“Tell me a story, Grandma!”
“Apple Fritter! Now what have I said about bothering Grandma when she’s tryin’ to sleep?!”
“It’s quite all right, Melrose, I couldn’t fall asleep anyway. I might as well tell this young one a story,” Pinova intervened, carefully lifting the small yellow filly into her lap from her rocking chair. She affectionately tussled the green pigtails on the filly’s head, held together by identical pink bowties on each.
Apple Fritter giggled at the caress and squirmed about playfully. “Stop it, Granny! You’re gonna mess up ma’ mane!”
“Pretty little head like yours, I don’t think that’s possible,” argued the pink old mare. “My mane, on the other hoof, isn’t quite as much as it used to be.” Pinova gestured to her yellow mane with occasional streaks of orange, pointing out the stray strands of hair protruding from the tight bun she keeps it in.
Apple Fritter positively gasped in horror. “Oh no no no no no!” she exclaimed, shaking both her hooves and head to emphasize her point. “You got the prettiest mane ever, Grandma!”
Pinova chuckled, her frail body gently shaking with mirth. “That means a lot to me, Fritty, thank you.” They both shared a moment of laughter before settling down. “Now, you see what I do with my pillows before I lie on them, yes?”
Apple Fritter nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’ve always wondered why you would look in them first. Oo! Is that what you’re going to tell me, Granny? Huh? Huh?” the yellow filly asked enthusiastically.
“Oh yes. You see, when I was a little filly, just around your age, I had a bad experience one night when I was trying to sleep. I still remember as though it was yesterday; after a long hard day out in the farm, I was mighty eager to catch me some shut-eye. As soon as I lay on the bed, though, I could hear squeaking and the curious sensation of my pillow squirming from under my very head. I fearfully looked into it, and alas, it was mice!”
Apple Fritter gasped and brought both hooves up to her muzzle, terrified at the prospect of actually finding mice in your pillow. She quickly recovered and proceeded to bombard Pinova with further inquires. “And then what, Grandma? Did you run away? Did you scream? Did you fling the pillow out the window? Oh, I bet you did! Because I would! Or wait! Did you run away screaming while flinging your pillow out the window?”
Sometimes, little Fritty truly did remind Pinova of the times of her own foalhood and it never failed to bring great joy to her. It felt like the times when Melrose was just born, where her never ending patience would answer to every one of her foal’s queries. Transitioning from her reverie, Pinova continued, “Well, you got two of those right. I assure you at I didn’t fling the poor mice out the window, but I did manage to wake up the entire house. Your great-granddad swore that his ear was ringing for weeks afterwards.” She giggled at the memory.
***
Sitting on the train to Manehatten from Trottingham, Apple Fritter couldn’t help but reminisce about the times of her own foalhood. It was a comfortable little compartment in the train. Not the most spacious, but cozy all the same. A single light bulb illuminated the carriage in a pale yellow, shining off of a full glass of water she had been staring at for the past hour. She pulled her chin from the tabletop and glanced out the window. It was snowing. A blanket of snow covered the usually verdant landscape and snowflakes were slowly and ever so gently contributing to the mass.
Looking at the small bed on the far side of the room, Apple Fritter contemplated attempting to sleep again. The last time she tried, all she could see were shapes as soon as she shut her eyes. Shapes glaring at her, vibrant red eyes glowing with malicious intent. Shuddering, Apple Fritter wrapped the thick blanket tighter around her, but she knew that the shiver wasn’t caused by the cold.
The door adjacent to her subtly slid open, and a mint green pony with a brown mane peeked into the room. Melrose was dismayed that her daughter still had not managed to get any sleep, judging by the dark circles underneath her eyes and her lack of movement prior to the last time she checked on her. This time though, she wasn’t checking on her.
“Fritter? It’s time to leave, we’ve arrived.” She slowly approached her daughter, laying a hoof on her withers.
Bloodshot eyes which had long run dry slowly turned and looked up at Melrose. “Mommy, why her? What did she do to deserve this? Why can’t she at least just leave peacefully, like Granddad did?”
Melrose smiled sadly. “Nopony has a say in who stays and who goes. Same thing with how they go. The fact is one day, everypony is going to need to pass on. And we are going to need to accept that.” She hugged her daughter reassuringly. “Now come on, this may be the last time you’ll ever get to talk to her.”
Gingerly lifting the glass of water, Apple Fritter took a sip and followed her mother out of the door.
***
“…she’s currently stable, but we don’t expect her to remain that way for long. Nurses have been working around the clock and she has been sent to intensive care twice last night,” Doctor Carehoof explained, distractedly flipping through a clipboard.
Apple Fritter wasn’t paying attention. She was staring at the double doors which behind holds her grandmother, the mare who had cared for her her entire life. Turning back to the doctor, she gave him a flat expression. Depravation from sleep had lead Apple Fritter to the brink of collapsing, her left eyelid was twitching sporadically and her legs felt that they were about to give out at any second. It didn’t help her patience either.
Stowing his clipboard away, the white stallion bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I wish there could be way to save her, but I’m afraid that her time has come. At her age though, I would assume that it would be a fulfilling one.”
“It was,” both mares said in unison. Apple Fritter had already started towards the doors while her mother nodded appreciatively to the doctor. Slowly pushing the door open, she cautiously slid into the room.
Upon the sight of the weak form of her grandmother resting in the hospital bed, Apple Fritter’s knees nearly buckled from underneath her in shock. She didn’t look like that last week when she came to visit her. Her usually neatly kept mane was a dishevelled mess and her features seemed to have inflated dramatically. The purple circles encompassing her eyes suggested that she wasn’t the only one deprived from sleep. Whenever Apple Fritter envisioned her grandmother, she always saw her as a strong, confident mare, willing to do whatever it takes to help family. It hurt Apple Fritter to see her like this, the delusion broken by the weak form of Pinova desperately clinging to life.
The beginnings of tears were welling up on Apple Fritter’s eyes. No! I can’t let her see me cry. I have to stay strong for her. Deliberately dragging her legs along the porcelain floor, Apple Fritter crossed the room to stand next to her grandmother. Melrose trotted up next to her and also settled down.
Pinova ever so slowly rotated her head towards the pair. “Young ones,” she rasped, barely audible and struggling to enunciate words, “You’ve come.”
Delicately holding eye contact as thought even looking away could break her, Apple Fritter replied, “Of course, Grandma.” She carefully laid her hoof on Pinova’s withers. “Shh, you don’t have to speak. It’s okay, we’re here for you.”
“Oh, I hope you are, Fritty.” She paused to gasp for air. “Because I have one last dying wish.”
***
“Mom, she's in no fit state to travel! And how in Equestria is going back going to help?” Apple Fritter paced about the hallway in frantic anxiety, all fatigue forgotten.
In resignation, Melrose looked to her daughter. “Listen Fritty, I know this is tough for you and I really don’t like it either, but can we really deny a dying mare’s last wish?”
Turning to her mother to give an angry retort, Apple Fritter found that she didn’t have one. She stopped her pacing and slumped to the floor. “I suppose we can’t.” She paused. “I’ll tell the doctor to make arrangements. We’re going back to Trottingham.”
***
The date set by the doctors of the predicted time of death for the mare Pinova Crisp was two weeks ago. Now that they were tending to her on the train back to Trottingham, they couldn’t help but ponder how the old mare was managing to elude death. Sheer will, maybe?
The train screeched to a halt and the silence that followed seemed almost eerie. The doors were pulled open and out limped Pinova supported by two attendants, all dressed in winter clothing. Melrose and Apple Fritter moved to the front and guided the attendants towards the barn, which was fortunately located quite close to the train station.
They walked through the snow, their hoofsteps muffled by the thick blanket, making progress slow and tedious. Apple Fritter had insisted on aiding her grandmother herself, but relented only when her mother patiently explained to her how they could arrive to their destination faster if she was supported by two stronger stallions.
Turning her head worriedly to the laborious gasps emanating from the old mare, Apple Fritter wondered why in Equestria would Pinova want to return home of all places, where medical supplies were sparse as compared to the plethora of fancy looking machines which Apple Fritter is certain can save her grandmother’s life.
At long last, they’ve arrived. Apple Fritter’s sister, Apple Charlotte, had altruistically offered to look after the barn while they were gone thinking that it would be best if Apple Fritter had some closure to the imminent passing of their grandmother. It would stop her moping around here, anyway.
The barn was the same as before they left; amidst the trees which hung limp and dejected was a large crimson barn which looked almost desolate due to the brewing tempest threatening to engulf the building, bitter and frigid winds beating unrelentlessly on the facades of the barn.
***
Apple Charlotte was comfortably sipping a mug of hot chocolate and wrapped up in a blanket after an exhausting day ploughing the fields. Looking out the window, she noticed five silhouettes on the white landscape. Upon closer inspection, she realized that it was none other than her sister and mother. They’re back early, does this mean that grandmother have passed? What about the other three figures huddled so closely together? Tourists perhaps?
To her consternation, she recognized the mare supported by two stallions. Ceramic crashed onto the floor and hot liquid stained the rug under Apple Charlotte as she rushed over to the barn doors and struggled to push it open against the resisting blizzard.
***
Apple Fritter observed the slow opening of the barn doors and a familiar orange mare galloping out to meet them.
“Why is grandma here?! She needs to return to the hospital, what is she doing here?!” Apple Charlotte yelled out in a panicked frenzy as soon as they got into hearing range, casting a worried look at her grandmother.
Apple Fritter waited for her sister to close the distance before replying, “Granny wants return, it’s her final wish.” She looked behind her. “Quick, let’s get her inside. She’s getting pale from the cold.”
Apple Charlotte noted the resigned and almost apathetic tone of her sister’s voice. “Yes, I-I’ll keep the barn doors open.”
Melrose and her daughters stopped just outside of the threshold into the barn, waiting for the trio to enter. Pinova nodded to the attendants. “Thank you for your help, gentlecolts. I think I can take it from here.”
“But ma’am, what if something goes wrong?” the stallion left of her asked, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. “We should follow you in.”
“I appreciate the gesture, sonny. It truly means a lot to me.” Pinova gave him a fragile smile. “But I want some time with family, I hope you’d understand.”
The stallion opened his mouth to retort but after some consideration, he respectfully bowed his head and retreated. The other reluctantly followed suit. “We’ll be here if you need us.”
Pinova Crisp nodded appreciatively to the both of them and limped into the barn. The rest of the family followed her in and the sisters pulled at the barn door. The door closed with a thud in an odd air of finality.
“Ah, it feels good to be back home again.” The old mare smiled and glanced around the room, looking at everything, taking everything in just one last time. She gazed at the red velvet rug interlaced with golden thread, the thick oak walls where pictures of family and achievements hung, the old table and chairs where they would converse and dine.
Allowing herself a weak chuckle at the memories of her very own husband swearing loudly when he hit himself with the hammer in his endeavours to building the furniture, she settled herself down into the rocking chair and fondly rubbed at the arms she herself spent hours smoothing and polishing to perfection. She could lose herself to the serenity.
Her old and weak eyes settled on her family. Melrose and Apple Charlotte were gently looking back at her smiling at her as though they were silently comforting her, almost apprehensive. Apple Fritter hung her head low, her body shaking. She was weeping quietly, wet splotches growing larger on the rug with every teardrop.
“Fritty?” Pinova called, “Come here, child.”
Hesitating for a second, Apple Fritter slowly shuffled across the rug to her grandmother. Upon reaching her, the young mare sat down in front of her with her head still bowed low like a disobedient foal waiting for punishment.
Pinova lifted her head up with a hoof and looked into her granddaughter’s eyes so filled with despondency. Gathering strength from familiar surroundings, she pulled back her hoof and left it hovering in front of Apple Fritter, her hoof facing her.
Apple Fritter recognized the gesture. She very deliberately lifted her own shaking hoof up and gently rapped it against her grandmother’s.
At the expectant smile of her grandmother, Apple Fritter suddenly understood. She gave her beloved grandmother the first genuine smile she worn since the incident and leant forward to hug her. Smiling in relief, Apple Fritter let out a sigh as she embraced her grandmother as though it was warm hooves of salvation, ending her melancholy and numbness. Maybe it was temporary, but it didn't matter then. All she wanted to seek right then, as of that very moment, was the comfort in her grandmother's forelegs.
They both pulled back from the hug and Pinova glanced at the other two mares, as though biding them a silent farewell. Both of them moved forward to share with her one last embrace. At that, Pinova pulled out the pillow from behind her, checked it meticulously, rested on it and slept.
Outside of the barn, the storm was building to a crescendo. Winds were positively howling and resonating against the wooden walls of the house and sounds of tree branches breaking off into the storm were barely discernable.
Apple Fritter’s smile faltered to a grimace of pain. Looking out of the window rapidly being obscured by frost, she gazed at the raging tempest. It would seem that even the heavens were weeping.
