The Church of the Half Moon

The Next Moon Cycle

Pixie rolled out of bed, shaking loose his scrunched bones. He dragged himself over to the bookshelf, placing the book he was practicing reading with on a lower shelf. Despite growing a few inches, his sister's old saddlebag did little to show it, hanging loosely on his back. The sound of running water was in the living room, only being a door away. Opening it, the colt could see Mama there, bustling herself with chores. The house looked spotless, so maybe she had a weird power only mothers have to see hidden dirt.

Eager to start the day, Pixie knew it would be a busy week. Not only is Jack coming to play tomorrow, but Papa should be here as well. Marking down the days on his notepad, each day brought Pixie closer to exhilaration. It made the young colt’s heart jump higher than before. School meant he'd have his own stories to tell Jack, not just the ones from his books. Jack knew so much of the outside world, it felt good to finally be interesting. The young boy watched his mother collect her things, his grin widening with each long second that passed.

Mama led the way towards the schoolhouse, which used to be a house, Pixie was told, before the sun's fire scarred the earth, around 200 years ago. It was a big yellow school, you could see it over other buildings. The windows were stained with murals of Selene. The church removed the door, replacing it with a large archway, matching the white trim and roof. Pixie remembered Mama’s complaints about the sand that got stuck inside. It was better than the door getting stuck half way through opening it, so he was told. When the wind blew you could hear bells all throughout the building. The teachers strung up light stones and gold and tied them to the roof of the patio, which circled itself around the building.

Inside were hallways lined with photos. Hundreds of them, framed and hung up on the walls, each with a plaque and a date. Mama was in some, most with children, but the further down he went in the hall, the younger she got. Until she was so young she didn't need her mask. Papa there too, but that wasn't the most eye-catching part. Mama was smiling, showing her teeth, with her hooves around a filly’s neck. A pretty white foal with a gray mane. Her cutie mark was a blue planet, with rings of stars around it. Her eyes, a faint blue.

“She's pretty, right?” A strange voice echoed behind him,

The colt turned to face her, “Y-Yeah,”

“She's a heretic.”

What was that word? Is what Pixie wanted to ask the other filly, but nothing came out. His voice was taken from him when he saw her face. She looked like she fell. Healing cuts all up the side of her face, and bruises on her arm.

Suddenly, a loud chime echoed in the building. Oddly cheery for the erie static that followed it. Older children went out of the halls, pinning Pixie against the wall as they walked by. They talked to each other, some yawning other's running ahead of each other, only to be scolded by one of the teachers who followed behind them. Mama was nowhere to be found, causing Pixie’s heart to drop. “Mama?” Pixie tried to call out but it came out as a whisper, overshadowed by the corners of the building.

The other filly his age stood against the tide. She huffed at the photo, her red eyes drawing curses into the glass, before turning to the colt again. She held her head high,

“I'm MayTower,” she spoke over the crowd,

“I'm Pixie-”

“I know who you are. You're that fat boy who's friends with the outsider,” she said, “I know who your Mama is too,”

“...you do?”

Her voice fumed every time the colt open his mouth to answer her, “The apple doesn't fall far from the tree,”

Pixie sewed his lips together. Jack wasn't an outsider, he was anything but an outsider. His family worked with their church, but the filly spoke over his thoughts like she could see into his head.

“Don’t get caught alone, Pig-xie” MayTower sneered, as she started to move, “And, you don't know me,”

The colt nodded, his eyes felt dry. He repeated the name, mouthing it. He disliked it, it left a taste in his mouth akin to expired fish. Dry, it formed snot in the back of his throat as he did his best to not to make a fool himself in the bumbling halls. The older ponies passing him by didn't feel so big anymore, as he stayed nailed in his spot. He felt a hoof on his side, his haunches went down as he skipped forward, quickly turning around to face his… It's just Mama. Unfazed, she motions him to follow, leading him into a classroom.

No pony was there yet, she set her own bag on top of the desk. She acted like this room was a second home. Taking her own things out of her bag, and wiping the black board clean of white marks. She didn't have a desk, but she had a shelf, where she placed her things. Pixie looked over to the rest of the classroom. There were about thirteen rectangular tables. Two chairs sat at each one. They were carved from heavy stone, he wondered how they fit them in here, surely they were too heavy to lift up.

“Sit down, Pixie Dust,” Mama stole his thoughts,

He took a table closet by the door. This room was unusually long. Closer inspection to the roof showed where they took out the old wall, only leaving in the supports for the building. MayTower made her second appearance, sitting at the desk just ahead of Pixie. Then another foal entered, then another after that, until nearly every chair was full. As each seat filled, the space between him and his peers grew wider. The noise from out in the halls funneled into the long room.

A spec of hope was dropped into Pixie's bucket of a heart when the last filly looked around for a seat. The filly stood on the top of her hoofs, peering around every ponies head. Pixie's attention shot to her, taking a deep breath in, the little unicorn sat up straight, moving his things more to his side of the table, so this potential partner would have more than enough room for their own things. Smiling at her as she approached closer. Yet, when her eyes met his, her mouth grimaced like she was stepping into dirt. She quickly turned away, as if she held back a gag, only to see MayTower sitting alone in the only other seat open. The filly furrowed her brows, pinning her ears back as she sat down besides MayTower.

Class was only four hours, but they passed like years on Pixie's deserted island. The new mundane settled into his skin. Pixie didn't bother unpacking his dinner when lunch came around, he just forced his head to stare at the gray color desk in front of him. The young boy shrunk further into himself, his hooves bunched up in front of him. A part of him expected this. His peers never wanted to include him. But he finally had the reason why. He was ugly.

The chime sounded again, and ponies flooded out of their chairs and into the hallway once again. Pixie stayed put, Mama was scrubbing down the frame of the chalk board with a damp cloth. She turned back to see the colt still looking up at her from across the room.

“Get going,” she said,

Pixie got up, “you're not coming, Mama?”

“You're old enough to be going to school, you're old enough to walk home,” she didn't even bother looking at him, “We all have a duty to our community Pixie Dust, don't make me repeat myself,”

“Yes Ma’am,”

With less distractions, it was quicker to leave the yellow Schoolhouse than it was to enter. On the dusty road, the houses were like big monsters that lined in rows. Loud barking made the colt jump, as a pointy dog lodged its teeth between a fence gate, trying to get closer to Pixie. Luckily the gate wouldn't budge, it didn't do much to ease his nerves. He heard a broom hitting the floor from the other side of him. A stallion yelled at an animal to get back. A black blur scampered across the road into an alleyway, with a slammed door just behind it.

He knew better than to check on what it was. It could be something bad, something that could make him sick. Pixie couldn't explain what made him walk towards that alleyway, but he quickly disappeared in it. It was dark here. There was a tarp that stretched the length of the alley way, used to keep rain at bay, yet it only blocked out the little light left by the sun. There were boxes and barrels here, stacked on top of each other, some with logos from Jack’s family's company. Tiny yellow marbles glinted in between one of the boxes causing Pixie to freeze. His chest heaved, eyes adjusting, he saw a small black kitten, shaking against the corner. Ease settled into his bones. As he watched the small black fluff ball try to stay still.

“It's okay, kitty, I won't hurt you,”

Pixie used his inside voice, hushed, he stepped closer only hearing a sharp growl from the kitten. It got the colt to step back, rethinking his approach. Sitting down, he took out his uneaten lunch, opening the box he pushed it out towards the kitten. Her little pink nose twitched, as she stepped out in the remaining light, keeping her eyes locked on to Pixie. She creeped slowly, her body staying close to the floor. Her fur stood up on its edges, making her look like a ratty puff ball. Once at the box, she sniffed it again, immediately eating the food inside the box. Pixie moved his hoof closer to pet the creature, but she looked up and hissed, swatting his hoof away.

“Sorry!” Pixie assured her,

The kitten’s mouth was messed up. It looked like it was cut into the right nostril of her nose. It was very noticeable when she sneezed, as she scarfed down Pixie’s dinner. She had to be hungry, her bones stuck out from her sides. Laying down into the dirt Pixie watched the feline.

“It's okay,”

he cooed to it,

“see?

“I'm ugly too,”

His voice cracked.

Pointing to his face, Pixie simply couldn't hold it back anymore. He cried… gently, silently, he didn't even know he was crying until he found water on the back of his hooves' fur. Then there was a paw there… The kitten’s face was still covered in crumbs, but she sat down, her soft fur against his. Blinking away what was in his eyes, Pixie managed to hold it in again with her there.

“Thank you, kitty,”

…

“Pixie? Dear, Is that you?” Memory called out, “what are you doing in the alley? Silly goose,”

The new voice caused the kitten to run. Pixie didn't have the opportunity to call out for her, because Memory was approaching rapidly. Whipping away the snot and tears, he dragged dirt across his face. Gulping, he hid his face under his bangs, as he eyed the floor. Memory felt the air change the closer he got to him. His happy prance soon turned into a slow waltz. Memory saw Pixie’s puffy eyes, his red nose, and the mud that was rubbed into his white coat. The older stallion placed a hoof on the younger boy’s chin, moving his face to look up at him. A long sigh fell from his lungs, as he dropped his hooves back to the floor.

“Follow now,” Memory beaconed,

Pixie lingered behind him, staring down at the buckles of his pants. They sang when he stepped.

“I won't tell your mother you were in the dirt,” Memory promised, “Promise me you'll take a bath when you get home,”

“Yes sir, I promise,”

Memory grazed on his words, trying to chew something out that wouldn't be too intrusive, “...you went to school today, if I'm not mistaken,”

“Yes sir,”

“How was it? Did you learn anything?”

Sniffling, Pixie held his breath, he was a boy, boys don't cry. Memory turned to scold him for the lack of an answer, but pause hit him, so he let him be. He silently led Pixie back to his house. They were neighbors, their houses faced each other. The old Pony opened the door, Mayo pranced out, circling them like a vulture. Her floppy ears clapped when she shook her body. Pixie’s smile returned when she licked away the grime from his face. Memory's home was smaller, but there was color in each corner of the home. Mother always said it was garnish, but the scarlet walls were more interesting then their own bland off-white ones. The stallion walked over to the lively living room, taking a wooden instrument in arms, he walked it over to Pixie. It was like a Viola, but it was longer, not as big as Miss Sonata song’s cello.

“Put your hooves out,” Memory

Pixie did as he was told, sitting down so he could stretch his hooves out towards him. Memory placed the wooden instrument into his hooves, the foal moved down with it not expecting its weight. It was brown, Memory's name was carved into its neck. Some of Mayo’s fur was caught under its strings along with dust.

“It’s out of tune but it should serve you well,”

Pixie still couldn't catch what Memory was throwing at him, “How long would you like me to hold this?”

The stallion chuckled, “no, dear I'm gifting this to you,”

“... really?”

“Our last child found their gift in medicine, the one before had a taste for flutes,” Memory stopped himself from dragging on,

Tracing the grooves in the wood with his small hooves he noticed it was hollow inside. You can see through a window in the middle of its body, “Thank you!”

“While Sonata and I are still here, feel free to stop by, I'll teach you how to take care of it, while we are still here”

“You're leaving?”

“...it's about time we reunite with the stars, and forge a new life, dear,”

“...why?”

“Moments are fleeting Pixie, The good, the bad, the ugly, you were a good neighbor, and a better friend to Mayo,” The older stallion pat Pixie’s hair, “now get going, you still need to take a bath before your mother gets home,”

Pixie smiled with the warm touch, shaking his head to re ruffle his mane when the hoof was taken away. He got up, struggling a bit to balance with the large instrument in one hoof, he made his way back to Memory's front door. Something came to mind before he had the chance to push the wood on its hinges.

“But what is this?” Pixie asked,

“It's a guitar,” said Memory,