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Literature Text
In the Gloaming
by Pixel Prose
It was dusk by the time she arrived outside the ancient oak, the golden trunk grey in the pale moonlight.
The branches were larger than she remembered. The frosted limbs reached higher into the sky, the stars beginning to twinkle between the dark fingers of shadow. The sign above the pastern door still read “Golden Oaks Library” in faintly glowing letters. She had cast that spell as a promise the day she had left. To guide her home, she had said, mostly to herself.
With a brief glow of her horn, the door unlocked and swung silently open to reveal main rotunda. She trotted inside, peering into the darkened familiar corners.
She smiled, her eyes widening. A distinctive cloud patterned blanket was neatly folded on a wooden reading stand. There was a muffled thumping sound and she whirled to stare at the stairs that lead to the librarian’s quarters and gasped.
At the top of the stairs, an old mare leaned against the wall, holding a lamp in her mouth. Her ancient, watery eyes glittered with unshed tears, her mane a faded mass of grey. Trembling, the grandmare set down the candle, nearly tipping it over as she stumbled. The new arrival rushed forward, the sweep of her neck steadying the wizened mare, who pulled back. Forehooves rose to cup her face. Wrinkled lips pressed into a tight line, stifling a giggle.
“You’ve changed,” came the voice, rusted and querulous with age.
“So have you.”
“Getting old sucks,” the old mare snorted. “Not like you. Look at you, all princessy.”
She had no real answer to that.
“You... you came back.” The oldster's breath was sour, her mouth nearly toothless, her breathless whisper quivering through a desperate, tearful smile. The spindly forelegs, draped with a sagging, patchy coat, smelling faintly of bygones, finally wrapped around the long slender neck. “You came back,” the grandmare breathed into the silky slick coat.
She lifted a long slender foreleg and embraced the ancient mare, careful of the swollen, arthritic wings, her tears falling like warm gentle jewels. Her ears flattened themselves in dismay, her tail curling beneath her helplessly.
“I didn’t know,” she sobbed, her loss falling to the polished wood floor. “That it would be this long...” The old mare shuddered against her.
“It doesn’t matter,” the pegasus hugged her closer. “I promised. I waited. And you’re here. You’re back.”
“I’m back,” she agreed with a shuddering hiccup, her mane sparkling faintly in the dark quietness of the library. “For good.” She sighed as she lowered her head to rest it on a bony shoulder.
“I love you too, Sparkles.”
by Pixel Prose
It was dusk by the time she arrived outside the ancient oak, the golden trunk grey in the pale moonlight.
The branches were larger than she remembered. The frosted limbs reached higher into the sky, the stars beginning to twinkle between the dark fingers of shadow. The sign above the pastern door still read “Golden Oaks Library” in faintly glowing letters. She had cast that spell as a promise the day she had left. To guide her home, she had said, mostly to herself.
With a brief glow of her horn, the door unlocked and swung silently open to reveal main rotunda. She trotted inside, peering into the darkened familiar corners.
She smiled, her eyes widening. A distinctive cloud patterned blanket was neatly folded on a wooden reading stand. There was a muffled thumping sound and she whirled to stare at the stairs that lead to the librarian’s quarters and gasped.
At the top of the stairs, an old mare leaned against the wall, holding a lamp in her mouth. Her ancient, watery eyes glittered with unshed tears, her mane a faded mass of grey. Trembling, the grandmare set down the candle, nearly tipping it over as she stumbled. The new arrival rushed forward, the sweep of her neck steadying the wizened mare, who pulled back. Forehooves rose to cup her face. Wrinkled lips pressed into a tight line, stifling a giggle.
“You’ve changed,” came the voice, rusted and querulous with age.
“So have you.”
“Getting old sucks,” the old mare snorted. “Not like you. Look at you, all princessy.”
She had no real answer to that.
“You... you came back.” The oldster's breath was sour, her mouth nearly toothless, her breathless whisper quivering through a desperate, tearful smile. The spindly forelegs, draped with a sagging, patchy coat, smelling faintly of bygones, finally wrapped around the long slender neck. “You came back,” the grandmare breathed into the silky slick coat.
She lifted a long slender foreleg and embraced the ancient mare, careful of the swollen, arthritic wings, her tears falling like warm gentle jewels. Her ears flattened themselves in dismay, her tail curling beneath her helplessly.
“I didn’t know,” she sobbed, her loss falling to the polished wood floor. “That it would be this long...” The old mare shuddered against her.
“It doesn’t matter,” the pegasus hugged her closer. “I promised. I waited. And you’re here. You’re back.”
“I’m back,” she agreed with a shuddering hiccup, her mane sparkling faintly in the dark quietness of the library. “For good.” She sighed as she lowered her head to rest it on a bony shoulder.
“I love you too, Sparkles.”
Comments1
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Sad but beautiful.