. Pillow shook his head. Oh come on, that wouldn't make any sense. His mind was just making excuses not to go in at this point.
He stepped in, pleasantly surprised to find the house very warm and cozy.
He quickly closed the door behind him.
And then, there was silence.
And the rain.
