Title:           Anon Tried to Kill Himself - Act I, part 8
Author:          Writefag_Roulette
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/yTQ7SDxC
First Edit:      Thursday 25th of August 2016 12:25:18 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Thursday 25th of August 2016 12:25:18 PM CDT

Part 8: Anon Fucking Hates Apples
 
>you stretch, causing the covers to fall off of your body
>Spike is asleep
>Twilight hasn't come by yet
>the sun is only just starting to peek out over the horizon
>it was during times like these, you reflect
>that you used to enjoy walking to the nearest woods and rambling about outside
>no parents reminding you of your abysmal social life
>no professors to frustrate you to insanity
>no coworkers or classmates to look at you funny
>no bosses to threaten your job
>no landlords threatening your home
>and no magic fucking pony princesses insisting that you need friends
>let's do it
>you silently get dressed for a hike as appropriately as your wardrobe allows
>and you stealthily move outside
>it's a little bit dark out yet
>and a cool, silent breeze flows past your skin
>perfect
>so you head out to the local forest
>what could possibly go wrong?
>your muscles still ache from the escapades of yesterday
>but it's not a bad pain
>like the mysterious battle scars you received from the party
>or the burning of hot rocks on your back
>…
>or rope burns on your neck
>the air is a little cooler in the forest, and the trees make it a bit dimmer
>the sound of various birds and bugs sounds through the air
>but these sounds do not disturb you
>in fact, they help you relax even more
>just you, the forest, and your thoughts
>you think of Pinkie Pie
>the energetic ball of life who got you into so much trouble
>you don't really think you'd very much enjoy spending a lot of time with her
>you think of Rarity
>a pony who enjoys the finer things in life, but doesn't much like the quiet
>you think you'd die of shame if you ever saw her again
>you think of Fluttershy
>you think you could simply sit quietly with her for hours on end, not a word needing to be spoken
>it's unfortunate the company she keeps
>and you think of Twilight Sparkle
>the one who, like it or not, saved your life
>the one who, supposedly, was once very much like you
>the one who tries to shield you from the quiet as though it were a deadly poison without being fully accustomed to the noise herself
>her good intentions can be a real bother sometimes
>you stop and realize that it's completely and totally quiet
>no birds sing, no bugs buzz
>that's interesting for a forest this size
>something snaps
>ohshitwhatwasthat
>out of the dark, quiet woods steps a monster
>like a wolf, but made of wood and with burning green eyes
>more green eyes peer out from the woods
>your internal nigger sounds off
>sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit
 
>you once read that most predators won't chase you unless you run
>it's like a reflex or something
>unfortunately your brain is too fucked from seeing woodmonsters to remember that right now
>and you take off sprinting before any of them get within ten feet of you
>fuckfuckfuckfuck
>you're running faster than you ever thought you possibly could
>but FUCK there's no way you can outrun these things
>so you get a stupid idea
>you reach down hoping to grab a rock or a stick or something
>you grab hold of a rock, but your feet lose their traction and you slip
>you scramble into a sitting upright position and throw a rock at the nearest wolf
>they pause long enough for you to stand up and grab more rocks
>time to die
>you throw another rock and the wolves run away like the pansies they are
>blood and iron, lmao
>wait, if you're safe, then what's that roaring behind you?
>oh, it's nothing
>just a fucking scorpion-bat-lion motherfucker
>JUST
>you hastily throw your rocks at its face and run after the wolves
>by slipping between narrow spaces between the trees, you can slow it down a little bit
>but FUCK it's gonna get you if you don't find a hiding spot
>nothing good in sight
>the ground trembles in front of you as a massive four-headed dragon thing smashes its way toward you
>why the fuck do you even bother?
>you half hope the lion thing is gonna fight for its right to eat you
>but no, it's running away like a little bitch
>whatever
>you just stand there
"Fuck you, you fucking cunt."
>it fails to take offense
>just as one of its heads is about to snap you up, an axe smashes into its eye and distracts it
>you look to the left, certain that fucking yog sothoth is here just to make sure your day gets fucked up
>it's one of Twilight's friends, the orange one with the hat
>"Mr. Anon, this way now! Come on now get a move on there ain't much time!"
>oh fuck yes
>she leads you through a narrow winding path away from the shrieking monsters of the forest
>there is silence from both of you until you come upon the entrance to a great orchard of apple trees
>"Now just what in tarnation were ya doin' out in the middle of the Everfree Forest, Mr. Anon?"
>you're still looking around frantically to make sure no more abominations appear
>the orange pony sighs
>"Yer safe here, Mr. Anon. This is my farm. Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres."
 
>you calm down, and your heartrate slows itself to about six million miles per hour
>and you get down to earth just enough to hear Applejack's reproaching question
>"Now just what in tarnation were ya doin in the Everfree Forest, Anon?"
"I-I, I was, I was taking a walk."
>"A walk? You mean like a stroll? A Sunday mornin stroll through the most dangerous neck o woods in all Equestria?"
>her eyes radiate a concentrated beam of doubt into your soul
"Well how was I supposed to know it would be full of horrible monsters?"
>Applejack considers this for a moment and her hard gaze softens a bit
>"Well, I guess you are new round these parts."
>smiling gently as though absolving you of a minor social blunder, she gestures with her head
>"Come on then, sugarcube. I was gonna take the day off too, after gettin some firewood. Course, now my axe is gone. Why don't you stay for breakfast?"
>she leisurely saunters toward the big red barn in the center of the property
"S-sure."
>and you follow alongside her, but slightly behind her center
>"So what do ya think o the good princess? She treatin ya well?"
>the chaos of the past week flashes past your consciousness in an instant
"Uh, yeah, I guess so."
>"That's good."
>she spies a big red pony by the little farmhouse
>"Hey, Big Mac! Tell Granny to whip up an extra plate. We got company."
>the big guy wordlessly and casually walks inside
>"Hoo-ey. Granny Smith's the best cook this side o Canterlot. You're gonna love her cookin, I promise."
>her green eyes quickly examine your form
>"An you look like you could use a good breakfast. Good golly, boy, have you been eatin right?"
>your depression-induced lack of appetite over the past year would have been the envy of most ascetic monks
"N-not really, I guess."
>you're just about at the simple screen door now
>Applejack nudges your side with a playful hoof
>"Aw-haw, well we'll see what we can do bout that! You'll be fuller n a bit box durin cider season!"
>the countryism is lost on you
>"Let's get in there, now, Anon. It'll get cold!"
>with an exaggerated trot, the horse who just saved your life goes inside and makes loud greetings to her kinsfolk
>oh dear
>there's nothing for it but to follow her inside
>instantly, a little yellow pony finds her way to your feet
>"Hi! Are you Mr. Anon? I'm Apple Bloom and I'm glad to meet ya! The whole town has been buzzin ever since Pinkie Pie's p-"
>"Apple Bloom! Give our guest some space!"
>"Just sit right there, sugarcube. Breakfast'll be out in a pinch."
 
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>Applejack was right
>Granny Smith makes some bomb ass breakfast
>you honestly didn't realize how fast you were eating
>and your plate is empty
>"Shoot Anon. Y'all weren't kiddin about not eatin right. You must've been starvin!"
>the old green pony who must be Granny Smith interjects
>"A great big feller like that needs his vittles, darlin! You want some more apple fritters, Anonymous?"
"Uh, n-no thank you."
>you nervously glance out the window
"I should probably get going now."
>Applejack responds uproariously
>"Nonsense! You should stick around for a spell! We're gonna have a nice, relaxin Sunday and we want you to join us."
>they want you to join them?
"O-okay."
>you sure do hope they don't change their minds
>the family finishes eating and giving their best compliments to the cook
>then things move to the front porch
>there's three rocking chairs and a two-seat swing set up
>you take a seat on the swing, hoping that it wasn't anybody's chosen spot
>the adults all find their chairs
>and Apple Bloom jumps up next to you
>and it's quiet
>you nervously observe for a moment before realizing
>it's not a bad quiet
>usually when you're with company and it's quiet, it's because you're an awkward sperglord who doesn't know what to say
>but here, nothing needs to be said
>after a week of hard work, the ponies of a farming family have stuffed themselves
>they intend to sit in the pleasant, quiet company of each other until the slight ache in their stomachs goes away
>it takes you a few moments more to relax yourself
>when it happens, you notice it
>your muscles seem to slide into a more comfortable position under your skin
>your back sinks into the cushion behind you until it hits the resistance of the wooden frame
>your vision expands as the skin around your eyes and mouth simply revert to a natural state of non-use
>the sound of your own breath sounds in your ears as you allow yourself to exhale fully
>you didn't even notice what you felt like until it went away
>okay
>"Mr. Anon?"
>and it all comes rushing back
>it's Apple Bloom
>you look at her attentively, unsure what, if anything, you're supposed to say here
>"Do you have your cutie mark?"
>what
"My what?"
>"You know,"
>the underage horse enthusiastically shoves her butt in your face
>"your cutie mark!"
>she seems to be proudly displaying the picture on it
>it's a tricolor shield with an apple in the center
>"It's what shows your special talent! The one thing you can do that makes you unique."
>Applejack chuckles
>"Heh, this little'un just got hers, and she's prounder'n a peach over it. It's a right special mark too."
"What is it?"
>"It means that I can help you understand what your cutie mark means and who you're supposed to be! I spent so long searchin for my own special talent that I guess searchin for special talents became my special talent!"
>that's a hell of a talent
 
>Applejack introduces more examples to you, gesturing to her own impressive hips
>"These here apples mean that I'm supposed to be an apple farmer, and Big Mac's got the same talent. Granny Smith, as you surely already know, is the greatest apple chef in all Equestria."
>you look and see that the mentioned ponies have butt stamps coinciding with Applejack's claims
>Apple Bloom turns to you
>"So what's your special talent? Oh wait, don't tell me! I wanna see, I wanna see your mark!"
>she starts frantically pawing at your wasteband in an attempt to see the alleged goods within
>you freeze the fuck up
>"Apple Bloom! Ya can't go round disrobin folks! Anon's not like us; he probably doesn't get one. Do ya?"
"N-no."
>Apple Bloom looks disappointed
>"Oh."
>"Well you can still have a special talent, right? What is it?"
>special talent?
>the child's question prompts some serious thought on your part
>you spent your childhood shirking off homework and avoiding people
>you've spent your adult life flitting from activity to activity depending on what your interest of the week was
>hiking, cooking, lifting, gardening, drawing, writing, programming, even philosophical thought, to name just a few
>you sometimes even came back to some of them every few months or so
>but you never really stuck with anything long enough to get good at anything
>just long enough to know how to shitpost about it
>but a single special talent?
>you certainly didn't lack any of the physical traits necessary to get one
>you weren't short, ugly, prone to obesity, or unintelligent
>you just
>never did anything
>Apple Bloom gets tired of waiting for your train of thought to come to a stop
>"What's yer special talent, Anon? What are ya good at?"
>her massive, glimmering eyes meet your tiny, darting ones
>the silence is oppressive once again
"U-uh, let me get back to you on that."
>and you get up
>and you leave
>and you can almost feel the awkward tension radiating from the porch into the back of your head until you're out of sight
>what the fuck are you good at?