Cleaning the pigpens was, by far, Applebloom’s least favorite chore. She did not get to pick and choose what chores she got. Applejack and Big Macintosh divvied them up at the beginning of each week. It had always been that way; Applejack and Big Macintosh were always in charge. She angrily kicked the slop to the pigs. She had not wanted to do this today. She had to pass on playing with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle to come home and do her chores. Applejack had yelled at her for being irresponsible. Applejack always was in charge. She always had to be in control. She always knew the exact wrong thing to say.
“Stop being such a baby and take care of your chores.”
The words bit in Applebloom’s mind. She protested that she was a big pony, and Applejack needed to see that she could take care of herself. Applejack said it was no big deal and that she “was a baby once, too.”
“I am not a baby,” Applebloom muttered to herself and bucked the pig sloop into the pen. The table scraps sprawled all over the mess and the hogs went wild, save one little piglet who stayed close to the outside and took the scraps of the scraps. Applebloom couldn’t help but feel sorry for the little piglet. Reaching down she took the small creature out of the pen and began walking on to her next task. The pig, happy to be free, kept up with Applebloom, walking alongside her.
“It’s not fair.” Applebloom mused to the pig. It happily oinked, munching the occasional bit of chicken feed that fell on the wrong side of the fence. “Applejack always gets to be the boss of me. I want to be in charge of me.” The pig oinked. “I know, I know. I should listen to her because she’s my big sis’.” Applebloom sniffed. “She’s not my mom. Why does she get ta boss me around?” The pig looked up quizzically. “'Course you don’t know. You’re just a piglet.” The piglet squealed indignantly. It liked being called a piglet about as much as Applebloom liked being called a baby. Applebloom bucked off the feedbags, and began leading the pig through one of the oldest barns in the orchard.
A small drop of rain came down and smacked Applebloom on the forehead. As she looked up to the sky the pig wriggled its way through a tiny hole in the barn wall. Applebloom looked down just in time to see a curly tail disappear into the dilapidated brown barn.
“Wait! Come back!” Applebloom shouted as she raced around the barn, eventually coming to the rotting barn door. She nervously pushed the door open, looking inside for the tiny pink piglet. The piglet was digging around with its snout; it had found an aged wood plank. Applebloom walked over. It appeared to be from the second level of the barn.
Applebloom’s natural curiosity got the better of her. She carefully put her hoof on the first rickety stair. It gave out a loud creak and bent a little before finally supporting her weight. She began slowly and deliberately making her way up the rotted staircase. A curious piglet hopped up each of the creaky steps behind her.
The attic was dark and dusty, with a thin layer of grime covering just about everything. It was full of just about everything. There were wagon parts, several rotted apples, old barrels, and a dusty bookshelf with two tiny books, matches, and a stub of a candle left on it. Carefully planting each step, she made her way around the small holes in the floorboards towards the bookshelf. A moldy pile of hay rested at the base. Carefully stepping to avoid the hay Applebloom picked up the first book. It was a boring ledger keeping track of farm sales dating back almost fifty years. The handwriting changed multiple times before ending in a messy script she knew to be Big Mac’s.
She picked up the second book. It was very old fashioned and had a little piece of string tying it shut. It was completely black except for the string. Taking the bright red string she gave it a mild tug and the book was now free. Her piglet friend had begun helping itself to rotten apples and happily snorted.
Applebloom stuck her tongue out and pretended to vomit to let the pig know she thought it was gross. She then opened the book. The binding was worn and the pages had yellowed from age. Some of the pencil lines had blurred, and some water damage had begun to seep in, but the writing was for the most part legible. Applebloom looked at the first date around eight years ago.
“This is from before I was born!” Applebloom tried to impart just how ancient this writing was to the pig, which happily rolled around in the piles of grime and apples. Applebloom rolled her eyes and began to read.
April 3rd
Mom and Pop brought great news. I’m going to get a new baby sister!
It was a messy script Applebloom was unfamiliar with; Big Macintosh always had messy writing, so she assumed it must be when Applejack was going to be foaled. There was a messy sketch in crayon on the next page. She had only seen her parents in photographs, but could still tell what they were supposed to look like. There was what were supposed to be her parents, a crude orange stallion wearing what was now Applejack’s trademark hat and a sloppy drawn red mare. Then she looked at the rest of the drawing: There was Big Macintosh, still old enough to have earned his cutie mark, which was identical to her father’s. There was a little orange filly with a blond mane, it had to be Applejack, but next to her was another little orange pony.
This was Applejack’s diary.
Did Applejack really expect Applebloom to look just like a miniature Applejack?
Her handwriting had gotten remarkably better, but it still struck Applebloom as odd that her tough big sister would keep a diary. She read on. Most of the entries were boring, talking about things like school work and chores. One entry she made sure to dog ear was Applejack talking about a crush on a boy pony by the name of Davenport.
“He was the first to get his cutie mark,” Applebloom gleefully explained to the piglet, “for selling quills and sofas!”
She was rolling around on the floor laughing, momentarily oblivious to the structural problems of the barn's second floor. She read through several exploits of her sister and Carrot Top trying to compete for his attention, usually ending in a big mess and trouble.
“Looks like Carrot and sis’ have always been rivals.” She was engrossed in her sister’s past, and hours ticked by.
She was jolted back to reality by a loud crack of thunder. Looking out the cracked glass window, she could see the little drizzle had become a full blown thunderstorm. The piglet squealed in terror and cuddled up next to Applebloom, who, though she didn’t like to admit it, wasn’t the biggest fan of thunderstorms.
Carefully picking up a match in her mouth, she struck it and lit the stub of a candle. The attic lit up much better and Applebloom could now spot a torn blanket ragged from age.
“Better than nothing,” Applebloom muttered as she tossed the blanket over herself and the piglet. She resumed reading.
Several more boring entries went by, the script gradually improving. Applebloom became convinced that they were all going to be dull “this-is-what-happened-today” entries. That changed rather suddenly. One entry described how Big Macintosh had nearly stopped talking; no one would tell Applejack what was going on. Everypony was wearing black. Applebloom turned to the next page.
February 7th
I figured out why everypony was so sad. Mom finally told me pa's wagon had got stuck on the train tracks and they got hit by a freight train. Granny Smith came into town. Uncle Spartan and Cousin Braeburn came to. Macintosh hasn’t said anything but “Eeyup” and “Nope” in ages. I miss pa. Mom says pa would want us to carry on. How can we do that without pa? Mac can’t work the entire farm by himself. It’s not fair.
The writing afterwards was completely illegible. Bad penmanship coupled with water damage had completely obscured the rest. The next few pages held crushed flowers, gifts from friends with their names written on the pages. She recognized most of these names. Mr. Breezy, Cheerilee, Mr. Rich, Cousin Braeburn, Uncle Spartan, and Davenport. Finally, another writing entry appeared:
March 1st
Mom went into town to the clinic today. That meant Mac is in charge while she delivers the new foal. He is no fun anymore. He bosses me around, assigning chores. He doesn’t play with me anymore. He stopped going to school. I found his acceptance letter to the Canterlot Mathematics Academy in the garbage. He said he doesn’t want to talk about it and that he is not going. Pa would be so mad at him. I told him that and he told me to go to my room. He’s not my dad.
Those words echoed within Applebloom. It was just how she felt sometimes with Applejack. She had to read more.
More pressed flowers…
Several pages from almost everypony in Ponyville. This couldn’t be good.
March 4th
“That’s my birthday!” Applebloom looked to the piglet who was snoring though the thunderstorm.
I hate Big Macintosh. I hate Applebloom.
Applebloom was crushed. How could her big sister hate her? Sure she was bossy, but Applebloom was sure she had always loved her. She had to read to see what she had done to make her sister hate her so much.
Mom’s gone and it’s all Applebloom’s fault. If she hadn’t had a foal, she wouldn’t have died
Nopony had ever explained how her mother had died to her. Now she understood why. She had died foaling her. Nopony wanted her to feel guilty about it. It didn’t work. Now she felt awful. It was her fault. No wonder Applejack hated her. How come Granny Smith didn’t hate her? She killed her daughter. Everything Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon had ever teased her about was suddenly fair. In fact it was the least she deserved. She felt terrible.
“I’ve got to be the worst pony in all of Equestria!” Applebloom began sobbing, her fresh tears joining the seemingly ancient stains made by Applejack’s. The storm still crackled and raged. The pig’s warm body provided Applebloom with some strange happy comfort. She resumed reading this increasingly sad tale:
Mac just says to go to bed. He says he’s already asked his friend Cheerilee to write everypony in our family. All he does night and day is buck the trees. He has barely eaten in days. He just keeps wearing pa’s harness to plow more ground and plant more saplings.
Applebloom thought for a moment. She couldn’t recall a moment when Big Macintosh wasn’t wearing the harness. Even when he injured himself right before last Applebuck season, he wouldn’t let Nurse Redheart remove it. Applebloom turned to the next page. It simply had “MAC IS STUPID!” scrawled in angry big letters. The next page was once again an understandable entry.
March 12th
Granny moved into the house to be the responsible adult, but Mac is still acting like he is in charge. He didn’t want me out helping him buck apples. He said he had to be the stallion of the house. All Applebloom does is cry. She takes all of Granny’s attention. And she stinks like the hogs.
Applebloom sniffed the sleeping piglet next to her. It didn’t smell too bad. It was still soul crushing to hear her sister write about her that way. She turned the page. There was a letter tied with the same red string that held the diary shut. She again pulled on the string. Several petals that had clearly been plucked fell out of the envelope. The bud of the flower fell out next. Applebloom, having been around Apples her whole life, [I omitted “she”] knew immediately it was an apple flower. She then carefully extracted the letter. It was in a beautifully [I added beautifully, but I think either beautiful or beautifully can work here] flowing style of cursive she could not recognize.
My Dearest Applejack,
The doctors do not think I will pull through this. I think they are wrong, but in the event they aren’t I am writing this letter. Be strong, my little pony. Your Big Brother needs more help than he lets on. He thinks he must fill his father’s shoes because they share a cutie mark. He will try and be strong for you. You owe it to him to be strong for him when he needs it. He bottles up all his sorrow of your father’s death inside. He won’t let on how hurt he is. I feel I failed as a mother by not addressing this. I am sorry this task falls to you my daughter.
Your little sister. I hope to Celestia she makes it, but again the Doctors do not think so. She will need love. She won’t have a father and a mother like you were allowed to have. She will have I am certain the best big brother and sister anypony could ask for. You will have to watch over little Applebloom. Like the flower, she is delicate and in great danger of being lost, but with nurturing and care she will produce the wondrous fruit that provides for our family.
Applebloom now felt like she had failed again. Her mother expected her to blossom. She was no closer to getting her cutie mark now than when she was just a foal. She wiped her nose and resumed reading.
We Apples are strong folk. Ask your Grandmother about the founding of Ponyville. That is a good story. I know you can do what it takes for the family. I know you can be strong for your brother, and I know I can trust you with my precious Applebloom.
With Love,
Your Mother
She looked back to the journal.
March 15th
Mac thinks he can make up not playing with me by giving me his stupid ragdoll? I showed him! I ripped up smarty-pants right in front of him! [I added the exclamation points.] He started crying like a baby and I told him he was one. Granny scolded me and sent me away. Nopony cares about me anymore. They only care about little Applebloom or tending the fields or their stupid little dolls.
There was one entry left.
March 17th
I don’t care what mom said. I’m running away. Nopony at school cares. Mac and Granny are too busy to pay attention to me, and all Applebloom does is poop, eat, and cry! I’ve got my blanket and enough apples to last a while. They will never find me.
The journal stopped there.
“That can’t be it!” Applebloom jumped to her hooves, disturbing the piglet’s otherwise peaceful sleep. “I have to know what happened!” She stomped her hoof and to her surprise smashed it right through the floorboard. She looked at and gave it a tug. It wouldn’t budge.
“Somepony! Anypony! HELP!!!” The storm continued raging. The piglet happily trotted around. It seemed like ages passed. Applebloom continued crying. She was mad at herself. “It’s all my fault. I swear to Princess Luna and Princess Celestia I won’t feel bad when Applejack bosses me around, if I get out of here. I’ve killed my mom. Now I got myself stuck here. I’ve got to be the worst pony ever!”
“That title sadly belongs to us.” Applebloom struggled to turn and see the voice coming from behind her. “Please hold still and you will be free.”
Applebloom would object to a voice she had never heard before being on the family farm, but given the circumstances she made an exception. A faint blue magic glow seemed to envelop the room. Some unicorn had to be rescuing her. The floor board warped, allowing her to pull her hoof out before the entire floor seemed to heal to brand new condition. The grime even seemed to have faded away.
“I’m real thankful, miss…” Applebloom expected this pony least of all to be her rescuer. She dropped to her knees. “Princess Luna, how did you know I needed help?”
The alicorn looked down with a warm gaze, first at the filly and then at the piglet looking at her in confusion.
“My little pony, We hear every time a pony asks something of us. It's been over a thousand years since a pony asked for help from us. We are glad to help. Pray tell, child, why are you trapped in this ancient attic with swine” The piglet oinked in objection that remark. “Have you not a home?”
“Well, princess, m’am… I was real mad at my sis’ for being bossy, and so I was letting the pigs know what I thought about her, and this one ran in here. Then I started reading my sister’s old diary, and then, and then…” Applebloom began crying. Luna offered a shoulder to cry on, doing her best to care for the ponies she had been unable to help for the past millennium.
“Shh…” Luna did her best to comfort the filly.
“I got mad, because I didn’t know how things ended after I was born. The journal stops there.” Luna looked down at the entry detailing Applejack’s plans to run away.
“Child, I may have a solution for you.” She had stopped using the royal “we” and was trying to be supportive. She ascended through the storm into the night sky. At her command the clouds began dissipating and the stars in all their glory shone down upon a small patch of Sweet Apple Acres. She lifted the filly and the piglet to the top of the clouds. Setting them down upon her chariot, the alicorn landed and produced something from her mane. She lifted the red velvet curtain resting atop it to reveal a mirror.
“This is no ordinary mirror. Our dear sister helped craft this so that I might see the past under the moonlight to help me adjust after my absence. Now I believe it can help you, but be warned: The past is not always pretty.”
Applebloom looked into the mirror, her face [consider using the word “reflection” instead] began to swirl and then she saw a new image forming. Applejack was running into the same barn, escaping a thunderstorm. She was soaking wet and crying. She climbed up the stairs to hide and tossed her handkerchief, letting several apples roll out. She picked up her journal and set it on the work shelf. She sat down in a bed of hay and buried her head in her hooves. The minutes ticked by and the only sound was the pitter patter of rain, the occasional thunder, and Applejack’s continued crying.
“Applejack?” Big Mac’s voice was higher and less raspy than Applebloom ever remembered it. Applejack peeked out the window and ducked to avoid her brother’s gaze, but it was too late. The stallion rushed into the barn and then up the stairs to Applejack. He looked tired. His eyes were bloodshot and his body bore bruises and cuts from toiling in the fields. Applejack had wiped the tears from her face and glared angrily.
“Applejack? Where’ve you been? Everypony is worried sick 'bout you.”
“No they ain’t. All they care about is Applebloom.”
Applebloom felt like she had just been bucked in the gut.
“That ain’t no way to talk about your little sister.”
“You’re not pa!” Applejack screamed. All effort at composure was lost, tears again began flowing down her face. “Stop trying to be pa! I want my brother back!” She began pounding her brother with her hooves. Mac winced in pain; he was still big for his age, but Applejack was plenty strong. He stood there for several minutes with Applejack shouting how much she hated everything. After what seemed like an eternity, Big Macintosh spoke.
“Applejack.” He sat his sister on the bed of hay and made her look him in the eye.Tearstains marked both sides of her face. “I can’t replace pa. All I can do is make sure I don’t lose my sisters too.”
Big Macintosh produced a book from his collar. Applebloom recognized as the financial ledger for the farm. “We don’t have enough money. Uncle Spartan was talking about breaking the three of us up and selling the farm. I can’t let that happen. You and Applebloom are all I have left, so I’ve been out bucking apples every hour I can so we can stay together.” Big Macintosh’s voice was wavering Applebloom could tell he was almost crying. “Its what Ma wanted. She wanted me to make sure we stayed together. She wanted me to take care of my baby sister-”
“I’m NOT a baby!” Applejack broke Big Macintosh’s stare “Stop treating me like one!” she screamed. Applebloom had had a conversation like this before. She screamed at Applejack when she had reached out to her.
“-and you, Applejack.”
Applejack stopped. She hadn’t considered Applebloom was now the baby sister.
“Mom wanted us to work together to make sure we protected Applebloom,” Big Mac continued, “because she and pa won’t be there to do it.” Applebloom remembered Applejack’s letter and wondered if Big Mac had gotten one like it. Applejack looked up at Big Macintosh. The tears left streaks down her face, but fresh ones seemed to have stopped flowing.
“I miss them, Mac.”
“Me, too. Me, too.” The siblings gave each other a hug and waited out the storm.
“What if I helped you buck all those apples?”
“I’d like that, sis’. I really would.”
As the night wore on, Applejack had fallen asleep and Mac took the same blanket that Applebloom had wrapped herself in and tossed it over his little sister. Eventually the storm broke and Mac, with all his great strength, carried his sister back to the homestead. Applejack awoke as he set her down in a bed next to the crib.
“Applebloom, I’m so sorry for all the nasty things I ever said about you. I promise that I will protect you and make sure you blossom from this day forward.” A small red-maned filly looked up and offered a smile.
The image began to blur again and Applebloom was once again faced with her own visage. She looked around. She was in the attic again. She returned to the mirror, but it had vanished. She was confused, but she never had much of a grasp on magic. She whispered under her breath, “Thank you, Princess.”
“Applebloom!?”
Applebloom rushed over to the window. The rain had resumed, and there, slogging through the muddy acres, was her big sister. “Come on pig!” The pig followed Applebloom, almost instantly regretting its decision as she lead them into the rain and right into her big sister.
“Applebloom, you're okay! I don’t know how I’d ever forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“I know sis’ I’m sorry for everything I said about you. You and Big Macintosh are the best siblings in all of Equestria”
“Thanks, but, uh, what did you say about me?”
“Oh, nothing important.” Applebloom chuckled, trying to avoid the question. Applejack thought it best to drop the subject.
“Let’s get you home” Applejack put a hoof around her sister and placed a hat upon her head. The two sisters began trotting home as the rain let up.
“So, Applejack, have you thought about asking Mr. Davenport out…”
