The Harsh Light of Day

Staccato, September 5, 2016; 06:45 / FB 41256
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THE HARSH LIGHT OF DAY


The big, white ball of light high in the sky is hotter than ever. You asked it so many and many times to please be less hot, during your first days on the street, but eventually you realized that it was useless: the big white ball of light is too high to hear you little fluffy voice.

You are Marigold, a wingie marie with orange fluff and yellow mane and tail, and you are burning.

Not in the sense that you have burny owwies, of course, though you have seen a couple of ferals getting those a couple of days ago from some meanie little human munstas, who used a shiny thing on them until their fluff has started smoking and then burning, and then forcing them to give each other huggies as they burned together.

No, you have burnies inside, under your fluff, in your tummy and in your head. You keep panting as you walk under the big white ball of light, your smell-place wheezing and sniffing. And you can feel your foals on your back whimpering and chirping in their tiny baby voices, complaining about the hot day and their empty tummies.

You are also a mummah, yeah. After you had run away from your home and your human mommy – she didn't want you to try and fly with your pretty wingies, that meanie! – the first fluffy you met was a big, scruffy wingie stallion. He played with you and hugged you and called you "prettiest mare", but after a while you could see his little no-no getting bigger, and before you knew it he was pressing you against the grassie and putting his no-no in your special place! You tried to kick him, you screamed in pain and fear, and shivered in horror when you felt his special juice inside your tummy.

That night, scary and alone, hiding under a bush, you cried and cried, calling your mommy, wanting her to find you and hug you and play with you and give you spaghetti and love. But she never came.

The following weeks have been more and more difficult for you, since your belly kept growing bigger and bigger, making it harder for you to get grassie nummies and even harder to get the occasional good trashie nummie. You tried to find your mommy's house, then a herd that would help you, but you had no luck; you spent the last couple of days of your pregnancy hidden under a big bush, drinking dirty wawa from a puddle right next to you and nomming on the hard and bitter bush leafies, crying and urging your tummy babies to come out fast.

What you didn't realize, while hiding under the shadow of the bush, was that the big white ball of light up in the sky has been getting hotter and hotter. It was already hot when you had become a feral, but now it's positively scorching.

Getting the babies out of your tummy all alone was a traumatic and scary experience: you felt the biggest poopie feel, then a huge pain in your special place, so much so that you could see little stars dancing in front of you. After what had seemed like forever, you felt something slimy and smelly coming out from your special place, then another. It was only after you heard the smelly thingies chirp and call for you that you realized what they were.

"B-bahbes..." you murmured, grabbing one of the two shivering, chirping not-poopies and licking it clean. It was a tiny baby, and it was the most beautiful thing ever and it was all yours! It was a male baby, a wingie like you, with red fluff and orange tail. Instinctively, you placed it right next to one of your plump milkie places and he immediately latched on it, while you cleaned the other one. This one was a earthie and a girl, with uniform yellow fluff and tail."W-wuv bahbes..." you murmured, spent, and the girl baby chirped in hunger. You barely managed to place her next to your other milkie place when you felt another pang of sharp pain in your special place. "OWWIEES!" you screamed. "M-mo' bahbes?"

And indeed, you had more babies in your belly. You licked the third one, a wingie colt, black and brown like his father; for a moment, you felt repulsed by him, but when you smelled him better, you realized he was a good baby. It was not his fault if he looked like the meanie fluffy who had given you bad special huggies. "Mummah wuv bahbeh..." you reassured him, and he chirped happily in response.

Some minutes later, while you were hugging your brown and black baby while nursing the other two, you felt some more pain in your special place, and a fourth slimy thingie came out. This one didn't chirp, however... it didn't call for you, it didn't move. It was a bad baby, one that had taken forever sleepies while still in your tummy. You didn't even get to know it, and the thought gave you heart owwies.

You still licked it clean while crying all the way, discovering it had been a girl wingie with pale yellow fluff and brown tail. "Am sowwy, bahbeh... Mumma stiww wuv foweva sweepies bahbeh..." you said in a heartbreaking tone. Your black and brown baby tried to hug his forever sleepy sissy, but you pulled him away gently. "Nu, bahbeh... Jus' gif huggies to mumma, otay?"

You finally managed to nurse all three babies, but when the black and brown baby had finished drinking, you realized that your milkie places were now empty, since the dirty wawa and the bush leafies couldn't help you make that much milk. You needed some much better nummies, and you needed them fast. After you had gently placed your chirping foals on your soft back fluff and had said your forever goodbyes to the bad baby, you ventured outside from under the big bush for the first time in days. The light of the big white ball in the sky hurt your big eyes, making them water.

"Huu-huu..." you cried softly, trying to walk straight despite the blinding light forcing you to keep your eyes half-closed. "Stoopi sky baww, mummah nee' fin' bestes' nummies fo' bahbes..."

As you discovered soon enough, it was very difficult to find nummies when the white ball in the sky was so hot; not just the bestest nummies, but any kind of nummies. The hot weather made it difficult for you to breath, the blazing asphalt was like a torture for your soft, delicate hooves, and the withered brown grassies and occasional piece of not-so-good trashie nummies were barely enough to make milk for your three beautiful babies. Despite that, you always made sure they all got enough milkies and huggies.

A lot of bright and dark times have passed since them, certainly more than the number of your hoofies. Your babies have opened their tiny eyes now, and they are starting to say their very first words alongside their chirpies and their peepies.

"Wuv! *chirp* Mummah! *peep* Huggies! Pway! *chirp*"

Every time they do that, you feel heart owwies and your eyes are filled with sad wawa. You would love to play with them all the time and give them all the love and the huggies they need, but you have to spend every waking hour to find food to get enough milk for them: The white ball in the sky is hotter than ever and your movements are sluggish, and there is less and less brown dry grassie nummies with every passing day.

You tried to sleep during bright time and go around during dark time, when it's not that hot... but the dark is scary and there are more kitty munstas around, and your mommy always said that dark time is for sleepies, so even if she isn't here with you, you can't disobey her. You are sure that if you are a good fluffy and a good mumma for your foals, then your mommy will come back and bring you home again for hugs and sketties and love and a safe place for you and your three babies.

You don't even want to fly anymore. The only reason you are buzzing your wings nowadays is to try and make the babies on your back feel less hot owwies. And one of your three babies is not a wingie fluffy anyway, and you can't bear the idea of leaving her behind to fly with the other two babies anyway... she'd feel the worstest saddies and heart owwies if you abandoned her. Moreover, the meanie white ball is up in the sky where you are supposed to fly, and you certainly don't want to go near that thing.

More and more days pass, and your babies keep growing bigger, even though you can't give them as many milkies as you would want. You always make sure all three of them get enough milkies not to feel tummy hurties. Now the three babies are starting to make better and better talkies.

"Wuv miwkies!" "Can haf huggies pwease?" "Mummah wuv bahbeh? Yay! Bahbeh wuv mummah!"

They are so adorable, every time they chirp something cute at you, you feel your heart melt into a puddle of happiness. That's what keeps you going: the thought that you will soon find your mommy and that she will give you and your babies your home and your room and your toys and your tasty food back. You know your mommy will love the three babies as much as you love them, because she's the best human mommy in the whole world! That's why you never lose hope, despite the hot ball in the sky and that your leggies feel so weak.

Until today...

It has started like a better bright time than most. You met two humans that were actually very nice, so nice that they gave you one of the bestest foodies you've ever tasted! It was a colorful mound on the hard grey ground, and the two human were staring at it sadly, until one of them spotted you and called you.

"Hey, fluffy! Wanna eat some ice cream?"

You didn't know what that "aiss cweam" was, but when you gave it a tentative lick, you felt in Heaven! You vaguely remembered the taste to be the same of that of your mummah's milk when you were a baby, but even sweeter! And the best part was that it was cold! You licked at the colorful not-milk, feeling it go down your throat and into your now happy tummy. Even the big bright ball in the sky now seemed less hot than before, and you knew that you could do the bestest milkies for your babies thanks to that cool not-milk nummie! For a moment you pondered whether or not your babies should taste it too, but then you realized that, since humans were eating it, it was most probably big fluffies food.

You licked and licked frantically, but with every lick the mound started looking more like a puddle, the not-milk becoming just like milk. Your sensitive tongue ended up scraping against the hard grey ground a couple of times, and before you realized it, the not-milk was completely gone! You looked around, hoping for the two nice humans to give you some more, but they were gone too.

"Huu... wan' mo' aiss cweam..." you sigh softly to yourself. You need to find your mommy soon! You are sure she'll give you a lot of aiss cweam, enough for you and your babies to have happy tummies forever and never have to fear the big white ball in the sky!

Speaking of your babies, they have started squirming and chirping on your back, complaining about the hot weather and wanting to drink some nice milk.

"Sowwy bahbes," you murmur, a bit dejected. "Nee' fin' safe pwace fo' gif miwkies fiwst." They are starting to be a bit too big to travel all day long on top of you, and you sometimes feel some back hurties, but you still don't want them to walk around that much: you know the world is full of dangers, especially if you are a little fluffy. So, in an effort to calm them down, you sing one of your mumma songs as you waddle forward, trying to find a good enough spot to give your three babies some rest and good milkies.

"Mummah wuv bahbes, bahbes wuv mummah, mummah gif huggies, gif miwkies an' wuv! Mumma an' bahbes fwuffies, fwuffies am fo' wuv! Mumma gif wuv, bahbes gwow stwong!" The babies seem very happy to hear your song! They hug your back fluff while humming and cooing, and they say "Wuv mummah!" and "Wuv songie" when you finish, so you start again from the beginning, and again, and again!

...at least, until a meanie rock hits you in the flank, giving you mild ouchies. "OWWIES!" you exclaim at the sudden pain. "NU HUWT FWUFFY PWEASE!" You hear some stomping noises at your right and you see a hoomin munsta walking towards you with a very angry look on his face.

"Go away, retard! I don't care for your fucking song! Next time I'll aim for your shitty foals!"

"SOWWYYYYYY!" you shriek, running away as fast as your short stubby legs allow you to. You can feel sad wawa filling your eyes, and you keep running forward even if you cannot see that well, stopping only when you are starting to feel your leggies getting wobbly and your breathing becomes too painful. You pant, eyes closed, feeling the acrid taste of sickie wawa on your tongue. You'd love to let yourself go and fall asleep right on the spot, but you know that, if that happens, the big white ball in the sky will give both you and your foals forever sleepies.

You eyes open wide. Your babies! You have to check on them! You make them slide off your back and onto the grey ground, where they start peeping and trying to hug you. You count them: there's the red and orange wingie colt, the brown and black wingie who looks like his father, and... oh, no! Where's your little earthie filly?! She doesn't have wingies, she cannot have flown away!

"Wai' hewe, bahbes!" you tell your two other foals as you turn around frantically. "Mummah am back wiff sissy!" Despite their feeble protests, you began to run back from where you came from, and only a handful of steps later, you can hear a voice. Your little baby's voice. A voice full of fear and terror and pain.

"MUMMAH! HEWP! HEWP BAHBEH! HUU-HUU-HUU, BIG OWWIES! NEE' HUGGIES!"

"Mummah come!" you shout, even though your voice comes out strained and raspy. "Mummah save bahbeh!" You look around, your eyes darting in every direction, but you still can't see your precious little baby. Where can she possibly be?! "Whewe babbeh?" you scream in frustration... and then you see her, a small bundle of yellow fur. She's lying on the black rock where metal munstas live. The most dangerous place you can think of.

"Bahbeh!" you shout, trotting towards her. "Come to mummah!" You know the black rock is dangerous, extremely so. You have seen more than one fluffy getting squished into nothing but boo-boo juice by the meanie metal munstas. You stop right where the grey ground becomes the black rock, your front hooves extended towards your precious little foal.

The earthie filly looks at you and wheezes, her eyes filled with pain. You can tell she's not in the best shape: one of her leggies is bent at the wrong angle and there's a tiny amount of boo-boo juice trickling from one of her tiny ears. "MUMMAH SAVE BAHBES!" she shrieks at you, wobbling her other three legs uselessly; she's lying on her belly and clearly can't get up. "WOWSTEST OWWIES! BUWNY HUWTIES! NEE' HUGGIES AN' WUV!"

"M-mummah come!" you reply to her, trying to put on a brave façade. You know the black rock can be deadly for a fluffy, but you have to save your babies and give her huggies and milk and love to make the hurties go away! You carefully put one of your front hooves on the black rock, and let out a small scream: the black rock is incredibly hot, even more than the gray ground! "Huu-huu..." you snivel, gritting your teeth.

"A-AM BAD BAHBEH?" your filly asks you, sad wawa trickling down her cheeks. "W-WHY MUMMAH NU HEWP? NU WUV BAHBEH NU MO'?"

"Mummah wuv bahbeh!" you reply as you start crying too. You can't leave her! You have to save her! "M-mummah come fo' hewp!" You step down again, ignoring the painful burny owwies the black rock is giving to your hooves. Every step is agonizing, but you know you have to do it. For your baby, and for your other babies, and for yourself, and for your human mommy! You can't wait until your human mommy will find the four of you again. She'll give your babies pretty names, she'll clean your fluff, she'll give you spaghetti and ice-cream and love you until forever and ever! "Mummah hewe!" you tell your filly. She's only a couple steps from you. You are so excited you didn't even realize that your ears are filled with a rumbling sound, not until it's too late.

*VROOOOOOM*

A metal munsta travels in front of your nose at unbelievable speed, missing you for mere inches. You let out a shriek and some scaredy poopies, jumping back a bit. The surprise makes you forget why you are even there for a second... but then you lower your eyes, and remember.

You beautiful earth filly, with her fluff the same color as yours, your sweet adorable baby, who loved huggies more than anything... she doesn't exist anymore. There's only a red smear on the black rock where she has been.

You know there's nothing you can do. Even huggies won't cure forever sleepies. Without saying anything, without feeling anything except a huge void in your heart, you walk back to the grey ground, without even feeling the burny owwies on your hooves. In complete silence, you walk back to your two other foals – your two remaining foals – who are hugging each other and shivering in terror. Their ears perk up when they see you come closer, though.

"Mummah! Wuv mummah!" "Bahbeh so happeh mummah hewe!"

And then comes the question.

"Whewe sissy?" "Wan gif huggies to siwwy sissy!"

There's no way you can answer that. You don't seem to be able to form words anymore, your tongue feels heavy and rigid in your mouth. You can only cry, as fat drops roll down your face and fall on the gray ground. You are a failure as a mother, and let one of your babies die a painful death.

"N-nuuuu... nu cwy, mummah! Bahbeh hewe! Gif huggies!" your red and orange colt, dutiful and gentle as ever, hugs one of your legs, trying to make you feel better.

Your brown and black foal, however, does something even sweeter: he raises himself on his hind legs with a noticeable effort and starts waving his arms and shaking his body. "W-wook, mommeh! Am dancie bahbeh! Bahbeh make dancie fo' mummah an' bruddah! Happy dancie! Wuv!"

Normally, you would have been so happy in seeing your colt dancing for you! You would have hugged him and showered him with praise and happy lickies on the head to make him laugh... but not right now. Every time you try to say something, your mind goes back to your filly getting splattered by the metal munsta, to the fact that she will never meet her human mommy or eat spaghetti or ice cream, and only tears and pained wails come out.

"N-nu cwy, mommah! *anf* W-wook at bahbeh! S-see? *uff* Am dancie bahbeh! Mummah wuv dancie bahbeh... wight?" The colt is tripling his effort to please you, his movements getting faster and wilder, and definitely more frantic.

As you watch him dance and pant, you realize in a sudden moment of clarity that the bright white ball in the sky is still hovering above you, hotter than ever. With a pathetic wail you try to stop your dancing baby to overexert himself, but he takes one step back while still wiggling, escaping your grasp.

"N-nuuu! *pant* Why bad mummah nu wuv dancie b-bahbeh... *anf anf* Bahbeh nu stop dancie befo' mummah say wuv dancie bahbeh! Huu-huu-huu *sigh* *urgh*" Your brown and black baby's eyes bulge as he wiggles his front hooves one last time. His mouth opens and clear sickie wawa trickles down his tummy fur, before he collapses on the grey ground, his leggies twitching, his breaths wheezy and broken.

Finally, you are able to talk again. "B-bahbeh...?" you nudge at the little body in front of you. No response. The black and brown colt, so brave and resourceful, is staring at you with empty eyes, except you know he's not seeing you. He's not seeing anything. "BAHBEH, NUUUUUUUU! NU ‘GAIN! NU WAN AM WOWSTES' MUMMAH!"

Your last foal, now increasingly worried and preoccupied, desperately tries to hug his forever sleep brother. "Bruddah, gif huggies back!" he pleads. "Huggies make betta! Hewp tiwed bruddah!"

However, you know he's beyond help. You pick up the struggling red and orange foal with your mouth and put him on your back before running away without even looking back. You know that makes you an even worse mother, but you can't help it: you are already feeling so many heart owwies, you are afraid your tummy is going to split into two any moment soon. As your lastest bahbeh cries, moans in protest and in the end settles down in your fur, calling for his brother and sister, you grimace, as you realize that your body is getting even weaker than before after all that running, that your leggies feel like jello and that your ears are filled with an annoying buzzing noise.

Why did you run away from home? If you hadn't, you could have been on your mommy's laptop right now, enjoying hugs and belly rubs and her love. And yet, your stupid wingies... you despise them so much you'd tear them from your own back, if you could. Who cares about flying! Three out of four of your wonderful babies took forever sleepies because of your stupidity!

...and yet, you realize, you wouldn't have your babies if you hadn't run away from home. And even if you only have one left, the love you have felt for them is so powerful and overwhelming that you wouldn't have exchanged it for the world. And in the end, you realize what you have to do: you have to make sure that at least your lastest baby is safe and has a good life. You owe him that.

"MOMMEH!" you start shrieking as you trot, passing human house after human house. "MOMMEH! MAWIGOWD SOWWY! NU CAWE WHA' HAPPEN TO MAWIGOWD, BU' SAVE WASTES' BAHBEH! MAWIGOWD AM BAD MUMMAH, BU' BAHBEH GUD BAHBEH!" You feel your heart owwies intensify, your body getting weaker and weaker from all that running and shouting, and a cocoon of unpleasant hotness all around you, seeping into your dirty fluff.

You know you don't have too much time left, between your body and your heart owwies. But you hope you have enough time to save your baby, at least.

"Hey! Look! It's that fluffy who ate your ice-cream!" A hoomin voice. Somewhat familiar. You look up, and even if the bright ball in the sky is shining its merciless light over the whole world, you can at least distinguish two silhouettes crouching over you. "Hey girl, how are you?"

"Wait, didn't she have three foals before?" the other hoomin asks, making you feel like your heart is going to explode in your chest for too many owwies.

"B-bahbes... t-take... foweva s-s-sweepies..." you manage to croak, your voice feeble.

"Forever... oh, god, they are dead?!" one of the two hoomins exclaims in horror.

"She doesn't look like she's gonna make it, too," the other one observes.

"N-nu cawe... P-pwease save bahbeh..." you murmur. It's getting increasingly difficult to breath, and every time you do you feel slight burny hurties inside your chest. When you feel a pair of gentle hands coming down and grabbing your lastest foal from your back fluff, you let out a somewhat contented sigh.

"N-nuuuu! Wan' mummah! Wan' miwkies and huggies!" your colt protests. He loves you so much, and you love him back... but you can't give him anything anymore. You are a bad mummah, letting his brother and sisters die. You do not deserve such a wonderful baby.

"Y-your... your mumma is a bit tired right now, boy," one of the two hoomins say to your baby, and from the tone of her voice she sounds like she's going to make some sorry wawa. "Why don't we play together while she sleeps a bit? I'll even give you some milk to drink."

"Waaaa'? Nice wady gif miwkies? A-and pway?"

"Sure thing, little boy."

"Are you sure, Cindy?"

"Well, I've always wanted to get one, and, you know..."

As you listen to the two hoomins discussing, your legs finally give up, and you fall sideways on the grey ground, where you lie panting, your eyes filled with sad wawa as you feel your life slowly but surely slipping away from your tired body. Sorry, mommy, you think. I really would've wanted to show you my beautiful babies, at least once... "P-pwease... take... c-care of... bahbeh..." you manage to whisper. You feel fingers caressing your head and scratching you behind your ears.

"Don't worry, girl. I promise."

"T-thankies... mommeh..." you say, before falling silent forever. The last thing you see, before your eyes close for the lastest time, is the bright ball in the sky looking down at you dispassionately from above.

Judging you.

Mocking you.