Post by Diamond on May 11, 2013 2:49:30 GMT -5
When I woke up, three days had ticked by. Three days since my ‘miracle’ was made and three days since I tossed and turned and my heart would leap with every beep of the machine next to me. Three days since the doctors said there wasn’t much hope for a beat up little filly like me, wrecked and ruined by the events relevant to prevent the death of my friend; Criss Cross.
That day that I woke up; after crying my heart out, and squealing for joy after reading the newspaper somepony left on my bed- the nurse came in. She looked nice enough- curly blonde hair, a sweet disposition, an older mare, the grandmotherly type. And she had a smile- the saddest smile I had ever seen on a grown mare looking at a filly who’d just gotten her cutie mark- a smile for me.
I’ve seen those smiles before- those sad, heartbroken-down-on-your-luck-don’t-have-the-heart-to-tell-you-the-angels-didn’t-hear-your-plea-or-maybe-they-just-didn’t-care-smiles. Those terrible, heart wrenching, horrid, soul crushing smiles that are promising precursors to a bad day. The smile she was holding for me was the granddaddy of those type smiles- the most horrible of them all.
At first I thought it was Criss Cross. Maybe something happened- maybe something went wrong with the medicine, or maybe there wasn’t enough money! I was the Miracle Mare-, so maybe I could get some more, or maybe, if I asked the right ponies-
But no. I babbled incoherently about trying to rescue Criss Cross, or maybe the Wonderbolts decided not to give me the money- or maybe I wasn’t old enough to receive it, or …
No. That wasn’t it either. I could see it in her eyes, but try as I might to deny it, I already knew what it was. I was stalling for time, pretending it wasn’t the horrible black splotches on my face that were getting bigger everyday, or the fact that I’d been hiding how sick I’d felt. I wanted to deny that I had Horn Rot- that was something unicorns got. Maybe it was the Feather Flu, but the Feather Flu didn’t turn your coat black. Maybe it was the Pegasus Pox, but I didn’t have spots. Just splotches. Nasty horrible blotches and splotches that started out on my nose and slowly started to get bigger. but it was there- clear and plain on her face. That smile was a heart breaker, and it was my heart she was about to break.
But I had to know-…
“Is…Is Criss Cross ok?”
She sat down next to me, quietly, still smiling that terrible, motherly smile, and nodded her head. Her eyes were misty and her lower lip was quivering. I knew then and there it wasn’t Criss Cross.It wasn’t Criss Cross, or the money, or the Wonderbolts. I could deny it all I wanted but it was me all along, and could feel it in my chest, that it was gonna get worse before it got better.
“…Criss Cross ain’t sick no more…but I am…aren’t I?” I asked, my voice horse and reluctant. She gasped, quietly, and after a brief pause, she slowly nodded her head. I swallowed and closed my eyes.
“….I…I ain’t got da kinda sick dat you’se get betta from….do I?”
She didn’t answer, but that was answer enough for me. Slowly she stood up, and told me she would go and get the doctor. It hit me like a kick to the stomach. Like a little bubble of a warm dream bursting into cold reality; I didn’t make a Miracle. I wasn’t some savior to a friend or some pony that managed to bring down some marvel from the heavens. I had begged anything that was listening to let me save Criss Cross, and something answered.
I hadn’t made a Miracle. I had made a trade. A terrible, bone chilling, unthinkable, unspeakable curse of a trade. I gave my life in exchange for Criss Cross. My good health, my fate, my destiny, all in exchange for the foal two rooms down to keep breathing.
…
And looking back on it all. I said I’d do anything. I would do anything to save Criss Cross. I flew to the heavens and back, searched high and low, and the only thing I managed to find, was a trade. My life for his.
…
And I wouldn’t change a bucking thing about it.
That day that I woke up; after crying my heart out, and squealing for joy after reading the newspaper somepony left on my bed- the nurse came in. She looked nice enough- curly blonde hair, a sweet disposition, an older mare, the grandmotherly type. And she had a smile- the saddest smile I had ever seen on a grown mare looking at a filly who’d just gotten her cutie mark- a smile for me.
I’ve seen those smiles before- those sad, heartbroken-down-on-your-luck-don’t-have-the-heart-to-tell-you-the-angels-didn’t-hear-your-plea-or-maybe-they-just-didn’t-care-smiles. Those terrible, heart wrenching, horrid, soul crushing smiles that are promising precursors to a bad day. The smile she was holding for me was the granddaddy of those type smiles- the most horrible of them all.
At first I thought it was Criss Cross. Maybe something happened- maybe something went wrong with the medicine, or maybe there wasn’t enough money! I was the Miracle Mare-, so maybe I could get some more, or maybe, if I asked the right ponies-
But no. I babbled incoherently about trying to rescue Criss Cross, or maybe the Wonderbolts decided not to give me the money- or maybe I wasn’t old enough to receive it, or …
No. That wasn’t it either. I could see it in her eyes, but try as I might to deny it, I already knew what it was. I was stalling for time, pretending it wasn’t the horrible black splotches on my face that were getting bigger everyday, or the fact that I’d been hiding how sick I’d felt. I wanted to deny that I had Horn Rot- that was something unicorns got. Maybe it was the Feather Flu, but the Feather Flu didn’t turn your coat black. Maybe it was the Pegasus Pox, but I didn’t have spots. Just splotches. Nasty horrible blotches and splotches that started out on my nose and slowly started to get bigger. but it was there- clear and plain on her face. That smile was a heart breaker, and it was my heart she was about to break.
But I had to know-…
“Is…Is Criss Cross ok?”
She sat down next to me, quietly, still smiling that terrible, motherly smile, and nodded her head. Her eyes were misty and her lower lip was quivering. I knew then and there it wasn’t Criss Cross.It wasn’t Criss Cross, or the money, or the Wonderbolts. I could deny it all I wanted but it was me all along, and could feel it in my chest, that it was gonna get worse before it got better.
“…Criss Cross ain’t sick no more…but I am…aren’t I?” I asked, my voice horse and reluctant. She gasped, quietly, and after a brief pause, she slowly nodded her head. I swallowed and closed my eyes.
“….I…I ain’t got da kinda sick dat you’se get betta from….do I?”
She didn’t answer, but that was answer enough for me. Slowly she stood up, and told me she would go and get the doctor. It hit me like a kick to the stomach. Like a little bubble of a warm dream bursting into cold reality; I didn’t make a Miracle. I wasn’t some savior to a friend or some pony that managed to bring down some marvel from the heavens. I had begged anything that was listening to let me save Criss Cross, and something answered.
I hadn’t made a Miracle. I had made a trade. A terrible, bone chilling, unthinkable, unspeakable curse of a trade. I gave my life in exchange for Criss Cross. My good health, my fate, my destiny, all in exchange for the foal two rooms down to keep breathing.
…
And looking back on it all. I said I’d do anything. I would do anything to save Criss Cross. I flew to the heavens and back, searched high and low, and the only thing I managed to find, was a trade. My life for his.
…
And I wouldn’t change a bucking thing about it.