A Walk Among Spirits

Drip, Drip, Drip.

The colt winced at the constant dripping of the leaky pipe that woke him. He slowly opened his eyes, but the world was one big blur. The white room he was in hurt his eyes, and when he looked at the blurry outline of the pipe, or what he assumed was a pipe, he simply grumbled to himself, before he fell back asleep. His body felt like it had undergone excruciating surgery, which was strange since he didn’t remember going to the hospital. However, he would ponder it later, as right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.

The colt was excited. So excited, in fact, that he nearly choked on his breakfast when he wolfed it down. He quickly took a gulp of juice to force the food down. Today was going to be perfect. He had finally convinced his father to let him take his golden Royal Guard helmet to school for show and tell. He had been trying for several weeks, but his father turned him down every time. Finally, after begging, pleading, and bribing him, with all two bits he had, his father gave in and allowed him to take the helmet with him to school.

He wanted to get to school early in hopes to be first to present what he brought. His mother, on the other hoof, took her time in eating her toast. After he finished the last morsel of food on his plate, he quickly took it over to the sink and washed it. He then raced to his room to collect his school supplies and saddlebags. When he returned, his mother was washing her plate too. He trotted past her and stood next to the door like a dog wanting to be let out. His mother laughed, shaking her head. She lifted her husband’s helmet in her magic and followed her son out the door.

On the way to the schoolhouse he rehearsed what he was going to say when he stood in front of the class: he would start off by telling them that his father was in the Royal Guard, then he’d tell them how he stood on the front lines during the changeling attack on Canterlot, and finally, he’d tell them the story his father told him, about how his helmet usually pristine acquired the rather large crack on the right side.

When they reached the schoolhouse and went inside, his mother set the helmet on the floor next to her son’s desk, before she walked over to Cheerilee to talk with her. He couldn’t hear or care, what his mother was talking about with his teacher. All he cared about was his father’s helmet. He mentally pleaded with Cheerilee that she would start the day with show-and-tell, and he’d be the first one presenting. He noticed his mother had finished talking with Cheerilee, and watched her say her goodbyes, before leaving. He waved to her but had one eye still fixated on the helmet.

After his mother left, the other students started to file into the classroom and take their seats. He hoped she’d start with show-and-tell, but to his disappointment, she started right in on today’s lesson. The lesson felt like it took an eternity. His right back hoof tapped on the floor as he anxiously waited for it to be over. As the lesson ran on, he feared she had forgotten, and all his planning would be for naught. However, she finished her lesson and called up the first foal to present what they brought. He sighed when she called on a filly that brought a shirt her mother bought her when they went to Manehattan; the shirt was a bland pink with garish green lettering that spelled ‘Manehattan’. He was disappointed he didn’t go first but hoped he would be next. However, Cheerilee called on a different colt, who showed off his dragon skull that he made out of paper-mâché. He groaned as the colt finished, and Cheerilee called on another colt.

Finally, after eight others presented, he was finally called up. He reached down to pick up the helmet, but as his hoof touched the metal, the right side of the room exploded, sending debris, desks, and foals flying. He landed on his side, a loud ringing in his ears making everything sound dampened. He heard muffled screams, muffled shouting, and muffled hooves, hitting the floor running. He saw a small figure race past him, pursued by much larger figures. He looked up to a blurry shape standing over him. He couldn’t understand what the blob was saying, but he felt his body be picked up and suddenly stuffed into a sack. He felt the sack swing violently before it began to slam into something hard again and again. He felt a sharp pain on his right side and yelped. Before long, he felt drowsy and fell into the clutches of sleep.

Drip, drip, drip.

Once again, the leaky pipe woke him up. This time, however, his vision began to clear up. Now, he could clearly see the white padded room he was in, and the silver, steel door he was facing. He found that the metal pipe was actually a faucet next to a similar, metal toilet. He felt the cold, cement floor on his underbelly. When he went to stand up, there was a sharp, searing pain that flared across the middle of his back. He did all he could to not scream in pain. He looked around the room and noticed movement in the back right corner. It was hard to make out what was there because the light hanging from the ceiling did little to light the corners of the room. He started to get up and felt the pain shoot through his back, but it wasn’t as bad as the first time. He gingerly walked over to the corner and saw the outlines of three foals. As he drew closer, he recognized the three.

“Apple Bloom? Is that you?” He asked.

Apple Bloom looked up, her eyes were bloodshot, swollen, and lines stained her cheeks under her eyes.

“Skyline?” Apple Bloom asked. Skyline was amazed she knew his name. The only time she could have heard it was when Cheerilee called on him during class. He didn’t know her personally but knew of her and her friends.

“What are you and your friends doing here?” Skyline asked.

“We’re not sure. All we remember is an explosion. Then we woke up here. After a while, some stallions threw you in here. We tried to wake you up, but you were out cold,” Sweetie Belle explained.

Skyline nodded as she explained everything and noticed Scootaloo was quiet throughout the whole conversation. He had known Scootaloo was the most talkative of the three. Usually, during show-and-tell, the three combined all three of their turns into one and explained how they tried to find their cutie marks. Scootaloo talked the most out of all three of them and he was stunned she hadn’t said one word. Her head was buried in her arms and her body convulsed as she silently cried. He was going to ask if she was ok but stopped dead in his tracks. There was a pit in his stomach and as he turned to Sweetie Belle. The pit only grew. He hadn’t seen the horror in front of him because of how dark the room’s corners were. However, as his eyes adjusted. He saw it clearly: Sweetie Belle’s horn had been broken off and what was left was a jagged edge and where Scootaloo’s wings should have been. There were stumps.