The sullen sound of silence ripped through the summer air. The birds still chirped, the wind still sang through the trees, and the bees buzzed lazily in the warm glow of the sun that was shining down on the green grass.
Chairs were aligned in rows, oily darkness spread across the seats. There must have been twenty or so faces flipping between empty and filled to the brim with tears.
It was this moment, when one decided to stand and walk to the pulpit erected, her mane of many colors drifting in the breeze, the scent of poppies wafting on the air. Her cyan face was stone-cold, her swallowing the only indication that she was not, in fact, a statue.
Her lips were dry, her throat was scratched up, and her face was locked, aching as it fought back the rivulets of emotion that strained to well up from the lump in her constricted throat.
Instead, words came out.
She said, “When I was a kid, my dad sang me this song.”
Each word sounded hollow.
“I don’t know how he did it...but every time he sang, I cried.” She said, licking her lips. “He...would always laugh at me, because, I swear to this day it wasn’t the song that set me off, but his voice.”
Uncharacteristically, she turned away for a moment. “He said, ‘Why do you cry, my little angel?’”
She looked back at the crowd before her. “I would always say, ‘I know that one day, I won’t hear your voice’. He’d laugh, nuzzle me, and lay me down, tucking the covers over me and kissed me on the head before turning the lights off, always leaving that Wonderbolt light on in the corner. I was-uhh-‘fraid of the dark back then.”
“One day, I told him to knock it off. It wasn’t cool anymore. I was a big pony, a mare, and mares weren’t tucked in by their dads.” She said. “‘Alright.’ he said, ‘Goodnight then.’ and he closed the door.”
She sniffed quickly, wiping her mouth with her hoof and nodding, eyes locked on a distant point in the warped wood in front of her before continuing.
“I never thought much of it. I-” She halted, scrunching up her face.
A quick pair of hooves ran up to her, wrapping a wing around her, as she said, “Rainbow...”
Rainbow Dash pushed her away, saying “No...it’s fine Twilight. Its fine.”
Twilight nodded, before returning to her seat.
“Next thing you know, I was accepted to flight camp. He was so proud that day, helped me pack and everything. It was the day I was about to leave, I was getting cold hooves about the entire thing-he says to me, ‘No matter what happens, I will always love you, always be proud of you. Go get ‘em, my little angel.’”
“Weeks pass, he sends me these letters everyday, sometimes I responded but, y’know-I sometimes forgot, or I didn’t have anything to say, or I was too busy, or something. Told him I was accepted into the Junior Speedsters...he was happy about that. Flight Academy, everything. Seemed all the world was rooting for me.”
She paused for a moment to look at the ground.
“Fluttershy.” She said, “Do you remember why I left the Flight Academy?”
She hid behind her sleek mane as all the eyes turned towards her. She nodded, with a squeak. “You said you were too good. You went home.” she said.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Rainbow said, “I left. Didn’t need them. Do you really know what happened afterwards?”
She shook her head.
“I...I didn’t go home. How could I? How could I face my father, after just throwing my life down the drain? So, for a few weeks there, I drifted, sleeping on clouds, scrounging food up where I could, trying to find a job.”
“I ran out of bits finally, about seven or so weeks in. I had to go to the ground, take food from some farmers. I got caught. Just a kid, sitting alone in a cell, the brickwork closing in around me, I...sang my dad’s song to myself to keep myself sane..”
“The next day I was taken out of my cell. Someone had posted my bail. Sitting there in the lobby was my dad. The look on his face...” her breath got caught in her throat.
“He hugged me tightly, almost crushing my lungs, holding me so close I could feel his heart beating through his chest.”
“He said, ‘Rainbow Dash, don’t you ever do that again. Don’t you ever. When the Flight Academy sent me a letter saying you no longer went there, and I didn’t know where you were, I thought you were lost or...or...’ he had to calm himself down. ‘I searched day and night for you. I got a message last night, saying they had you here in a cell.’”
“He was crying. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear his voice crack. He said, ‘I thought I lost you.Why didn’t you come home?’”
“I shook my head, as I said, ‘I couldn’t face you, Dad. I thought you’d be disappointed.’”
She swallowed, eyes closed as she recited from memory.
“‘Oh,my little angel....you could never disappoint me. I said I’d love you, no matter what, and I meant it. You’re my daughter, you can always come to me. I will always be here.”
Rainbow Dash struggled to maintain her composure. Her eyes hurt, they plain ached for relief, and the snot began to clog her nose and roll down her throat. But she doesn’t cry. She holds it all in.
There were five others around her now, hooves placed on her shoulders. For a brief second she dared to look them in the eye, their sympathetic faces bleeding the blues. Her voice, gripped in a vice of memories, cracked out.
“Now, all of a sudden I’m in Ponyville, surrounded by amazing, great friends, a good job, a nice house. I get accepted into the Wonderbolt Academy. Top of the Junior Flying Competition. Every time I’d go to visit my dad in Cloudsdale, all he would do is smile, tell me how proud he is of me.”
For a moment she smiles, breathing in yesterday. But her face falls, as she continues.
“I get a message a fews days ago, asking for me to come home. I get there and he’s sitting by the window, calm as ever, a smile on his face, just like always.”
“He says, ‘I saw you fly in. How was the trip?’”
“‘Easy, you know. Just like always.’ I said, sitting down beside him, ‘Mom sent me a letter telling me to come home. What’s up?’”
She shook her head, cursing her nonchalance, the memories taking over as her eyes glazed over.
“Oh, you know, nothing. I simply wanted to see you. See how you’ve been.”
“Are you sure? You don’t look too good, Dad.”
“What, sitting in bed? I’m just a bit...tired, that’s all.”
He smiled, but the torn, ragged edges faded away as he stared into her eyes. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but couldn’t find the words.
“Dad...you’re not okay, are you?”
“I’m sorry to say, Rainbow, but no. I’m not.” He whispered, “I’m not. Doctor called...I have maybe a week.”
She hugged him, wrapping her hooves across his weak chest. Words were useless here. All that mattered was feeling his warm fur against her own. She opened her eyes, looking out into the beautiful sprawling city outside.
“Dad?” she said, gazing out the window.
“Yes?”
“What do I do?”
“What?”
“For once in my life, I don’t know what to do.” Rainbow Dash said, “I’m not a big pony anymore dad, I’m scared.”
“You used to be scared of a lot of things. Is this any different?”
“Yes...yes it is. This isn't something a nightlight in the corner is going to fix.” Rainbow Dash choked out, “What do I do?”
“I don’t know.” he said.
“Dad...please don’t...don’t...”
“Die?”
“Don’t say it.” she said, “Please. I don’t even want to...”
He pulled away from her, but she just looked down at the comforter. He raised her chin with his hoof and said, “Do you remember when you were little, and I’d tuck you in?”
She nodded, looking into his honey eyes.
“There was this song.”
Again, she nodded.
“Can you sing it for me? Please?”
She was again standing before her friends, pulling herself away from the memories. But, she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. It all came out in streams, in hot rivers that poured from her face, across burning cheeks, and through gritted teeth.
Her voice was like a dying rose, cracked out in beautiful simplicity.
“I have never loved someone the way, I love you.
I have never seen a smile like yours.
and if you grow up to be queen, or clown or pauper,
I will say you are my favorite one in town
I have never held a hoof so soft and sacred.
When I hear your laugh I know heaven's key
And when I grow to be a poppy in the graveyard...
I will send you all my love, upon the breeze.
And if the breeze won’t blow your way...
I will be the sun.
And if the sun won’t shine way...
I will be rain.
And if the rain won’t wash away all your aches and pains...
I will find some other way to tell you...
You’re okay...
You’re okay...
You’re okay....
You’re okay.....
You’re okay......
You’re okay.......
You’re okay........”
She stopped singing. It was silent.
They walked her away from the pulpit, to the side the deep burgundy casket. She lay her hoof upon it, before nodding. It slid into the moist dirt, as the breeze rolled by.
