A QUIET PLACE ~ EQUESTRIA GIRLS

PAX. C.S.P.B.

C.S.S.M.L.—N.D.S.M.D.

V.R.S.N.S.M.V.—S.M.Q.L.I.V.B.

Day 10

Early in the morning, I woke and got up from my cot in the corner of the vestibule, offered a small morning prayer before washing my face and brushing teeth at the restroom with water running low. Those of us from this Parish quietly attended the daily celebration, remembering the New, Eternal Covenant by Godly Rescue, The Holy Anointed One. We mouth the responses we’ve come to know by heart. I started making a few pamphlets by hand for anyone interested to learn them.

Knowing it’s my turn to help with laundry on our new weekly cycle, I took my own cloth sack of items to be brought for washing. Got a stable setup in the rectory, where Madam Mayor and Amethyst Star put together an area for soaking, another for washing, then a direct access point towards the backyard for hang drying.

I slowly started a fresh batch of hot water to fill in the soaking and washing tubs and untwisted the cap for detergent with great care. For the sake of listening for sudden noises, to prevent or stay alert for incidents, I opted not to wear a single earpiece for music. To pass the time, I focus on each article of clothing that’s been piled for people whose laundry day happens to be today. First week doing this, it’s not that much.

Amethyst, a childhood friend at elementary, has been very active coordinating the various projects we’ve begun here. She came in to start her shift on time today, as usual. Asked me about the newcomers I picked up from Canterlot High. All was needed was for her to mouth the words, “New guys”.

I said in slow breaths, “Cuts and bruises, but okay.”

Sparkler, as her close friends like to call her, continued, “What else?”

Nodding with comprehension about their background, I replied, “Strong farm hand. Small sister, quick and tough. Two sisters, great with rocks. One boyfriend, vegetation. One loner, gardener.”

“The grandma,” she asked.

“Cellar, resting.” Most sounds can be easily muffled by being underground in the rectory’s cellar, added by those theatre curtains I mentioned after we slowly brought them down. We got it set so that the sick, injured, and moms can use the most obscured area on the property for rest and nurturing. Again, a temporary fix.

“Comet,” Sparkler stated, referring to Comet Tail, Canterlot classmate of hers.

“Getting ready for hospital trip tomorrow.” We figured to at least start foraging items there, since other teams are taking the stores. With currency no longer an issue, anything’s up for grabs. I just hope that doesn’t include us.

And I don’t just mean those things.

“Fr. Red,” came the next matter to address.

“Finalized inventory last night. Getting bishop’s letter ready.” Despite knowing the dangers in traveling outside city limits, especially on foot without immediate help or reception, we agreed to chance a delivery service. Both to inform Bishop Cutlass our current situation, and to see if he or anyone else is still there. This way, we can know whether or not we’re the only survivors in the county or diocese. That is, friendly survivors.

Again, those alien sound predators aren’t the only possible danger. Thankfully, so far, everyone that’s come to the Parish has been vouched for by neighbors, schoolmates and relatives. And even if a total stranger comes by, we still need to offer some benefit of the doubt, while also watching his movements and actions. We just need to figure out a system that can scare unsavory characters without endangering everyone else.

“Firecrackers.” Like that.

I told Sparkler, “Hard to use on the fly.”

“I split them,” she said. “Have lighter in one pocket, one stick in the other. Pull out and set light close to it.”

“Can’t maneuver well.” I put both my hands deep in my pockets to demonstrate how I move. “Bad posture.”

She countered, “Not whole group. Just one in the middle.” We make it a point to have teams traveling anywhere in threes, at least. “Take rock sister with you and Comet.”

“One of them still in shock. The other barely responds.” And the few things she talked about make little sense on writing down. Of course, Amethyst and I were referring to Miss Maud Pie.

“She’s steady, calm, direct. She can still help.”

There’s still one issue: “You ask her yet?”

“She stepped up to join the hospital. I’ll ask her about delivery before. She’ll do it.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s driven. She and ‘farm hand’ did more in two days than the other new guys.”

“Not smart to use up energy fast,” referring to both Pie and Macintosh.

“Nine-day trip. Plenty time to rest.” We figured six miles a day was doable. Four days to get there, a day to scavenge and resupply, then four days back. Barring incidents.

I conceded that she must’ve thought about these and other variables beforehand. We’re all still trying to establish a good structure here, especially in so short of time. Bad enough we’re taking a risk to deliver a message to someone we’re not sure is alive, in whatever’s left of that major city. Plus, we’re still reeling over our new situation, one that may prove less and less temporary with each day. Worse still, enlisting someone that just joined the refugee site, without knowledge or consent, adds even greater risk that may prove unnecessary. But with how the other teams have no one to spare for this trip, Miss Pie and Macintosh will definitely be needed sooner than later.

“Hospital tomorrow,” I told Amethyst. “See what happens first.”

She nodded, satisfied with that consensus before prepping the tubs for the next batch of garments. I put my load into other cloth sacks before heading to the clothesline. We kept this process going through the morning ‘til all is left hanging to dry.

After finishing our task, we had lunch prepared for us by Daisy, Lily and Roseluck. The afternoon was spent by slowly dismantling another pew from the nave. Dinner provided also by Daisy, Lily and Roseluck. Our meals are received at the Parish Hall, before we find quiet seating on the lawn.

The evening is allotted to us for leisure use, whether it’s reading, listening to earpiece music, or just lying on the grass. Many are still having difficulties regaining some normalcy. After Cheerilee and a few parents are done tutoring students, they’re all given the afternoon to make cloth-based items for board games, playing catch, or just sit down with thick paper, paints, pastels, and pencils on top of thick blankets. Whenever a little one starts to grow upset about something, one of us rushes to take him or her back into the cellar with all the hanging curtains. There, they can have their fuss while the grownup soothes and listens.

Kids old enough to understand help to ensure those younger practice silence when outside or upstairs. Applebloom is one such adolescent, alongside a few she recognized: Pipsqueak, Rumble, and Dinky Hooves. I found out she used to play and explore with two very close friends before that day. She knows that one traveled with her folks to Australia for vacation, while the other took a trip with her own parents to the lake at Camp Everfree. All three had sisters or sister figures from the high school who went missing along with Sunset Shimmer.

From what I gathered, using pencils and notepads, the newcomers that could answer me said how Sunset and her friends were able to wield certain abilities that are tangible, yet also above the natural order of things. Somehow, by harnessing benevolent energy shared between their friendly bonds, the seven teens can ward off those who disturb the peace and dark forces. This journal was a way for Sunset to get in touch with another friend who doesn’t exist in this world, and the busted mustang statue held an active portal that bridged the two worlds.

Hoping for some miracle, Fr. Redmane suggested I continue to write in this logbook used for communication. 1: For the sake of providing ongoing records of our activity during this time for posterity. 2: If this book can reach someone else to inform them our situation so they can help, even with the bridge out, then it’s worth a shot. 3: Since nothing on the pages suggest the occult, it’s good to at least try and capitalize such means with due prudence. Hence the Latin initials for exorcising satanic incantations from St. Blessspeech, just as a precaution.

On that note, for the sake of trying something different to restore some levity and normalcy, I decided to find a random word in the Dictionary I don’t know. I’ll write it down and its definition, then form my own sentences with it in each entry. It may not be every day, or every time I record. But maybe I can broaden my vocab, and that of future readers.

Otiose (oat-yose): something that serves no useful purpose.

Someone can argue that, given our drastically dangerous environment, this sort of hobby is otiose. There can also be some who believe that life and all our efforts are absolutely otiose, whether by overexposure to pain and grief, or for the sake of numbing said pain. Even though our lives are fleeting, the only thing that renders something otiose is our own attitude towards it. Faith is considered by some otiose or opposed to reason, while others view them as complementary, and others still declare faith the only thing worthwhile. We can ask ourselves which camp we fall under, and why that is.

By evening, some of us prayed with cloth Rosaries before bedtime. I made it down to the cellar to see Macintosh check on his grandma and Marble Pie. Applebloom said they had a small crush before he met his deceased fiancé.

I got to spend some more time with Pound and Pumpkin Cake. Got to read a bedtime story with them, as Granny and Marble lied still listening. After teeth brushed, I’m back on my cot to close out the day.

Signed faithfully,

Solace Korbinian Sheen A.M.D.G.

P.S. That acronym is a maxim of St. Flamemire’s. Amen.