//------------------------------// // January // Story: The Long Year // by The Red Parade //------------------------------// First Division. A face. January.  ‘Malus sieversii.’  Jasmine Leaf hacked a cough into her tissue. She wrinkled her brow and rubbed her nose, crumpling up the tarnished tissue and throwing it in the trash can beside her.  “Still not getting better?” “No,” Jasmine grumbled. “It’s because I didn’t bring my good teas. It’ll clear up once I can brew some real chamomile… No offense to your local tea shop.” Cheerilee just sighed quietly, watching her cousin fiddle with her bags and glance up and down the platform. “Okay,” she said in defeat. “I’ll bite. What’s wrong?” Jasmine whipped her head around, a cross between worry and excitement gleaming in her eye. “Can’t you feel it? Something’s wrong here, Cheer. It’s in the air.” Cheerilee fought the urge to shoot back that the only thing in the air were the germs from whatever sickness her eccentric and gossip-loving cousin had come down with. “What on earth are you talking about?” Jasmine just rolled her eyes and gave an unimpressed stare. “Fine, so things have been somewhat tense since…” “Tense? You sure know how to undersell a point,” Jasmine cut in, ignoring her incomplete sentence.  “Come on, Cheer. Every earth pony here’s felt it. I can tell! So don’t try and tell me that you have no idea what’s going on.”  Cheerilee just shrugged, letting her eyes wander to the railroad, and silently hoped her cousin would just drop the matter completely. But the barren platform offered her little solace or distraction. Ponyville Station had never been the most active compared to its Manehattan or Canterlot counterparts, but there were usually a few groups that populated its platform during the week. But not recently. As much as Cheerilee wanted to deny it, things were different now. It was like the entire town had fallen quiet, locking itself up tight and bracing for some looming storm. “I mean, look at you,” Jasmine continued. “Even you haven’t been the same since Applejack died.”  Cheerilee flinched, eyes flicking up and down the station as she sucked in a breath. It felt like the entire town tensed up at those words. But after a few of the longest seconds in her life, nothing happened. “Well, Applejack was a pillar of the community,” she said carefully. “So I suppose I am still shaken; everyone is.” “And how suspicious is it that nobody even knows who killed her?” Jasmine said, leaning in. “An Element of Harmony being killed in the Everfree? And nobody has any answers?” “Is this another one of your conspiracy theories?” Jasmine grinned mischievously. “I’m just saying. I think someone has to know something that they’re not letting on to.”  Cheerilee just rolled her eyes and stood from the bench. “Sure, Jasmine. I have to get going, will you be fine here?” “Oh, fine, be that way. I’ll manage,” Jasmine said as she rummaged in her bag for another tissue. “But I hope you don’t think you can run away from this! You’ve gotta ask yourself the hard questions, Cheer. That’s the only way we can survive.” Cheerilee couldn’t have left the platform faster.  As she did, she tried not to let her cousin’s words weigh on her, but she knew that they had dislodged certain thoughts in her head. Thoughts that she had been hoping to keep anchored and locked away.  Ponyville was different now: that much was true. As she made her way down Hayseed Street, she couldn’t help but remember how things were last year.  It had taken the town practically the entire month to recover from the hangover of Pinkie Pie’s New Year’s Celebration, and the streets were still half-lined with holiday decor. Snow was still piled in the streets and the air was cool and frigid. Sugarcube Corner’s holiday cookie line was so successful that the Cakes had elected to continue selling them for at least another week. Halfway through the month, Cranky Doodle Do put in a formal complaint with Mayor Mare, and by the next week all remnants of December were swept away.  It was night and day from the Ponyville of this year. Cheerliee paused, taking in the stillness around her. She was alone on the street, with no other signs of life around her. Every house and store had their curtains drawn, and no lights trickled through their gaps. A heavy overcast layer of clouds painted the afternoon sky. Snow lined the sides of the road in neat piles.  Someone had taken a guillotine and cut away the festive cheer that was normal for this time of year. And that made everything feel wrong. She closed her eyes and imagined Applejack. It wasn’t a difficult task: her features, frame, and cutiemark were easily procured. Her hat was trivial. For the face, Cheerilee had a portfolio of expressions to choose from. She settled on a peaceful one: eyes closed, chin up, a small smile on her face. This was one of the last times Cheerilee could remember seeing her, standing on the porch of her home as snow fell around her. The cheery sound of laughter had flowed from the screen door behind her, along with the clinking of glasses and off-key singing of carols. So how could this have happened? She shook her head and forced that thought deeper into her brain. Even then, something warm and acidic began to percolate in the back of her throat. Rummaging in her bag, she pulled out a small brown paper bag. Closing her eyes, she grabbed a hoofful the berries inside and stuffed them in her mouth. Her throat felt warm as they slid down her throat.  As she began moving again, a door creaked open to her right. Slowly, a frizzy pink, half-curled half-straight mane leaned out of the door, a single eye peeking out from within. Cheerilee froze for a second before finding the strength for a smile. “Oh, hello Pinkie.” “Hiya, Cheerilee.” Pinkie returned the smile, but Cheerilee knew it was strained. The bags under her eyes were evidence enough. That poor soul had run herself into the ground trying to lift everyone’s spirits, bless her heart. As much as others would doubt it, Pinkie was wise enough to know that their circumstance was one that had to be navigated carefully: parties and celebrations simply were not an option.  But Cheerilee suspected that a part of her continued presence was her own way of grieving– or her own way of getting away from the pain. “Do ya wanna come in?” Pinkie asked in a soft voice. “I can bake some cookies, some tea if you’d like.” “It’s quite alright,” Cheerilee said. “I’m on my way to visit them now, actually.” Pinkie nodded, not needing the names to piece together her destination. “Thank you, though,” Cheerilee said sincerely. “For everything you’ve been doing.” Pinkie smiled a little wider. “Of course! It’s the least I can do. Bye!” Before the door shut completely, Cheerilee swore that Pinkie gave her a knowing, understanding look. One that made her shudder. She carried on down the empty streets, unable to shake the feeling that someone was now watching her. Cheerilee continued down the path towards the Apple family farmhouse, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder every now and then. She tried not to wonder if that action was fueled by paranoia or if she too was trying to repress the raw mix of memory and emotion bubbling with her.  Before she knew it, she came to a stop at the mailbox, resting just below the hoof-crafted ‘Sweet Apple Acres’ sign. Another gust of wind tickled her mane, sending a slight shudder down her spine. Beyond the sign a well-trodden path snaked up the hill towards the farmhouse. Smaller non-fruit bearing trees lined its sides, standing tall and silent like Royal Palace guards.  The mailbox was stuffed full of letters. It was at least some comfort that Ditzy was still doing her due diligence… to the best of her ability, at any rate. It would seem that the Apple family was not, judging by how many letters were shoved inside or littering the dirt below. It felt wrong, almost heretical to see the farm in this state. Before, it was always well-kept if not a little cluttered. The farm was always well-stocked with a variety of supplies from gardening tools to stationary, and Applejack always knew exactly where everything was. She sighed quietly and gathered as many letters as she could before starting up the path. Leaves rustled as she walked, dead ones crunching beneath her hooves. The stairs still creaked as she ascended. The doorbell still chimed merrily when she rang it. It took five minutes before someone came to answer it. Granny Smith peered through the door, softening quickly as she recognized Cheerilee. “Ah, Miss Cheerilee! Come in, come in.” “Thank you, Granny,” Cheerilee replied, trying not to think about how Applejack would forbid her grandmother from getting up to answer the door. Granny Smith hobbled towards the kitchen. The sharp whistle of a tea kettle filled the air, coupled with the clinks and rattling of tupperware. “Is this about Apple Bloom again?” “No, Apple Bloom is doing quite fine. I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Cheerilee said automatically as she stacked the letters on the living room table.  “Mighty kind of ya.”  She didn’t reply to that, instead heading for the stairs leading to the bedrooms. The third stair still creaked when she stepped on it: at least some things didn’t change. When she reached the top, Cheerilee naturally began to drift for the first door on the right, before correcting herself and heading for the one at the end of the hall instead. The heavy wood was indifferent to her presence. She knocked against it, listening for any sort of movement from inside. It didn’t take long for something to shuffle its way towards the door. With a deep and low creak, a hagrid green eye peered out from within. “Hi, Mac.” Big Macintosh didn’t reply, but pulled the door all the way open. Cheerilee stepped into the dark room and shut it behind her. Books were crammed onto the shelf and littering the writing desk resting beside the drawn curtains. Candle stubs resting in jars were scattered about as well, a faint scent of smoke hanging in the room. The bed was disheveled, not unlike its owner. “How are you holding up?” ventured Cheerilee, already knowing the answer. Macintosh grunted, the chair creaking as he eased into it. He stared blankly at an open ledger in front of him. Cheerilee pulled the curtains open and let some light in, wincing slightly as her eyes adjusted.   The brightness let her get a better look at Big Macintosh… or, what was left of him. His signature large frame looked slightly dull, and deep bags hung beneath his eyes. His mouth was locked in a deep frown. It was a far cry from the typical thoughtful look that shimmered behind his eyes. “I’m gettin’ by,” he said monotonously. For a moment, his eyes flicked up towards Cheerilee. “You?” Cheerilee pursed her lips, turning to stare out the window. “Fine.” She pulled the window open to try and vent out the smell of smoke. “How’s the farm?” “S’alright,” Macintosh said in the tone of voice that told her it really wasn’t. “Mac, you know that I’m here to help you.” “Mighty kind, but we’re gettin’ by.” He flipped a page in his ledger without looking up. “You’ve got your hooves full with the school. ‘Sides… You gotta take care of yourself too.” Cheerilee stared down at the path sprawling towards the orchard. “You know that, yeah?” “I know,” she said quietly.  Macintosh looked up. “I worry about you,” he muttered. “I worry about you too.” She stood slowly. “I got your mail, left it on your kitchen table.” “Mighty kind,” Macintosh said again. “Stay for dinner? Sugar’s cookin’ tonight.”  Cheerilee tried to muster a convincing smile. “I shouldn’t.” “S’alright.”  With that, Macintosh turned back towards his desk, leaving Cheerilee to hover in the doorway unsure of what to do. She hadn’t said as much as she wanted to, but with Mac, she never really needed to. He seemed to have an uncanny knack for reading her mind. She decided that she had nothing left to say and headed for the stairwell.  At the top, she fished out her small paper bag and risked a look inside. It sat about three-quarters full, berries of varying colors inside. She popped a few into her mouth and began to chew, trying to release the tension from her body before she continued to descend the stairs. Hushed conversation trickled into the living room from the kitchen, as Granny Smith and Sugar Belle worked to prepare that evening’s supper. She paused by the coffee table where she had deposited the Apples’ mail.  A letter at the top caught her eye. It sat in an unassuming yellow envelope, a little worn around the edges. But it was the addressee that caught her eye. Applejack.  She bit her lip, staring at the letter. Unsure of exactly what she was doing, she picked up the letter and glanced towards the kitchen. With nobody watching, she tucked the envelope into her bag and headed for the door. A gasp escaped her when it opened from the other side. “O-Oh! Fluttershy! I’m so sorry, you caught me by surprise.” Fluttershy didn’t respond, instead standing absolutely stock still on the porch. Her face was hidden behind her mane, with only a hint of her eyes staring out listlessly at her.  “I was heading out, actually,” Cheerilee managed. “Nice to see you.” She pushed the door further open and passed her. As she went by, Fluttershy slowly turned her head to follow her. For a scant second they made eye contact, and Cheerilee was able to read the emotion on her face. Anger. That stare discomforted her for the rest of her trip home. Classic Pony Legends and Myths for Beginners, Buckworth and Lilly. ‘The Legend of the Secret Grove,’ page 26.  Once upon a time, there was a small village of earth ponies who live by a big, beautiful forest. This was a time long before the ponies met with the unicorn and the pegasi. So long ago, in fact, that these ponies didn’t know how to grow things yet! They hadn’t yet found their earth pony magic. The village depended on a kind forest spirit to help them find food to eat and live. The chief of this village was an old stallion who had worked all his life with this spirit, and he wanted his daughter to learn as well. The villagers would enter the forest and find a bush of berries or other wild plants that they wanted to eat, and the spirit would then grow them so that they could be eaten. However, the spirit of the forest was growing very old, and he wanted to make sure that the ponies were able to grow their own food when he could no longer grow it for them. So, he taught the village chief the secret of how to grow things! The earth ponies of the village quickly found that they were able to grow all kinds of crops with their new magic, from berries to vegetables and even fruits. The spirit taught them that soil is full and rich with life, and that they could use magic to grow their food from it.  But one day, the chief’s daughter became very very sick. The chief did everything he could, but nothing seemed to make her better. Then, he got an idea: what if he used his magic to try and help her feel better? This idea made the other villagers very worried. They did not know what would happen if they tried to grow things from something other than the dirt! But the chief decided to try anyway. The spirit became very angry at this, and decided to take away a part of their gift. But the chief’s daughter did not want this to happen. So, she decided to make a secret garden and tricked the spirit into staying there. Her garden was so secret that even today, nobody knows where it is! With the spirit gone, the villagers found that they could still use their magic, but it didn’t seem as strong as before. Still, they were thankful that now they were able to grow their own food.  And that is the story of how earth ponies got their magic! Below are comprehension questions based on the story.