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It was early morning when she returned.
The Ponyville Market was closed on Sunday, which seemed to always be a welcome change to supervising a market stall all day. I threw the empty saddlebags over my back, closed the door, and trotted the brief distance to the farm.
Between the farm and the cabin was a large expanse of grass, a spring green plain interrupted in many places by the yellow dots of dandelions. I trampled the blades of grass carelessly, leaving a trail of hoofsteps as I went.
As I reached the first of the blackberry fields, I lifted the flaps of the saddlebags in preparation for harvesting. Delicately, I picked each ripened blackberry from the plant with my teeth, immediately dropping each one into a saddlebag. It was a difficult task picking them with the thorns that threatened to inflict gashes on my cheeks, but earth pony magic had proven useful in willing the thorns to stay away.
Moving on to the next plant, I stepped forward a couple of steps and leaned forward to harvest more—
“Hi Patchy!” a voice hollered in the distance.
I froze in my tracks, gaping. “Is that really—”
The mare, a flame-red pegasus, chuckled. She hadn’t changed at all since we last saw each other. “Of course it is, Patchy. Sunrise? Remember me from ages ago?”
“You disappeared twenty years ago. What happened to you?” I stepped closer, examining her from top to bottom.
She tittered on the spot playfully. “What do you mean, ‘what happened to me?’”
“You know…”
Sunrise interrupted, uttering, “Oh no.” She tensed noticeably, and her legs shook continuously like a machine breaking down.
“What’s wrong?”
“I gotta go,” she continued, turning tail. “I’ll be right here. Dawn.”
And she disappeared in the blink of an eye before I could even register her last words. Despite having not offered so much as a proper conversation, she was gone.
I carried the scant few in my saddlebags back to the cabin and refrigerated them. There was no hope harvesting any more blackberries at this stage, especially when I could no longer focus enough to continue.
The remainder of the ripe blackberries were left unpicked until dusk.
She said she’ll be here at dawn.
I paced around the cabin, the faint clip-clop of hooves accompanying my mindless walk. My head was bent low, staring at every crevice between every plank that made up the wooden floor. However, as I neared a wall, I glanced up, noticing a sepia photograph hanging there. Upon realizing what it was, I looked away fearfully. Now was not the time.
Outside, the full moon, bright as an oil lamp, illuminated the room through a small window in the wall. I stopped to do an about-face towards the only light source. The cabin had never been so bright, especially at midnight—was it a sign that she’ll come back?
My hooves planted on the windowsill, I stared upwards at the stars, counting each and every one. They reminded me of her sky-blue eyes that twinkled, glimmered even in twilight. However, the stars in the night sky always evaded my vision when I tried to look directly at them. And so, as the moon travelled in its nightly journey across the sky, I kept counting, hoping that they would bring me to the break of dawn.
But even when the stars were eventually engulfed in the light of the sunrise, there was no sign of her.
The Ponyville Market, held in the very core of town around the Town Hall, was bustling with customers. Left and right, colors flashed as passers-by strolled past, burlap saddlebags dangling from their backs.
At a crudely-made stall, I stood boredly. There was no hope looking for her here; although Ponyville was relatively small, with most of its citizens spread out over a large area, the Market tended to attract the vast majority of them into the heart of town.
My chin rested on a hoof as I glanced down at the basketfuls of blackberries from the farm. If my thoughts hadn’t been occupied on her so much, then perhaps I could have gotten more. But, to be honest…
“Ooh, I think I’ll have a some of those,” a cream-coated earth pony said, as she stopped to grab a small measuring cup from the counter and carefully measured a hoofful of blackberries.
“Sure,” I droned.
“Huh?” She poured the blackberries into a pouch and placed it on the scales. “What’s wrong? Waiting for a special somepony?”
“Actually… yeah. Somepony I knew for a long time.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.” She placed a hoof on my shoulder and looked me squarely in the eyes. “It may seem like forever, but your special somepony’s going to be back before you know it. Just make sure you give a lil’ gift for them, mmkay? I suggest you check Roseluck’s stall—she’ll know what’s best for any occasion.
“Oh… and I’m Bon Bon, by the way.”
“Patch.”
Bon Bon took a brief glance at the sign before taking out four bits from her saddlebag—two more bits than it actually cost. “Well, Patch,” she said, stowing her pouch into her saddlebag. “I’ll try not to hold up your shop for too long. Good luck!”
With a spring to her step, she ambled eastward to the fringes of town, disappearing into the thick stream of ponies that flowed through the marketplace.
My farm was humble compared to that of the Apple family—merely forty or so meters on each side of the fields of blackberries. I cautiously trod the paths between the fields and, at the same time, held a watering can with a pastern. The plants dipped their flowers slightly as the water was sprinkled over them.
By Roseluck’s insistence, I had chosen a deep red carnation as a gift. It was tucked behind my ear, ready to be given if she returned. The last part I wasn’t sure about, however—it was already late afternoon, and the sun’s descent toward the horizon was almost over.
“Hi Patchy,” a voice called from behind.
My hoof almost let go of the watering can. She did come, after all. Dumbstruck, I placed the container between my legs and turned to face her. “Sunny, you’re back,” I finally said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t arrive earlier.” Sunrise rubbed her neck. “There were complications…”
I shook my head, replying, “Oh, no, no, that’s all right. What complications?”
“Never mind that. It’s good to see you again.” Her face brightened up at the sight of the plants. “Oh, are these blackberries?” she asked, peering into the center of a flower.
I snorted. “Yep. I still grow ’em after… what? Twenty years?” She bit her lip, causing me to hesitate. “Hey, you could come with me. I’ll get you some blackberries I harvested earlier.” As I said this, I beckoned her with a hoof and started to trot back to the farm. I took care to avoid the watering can in the process.
Sunrise’s sea-blue eyes glistened at my suggestion, and she took a hesitant step forward. However, she suddenly flinched and took her hoof back, as though having touched a heated metal surface.
Her legs shook as she retreated slowly backward. She almost collapsed under her own weight. “No. I can’t.”
“Huh, why not?” I walked closer to her.
“You don’t understand. I have to go. Be here next week.” Her eyes darted from plant to plant. Her words had become short, panicked. Terse. Just like last time.
A faint breeze tickled my ear, brushing it against the carnation. Shoot. “Wait! I forgot to give you—”
But she was already gone, leaving not a single trace behind.
I dropped to my haunches and, ever so gingerly, took the carnation out and laid it on my hooves. For a while, I stared at the flower dumbly, before placing it back in its position behind my ear.
I heaved a sigh and returned to watering my plants. Her final words echoed in my mind.
She said she’ll be here next week.
The cabin was quiet, eerily so, as I lay in bed that night. Next week was more than a few days away, and although I didn’t worry as I did a few nights before, a tinge of concern for Sunrise remained. Why did she leave so suddenly? Where did she go?
Having lost all hope of sleeping, I pulled myself up to a sitting position and let my hind legs droop. My eyes drifted towards the photograph hanging on the wall. More than once did I try to force my eyes to look away, yet this time I could not muster the willpower.
Slowly, I walked up to it, but not before lighting an oil lamp.
To the left was a earth pony stallion just out of his teens, standing tall with short bangs. He wore a lopsided grin and held a grinning pegasus mare close. The mare’s sea-blue eyes, rendered a light brown in the photograph, shone as brightly as the oil lamp allowed.
Patch and Sunrise.
I blinked, my eyes suddenly wet. A droplet slid down my cheeks and fell to the floor.
Finally, I tore away from the picture and walked to the windowsill. For the longest time, I merely counted the stars in a feeble attempt to remove the thoughts of her from my mind. Every time a star faded from sight, I lost track and restarted from zero.
By the twentieth attempt, I gave up and walked back to the photograph. The picture returned to my view, its features the same as it was just a moment before. I sighed, recalling the moment from which it was taken. It was the last photograph we took before she vanished: back in a time where we were foolish and young, when we posed in front of the camera and stayed up to watch the sun rise. Back when we were gazing upon the stars on one tranquil evening, counting each one and losing track every time before we reached 50.
With heavy steps, I turned to go back to my bed… and did a double-take.
The photograph couldn’t have been taken less than twenty years ago. Yet, when we met before, it was as if she hadn’t aged at all. I ran up to the photo once again, touching the stallion in sepia through the protective glass frame. Using the same hoof, I lightly stroked my forehead, feeling the faint wrinkles that had appeared in the twenty years since.
Taking a deep breath, I then faced the mare beside him and stared into her eyes, while hers stared into mine.
We had played on this very grass. Picked berries from this very farm. And at the onset of dawn, we sat on the grass’ edge, embracing each other and waiting for the sun to rise majestically from the horizon. Her sea-blue eyes gazed aimlessly, at first appearing to take in the sky that backdropped the blackberry fields.
For what was almost an eternity, we remained there, letting our coats be warmed by the rising sun and our fur be tickled by the breeze. We nuzzled, simply content with the world in which we existed.
“You think the dawn will last forever?” she pondered out loud.
“I wish it did,” I mumbled in reply, as puffy cumulus clouds drifted before the sun.
Slowly but surely, I fell into a comforting trance.
She was gone.
In a moment of panic, I swiveled my head around, searching for the feeling of her touch, the softness of her coat. The sun had already risen a considerable distance from the horizon, and the clouds had continued their journey elsewhere.
I made a beeline across the field, shifting my gaze left and right. Only the dots of black and cerise in a sea of green plants could be seen, with not a trace of flame red. My panic growing, I bolted back to the cabin—heeding no mind to the tufts of grass uprooted by my gait—only to find the building empty.
Perhaps there was hope in Ponyville proper. I galloped straight to the Town Hall, my head was swirling in a whirlpool of matted thoughts. Her parents were informed first and the Royal Guard second; a group was then dispatched to investigate her whereabouts. But months turned into years, and they still did not discover a single clue where she was. The vain hope that I clung onto for so long faded until it was just a memory.
She was…
Bleary-eyed from the night before, I trod the short distance to the front door. The dawn was still young, and the clouds clumped on the horizon shone a brilliant spectrum of colors. However, I couldn’t stop to watch the sunrise; the plants had to be watered, and more importantly, I had to be at my stall before any customers arrived.
I had almost closed the door when she appeared at the entrance only a meter away. Upon noticing her, I flinched; my rump bumped into the door, leaving it wide open.
“Hi Patchy,” she said with a grin.
“You said you’ll be here next week,” I replied, skeptical. “I’m not complaining, but—”
“I know, I know.” She gave a goofy grin. “Turned out they let me come back earlier.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
Sunrise waved a hoof in dismissal. “Doesn’t matter who.”
“Sunrise…” I glanced back inside the cabin. The photograph still hung on the cabin wall, as well as the two ponies displayed within. Returning my gaze to her, I asked, “Sunrise, why do you keep disappearing?”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Sunny, you can’t be serious. It’s happened twice since you’ve come back.” I pointed an accusatory hoof at her. “One moment you’re standing right here, and the next you disappear without even a puff of smoke!”
“You don’t understand, Patchy.” Sunrise resignedly walked toward the farm, her legs taking her farther and farther away. “Things have… changed. I’m not what you think I am any more.”
I clenched my eyes shut in frustration. “Then what are you now?”
No voice answered.
“Sunrise?” I called. “Sunrise!”
As I opened my eyes once again, I noticed she was gone. Dejection swept over my face as I stood between the fields of blackberry alone, staring at nothing but the field of grass that stretched towards the horizon.
I left for the farm a moment later. The blackberry flowers dipped slightly lower than usual when I watered them.
Sunday flew by again quicker than customers flocking in on a market day. Unhurriedly, I grabbed my saddlebags and flung them over my back. But just as I trotted through the entrance, I stopped. The carnation lay alone in a vase on the nightstand, having partially wilted. Feeling guilty, I grasped the flower between my teeth before leaving the cabin.
A flame-red blob lingered at the edge of the farm. I galloped to it, taking care to not let go of the carnation. With each stride, her legs and wings gradually came into view, and I could see her head bowed low toward the ground.
I dropped the flower and saddlebags between us and plopped down on the grass. A familiar breeze blew from the west. The sun lifted slowly from the horizon, carrying with it oranges, purples, yellows, and flaming reds, but my gaze was firmly on her.
“Sunrise?”
She didn’t respond.
“Sunrise.”
“I’m sorry for disappearing like that,” she replied almost robotically.
I placed a hoof on her shoulder. This time, she didn’t flinch, but my hoof passed right through her and hung limply. Her form flickered for a second before returning to normal, like how a star did when one gazed directly upon it. Shocked, I pulled my hoof away and brought it up to my eyes.
“Sunrise?”
Her tone grew cold. “I’m not real.”
“What?” I replied. Could she have been…?
“I never came back,” she said, shameful. “I’m just a—”
Suddenly, it clicked. “Projection.” A projection of a pony—created in one’s dreams—who had escaped into the waking world. As much as they tried to stay, they were still bound by the dream realm from which they came and the pony whose dreams had originally created them in the first place.
I turned my head to her and blinked once, twice. Sunrise was still there, evidently pained.
She sighed and averted her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
The words lingered in the air as we sat in silence, neither of us daring to come closer, and neither of us knowing what to say next.
“I should’ve stayed in your dreams,” she said. “I shouldn’t have tried to escape the dream realm.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “But I just wanted to make you happy. Even if only you can see me.”
“Sunrise?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s no need to be sorry. After all, you gave me another chance to see Sunrise… to see you again. And how can I fault you for giving me that?” Bending over, I picked up the carnation lying on the grass with my teeth.
I slid the carnation behind her ear, though the flower merely passed through her mane. Feigning frustration, I swung the carnation across her head before throwing it at the farm, causing her head—or the projection of her head—to be swept away like smoke. As quickly as her head dissipated, it reformed only to giggle at my antics as she floated to the opposite side of where I had been sitting. I found myself giggling as well, having failed to stifle a silly, foalish laugh.
After our moment of levity subsided, I tenderly motioned her closer with a forelimb. With a smile, she accepted the offer, hugging me tightly even though I didn’t feel a thing. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be taken by the ethereal embrace. She wasn’t gone; she was right here.
And as the sun rose ever so slowly, not once did I want to open my eyes again.
The Ponyville Market was closed on Sunday, which seemed to always be a welcome change to supervising a market stall all day. I threw the empty saddlebags over my back, closed the door, and trotted the brief distance to the farm.
Between the farm and the cabin was a large expanse of grass, a spring green plain interrupted in many places by the yellow dots of dandelions. I trampled the blades of grass carelessly, leaving a trail of hoofsteps as I went.
As I reached the first of the blackberry fields, I lifted the flaps of the saddlebags in preparation for harvesting. Delicately, I picked each ripened blackberry from the plant with my teeth, immediately dropping each one into a saddlebag. It was a difficult task picking them with the thorns that threatened to inflict gashes on my cheeks, but earth pony magic had proven useful in willing the thorns to stay away.
Moving on to the next plant, I stepped forward a couple of steps and leaned forward to harvest more—
“Hi Patchy!” a voice hollered in the distance.
I froze in my tracks, gaping. “Is that really—”
The mare, a flame-red pegasus, chuckled. She hadn’t changed at all since we last saw each other. “Of course it is, Patchy. Sunrise? Remember me from ages ago?”
“You disappeared twenty years ago. What happened to you?” I stepped closer, examining her from top to bottom.
She tittered on the spot playfully. “What do you mean, ‘what happened to me?’”
“You know…”
Sunrise interrupted, uttering, “Oh no.” She tensed noticeably, and her legs shook continuously like a machine breaking down.
“What’s wrong?”
“I gotta go,” she continued, turning tail. “I’ll be right here. Dawn.”
And she disappeared in the blink of an eye before I could even register her last words. Despite having not offered so much as a proper conversation, she was gone.
I carried the scant few in my saddlebags back to the cabin and refrigerated them. There was no hope harvesting any more blackberries at this stage, especially when I could no longer focus enough to continue.
The remainder of the ripe blackberries were left unpicked until dusk.
She said she’ll be here at dawn.
I paced around the cabin, the faint clip-clop of hooves accompanying my mindless walk. My head was bent low, staring at every crevice between every plank that made up the wooden floor. However, as I neared a wall, I glanced up, noticing a sepia photograph hanging there. Upon realizing what it was, I looked away fearfully. Now was not the time.
Outside, the full moon, bright as an oil lamp, illuminated the room through a small window in the wall. I stopped to do an about-face towards the only light source. The cabin had never been so bright, especially at midnight—was it a sign that she’ll come back?
My hooves planted on the windowsill, I stared upwards at the stars, counting each and every one. They reminded me of her sky-blue eyes that twinkled, glimmered even in twilight. However, the stars in the night sky always evaded my vision when I tried to look directly at them. And so, as the moon travelled in its nightly journey across the sky, I kept counting, hoping that they would bring me to the break of dawn.
But even when the stars were eventually engulfed in the light of the sunrise, there was no sign of her.
The Ponyville Market, held in the very core of town around the Town Hall, was bustling with customers. Left and right, colors flashed as passers-by strolled past, burlap saddlebags dangling from their backs.
At a crudely-made stall, I stood boredly. There was no hope looking for her here; although Ponyville was relatively small, with most of its citizens spread out over a large area, the Market tended to attract the vast majority of them into the heart of town.
My chin rested on a hoof as I glanced down at the basketfuls of blackberries from the farm. If my thoughts hadn’t been occupied on her so much, then perhaps I could have gotten more. But, to be honest…
“Ooh, I think I’ll have a some of those,” a cream-coated earth pony said, as she stopped to grab a small measuring cup from the counter and carefully measured a hoofful of blackberries.
“Sure,” I droned.
“Huh?” She poured the blackberries into a pouch and placed it on the scales. “What’s wrong? Waiting for a special somepony?”
“Actually… yeah. Somepony I knew for a long time.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.” She placed a hoof on my shoulder and looked me squarely in the eyes. “It may seem like forever, but your special somepony’s going to be back before you know it. Just make sure you give a lil’ gift for them, mmkay? I suggest you check Roseluck’s stall—she’ll know what’s best for any occasion.
“Oh… and I’m Bon Bon, by the way.”
“Patch.”
Bon Bon took a brief glance at the sign before taking out four bits from her saddlebag—two more bits than it actually cost. “Well, Patch,” she said, stowing her pouch into her saddlebag. “I’ll try not to hold up your shop for too long. Good luck!”
With a spring to her step, she ambled eastward to the fringes of town, disappearing into the thick stream of ponies that flowed through the marketplace.
My farm was humble compared to that of the Apple family—merely forty or so meters on each side of the fields of blackberries. I cautiously trod the paths between the fields and, at the same time, held a watering can with a pastern. The plants dipped their flowers slightly as the water was sprinkled over them.
By Roseluck’s insistence, I had chosen a deep red carnation as a gift. It was tucked behind my ear, ready to be given if she returned. The last part I wasn’t sure about, however—it was already late afternoon, and the sun’s descent toward the horizon was almost over.
“Hi Patchy,” a voice called from behind.
My hoof almost let go of the watering can. She did come, after all. Dumbstruck, I placed the container between my legs and turned to face her. “Sunny, you’re back,” I finally said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t arrive earlier.” Sunrise rubbed her neck. “There were complications…”
I shook my head, replying, “Oh, no, no, that’s all right. What complications?”
“Never mind that. It’s good to see you again.” Her face brightened up at the sight of the plants. “Oh, are these blackberries?” she asked, peering into the center of a flower.
I snorted. “Yep. I still grow ’em after… what? Twenty years?” She bit her lip, causing me to hesitate. “Hey, you could come with me. I’ll get you some blackberries I harvested earlier.” As I said this, I beckoned her with a hoof and started to trot back to the farm. I took care to avoid the watering can in the process.
Sunrise’s sea-blue eyes glistened at my suggestion, and she took a hesitant step forward. However, she suddenly flinched and took her hoof back, as though having touched a heated metal surface.
Her legs shook as she retreated slowly backward. She almost collapsed under her own weight. “No. I can’t.”
“Huh, why not?” I walked closer to her.
“You don’t understand. I have to go. Be here next week.” Her eyes darted from plant to plant. Her words had become short, panicked. Terse. Just like last time.
A faint breeze tickled my ear, brushing it against the carnation. Shoot. “Wait! I forgot to give you—”
But she was already gone, leaving not a single trace behind.
I dropped to my haunches and, ever so gingerly, took the carnation out and laid it on my hooves. For a while, I stared at the flower dumbly, before placing it back in its position behind my ear.
I heaved a sigh and returned to watering my plants. Her final words echoed in my mind.
She said she’ll be here next week.
The cabin was quiet, eerily so, as I lay in bed that night. Next week was more than a few days away, and although I didn’t worry as I did a few nights before, a tinge of concern for Sunrise remained. Why did she leave so suddenly? Where did she go?
Having lost all hope of sleeping, I pulled myself up to a sitting position and let my hind legs droop. My eyes drifted towards the photograph hanging on the wall. More than once did I try to force my eyes to look away, yet this time I could not muster the willpower.
Slowly, I walked up to it, but not before lighting an oil lamp.
To the left was a earth pony stallion just out of his teens, standing tall with short bangs. He wore a lopsided grin and held a grinning pegasus mare close. The mare’s sea-blue eyes, rendered a light brown in the photograph, shone as brightly as the oil lamp allowed.
Patch and Sunrise.
I blinked, my eyes suddenly wet. A droplet slid down my cheeks and fell to the floor.
Finally, I tore away from the picture and walked to the windowsill. For the longest time, I merely counted the stars in a feeble attempt to remove the thoughts of her from my mind. Every time a star faded from sight, I lost track and restarted from zero.
By the twentieth attempt, I gave up and walked back to the photograph. The picture returned to my view, its features the same as it was just a moment before. I sighed, recalling the moment from which it was taken. It was the last photograph we took before she vanished: back in a time where we were foolish and young, when we posed in front of the camera and stayed up to watch the sun rise. Back when we were gazing upon the stars on one tranquil evening, counting each one and losing track every time before we reached 50.
With heavy steps, I turned to go back to my bed… and did a double-take.
The photograph couldn’t have been taken less than twenty years ago. Yet, when we met before, it was as if she hadn’t aged at all. I ran up to the photo once again, touching the stallion in sepia through the protective glass frame. Using the same hoof, I lightly stroked my forehead, feeling the faint wrinkles that had appeared in the twenty years since.
Taking a deep breath, I then faced the mare beside him and stared into her eyes, while hers stared into mine.
We had played on this very grass. Picked berries from this very farm. And at the onset of dawn, we sat on the grass’ edge, embracing each other and waiting for the sun to rise majestically from the horizon. Her sea-blue eyes gazed aimlessly, at first appearing to take in the sky that backdropped the blackberry fields.
For what was almost an eternity, we remained there, letting our coats be warmed by the rising sun and our fur be tickled by the breeze. We nuzzled, simply content with the world in which we existed.
“You think the dawn will last forever?” she pondered out loud.
“I wish it did,” I mumbled in reply, as puffy cumulus clouds drifted before the sun.
Slowly but surely, I fell into a comforting trance.
She was gone.
In a moment of panic, I swiveled my head around, searching for the feeling of her touch, the softness of her coat. The sun had already risen a considerable distance from the horizon, and the clouds had continued their journey elsewhere.
I made a beeline across the field, shifting my gaze left and right. Only the dots of black and cerise in a sea of green plants could be seen, with not a trace of flame red. My panic growing, I bolted back to the cabin—heeding no mind to the tufts of grass uprooted by my gait—only to find the building empty.
Perhaps there was hope in Ponyville proper. I galloped straight to the Town Hall, my head was swirling in a whirlpool of matted thoughts. Her parents were informed first and the Royal Guard second; a group was then dispatched to investigate her whereabouts. But months turned into years, and they still did not discover a single clue where she was. The vain hope that I clung onto for so long faded until it was just a memory.
She was…
Bleary-eyed from the night before, I trod the short distance to the front door. The dawn was still young, and the clouds clumped on the horizon shone a brilliant spectrum of colors. However, I couldn’t stop to watch the sunrise; the plants had to be watered, and more importantly, I had to be at my stall before any customers arrived.
I had almost closed the door when she appeared at the entrance only a meter away. Upon noticing her, I flinched; my rump bumped into the door, leaving it wide open.
“Hi Patchy,” she said with a grin.
“You said you’ll be here next week,” I replied, skeptical. “I’m not complaining, but—”
“I know, I know.” She gave a goofy grin. “Turned out they let me come back earlier.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
Sunrise waved a hoof in dismissal. “Doesn’t matter who.”
“Sunrise…” I glanced back inside the cabin. The photograph still hung on the cabin wall, as well as the two ponies displayed within. Returning my gaze to her, I asked, “Sunrise, why do you keep disappearing?”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Sunny, you can’t be serious. It’s happened twice since you’ve come back.” I pointed an accusatory hoof at her. “One moment you’re standing right here, and the next you disappear without even a puff of smoke!”
“You don’t understand, Patchy.” Sunrise resignedly walked toward the farm, her legs taking her farther and farther away. “Things have… changed. I’m not what you think I am any more.”
I clenched my eyes shut in frustration. “Then what are you now?”
No voice answered.
“Sunrise?” I called. “Sunrise!”
As I opened my eyes once again, I noticed she was gone. Dejection swept over my face as I stood between the fields of blackberry alone, staring at nothing but the field of grass that stretched towards the horizon.
I left for the farm a moment later. The blackberry flowers dipped slightly lower than usual when I watered them.
Sunday flew by again quicker than customers flocking in on a market day. Unhurriedly, I grabbed my saddlebags and flung them over my back. But just as I trotted through the entrance, I stopped. The carnation lay alone in a vase on the nightstand, having partially wilted. Feeling guilty, I grasped the flower between my teeth before leaving the cabin.
A flame-red blob lingered at the edge of the farm. I galloped to it, taking care to not let go of the carnation. With each stride, her legs and wings gradually came into view, and I could see her head bowed low toward the ground.
I dropped the flower and saddlebags between us and plopped down on the grass. A familiar breeze blew from the west. The sun lifted slowly from the horizon, carrying with it oranges, purples, yellows, and flaming reds, but my gaze was firmly on her.
“Sunrise?”
She didn’t respond.
“Sunrise.”
“I’m sorry for disappearing like that,” she replied almost robotically.
I placed a hoof on her shoulder. This time, she didn’t flinch, but my hoof passed right through her and hung limply. Her form flickered for a second before returning to normal, like how a star did when one gazed directly upon it. Shocked, I pulled my hoof away and brought it up to my eyes.
“Sunrise?”
Her tone grew cold. “I’m not real.”
“What?” I replied. Could she have been…?
“I never came back,” she said, shameful. “I’m just a—”
Suddenly, it clicked. “Projection.” A projection of a pony—created in one’s dreams—who had escaped into the waking world. As much as they tried to stay, they were still bound by the dream realm from which they came and the pony whose dreams had originally created them in the first place.
I turned my head to her and blinked once, twice. Sunrise was still there, evidently pained.
She sighed and averted her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
The words lingered in the air as we sat in silence, neither of us daring to come closer, and neither of us knowing what to say next.
“I should’ve stayed in your dreams,” she said. “I shouldn’t have tried to escape the dream realm.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “But I just wanted to make you happy. Even if only you can see me.”
“Sunrise?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s no need to be sorry. After all, you gave me another chance to see Sunrise… to see you again. And how can I fault you for giving me that?” Bending over, I picked up the carnation lying on the grass with my teeth.
I slid the carnation behind her ear, though the flower merely passed through her mane. Feigning frustration, I swung the carnation across her head before throwing it at the farm, causing her head—or the projection of her head—to be swept away like smoke. As quickly as her head dissipated, it reformed only to giggle at my antics as she floated to the opposite side of where I had been sitting. I found myself giggling as well, having failed to stifle a silly, foalish laugh.
After our moment of levity subsided, I tenderly motioned her closer with a forelimb. With a smile, she accepted the offer, hugging me tightly even though I didn’t feel a thing. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be taken by the ethereal embrace. She wasn’t gone; she was right here.
And as the sun rose ever so slowly, not once did I want to open my eyes again.
For most of the story, the narrator seems to have trouble accepting that his newly-reappeared love is intangible, even though she apparently vanishes before his eyes several times. Of course, in a magical realm such things may be possible, though pegasi aren’t supposed to be able to teleport. Still, he never makes a serious effort to look for where she went or touch her. Perhaps he is scared to be proven right? I suppose he’s aware at some level, or he’d be trying to consult the town’s resident magical authorities to see if there was some way to free her from whoever ‘they’ were who were letting her ‘come back.’
The kind of thing Sunrise is revealed to be at the end may be described as a Tulpa, but you may be right in not using that term for it here, as you’d have to explain it to the reader one way or the other.
This story is sweet and ends on a wistful note; I find here and there some awkward phrasing that a second draft could address.
The kind of thing Sunrise is revealed to be at the end may be described as a Tulpa, but you may be right in not using that term for it here, as you’d have to explain it to the reader one way or the other.
This story is sweet and ends on a wistful note; I find here and there some awkward phrasing that a second draft could address.
I liked this. Probably more than I expected to like an OC-centric romance, but I guess my penchant for favouring tragic romances trumps anything else.
I guess the main negative aspect that stood out to me was how subdued Patch's surprise was at seeing Sunrise again after twenty years, and that slight disconnect tainted the overall experience. If I met again with a sginificant person whom I lost decades ago, I'd be besides myself, making every type of question while hugging, kissing, and crying like a baby.
Though I do tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, so I'm not really an example to follow.
Either way, it was a solid romance with a bittersweet resolution that could be polished into an even better story.
I guess the main negative aspect that stood out to me was how subdued Patch's surprise was at seeing Sunrise again after twenty years, and that slight disconnect tainted the overall experience. If I met again with a sginificant person whom I lost decades ago, I'd be besides myself, making every type of question while hugging, kissing, and crying like a baby.
Though I do tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, so I'm not really an example to follow.
Either way, it was a solid romance with a bittersweet resolution that could be polished into an even better story.
Hmm. I'm not sure what I think about this. I do like the idea that dreams can at least partly escape into Equestria. That seems a lovely little manifestation of pony magic.
Yet I am also left, I suppose, unsatisfied by the fact we have no idea what happened to Sunrise. She just disappears and - well. That does happen, sometimes, in the real world. It's not inconceivable, but...it's also I suppose for me? Emotionally unsatisfying. There's so many hints earlier as if she were transformed somehow, but...I suppose we shan't know, but I don't know if that's a good thing. I don't quite feel it is.
But the ending? The ending was pleasant - he found her again, in his own way.
Yet I am also left, I suppose, unsatisfied by the fact we have no idea what happened to Sunrise. She just disappears and - well. That does happen, sometimes, in the real world. It's not inconceivable, but...it's also I suppose for me? Emotionally unsatisfying. There's so many hints earlier as if she were transformed somehow, but...I suppose we shan't know, but I don't know if that's a good thing. I don't quite feel it is.
But the ending? The ending was pleasant - he found her again, in his own way.
This was... sweet. But as has been pointed out, lacking some critical backstory and information. I think my biggest sticking point was how the reveal seemed to come out of left field. I think more could have been done to make this... dreamier?
Also, as a way of addressing the problem with Sunrise's disappearance going unexplained: Maybe make her Sunset instead, and throw some dramatic irony the reader's way. You may have to do some jiggery-pokery with your in-story timeline to make that work, but...
It's just a suggestion; take it or leave it if you'd like.
Also, as a way of addressing the problem with Sunrise's disappearance going unexplained: Maybe make her Sunset instead, and throw some dramatic irony the reader's way. You may have to do some jiggery-pokery with your in-story timeline to make that work, but...
It's just a suggestion; take it or leave it if you'd like.
One of the most common problems that all-OC stories have is that they often feel like obvious original stories with some hooves slapped on. But I have to give this one credit for not feeling that way to me.
On the whole, this seemed less like a story and more like a "thing that happened" to me. Maybe I felt that way because there's not much of a character or story arc? So even though this wasn't bad, I couldn't really get into it.
It also probably didn't help that I figured out the reveal pretty early on, and there's really not much else to the story.
On the whole, this seemed less like a story and more like a "thing that happened" to me. Maybe I felt that way because there's not much of a character or story arc? So even though this wasn't bad, I couldn't really get into it.
It also probably didn't help that I figured out the reveal pretty early on, and there's really not much else to the story.