Relapse and Wicker's Guide to the Departed
For Heather.
"Having trouble getting into that locked room in your home? Are the walls bleeding green blood? Are you hearing voices walking down the hallways at night? Do you fear for your own safety when you walk by that broken down hotel in Town Square? Have you ever wondered where we go after our demise? If the answer to any of the above questions is 'yes' then you have made a wise choice in casual reading selection.”
Ghosts.
Such a mystery, and something vastly misunderstood. Something greater than the magic of our world, working on a higher level than one could possibly imagine. Something that is horrifying, yet incredible and beautiful. Something that doesn’t tend to cross a pony’s mind very often. Not that it would, I mean, how many times do you come across a ghost on a day-to-day basis? I’m guessing not very often.
Some said that they don’t even exist. Typical, considering most ponies can’t look beyond the fields they plow or the shops they run. Ghosts are not a subject of common thought. Ponies who live normal lives don’t have time to spend what little brainpower they have toiling away on such a menial topic. I don’t blame them; it’s such an absurd idea. I certainly never in my younger days conceived that they were going to play any sort of role in my life. Well, let’s just say that your first notion is not always the most accurate.
On the outskirts of modern day Equestria, nine hundred and thirty one years after the banishment of the Nightmare Moon, in the middle of the dusty flats of nothingness, stood an oasis, a town known as Nickerville. It stood alone on the banks along a river, protected on one side by a canyon wall, and dwarfed by a massive desert on the other. Small homes rested shakily on the sandy ground, swaying in the wasteland wind. It was a quiet town, where shade was a luxury, and water was a way of life. Its no less than one thousand inhabitants choked on sand and sun, parched beyond compare. Those that worked the fields did so sparingly, so as not to be sucked dry and stripped down to the bone by the elements. It was a friendly place, albeit inhospitable to those who foolishly chose to travel from abroad.
The damned sun could make a strong stallion beg like a foal. Waves of unrelenting heat rippled from the ground, filling the air with a sickening feeling that was not unlike being roasted alive in an oven. The river was the only solace. It was the silver lining in a hellhole of fire and dust. It gave us life, and it was all we had that kept the town alive.
It didn’t seem like anything special, because it wasn’t. Ponies went about their lives like in every other small village, doing the same routine, not thinking or caring about what might possibly be going outside their own little bubbles. It was a beautiful concept, but one that I was never able to adhere to.
I was just a colt, barely into my older years. I wasn’t old enough to be a stallion, but just shy of being declared a foal. I was a regular, only slightly on the short side, earth pony. My coat sported a dark, dusty red tinge, my mane and tail, short cropped, a bright white. I resided on the edge of town, just a few yards away from an ocean of sand. I remember little from my early years other than an unrelenting thirst that nagged at me in every waking moment of my life, and the defining event of my foalhood: my visit to the house at the end of the street.
“Hey, Reel!” a strong-looking colt called to me from across the schoolyard. It caught me by surprise, not due to the volume of his voice, but by the fact that it wasn’t common practice for anypony to be calling my name at all. He and his cronies approached me, effectively interrupting my train of thought and forcing me to engage conversation with them.
They stopped a few feet in front of me as I rose to my hooves. I was resting under the cover of the oak tree, trying desperately to shake off some of the sweat from my body and get a moment’s reprieve. The one who had called me, the earth colt known as Dustpan, moved to speak, but hesitated as his eyes fell to my flank. Others did this often now, and it always left a look of distaste on their face.
I was a late bloomer. It had been months since the last pony in my class had gotten her cutie mark, and now I was left to be ridiculed as the only foal in the school to wear the title of Blank Flank. My father blamed it on me thinking too much, and not taking any action; My mother thought that it was because I was having trouble making friends. I thought the reason was because there truly was nothing in this world for me to be good at.
Anybody in my class could tell you that I’m not exactly… there, most of the time. I zone out often; I lose focus and my mind is left to wonder. I’ve always had this feeling that there is something more important I could be doing at any given moment, something beyond the world I saw before me, beckoning me away from the dusty town of Nickerville. Ponies would think I was crazy, and would tell me that I should live in the now, but living in the now is damn hard when the now is suffering in one-hundred and five degree weather.
“Uh, me and the guys have some really sweet plans for Nightmare Night, if you’re interested, that is, if you’re not busy.” He smiled sheepishly and his friends nodded in agreement. I had almost forgotten that Nightmare Night was only a week away. I had intended to spend that evening doing nothing, but seeing as nopony ever asked me if I was free to hang out, I decided to humor them.
“Sure. I’ve got nothing else going on.” One of the colts in back chuckled and I distinctly caught Dustpan’s back hoof colliding with his shin. I had no idea what they had in mind, but I was curious to see why exactly they decided to invite me to their get together.
“Sounds good, Reel. Don’t worry, you’re definitely going to have an interesting time.” He contorted his face into what was possibly the most fake smile I’ve ever seen, and turned to walk back across the courtyard.
I took step after labored step on my way home from school, my only drive to return to my home was the assurance that I would get a small portion of our water ration upon my arrival. The dirt road of Nickerville central gave way to sand as I trekked into the residential area of town. Brown grass grew in the yards of some of the homes, a futile attempt at trying to make their homes more enticing.
I walked down the path and took a right unto my “street.” On the far end, just a few blocks down from my house, perched an enormous house that cast a long shadow in the setting sun. It was in such disrepair, I found it amazing that it still stood on its foundation. It was the mansion of the founder of Nickerville, and hadn’t been touched since the day of his death over fifty years ago.
There were many rumors: some say that it was haunted; some say that there are all sorts of hidden treasures within, but nopony ever thought about stepping hoof inside. It intrigued me and terrified me at the same time. It sent chills down my spine, which wasn’t an unwelcoming sensation in the hottest bucking town in Equestria.
Climbing up the steps into my humble abode, I caught sight of my mother and father sitting in the den, wordlessly reading their respective texts. I walked over to the pitcher that was left out for me, and drank the very little amount of water with extreme dissatisfaction. My parents acknowledged my arrival, and promptly returned to their reading. I didn’t feel the need to speak. I just set down my pitcher, groaning softly in thirst and frustration. It was late enough, so I decided now would be a good time to retire for the night.
I walked into the threshold of my room, and lay down on the soft mattress with a characteristic thud. I had no sheets, as it was too hot for them anyway. Nothing furnished my room other than my bed, and a desk in the corner. A dusty window looked out over the desert, giving me a semi scenic view of the setting sun.
I lay and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. As the temperature rose, my breathing became quicker and heavier from sheer discomfort. Sweat plastered my coat to the bed. After a moment or two a familiar sensation started to take hold of my brain, forcing me to close my eyes. I whimpered pitifully as thoughts of my life situation fought their way into my head.
Physical needs were so easy to relieve, and I did so with ease and without much desire. But something always nagged at me, a sort of restlessness in my soul. I shut myself off from others, trying desperately to find spiritual solace. I was always wanting, needing, and craving something that was beyond reach. And the worst part was I had no idea what my heart desired, only that it did.
I fought it, and tried with all my might to keep it down, but nothing worked. It nagged at me constantly, and left me exhausted, more so than the heat. Hopeless questions lashed at my tired soul. What was I here for? Did I really even matter? I thought all these dismal thoughts through as I did every night, until drifted off into a heavy, sweaty sleep.
The day of Nightmare Night came along slowly. I was let out of my arithmetic class, where I had just been chastised for not taking any notes, and instead drawing pictures in my notebook. The teacher had looked deeply concerned when she saw them, but they were just random symbols I decided to draw out of boredom. I just nodded and took her lecture, not really caring what she had to say. It wasn’t like I needed to write notes; numbers just seemed to make sense in my head.
I hadn’t even considered what I was going to wear tonight, and figured it probably didn’t really matter. I didn’t want to join in the festivities of Nightmare Night, I just wanted to know what exactly Dustpan had in mind for me tonight. I knew it was going to be some sort of stupid prank, but for some reason I was really curious to see what his master plan was.
Just as the sun began to fall below the horizon, I made my way to Town Square, where I caught sight of Dustpan and his friends waiting for me where they said they would be. He was dressed up as a manticore, looking smug and extremely hot. He motioned me over, and his friends fell silent.
“Hey, Reel, are you ready? Where’s your costume?” he said, frowning slightly.
“I’m going as a pony,” I said blankly, and the same culprit from before burst out laughing. Dustpan joined him, and soon everypony was adding to the cacophony.
Dustpan wiped tears from his eyes, “hey, whatever floats your boat. Let’s hit up some houses.”
We walked from house to house, asking ponies who answered for candy. I walked shakily under the weight of my saddlebags, which began to grow heavy from all the sugar and sweets inside. I didn’t really want to eat it, but it would seem weird if I wasn’t taking any, so I just went along with it. Dustpan’s crew walked ahead of me, giving me occasional glances backwards and whispering to each other.
We turned the corner onto my walkway. I saw my house to the right, but they continued past the houses on this street with a new-found purpose.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked.
“Oh, these houses don’t give out any good candy,” he said, snickering as I caught up to the group. We were heading straight to the mansion at the end of the road.
As luck would have it, that’s exactly where we were headed. The ponies stopped right in front of the plot of sand in front of the stone walkway into the broken down building. Dustpan wrapped a foreleg around my shoulders, and pointed with the other at the front door.
“Alright, so here’s the deal Reel. If you want to keep hanging out with us,” I didn’t. “Then you’re going to have to pass a little initiation. What I want you to do is go up to the door and knock three times. Pretty easy, right?” He took his leg off of me and nudged me closer to the entrance.
“And what happens if I don’t?”
“Well, then have fun being the laughing stock of the school for the rest of the year, Blank Flank.” This caused a huge uproar from the foals in attendance.
The idea seemed ridiculous having to go inside a building to earn respect from these ponies. I considered just walking away. Still, the building had piqued my curiosity since I was old enough to walk on my own, and now I was basically granted a chance to see for myself if there was anything to the stories behind the mansion.
Also, the idea of not being pestered about being a blank flank for the rest of the year sounded pretty good too.
I took a few steps towards the door.
“Oh, wow! He’s gonna do it!”
Muffled laughter and whispering from behind.
I walked a little bit more.
The desert wind started picking up speed. It gave me pause, but I soon continued on my path, trying not to give any thought to the chilling coincidence. I licked my lips in concentration.
A few more steps and I was on the porch. I crept the remainder of the distance to the wooden frame. The floorboards creaked under my weight. I lifted my foreleg, and took a deep breath. My hoof rapped against the door three times. I was met with silence. I stood there for a good ten seconds, and after making sure that nothing was going to happen, turned to walk back the way I came.
I jumped as I was met with Driver, a green pegasus, floating a few inches in front of my nose. A unicorn by the name of Lift was standing on my right. Before I knew what was happening, Driver dove into me and sent me reeling backwards. At that moment, the door swung open behind me, and I fell into darkness just as the magical field around the entrance closed it shut.
I stood and dusted myself off, not able to see where I was due to the sheer blackness of the house. I tried the door, but found that Driver was holding it closed with his magic. I banged hard on the door with my forelegs.
“Let me out of here!” I screamed, shreds of panic putting an edge in my voice. I looked around frantically, trying to find another way out. I heard Dustpan and his crew laughing hysterically just outside the door.
“You’re such a riot, you know that Blank Flank? I can’t believe the ‘smartest kid in our school’ would have fallen for that! You should have seen the look on your face!” he said, I made out the sound of him rolling around on the ground outside.
I shook where I stood, scared beyond my wits. Their laughter continued outside for a good few minutes before Dustpan moved to speak again.
“Heh, alright Lift, you can let him out, I think he’s had enough fun.”
The door shuddered as blue magic enveloped its frame. Nothing happened.
“Uh, Dustpan…”
“What’s going on, Lift, I told you to let him out!”
“I’m trying, but the door won’t open!”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think? I mean the door won’t open you idiot!”
Well, try one of the windows then!”
I heard the roar of hooves against wood as everypony outside ran to the nearest window. I ran with them only to see the shaded window get wrapped in the same blue envelope.
It didn’t budge.
“Reel, I-I don’t know what’s going on, are you alright in there?” Dustpan sounded genuinely worried, his voice strained from fear.
Just then the wind roared with renewed vigor. It rattled the house, causing all sorts of creaks and moans from deep within the decaying wooden walls. I heard the colts outside scream, like they had just seen a ghost. The sound of hoofsteps got further and further away, and I realized that they had all run off, leaving me abandoned in the house. I was paralyzed on the spot, and my heart began to sink.
As soon as I was able to think straight, I panicked and bucked at the window as hard as I could, but it felt almost like it kicked back at me. It sent me skidding along the floor, bruising my right side and head as I collided with the wooden stairwell. Tears streamed down my eyes as I hopelessly felt myself losing consciousness.
Voices filled my mind, disconnected thoughts and dissonant music. I made out only one single phrase as it whisked its way through my frazzled and fading brain. A whisper in the roaring wind of my thoughts.
“We are so alike.”
A bright light pierced through my closed eyelids. The sound of a brutal rushing wind enveloped my eardrums. It felt as if my mouth was lined in cotton. I tried to relieve myself of the sensation, but found myself unable to form the saliva necessary. The throbbing in my skull was dulled, as was any sensation in my limbs. I tried to right myself, but ended up falling back on my stomach.
I opened my eyes as wide as the wind would allow, and found myself stranded in the middle of a desert. The sun overhead was cooking me alive, and the wind washed away any sounds that could have been heard otherwise. Calling out for help would have been hopeless, and knew I had to save any moisture in my body if I had any hopes of survival.
I rose to my feet, trying to get a better look of my surroundings. There wasn't any sort of shelter for miles. I was alone in a desert, beyond hope of making it more than a few yards in any direction before a very untimely end. It was a scene right out my nightmares, trapped and left alone to die and suffer in solitude. Why then, did it feel so familiar? It didn't feel like a dream, but more of an extension of something real. How could something so horrible be the cause of my loss of life?
I convulsed and fell to my stomach once more, knowing full well that this would be the last time. I breathed deeply, my skin blistering in the terrible sun, the thirst building, drying my insides and leaving me with nothing.
It dawned on me that this was my life. It was only a view into the situation I found myself on a daily basis. An insatiable thirst for something beyond my reach, in desert of my own solitude. I created for myself a reality of pain and suffering, shutting myself off from the world, hoping that I could find some sort of solace in my soul. What would have been any other foal’s nightmare was only a reflection of the real nightmare, the one I lived and suffered through every day.
I felt no reason to go on. If this what the rest of my life was going to be like, then I couldn't think of anything better than for it to end it there. I closed my eyes, feeling the cold close surround me, that comforting cold that took me far away from the hellhole I called home. For the first time in my short life, I felt happy.
My eyes were forced open. The wind stopped, and the sun somehow seemed less relentless. It was silent. I looked around, and found myself shielded from the elements by some sort of force field. It was magic, but a kind that I had never seen before. Just on the horizon, I noticed a tall figure, no more than a silhouette against the desert sky. It seemed benevolent somehow, like it’s only intentions were good. It turned and walked away without a word as the force field began to fade. My vision too began to fade, becoming black around the edges as reality dissolved.
A breeze blew past, carrying with it a single phrase.
"We are so alike."
I sputtered and coughed, jerking my eyes open, my vision incredibly blurry and my head swimming from the impact on my skull. My stomach lurched and I vomited on the wooden floorboards, shaking with exertion and exhaustion. My mane felt wet and sticky.
I lay there a few moments, trying to gather my thoughts about what had truly just happened. I felt ashamed at myself, knowing what I let my life become. The only thing that really left me confused is who that shadow was. Who was it that saved me? Would I have truly died if it weren’t for my savior?
I wasn’t given much time to think, as soon the whispers that had plagued my dream became louder. Perking up my ears, it became clear that they were coming from up the stairs.
I groaned as I attempted to lift my broken body from the mess I had made. I fell the first time after slipping in my sick. The second time was a little more successful, as I used the support from the stairs to pull me to my hooves. My legs felt like rubber, and were threatening to give under my weight. I wanted to find the origin of the sound, as finding another pony might be my only way out of here. I disregarded the ominous vibe it brought, and only concerned myself with finding an escape.
It seemed like the whispers gave me strength, and called me too them, almost like who or whatever was making them wanted to speak to me.
I decided making it up the staircase with any sort of dignity was out of the question, so instead slithered up them on my belly, pulling myself forward with my hooves, step by step. My eyes had adjusted to the very little light in the house, and I was able to guide myself with relative ease.
I took a few seconds to catch my breath. I cursed my luck, realizing that I was probably suffering from a concussion. The house began to shake, under the force of what felt like a small earthquake. The whispering became louder and more aggressive, and was growing increasingly louder. I looked around frantically as dust was thrown from the shelves and tossed from the floor as the shaking increased.
It suddenly stopped, and all was still for a moment. I sighed in relief, thinking that the strange phenomenon had ended.
The universe had other plans. A loud roar erupted from somewhere in the bowels of the house. I felt myself leave the floor, as if the stairs had ejected me from where I lay, and I landed in a heap at the top of the stairwell. Gasping for air, I thanked the universe for the assistance. I wasn’t going to be surprised by anything else.
Feeling that I couldn’t possibly look anymore deplorable than I already did, I stood to my hooves to continue my trek towards the whispering, now limping on my bruised right foreleg.
“We are so alike.”
I perked up as I realized that my search would soon come to an end. Down the hall to the right of the stairs stood a closed doorway. A soft glowing emanated from the crack under the door, and the whispering became slowly louder as I approached. I felt the air getting slightly cooler, only slightly. Steeling my nerves, I made the rest of the way towards the room.
Something was… pulling me. I quaked with fear, focusing all of my energy on not trying to scream as my hooves propelled me forward.
I was permitted to stop right in front of the doorway. I breathed deeply, and took the handle in my teeth. It was locked. I guess this will have to just be done the hard way.
I turned my backside to the door. Licking my lips and furrowing my brow in concentration, I lifted my back legs into the air, putting unwanted pressure on my bad leg. I kicked backwards as hard as I could muster, and ended up falling flat on my face when the door swung open on its own.
Fear seized my heart. I turned and righted myself as quickly as I could, expecting the worst. Instead I was met with an almost entirely normal room. A pair of drawers, a bed, and a dusty window garnished the glowing quarters. I stepped through the threshold to get a better look. I was scared beyond my wits, but my curiosity got the better of me. A rush of adrenalin pulled me further still.
I stopped.
In the corner of the room, resting on a large armchair, was an earth pony. He was obviously very old, with a graying mane and wrinkled skin. He held his head in his hooves, staring at the floor. I came to the sickening conclusion that the stallion was the source of the ominous glowing, and my stomach lurched with fear.
He looked cold. He shivered where he sat, looking lost and faded. Not physically, but somehow spiritually. My fear was replaced with empathy. I wanted to help somehow, but I didn’t know what I could do.
He lifted his head, and turned to face me. I stopped breathing, too afraid to move a single muscle. His face contorted and twisted, his eyes keeping their hard gaze on me, sending tremors into my soul.
“I had it all; at least, I thought I did. When this town was founded as a mining outpost, I became rich beyond my wildest dreams. Those who chose to follow me suffered the consequences. I was greedy, taking advantage of many for my own gratification. My selfishness left others to die and beg at my hooves. I didn’t need anypony else. I fell ill, and the last thing I can remember is closing my eyes for a short rest. I died how I lived, alone. Only, I didn’t move on. Instead, I stayed, not here, not there, departed from the flow of time, left with only my thoughts and the material things that surrounded me. For fifty years I’ve suffered, and I only wish I knew why. The desert is a cruel place.”
We are so alike.
“I’m sorry, didn’t you have any friends or a family to take care of you?”
“No, I was left to die with any heir to my riches, no close friends, only my precious mine and my money.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very good way to live.”
“What do you know? You’re only a foal; I’ve had what has felt like an eternity to contemplate the world.”
“But how can you have a world if you had nopony to share it with? Ponies need to be able to share, to love, to show companionship. To have a life without friends is like… not living at all.” It suddenly hit me that I was teaching this pony a lesson, a lesson that I myself hadn’t known. To live without friends is a terrible way to live. The desert of my nightmares and the frustration in my heart suddenly had direction and meaning.
I thought hard, trying to make sense of it all. How could I have just taught somepony a lesson that I myself had never adhered to? Could my forced solitude really be the reason for my suffering?
“Maybe you stayed here for a reason. I think the world was giving you time to figure out what mistake you made in your life, the one that had caused you so much misery.”
He shook his head.
“It was a foolish life, I only wish I had time to go back and make amends with all those I had caused so much pain for my own personal gain. For fifty years I thought and thought, not realizing my mistake. All it took was one colt to teach me the error of my ways.” He focused on me, eyeing me over and making me feel slightly self-conscious about my blank backside.
“I sense a longing in your soul. You’ve lived your whole life without satisfaction, always wanting more than the world you see around you. This town has nothing for you. I thank you for helping me see the light, but I can’t help but feel there is a conflict in your own soul, something you have to find on your own. But it isn’t all bad for you! Judging by your cutie mark, I’d say maybe this little interaction has helped you discover a little something about yourself as well,” he said, chuckling softly.
My cutie mark? What was he talking about? There’s nothing back there, I checked…
To humor him, I turned to rest my gaze on my blank flank. Yep, nothing unu—
Wait a minute! There was something there! I did a double-take, and there it was. My own cutie mark!
I frowned, my short spell of elation quickly replaced with confusion. Emblazoned on my flank was what appeared to be a leather-bound book. It was bare on the front, no words or marks, just a book.
The old earth pony-ghost stood from his armchair and made his way across the room to where I sat, confused and slightly deflated with my lackluster cutie mark. I had never written anything in my life, and I was only partial to reading. The stallion seemed to pick up on my somber mood.
“It is an honor to see you get your cutie mark. What is your name, young stallion?”
“R-Reel…”
“Listen, Reel, not everypony knows what a cutie mark means when they first get it. The desert hasn’t been kind to you, you have an aura of spiritual exhaustion. I want to thank you for what you’ve done for me.” He started to fade, becoming transparent, and his glow becoming fainter. “In my dresser is a little stash of gold ore that I dug up on my first trip into the mines all those years ago. It’s the last thing I own that hasn’t been taken away by the ponies I used to work with. I think that ore will be enough to take you out of this town for good. Just follow the river until you come across the railroad. I suspect it still runs, considering this town is still on the Equestrian map.”
He laughed heartily, lifting his head into the air and bellowing loudly, despite his voice becoming fainter with his dissipating body. He turned his now softened and compassionate eyes on me, and touched my chest with the tip of his hoof.
I gasped as his icy touch dug straight through my body and into my heart. My pace quickened, my adrenalin pumped as the chill took hold of my every limb and every orifice. It was something I never experienced before, a cold so enticing, so powerful it was nearly orgasmic. It left my soul feeling numb, and left me whimpering for more when he pulled his hoof away. I shivered and shook, closing my eyes, trying to hold onto the feeling for a moment longer.
When I opened them again, I was alone. I sat on my haunches, more confused than ever. So many questions were left unanswered. I turned to stare at my cutie mark, and sighed deeply. Remembering what he had told me, I walked over to the drawer, still shaky from the encounter. In the top drawer behind various papers and trinkets was the prize. A small block of gold, only about half the size of my eye, rested in the very back of the compartment. Licking my lips, I grabbed the small fortune and stowed it quickly in my saddlebag. Just as it was tucked safely away, I heard a loud bang from downstairs, followed by the sound of several ponies calling out my name.
I limped down the stairs to meet Dustpan and a couple of security ponies waiting for me at the landing. The door had been forced open with what appeared to be a large battering ram. Dustpan rushed over to me and wrapped his forelegs around my neck.
“I’m so sorry, Reel. I didn’t mean for it to go that far. I feel terrible for leaving you, but I had to wait until daytime to get you help,” he sobbed into my coat.
The chief of security, a powerful looking earth pony, came over to our little display. He pulled dustpan away from me, and rested a hoof on my shoulder.
“Are you alright?” I nodded in response. He took hold of my broken leg and applied pressure to my head, feeling the place where I had been hit. “You look like you need to see a doctor. Follow me and we’ll get you some assistance.”
I stood to my hooves, only just now realizing how exhausted I truly was. I wobbled for a moment, then decided right now would be a really good time for a power nap.
Thud!
\.~~o00o~~.///
Depart with me, follow the light
Get lost on the way
Take me into the darkest night
To tread tall in the day
Take a dive into the unknown
Nightmares survived, knowledge shown
Live by the guide
Die by the guide
Expect nothing when you go
///.~~o00o~~.\\
Relapse and Wicker's Guide to the Departed
Relapse and Wicker's Guide to the Departed
Chapter Two: Rivers and Rails
“The job of a plunderer is not an easy one, but those who are willing can expect some side effects: a sense of self-worth, a vast knowledge and a new understanding of the world around you, and best of all, riches beyond your wildest dreams...”
Four months later.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I looked out the window into the sky over the slowly illuminating desert, picking up my pace with the slowly rising sun. I knew I was running out of time; I was supposed to be gone by sunrise.
I frantically finished the rest of my packing, leaving strewn all over my bed the various items and supplies that were wait than actually necessary. In the end, all I had packed in my saddlebags was a small canteen filled with the remains of this week’s water ration, a map of the entirety of southern Equestria, complete with railways and roads, a hay sandwich, and a notebook.
As I got all these things gathered and stored into my pack, I reminded myself of the one item that mattered the most. Reaching under the springboards of my bed, I produced a small cardboard box with a thin string holding it closed. Inside the box was the extent of my entire life savings, a hefty sum of no more than thirty bits. Under the modest fortune was the real hidden treasure. I poured the money into one of the side pockets of my saddlebag, taking the small yellow rock in my hoof.
It felt cold to the touch. I tossed it between my hooves, watching the soft sunlight bounce of its surface. It seemed so insignificant; it was just a little rock. But I knew full well that it was so much more: It was the ticket to the rest of my life. Whatever that meant, I wasn’t sure. It sent chills down my spine, filling me with simultaneous elation and dread. My mind visited the night it came into my possession often, bringing with it nagging questions and immense confusion. I beat my brain every day trying to figure out what it all meant.
I spent countless hours in the local library, pouring mind and soul into research, but found absolutely nothing on the subject. The only thing I found was a pamphlet explaining conclusively that ghosts didn’t exist, and a book that stated the houses of the deceased should be avoided at all costs. As far as I was concerned, I was the only pony who had ever encountered anything like that.
I was getting sidetracked. I hastily put the gold with the rest of my money, closing the bag shut with a swift tug of the strap. Saddlebag in position, I trekked out of my bedroom and into the narrow hallway towards the kitchen, holding a single piece of parchment in my teeth.
In the middle of the kitchen stood a dusty looking table, its wooden frame held nothing but its own weight and a now empty bowl that my parents left out for me the night before to drink in the morning. Without a moment’s hesitation, I placed the paper front and center on the surface. I didn’t even care to read over it again, not because it would give me any sentiment, but because I saw the act as meaningless. I didn’t feel any sorrow for leaving my home and my parents, but I couldn’t just walk away and not tell them of my decision.
The old stallion had spoken of a station up the river that was used for shipping ore to the other cities of Equestria back when the town was founded as a mining settlement. I did my research over the past few weeks, and learned that it was still used for shipping, mostly imported goods like building materials and crops from the more temperate areas of the country. It was never used as a passenger railway.
The track did, however, make one stop on the way. There was a passenger station only a few hours down the line. It had various terminals that lead to every corner of Equestria, and beyond.
The plan was simple. I was going to leave home, follow the river to the shipping yard, and hitch a ride on a freighter. I learned from a schedule in the records section of the library that a train would leave about twelve hours from dawn, giving me just enough time to make the long walk from Nickerville to meet my traveling arrangements.
Once I made it safely to the passenger rail, I would use the small amount of money I had saved to buy a one way ticket to Fillydelphia, where I would begin my life anew.
To go through the desert alone was extremely dangerous, but I didn’t serve a very likely chance of succumbing to the elements so long as I kept to the river. I didn’t want to risk getting questioned about others about where I was going, which was another reason I had left home so early on a day off from school.
I had spent several days prior just preparing myself for the journey. It was exciting, but at the same time, I had never in my life stepped outside the borders of my birth town. I was going into a world that I had only heard stories about. It was mindboggling to think about, so I just kept my mind on the task at hand.
Looking around my tiny home one last time, I couldn’t keep the butterflies from making their way into my stomach. A rush excitement ran through my blood; I was finally leaving Nickerville! I had dreamed of this day all my life, and I finally had the means of doing so. I could make a fresh start and find a purpose in existence. I stepped through the threshold of my front door into the warm morning light.
I made a quick pace through the residential area of town, my path fixed on the center of town, where I would meet the river. The town was all but silent, the morning wind bringing a soft echo of the desert to the east. Very few others were about at this hour, save for the shopkeepers and the farmers, who had already begun their long and tedious day. The temperature was already acclimating with the rising sun, bringing with it the oh-so familiar sensation that had burdened me my entire life.
I converged on my destination: the flows that ran straight through the middle of the settlement. I planted my hooves directly adjacent to the river. Furrowing my brow and licking my lips in concentration, I couldn’t contain the rush of adrenalin from shooting through my veins as I began the walk.
I made it through town without any trouble; nopony bothered me or questioned me about where I was going. I was several hours out. The desert sprawled outward in every direction, shaking hands with the sky on every horizon. I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, my excitement had long since been abandoned. It was unbelievably hot, well over one-hundred degrees. It was reaching the heat of the day, and the temperature didn’t show any promise of stopping its escalation any time soon.
Panting from exhaustion, I stared, entranced, at the sandy liquid that flowed the opposite direction. We were told to never set hoof in the river as foals, so as not to contaminate the only source of water for miles. It was so enticing, so inviting, I couldn’t stay away.
It is hard to believe that I had never been completely submerged until that moment of my life. In town, we were allowed one shower a week, and it only lasted for a minute or so. Those were some of my favorite times as a foal, where I would let the warm water fall over my back as I took the short time to let my mind wonder in complete silence.
I placed one hoof after another into the brown flows. It felt absolutely fantastic. Before I knew it, my entire lower half was under as I waded slowly up the stream. It was enough to bring my body temperature down to a comfortable level as I took a deep breath of satisfaction.
I decided that a quick rest wouldn’t be detrimental to my time restraints. I lowered my body, letting the water crawl up my torso. Before I knew it, I was neck deep. Closing my eyes tight, I took a deep breath.
I opened my eyes, and I was in the room again. The Founder was looking at me, the image of his gratified expression fresh in my mind like it happened yesterday. Remnants of his cold touch still remained in my soul, making me feel horrified and concerned, yet filled me with a strange comfort.
His face twisted and changed, becoming more sinister and terrifying in my mind’s eye. Pain gripped my chest as if his contact was strangling me. The images began to fade, replaced by a taunting laugh that echoed through the silence.
I breached the surface, gasping for air. It had dawned on me a few weeks ago that seeing his face, his beseeching gaze focused on me, was the only time in my life that I had felt important to anypony. I hadn’t thought much of it, as my mind was plagued with a plethora of other questions that took priority in my mind.
I chalked up the mini daymare I just had to my own overexcited imagination, and decided that was a long enough rest. I clambered out of the river and set back on my northward course.
As per usual, my mind started to wonder not long after my quick swim. One thing in particular was nagging at the back of my brain. The whispering I heard —the voice that lead me to the room in the house—didn’t sound anything like the speech of the ghost. How could he have known anything about me to come to the conclusion that we were so similar? It didn’t make any sense. Was he able to somehow see into my own thoughts? And even so, that doesn’t answer the question as to why the voice didn’t match his, or why he didn’t know my name.
Another oddity resided in the dream I had: The tall, thin figure that had protected me from death in the desert. Was it nothing more than a savior created by my own mind? I had a strange feeling that this was not the case. I had never dreamed of anypony else, let alone somepony that I’d never even seen before.
One of the hopes that I saw in my journey was the satisfaction of my unending questions. I’m sure there must be a more extensive library with information on the subject than the outdated history books at our mining town’s library.
I must have walked a lot farther than I thought. Off in the distance, just above the horizon, buildings came into view. It was still fifteen or so miles off, but it seemed for the first time in a while that my journey finally had a set destination once more.
Infinite lines of iron and wood sprawled outward in either direction like arrows pointing to the farthest reaches of my known world and beyond. I made a wide berth of the building complex, choosing to approach the station from the other side, where I could take cover behind the barn and train cars. I didn’t have any experience with being sneaky or trying to stay hidden, but I was pretty good at making myself invisible, considering I tried so hard during my school days to avoid any pony at all costs. How hard could it be?
The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the red sand that surrounded the weather worn train cars. Taking refuge behind a silo, I scanned the area for signs of life. Nopony seemed to be keeping guard. I figured as much; why would they feel the need to guard train cars in the middle of the desert, when anypony that would come all the way through the desert for some ore would be extremely crazy?
I paused, laughing inwardly at the irony of my own question.
I walked around to the other side of the silo to get a better viewpoint of the situation, and that’s when I caught sight of what I was looking for. On the track nearest to the main station rested a multicar shipping train. The conductors stood strapped to the front of the transport, pulling it into position for departure, facing the east. My heart sunk as I thought for the moment that I was too late, but the herd stopped just short of the edge of the terminal. They individually released the ropes and harnesses from their bodies, and then turned to walk back toward the main building.
Now was my chance.
I bolted from my hiding place. Wizzing in and out of the train cars, I made a break for the train as fast as my legs could carry me. Nopony in sight, I reached the back end of the train. I looked around trying to find a door. Nothing. The next few carts after that were just open containers filled with rubble. I galloped at top speed, passing by several more carts until I came across one with a big metal door on the side. To my dismay, I noticed the steel bolt lock on the handle. I groaned and, short on breath, continued down the line.
My search came to end a few carts down. A huge cart with a solid door yielded my solace. Wiping the sweat off my brow and licking my lips, I made my way move to open the compartment.
“Hey, you! Stop!”
A huge stallion came belting towards me. Unsure of what to do, I ran. I was faster than him, making a huge gap between us. My legs felt like rubber, and I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. Searching ahead of me frantically, I found a bend around the carts of the shipping train. Kicking up as much dust as I could, I jumped over the cable connecting the containers to the other side of the train.
I acted as swiftly as I could, figuring exactly how many seconds I had until I was caught. If they caught me, they would surely send me back home, and I couldn’t face returning to my parents after giving them my note. I noticed a stair step latter on the side of the nearest car. Thinking I didn’t have much choice, I bolted for the latter, jumping up to the top. Not thinking, not looking, I jumped into the bin.
Unfortunately, this particular train car was full. I landed with a painful thud on a pile of very jagged coal stones. Couching and sputtering from the dust cloud that consumed me, I hunkered down on the uncomfortable surface, trying to make myself small and less visible. I cursed my red coat and white mane, which probably made me stick out like a sore thumb.
The Stallion came into view, looking up and down the aisle of cars in my pursuit. I held my breath and prayed that he wouldn’t look up, and that the slowly darkening sky made me look a little bit less colorful.
He paused just below me. I closed my eyes and dug myself even deeper into the ore. I didn’t move or think until I heard the sound of hooves slowly getting farther away.
I instantly regret the deep inhale I took as my lungs were met with an onslaught of soot. My eyes watered as I forced myself to stay quiet.
I noticed the scenery around me slowly starting to shift to the left. It began picking up pace as the wheels below me screeched under the change in motion. My heart picked up speed with the train, knowing full well that once the train started going at full speed, I wouldn’t be able to risk moving from my spot. I sighed. The trip from this station to the passenger station was four hours at the least.
I shifted my position to give me a moment’s reprieve from the painful stones digging into my stomach. This was going to be a long ride.
The sun had set several hours ago, three to be exact. The car I found myself was near the end of the train, well out of the view of the conductor ponies at the front of the mass of steel and rubble. About thirty minutes in, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore, and resorted to standing on my hooves, confident that I wouldn’t be discovered. I tried desperately to stay balanced with the rushing of the train and the strong desert winds, but saw it as a much better alternative to laying in my misery.
I had been standing for what felt like days, when in truth it had only been about four and a half hours since my kind chauffeurs gave me a lift. I was exhausted from trying to retain my vertical position, and was starting to consider giving up and lying back down on the jagged surface. I had to hand it to them, the conductors hadn’t stopped once since we left. For once in my life up to that point, I admired another pony for their fortitude.
I staved off boredom by counting the stars overhead. A feat that was impossible, I had learned pretty quickly. I just watched them, trying to make patterns and shapes by connecting the dots. I had always taken the stars for granted. They hung over my head every night. Maybe I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to realize how truly wonderful they were. I turned to the backside of the train and gazed into the full moon. The craters on its surface sent shivers down my spine. I had always felt like the moon was something to be feared as a child, though I never knew exactly why.
The wind blew steadily and heavily, buffeting my body and filling my ears with an ever present white noise. It was exhausting.Just as I was about to cave in, the wind began to die down. The tracks below started screeching as the carts rocked and shook from deceleration. Turning to look toward the front of the train, I caught sight of dim lights coming into view. I almost screamed in elation, but held my tongue cautiously.
The train pulled into the middle of a dark dusty flat on the outskirts of the outpost. It screeched to a grinding halt, sending me off balance and throwing me forward a little bit in the car. My legs felt shaky from the constant vibration of the train that was now gone. I breathed deeply, and hunkered down in the cart once more, peering over the edge slightly. I waited for several painful minutes with my empty belly pushed into the rocks. After a while, the conductor ponies were walking slowly into the station to the right side of the train. I waited anxiously as the last one made his way inside, then bolted out of the top, down the step ladder, and onto the hard ground below. I ran as fast as I could toward the front side of the station.
I had never seen so many ponies before.
They were everywhere, or so it seemed. This station was the central hub of transportation for all of Southern Equestria, meaning a lot of ponies came through here every day. The open streets and small shacks were packed with colorful bodies, going about their business in a rushed manor. I stood in the alleyway outside the clusterbuck, watching them all in passing. Cautiously, I shoved my way through the crowd, trying to make it to the front side, where I knew the train for Fillydelphia would be departing at any minute now.
I tried desperately to not let claustrophobia kick in, and instead focused on making it to the gates, which were only a few paces ahead. The crowd was pulling me slowly to the left, sort of like how the river would pull me slightly downstream, only a lot less calm and a lot more rude. Voices shouted at me as I was shoved around. I just ignored them and continued on my path.
I came out on the other side, breathless but intact for the most part. Several others filed their way inside the open steel gates, and I joined them. Just as I entered the doorway, a flash of white rushed past me, sending me spinning where I stood. Before I knew what had happened, she had darted into the crowd in front of the ticket booth. I considered calling out to her, but thought against it, as it would be futile with all the noise.
I came up on the booth. An uptight-looking old mare sat behind the glass, not looking up from the filing job she was giving to her hoof. I shed my saddlebags, and deposited all the money I had saved onto the table.
"One ticket to Fillydelphia, please," I sighed, knowing the hardest part of my journey would soon be over.
Looking up from her work, her face lit up as she took the considerable amount of money quite hastily, looking around at all the other clerks. None of them paid her any mind. She dumped it all under her desk.
"Sure thing kid!" she said, handing me the ticket. Her eyes looked over me. "Something wrong with ya? You look pretty beat up and dirty."
I looked at my hooves. "It's nothing, I've just been knee deep in some things that I hadn't planned to get into," I said sheepishly.
I turned to walk the other way as she picked up one of my bits and looked at it like it was tainted.
The air was cold!
I moaned in delight as I rode the crowd onto the train. It was nice and cool in here. Such a refreshment from my daily life. I trotted down the isles, eyeing the ponies in their separate train booths. Each one had four cushions and a table in between them, with a large window painted black from the night. I walked a little further until I found an empty compartment. The door slid open with ease as I stepped inside. I shivered, not only from the cool air, but from the sheer exhilaration I was feeling. It was the next step towards the rest of my life. I unstrapped my luggage and set it on the table nearest the window. Sitting on the soft cushion, I couldn't help but tear up a little bit. It was such a relief after spending so much time laying in that ore cart.
I rested my head on the table. The train would be arriving at Fillydelphia in around five hours. It suddenly dawned on me how tired I truly was, not having any sleep since dawn the day before. I closed my eyes, thinking that a couple minutes of rest couldn't hurt.
"Getting an early start can sometimes be the deciding factor in your survival. The Departed become weaker in the daylight hours, so it's advised that you avoid going in during the night hours. Remember, the early bird gets the worm!"
