The Golden Days

by joe mother

Rating: teen
Tags: Sad, Slice of Life
Length: 1988

CMC grow up, drift away.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders have had so much fun, but now they have their Cutie Marks, they mature, and they slowly drift apart. Apple Bloom is a chief architect; Sweetie Belle travels Equestria in a troupe of talented singers; and Scootaloo, well, let's just say Scootaloo needs a change.

Rated teen for drinking and language.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-10-27 14:49:01 UTC

The Architect

Chapter 1

Apple Bloom looked out across the city, wind blowing her mane behind her, a vest of brown fabric fluttering in the breeze, and a setting sun creating a shadow for all of Fillydelphia to see. The skyscraper she had helping build and plan was almost done after months of difficult construction.

She looked at her flank, the Cutie Mark of a hammer and nails glowing brightly in the slowly dimming light. She wouldn't be where she was today if it wasn't for... Scootaloo. Apple Bloom turned away from her flank, instead choosing to look out across the great city.

Hundreds of other skyscrapers towered below her, a large portion of them her own design. The sun's light finally began the penultimate stage of setting, a pink and orange glow cast out to the far corners of the sky. She felt a slight smile caress her lips, marveling nature's work as well as her own.

Apple Bloom looked up and saw the orange of the sky, and immediately wanted to get down from her craft, any beauty she had seen before smashed. She stepped over the steel beams balanced on the concrete and iron, went down some weak, creaky wooden steps made of old plywood, down some longer-lasting steps made of iron rods poking from the concrete walls like stairs, down some more creaky plywood and out of the construction zone.

Her head spun. It was like that, every single night, watching her architectual masterpieces rising below her, but then to see the orange of the sky as the sun set, reminding her of Scootaloo and much she had fallen. Hell, she fell from one of the highest places a pegasus could fall.

She had been one of the best Wonderbolts ever to be seen, but eventually an old habit caught up with her at the height of her fame. Reading that news in the paper had been the closest Apple Bloom had been to actually communicating with the orange pegasus in years.

She now regretted not sending letters to her friend before she fell from glory, instantly changing from a pegasus looked up to by millions to a pony who was unstable and had no control.

Apple Bloom trudged through the streets, her heart heavy with grief. All of her friends were off, doing things with their lives, gaining new friends while she had to deal with loneliness. The street lights flickered on, and the dozens of giant screens on the skyscrapers became brighter as the light dimmed.

She reached a tall building, one that did not even come close to rivaling the size of the skyscrapers, but still looked down upon the other buildings. She pushed open the door with a casual hoof and walked inside. She went over to the stairs and began the long climb up. She didn't complain, though. It was good for her legs.

She reached the top floor of the building and found herself at her doorstep. She opened the door and walked in (the door is not locked because in Equestria, crimes are very uncommon). She was faced with the familiar sight of her penthouse. The large place had a nice white sofa, a glass coffee table, a fully stocked kitchen, and two bedrooms.

Yet, all of the ornate furnishings and appliances were instantly forgotten as the rest of the things in the room are taken into account. Blueprints for all sorts of buildings were strewn all across the furniture and kitchen without rhyme or reason, just a thin blanket of blueprintedness.

Apple Bloom walked over to the bathroom. She went in and started the shower. She slipped off her vest and went inside. The warm water washed over her, easing away all of the stress that came with being the chief architect for a major building company, cleansing her dirt-coated fur, and washing away the thought of Scootaloo.

She was in the shower for twenty minutes. She came out, dried herself off, then went out into the main living area. She sat on an area of the white couch that was not completely covered by the blueprints that were scattered across the penthouse. She examined the place, and found nothing to peak her intrest; nothing to inspire her mind.

She figured that was good since the entire place was full of blueprints, anyway, and a small idea would probably turn into one-hundred more papers to add to the mess. Her eyes looked over the glass coffee table, and she saw a pamphlet. It was a normal propaganda-style pamphlet, but the faces on the cover drew Apple Bloom closer.

The faces shown were three smiling faces and one face in the middle of these three. It was Sweetie Belle's face. Apple Bloom grabbed the pamphlet and opened it up. The inside was full of dates and show times; locations where they'd be performing.

Apple Bloom's eyes wandered over the small paper, reading the locations for the tour. Then, she saw Fillydelphia. They were coming to Fillydelphia tommorow. She gasped and checked the time. It was just after she got off her job. She could go, and finally see Sweetie Belle for the first time in years! Her head spun, and she put the pamphlet down.

She fell asleep knowing that she'd get to see Sweetie Belle tommorow...

******

Apple Bloom awoke. Her body clock told her it was time for work. She put on her worn vest, opened the door to the penthouse, closed it behind her, and began to descend the large multitude of steps to the lobby. She left the building and began to walk to her construction site.

She shivered in the morning cold, wishing she had expected the weather this morning. As she walked, a carriage rolled past. She looked into the window and saw Sweetie Belle sitting in the carriage along with three other ponies. Aplle Bloom's eyes widened. She yelled to the carriage as it rolled past.

"Sweetie Belle!" she yelled loudly. "Sweetie Belle!"

The carriage rolled past without a hint of Sweetie Belle even noticing her presense. Apple Bloom sighed.

"Damn," she said. "So close."

She once again began her cold walk to the site, slightly warmed by the fact her friend had just rolled past her in a carriage.

The Singer

Chapter 2

Sweetie Belle laughed.

"That's a great joke!" Dancer said. "You should go tell the boss that one!"

"Woah," Soprano replied. "No way in hell are any of my jokes touching the boss' ears. That'd be bad for all of us."

Sweetie Belle nodded to herself. It was fun hanging out with her troupe. They sang, just like her. They sometimes danced, just like her. They were just the most well-matched group of ponies for herself. But yet, even though she had the perfect friends, she felt like something was missing; two things that she desperately needed.

She dropped the thought, instead focusing on the rest of her troupe. They were by far the most well-known group of singers in Equestria. They traveled from town to town, city to city, just to spread their melodious sound.

"Guys," Bass said in his deep voice, interrupting the conversation. "We should be focusing on preparing to get on stage. We've got twenty minutes."

"Don't be such a worrywart," Soprano said. "It's fine. Nothing bad's gonna happen if we don't practice. We've done this plenty of times. You know, talking until, like, ten minutes before?"

Bass grumbled under his breath and stalked off. Soprano watched him go, then gave a hearty laugh. He turned back to Sweetie Belle and Dancer.

"What's his problem? Can't stand social interactions?"  said Soprano.

"Well," Sweetie Belle said. "We do have to practice. What is we mess up cuz' we didn't practice?"

"Not gonna happen," Dancer said. "We're not gonna mess up. We're too damn good to do that."

Sweetie Belle sighed. Dancer and Soprano continued talking as she walked off.

'They really need to think of the top priorities at the moment,' she thought. 'Which don't involve talking.'

She walked into the dressing area, which nearly blinded her. The hundreds of dresses and suits were covered in sequins and metal pins, reflecting the room's light in every direction so the the entire room looked like the inside of a disco ball. She walked into the next room, the warm-up room.

Bass was already in there, and he looked angry. He was muttering to himself, and didn't seem to have noticed her. He was staring at his hooves, his eyes concentrating on a single point on them.

"Hey," Sweetie Belle said.

Bass jumped. He looked around and saw her standing in the room.

"Oh," he responded. "Hey."

He then reverted back into his muttering and staring at his hooves.

"Do you want to warm up together?" Sweetie Belle asked.

Bass jumped once more, swinging his head around wildly. His eyes settled on Sweetie Belle again.

"Huh?" he asked, confused. "Oh, okay."

He stood, and walked over to Sweetie Belle. They stood side-by-side, singing their different preparation tune; and then began to practice parts of their show tunes that sounded out of tune at times. There was a voice from outside:

"Time to go on stage!"

Sweetie Belle blinked.

'Wow, time flies when you're practicing!' she thought.

She walked out of the room, through the changing room, which now was empty, for the clothing was needed for onstage, and onto the platform before the steps that lead onto the brightly lit stage. She began to breath deeply, pushing down the nervousness that always appeared before performances.

The rest of the crew arrived, and they began their walk onto the stage. They walked on side-by-side, and Sweetie Belle was immediately met with thousands of screams, cheers, and hooves thumping on the ground. She looked out, squinting her eyes because of the lights now shining down upon them.

There were all sorts of ponies out in the crowd. There were teenagers drinking and smoking; one of them appeared to be doing drugs; there were little children, being kept in control by their mothers, and adults of all sizes and genders.

They stood side-by-side on stage and began the show.

******

They walked off the stage, thousands of screams echoing in their midst. They went into the changing room and removed their sparkling sequin suits and dresses. They went over to their seperate mirrors and began to remove whatever make-up they were wearing.

They finished after a half-hour, and began their walk into the open.

They left their sheltered building and began to walk through the roped-off area, hooves reaching over the edge, papers and pens flying everywhere, and the occasional extreme fan running out from behind the roped-off area into the pathway, only to be grabbed by policeponies, who knocked them out and dragged them off.

As Sweetie Belle walked, she noticed a pony following her through the crowd. She felt that the pony was familiar, and she was curious on who it was.

'It's probably just a hardcore fan who's gotten good deats at every show,' she thought. 'I've just seen them so much in the audience that they are familiar.'

Them pony then pushed her way up into the front row, and Sweetie Belle looked upon a face that brought back fleeting glimpses of memories. There was an orange pegasus in these glimpses, too, along with the pony in front of her. There were memories of ziplines and cannons; of a scooter and a bow.

The pony suddenly jumped the rope and ran foward with a cry of ,"Sweetie Belle!". She ran up to Sweetie Belle, faster than any police officer could run, and hugged her.

"Sweetie Belle!" she said, tears rolling down her face.

Sweetie Belle looked at the pony and felt thousands of questions rise in her throat. She almost blurted them all out, but only one came from her throat.

"Who are you?"