Books Are Heartwarming Things

“I’m here!” I gasped, running through the double doors and pausing. There were stares from all around the room, excepting Sweet Cheeks’. It took a moment for me to realized I had interrupted a sad silence, and I lowered my voice. “I mean... I’m here.”

Doctor Stable walked over to me with a somber frown. I could look into his eyes and tell that it was worse than I thought. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Sparkle.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t stop staring at the two ponies from behind him. Sweet was laying on the bed, and Rosy was next to her with a pack over her flank.

“Mrs. Cheeks has been like this for the past three hours. She went into a coma and she hasn’t woken up,” he said, then whispered the next part. “We’re not even sure if we will, but we haven’t tried telling Rosy this.”

My heart jumped. I walked over to the table slowly like something would go wrong if I ran. Rosy didn’t look up at me, as her focus was directly on Sweet’s and nopony else. I didn’t know if she was listening to me, but I talked to her anyways.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” I said quietly. “There’s no need to-”

Rosy apparently had been listening and her red, puffy eyes snapped up to mine. “How do you know everything’s going to be fine?” she demanded, close to tears. “Obviously she’s not fine, and I have no idea if she will ever be again! Don’t tell me everything’s going to be fine when you have no clue!” She looked back at her mother.

I hate to admit, but she was right. I had no clue if she would wake up. Never experiencing cancer before would prove as a problem, and I couldn’t try to comfort her again. I hadn’t the slightest idea what she was going through, and talking about wasn’t helping. I sat down and didn’t say a word unless spoken to.

Which was rare.

I grazed over Sweet’s body. She had all sorts of tubes and wires attached to her legs. Her breathing seemed painful; it was sharp and quick, barely making a sound. In fact, the only thing that was making a sound was the breathing machine next to her. It was the one thing that was keeping her alive for now.

Minutes that felt like hours drained by before Doctor Stable walked over. He had a needle filled with dark liquid that was hooked up to a tube dangling from his mouth and was ready to put in in Sweet’s chest, but Rosy stopped him.

“What are you doing?” she cried, wrapping a hoof over her mother’s heart. I didn’t try to remove her or anything, making the situation worse.

Doctor Stable sighed and said in the nicest tone he could muster, “I’m just giving her some food, Rosy.”

“In her chest?”

“Well, she can’t use her mouth,” the doctor pointed out.

Rosy frowned. “Oh,” she muttered, and let go. The needle was inserted and even I had to close my eyes so I couldn’t watch.

I had to give it to Rosy. She hadn’t shed a visible tear ever since I had came in, even though the breathing machine was beeping evidently slower and slower. She had bravery I didn’t, and I knew she would grow up to be a strong, beautiful mare.

Rosy suddenly reached into her saddle bag, bringing me back into harsh reality. She brought out a book I greatly remembered us reading. Goodnight, Luna. It was a good book and all, but I didn’t know why she had taken it with her. She didn’t honestly expect me to read it without choking, did she?

“Mr. Doctor,” she said, and Doctor Stable came over without hesitation.

“Yes, what is it, dear?” he said in a genuine tone.

“Can I sit down next to her? On the bed?”

Doctor Stable glanced at me for assistance, but I shrugged. How was I supposed to know what to say?

“I don’t see why you can’t,” he finally said. If Rosy was in the mood, she would have squee’d. But she just smiled at him warmly with a child’s innocence and hopped gently onto the bed by Sweet’s side.

Using her magic, she opened the book and, to my surprise, began reading aloud.

“In the great green room,

there was a scroll

and a red balloon,

and a picture of

The cow jumping over the moon,

And there were three little bears sitting on chairs.”

I couldn’t believe it. She was reading to a pony in a deep coma who most likely couldn’t hear her. But, not wanting to crush her little spirit and heart, I stopped and listened when nopony else would or could. I wasn't about to stop her. She looked over at me as she turned the page and continued with the story.

“And two little kittens and a pair of mittens

And a little toy house and a young mouse,

“And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush,

And a quiet old mare who was whispering "hush."

“Goodnight room, goodnight room,

Goodnight cow jumping over the moon.

“Goodnight light and the red balloon,

Goodnight bears, goodnight chairs.

“Goodnight kittens and goodnight mittens,

“Goodnight clocks and goodnight socks,

“Goodnight little house and goodnight mouse,

“Goodnight comb and goodnight brush,

“Goodnight nobody, goodnight mush,

“And goodnight to the old mare whispering "hush".”

“Goodnight stars, goodnight air,

“Goodnight noises everywhere.”

She put down the book and gazed over to her mother, ever unresponsive. My throat cracked as I attempted not to tear up as Rosy realized she wouldn’t get up and collapsed onto her mother’s body. "Goodnight, Mama," she cried into her mother's blankets.

Through her muffled sobs I could hear things along the lines of “Momma, come back” and “I’m sorry,” and I finally decided to act. I wrapped my hooves around her, and was surprised that she didn’t push me away.

The machine let out a long, satisfied “beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.” I wanted to throw the machine against the wall, but my mind told me otherwise and I continued to hold her closer.

Doctor Stable came over. “I’m sorry,” he said, his tone completely unaltered, and it took all of my strength not to kick him out of the hospital room.

It had all felt a bit rushed. It had been, what, only three or four months? And Sweet was already gone. I felt a pang of pity nopony was around to take care of her anymore. It got worse when I figured I couldn’t do it, what with all of the work at Golden Oaks and already caring for Spike. I pulled her closer and tried to put out the sound of the machine.

I was glad I had failed to manage to. There was a sudden light beep, and I jumped in my skin. Was the machine broken or something? It wouldn’t just beep if somepony was dead, right? Unless.

There was another, then another, until it was at a normal and steady pace. I looked over at Doctor Stable, who was in as much awe as I was. Rosy had stopped crying and was staring down at her mother in utter confusion.

Sweet’s tired, wise amethyst eyes fluttered open, and Rosy started to squeal. I had to calm her down before she started stomping and jumping in excitement. all over her somehow alive mother.

The doctor finally decided to speak. “It’s a miracle!” he said, and I had to agree. No matter how unrealistic it sounded, I had to agree. Sweet was alive, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

“Twi... Twilight,” Sweet managed, trying to sit up. “Why are you all staring at me like that?” She looked at her surroundings. “Why am I in the hospital? Am I dead?”

I shook my head, containing my laugh. “No, the exact opposite,” I said. Before I could guess an explanation, Rosy broke in.

“You were almost dead and I read you that book and now you’re ALIVE!” she nearly screamed. She pulled Sweet into a hug and they shared a heart melting moment together.

I glanced over at Doctor Stable, who was crying into a damp tissue, and chuckled.

*~*~*

I seriously have no idea how that happened, even to this day. It was a miracle, like Doctor Stable said. I can’t explain miracles.

Rosy’s alive and well, and had even found herself a husband who doesn’t have cancer. I think he’s a poet or something, I can’t remember right now.

To my surprise, Sweet’s still alive, and in Ponyville’s nursing home. It’s a better place than an apartment, to say the least.

I’m still trying to figure out how she woke up. Maybe it was something the doctor put inside that food, or the breathing machine, or something. Not anything cheesy like love, I can assure you that.

Maybe it was the book? Perhaps. If it was, I just have to say this.

Books sure are heartwarming things.