Sunflowers

CRRK-EEEK... CRRK-EEEK… CRRK-EEEK…

Sunlight beating down upon my back in swaths of summer heat, perspiration cooling my brow, my wooden cart behind me making the same old creaky noise.
This is the only life I‘ve ever known.

CRRK-EEEK… CRRK-EEEK… CRRK-EEEK…

The only sound I hear besides the tree cicadas and the porch rocking-chairs and the absence of birds.
My cart.

The summer hours were long and sweltering, a kind of heat you only get when in drought. The kind of heat that makes you see mirage puddles on the road’s horizon and causes your crop to wither in on it‘s own dried leaves.

Houses sagged on every porch, paint peeling from the wooden planks and steps caving into themselves. Dirt and dust sifted on the path under the wheels of the cart, and everything seemed to be derelict. I knew that in this weather, the townsfolk were probably inside, though they would seek no solace from the sun.

Princess Celestia warned us of the coming heat wave, and while most folks were fine with such conditions, farmers like myself were under a great stress from even the subtlest of weather changes. While it’s true the Princess is making up for all the flooding in other regions, Appleoosa is dying. The ponies are simply burning up.

And being peasants so far away from Her Majesty’s castle, we can do nothing to say “no.”

Two giggling foals ran out into the road, and I reared in surprise at the sudden change. Their happy laughs punctuated the former silence, but I was calmed at their relaxing foolishness.

“Honey Hooves, you watch where you’re going, young colt!”

The taller, more browned colt skidded to a halt, turned and began to pout: “Mum, I told ya not to call me that name ‘n public!”

A very feminine-looking peach mare stepped out of the protection of the shade and seemed to canter towards him in a huff.

“And I also told you not to run out into the roads! Set an example for your sister!”

The other pony sat on the ground, oblivious, messing her off-white coat with dirt, and smiled silently off into the distance.
The mare turned and faced me next, expression apologetic, “I’m mighty sorry about my foals getting underfoot; They’re usually so VERY well-behaved.” She finished by glaring at the poor colt.

“Ah, et’s nawt any trouble et’all, Ma’am,” I spoke, my throat catching dryly on itself into a hoarse rasp.
She smiled back at my embarrassingly thick accent, and after bowing politefully, wandered off with her child.

The filly still sat on the ground, absent-minded enough to not notice anything that happened just now.

“Dinah?” Her far-away mother called back to the dumb filly. Dinah’s bright blue eyes were glassy and seemed to glaze over as she got up and began to quicken her pace towards her mother, laughing all the way.

I kept moving.

~

Dust glittered in the air and sand shone in the dirt trail as the descending sun turned all into a gold mine.

I knew I was nearing my home, for the sun was now beyond the hills when I turned around and, even if the foals had stopped me for a while, I was still making good time.

I was nearing my home.

Each hoof step bringing me closer to the place I feel alone, safe, and warm. But even so, I knew I’m more at home under the painted sky. Earth under my hooves, and air over my head. All I need, all I need. Never a thing out of place if it occurs naturally. As it should be.

Princess Luna’s moon was just beginning to shine brighter, if not a bit quicker than usual. There had been trouble with her artistry of late, stars seemingly becoming more clusterous, jumbled. As if she was having a headache while bringing forth night.

Celestia’s sun dipped away into the horizon, and the younger’s moon placed itself front and center.
Even if the last rays of sunlight were fighting to continue coloring the sky, the stars outlasted them as I neared my cabin.

Assuming my family was asleep, I silently took my harness and placed it on the ground by the shed. Checking the crops, I noticed several more were cut from their stems since this morning.

“Tch, Flora, Ah wan’ed to give ‘em to ya first,” I mumbled, walking back around to the front of the cabin.

I pushed the door to the house open, trying to avoid any creaks that might wake the others. The house is always quiet when I get home, but now it was a deep silence. VERY unusual… Unle-

“DADDY!”

An adorable orange filly popped out from behind the vase on the table and launched off the table into my neck, cutting my train of thought. Her pink eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and she brushed her soft brown mane against my chin.

“Daddy’s home, guys! Daddy’s home!” She bounced back to the ground, and ran into the next room. I took notice of the vase: full of sunflowers.

“Hey dad! I got my Cutie Mark today while you were selling flowers!”

A lean, yellowish colt with a toothy grin ran up from the hallway shadows and showed his father his flank: A blooming plant.

“Tha’s great, son! We should cel’brate et tonigh’ so et stays fresh,” I replied, as happy as he was to see his bloodline running into his talent.

The children danced around me, singing the Cutie Mark Song as I reared up to turn on the gas lamp.

“If a Mark is what you got,

Then answers will be there!

‘Cause after all, if it’s not,

Your flank and talent be bare!”

As soon as my hooves touched the ground, Flora walked in from the hallway, sweeping me off them again.
In all her equine glory.

“Valentine dear, I need to show you something,” She called to me, urging me to come over to her while our foals played in the dim light. She smelled of warm cloth and pollen, even at a foot away.

“I think our third is due on the Summer Sun Celebration day,” She smiled, gesturing with her muzzle towards her bulging stomach. “I’d like you to name our foal.”

I nickered and nuzzled Flora’s neck. Of course I would!

I was so positive that we would have another little flower child to add to the family name that I began to think of all the types of Sunflowers to grace our third born with. What would be good for a boy? What would be suiting for a girl? I wonder if there were going to be twins! Maybe then I should ask my brother about corresponding names- he’s had triplets, after all…

Flora smiled in the dim light of the oil lamp, watching me. She closed her dark brown eyes in that serene way that she does and tilted her head to the side thoughtfully.

A call from the front room knocked me out of the hypnotics Flora gave off when she grinned like that, and I turned towards the noise.

“D-daddy…?” It was my sweet daughter, Petal again, calling for a second time.

Suddenly someone was knocking on my door. Not loud, but sharp and quick. They knew somepony was living here. Flora had already began to usher the children towards the back of the house, her eyes speaking a silent warning.

I could see Petal shaking in the hallway.

That certainly wouldn’t do.

I waited until they had all gone in the back bedroom of Flora and I. The knocking began again. I out the lamp, and noticed a bright light filtering under the doorway of the house, orange and flickering.

“We just want to talk, farm pony. We have no intention of hurting you if you comply!” Thick and punctuated, a stallion’s accent was jabbing his ‘t’ consonants into the air. He could be a pegasus, then. Only the militia or of military descent would have and accent like that. That’s not good.

I thought calmly before speaking again, knowing my family was in the other room down the hallway and within earshot.

“… ‘En a m’nute, suh.”

Murmurs could be heard, but not understood.

I took the few careful steps amongst the squeaky floorboards to the glass cabinet. I calmly undid the latch holding back my old “hunting knife” as Flora called it. I had only used it for cutting think sunflower stems or carving wooden figures for my boy. But it was still lethal.

“If you even think about esca- …taking the back door out, we’ve got the whole place surrounded!”
What’s with all the ponies involved? The earlier murmurs meant more than one was present… But what’s with all the precaution for a simple farm pony? Was it another cult leader?

“Hurry it up, old colt!” The knocking was insistent now, the voice sounding just outside the door.

I hid the hunting knife in the folds of my raggy vest and began to open the door.

As I had expected, there were two pegasi on my doorstep, but they were only a little younger than myself. Not some buff ruffians, but only a couple twiggish, winged, potato sacks. They had muscles, but they couldn’t catch up to their quickly-growing young bodies.

The others around them were only a young dark blue earth colt, an gray mare, and a light purple earth stallion that looked to be in his twenties. Certainly a band of misfits. The foreboding pegasi at my door were both with navy manes, but one’s fur was a dark green and the other was a cheery yellow. They all had stupid sneers on their faces.

“Betcha you just LOVE to support that stupid Princess, don’t ‘cha?” The green pegasus blurted out. The sentence hung dead in the air, and the gray mare quickly walked up from behind him and swatted his head as if it were a bug.

“Can it, Forrest, we all know you suck at speaking.” She tossed her shining purple mane in the cold night air, the torchlight bouncing off it like a blue-orange star. “We just want his opinion, not to instigate threats.”

I knew this group from several gossips I’ve heard through the town in my travels. I was sure to be wary of their questioning.

“Hey, I’m just wondering,” The yellow pegasus colt frowned toward me, “Don’t we, like, know you from somewhere?”

“Err…” Oh Celestia help me, I’ve started talking again. “Nope. Ah dun’t believe ya do.”

The mare snorted and stomped her hoof. The older purple stallion began to slowly make his way around the crowd to the back of my house.

“Ex’cuse me, suh,” I said, warning loud and clear in my voice, “Ef you ev’n th’nk ‘bout botherin’ mah house, I’m gonna whoop you somthin’ real good.”

I turned to face the meathead who didn’t even acknowledge me properly, but instead scoffed and stopped walking. He didn’t turn. I kept a close eye on him.

“Hey pops… Can we ask you a few questions?” The mare smiled like a cheshire cat when I looked at her, and she jeered at me in a way most menacing. How rude.

They were truly a gang of ruffians.

“No, ya may nawt ask no questin’s ov yers,” I said, stomping my hoof. No one shifted. “Now, Ah’ve got plen’y ov reasons why Ah shouldn’ even let y’all near mah home. Ne’erdaless let ya’ll boss me around like Ah’m sum sorta showpony.”

I tried my best to glare at them all at once, warning them, “Ahnd ef ya’ll even think ‘bout badtalkin’ eithe’o our ‘Preencessees’ Ah’m-a gonna show you brutes how we take care o’our renegades d’wn ‘ere in Applegate!”

I braved a step closer to the cocky mare. Her mane seemed to reflect the stars and her eyes were orange in the torchlight.

“Th’t meens you, Glora. Ya’ll shou’d be runnin’ ohn home to yer aunt if Ah’m nawt mistaken.”

The orange in her eyes intensified as she widened them. We stood there for a second, boring into each other’s skulls, until she laughed and turned towards her younger lackeys.

‘Yeah, yeah, grampa, we hear ya’,” The mare, Glora, signaled towards the purple stallion. “C’mon, Starbuck, let’s get outta here.”

The whole group didn’t seemed fazed that I had just beaten down their spokesperson. I was just glad I didn’t have to use my knife. I watched them recede into the night air as Glora’s mane melted into the sky.

But Glora made one last jibe at me that night that I would remember for the rest of my life.

She had turned back to the house right before they had descended the hill, and the stars overhead had all thrummed and twinkled in unison at her rebellious words, “Remember this, Valentine Sunflower… Princess Luna’s rule shall rise with her moon, and her night shall last ’til the end of time!”

Their torchlight sputtered out as a sudden gale swept over the hillside, and either fear or warmth drove me back into my house, away from their superstitions.

~

Daddy had been scared too, and mommy, and brother Clytie. Daddy had taken a really long time and I had gotten scared, also. When mommy had taken me and Clytie into their bedroom, daddy was talking to someone but I don’t know who daddy was talking to.

We heard all these ponies saying things that didn’t sound too kind to my father, and we heard him shut the door. Mommy tried to have us go out the back door after we heard nopony spoke, but Clytie said that he heard nearby hoofsteps outside and then mommy got scared and said “shush.”

We were in the bedroom for a long time, all of us laying on the ground besides mommy, ‘cause she has a baby in her tummy. She was just sitting near her bed.

Daddy was shouting and we could hear that, and he said our Auntie’s name real angrily. I asked mommy if we could go play with Auntie and see her. But mommy got real quiet and just shook her head. Clytie tried to be silent and he went to go help mommy with her crying. I wanted to help mommy too, but then I heard a lot of loud wind from the down the hall, and it got quiet again.

Then daddy walked through the door!

He started to try to comfort mommy, and she just put her eyes into her hooves and started getting loud.

It was really sad to watch. I got up and I walked over to her and she just kept crying, “My own sister, my dear sister!” I didn’t know what was going on, so I just patted her belly and told her that her sister is going to be alright and that they’re both okay. She hugged me real tight after that, and daddy told Clytie and I to go get ready for bed.

Clytie took me and we walked across the hall into our room that was by the kitchen, but not quite. We had brushed our teeth before daddy came home and mommy told us to hide so we could surprise him, so we didn’t have to do it again.

I got into my bed and Clytie told me “goodnight”, but when I asked him what mommy was sad about, he just looked really angry and said “goodnight” to me even harsher.

Daddy and mommy didn’t even kiss us goodnight.

~

My wife sat on the wooden boards, crying over her younger sister. What could I do? I just sat down with her and let her speak about how she felt. Even if I knew their relationship would take time to heal.

Glora and Flora were both sisters from the Morning Glory family line, the former being four years younger than the latter. Their father was a high-class unicorn from the regions of Hoovesbury, and had similar traits to Flora. Flaxen coat, orange mane. Brown eyes as warm as the sun, apparently. Just like my dear Flora. Their mother, a kind, honest mare with bright green eyes and a straight, cheery-coloured mane, had given their first daughter her pale pink coat.

But when little Glora had arrived with a purple mane and a gray coat, the only thing that linked her to the family line was her bright green eyes.

Flora’s father was distraught. He moved away, taking his unicorn charms with him and leaving Flora to be the only connection her mother had with her ex-husband.

Flora was put to be the star of the show, and Glora was passively blamed for coming out different and freaking out her family with her seemingly-different genetics. But their mother never cheated on him, and all the stress of believing that she was born as a mistake, that her sister was perfect and of slight unicorn genetics had made her grow jealous of her older sister. Even if they were of earth-orientation.

It could never be properly fixed, and she fell in with the wrong crowd.

“Naw, remembah, Flora, shee’ll be yer ol’ sis again, it’ll jus’ take sum time,” I tried to speak calmly and softly, but my voice was too gruff and punctuated with Appleoosan dialect for me to have the desired effect.

She nevertheless relaxed just a bit and leaned into my chest slightly.

Flora then spoke calmly, but even I knew that she was being careful to sound controlled, “W-what did she come here for, sweetie?”

The moonlight fell through the windowpane in our bedroom at a steep angle, touching her tear-streaked face so gently. I was scared to see her expression change if I said anything disturbing to her.

“Glora wa’s ‘ere wit half o’ dat Lunatic group fr’m ‘round these parts.”

Flora was silent for a few minutes, and I just hugged her tightly. She loves her sister more than her mother did, and yet Glora still pushes her away.

When Flora finally did speak, she sounded hopeful and tired. Like a beggar receiving a little sum of money.

“I think we shouldn’t dwell too much on it during the night… And siblings are always going to be family.” She smiled at me the usual way, compelling my own eyelids to forsake me. I agreed, and we decided to rest until the morning.

When I had to get up at the crack of dawn when Petal started jumping on my back.