Forever Summer文档格式.docx
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Forever Summer文档格式.docx
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Exceptforalltheterrifiedponies.Thatwasabitunusual,butwe'
llgettotheminamoment.
Thedaylookedtobeascorcher.Thesunwasn'
tevenoverthehorizon,andalreadythehumidairstucktoponies'
coatsandsmotheredtheirtongueswitheachbreath.Highabove,theearly-risersofthePonyvilleWeatherTeamhadalreadyclearedawaythenight'
sthinovercast,leavingonlyadeepazurethatslowlybledtogreyandpinkintheeast.Aweakbreezerustledthehighestleavesonthegreatoakinthetownsquare,butatstreetleveltheairbarelystirred,asifittoowerestilltryingtowake.
Thefarmponieswerealreadyupandgettingtowork.Theyrosewiththesun,ormaybeabitearlier,dependingonhowlazythesunwasbeingthatday.Celestiawasknowntosleepinsometimes,despitetheattemptsofherentirestafftobreakdownherchamberdoorandrousehersothatshemightraisethesun.Onthosedays,thedarknesslastedalittlelongerthannormal,untilinasuddenmomentthesunracedintothesky,settlingintoamid-morningpositionlikeasheepishfoalwhohopedhertardinesshadnotbeennoticed.
Itwasalwaysnoticed,ofcourse.Butponies,evenfarmerswhoneededthesun,tendedtolovetheirprincessevenmore,andsotheyneverletherknowthatitbotheredthem.Theyjustworkedinthedarksomemornings.
Todaywasnotoneofthosedays.Celestiahadnotsleptthroughheralarm,andthesunrosepreciselywhenthealmanacsaiditwould.Thefarmponiesnoticedthis,noddedapprovingly,andthencastwary,frightenedglancesovertheirshoulders.
Intheheartoftown,theshopkeepersandbusinessponieswereslightlyslowergettingtowork.Businesshourswerenotfarmhours,afterall,andtownponiestendedtoriselaterintheday,notuntilthefirstraysofthesunbrokethroughthewindowstobrightentheirbedrooms.
Today,thoseponieslayinbed,stillbutnotasleep.Theyclutchedthecoverstotheirchestsandstaredattheceilingsorthedoors.Theytriedtobreatheasquietlyaspossible.
Finally,therewerethetown'
spegasi,mostofwhomwerestillasleepandhadnointentionofwakinguntilthesunwasclosertonoon.Thefewexceptions–theaforementionedweatherteammembers,whowokeunderprotest,andthetown'
sanimalcaretaker,livingoutontheedgeoftheEverfree–wereamongtheonlypegasitherestofthetownwouldseeforhalftheday.
ThusitwasthatthesundawnedonPonyville,onanormal,beautiful,mundanelyperfectlate-springday.Normal,exceptthatitwasalsothefirstdayofsummerbreak.
Thefoalswereloose.Cheerilee'
sfreebabysitting-slash-educationalservicesweredoneforthreemonths,andtheschoolteacherherselfwasalreadyhalfwaytoLasPegasus,wherethefirstofmanyheavilysaltedmargaritaswaitedforheronthepooldeck.
Thefoalswereloose.Theyblinkedtheirgummyeyesandtotteredoutofbed,wonderingforafewconfusedmomentswheretheirparentswere,andwhytheywerenotbeinghustledintothebathroomsandofftobreakfastandoutthedoorwithbook-stuffedsaddlebagsandlunchpails.Andthenthelastfogofsleepdriftedaway,andtheyrememberedrunningouttheschoolhousedoors,andtheyshriekedwithjoy.Summer–themagicalpromisedlandofsummer–hadfinallyarrived.
Thefoalswereloose.Andthatwasterrifying.
//------------------------------//
//AppleBloom'
sMorning//------------------------------//
AppleBloomwoketoabsolutestillness.
Thefarmhousewasasquietasawinternight.Theoldtimberwalls,usuallyraucouswithcreaksandcracksintheslightestofbreezes,weresilent,asifstillasleepthemselves.Nohoofstepsfromhersisterorbrotherechoedupthestairs,andthefaintmorninglightcreepinginbeneaththecurtaintoldhertheywerealreadyawake,puttingtoresttheday'
sfirstchores.Theonlysoundswereherbreathandthefaintthrumofbloodbeatinginherears.
Outside,anearlyrobinwarbledafewtentativenotes.Nothingelseanswered.
Thesilencewasperfect,almostsacred.Someimpulse–theonethatkeptherfromshoutingacrosstheclassroomwhenMs.Cheerileewasalreadyangrywithher–cautionedheragainstspeakingnow.Thepeaceofthemorningwassepulchral,anditdemandedrespect.
“It'
ssummer,”shewhisperedintoherpillowcase.
Sheclimbedoutofbed,settingherhoovesdownonthebarewoodfloorasgentlyasifitwereeggshell.Theroomaroundherwaswarmalready,onitswaytocloying,butsheknewbetterthantoopenthewindow.Thatwouldletintheworldoutside,andtheperfectsilencewouldbelosttothewind.Bettertoleavethewindowclosedandtrapthequietwhereshecouldkeepitforlater.
Silencewasrareonafarm.Ifitwasn'
ttreatedcarefullyitcouldbreak,justlikethetimeshewasn'
tcarefulwithBigMacintosh'
scollectionofexoticfruitjamsandpreserves.Butsilencedidn'
tturnintoastickymessalloverthecellarfloorandthreeweeksofextrachoreswhenbroken–itwasjustgone,andnomatterhowmuchsheyelledorstompedorcussed,itdidn'
tcomeback.Ithadtobeheldgently,likebabyducks,andcovetedforeveryseconditlasted.
Breathingwastooloud,soshestoppedandignoredherburninglungsasshecrossedtheroomtoslipoutintothehallway,closingthebedroomdoorbehindherandsealingthesilenceinside.Itwouldstillbethereattheendoftheday,waitingforher,tolullherofftosleep.
Buttheend
ofthedaywashoursandhoursandhoursandhoursandhours
fromnow.Shecouldn'
tevenconceiveoftheday'
send,notwhenthesunhadbarelyyetbrokentheeasternsky,andherfriendshadnotyetarrived,andtheyhadnotmarchedroundtheendlessworldanddoneamillionthings.Whentheyhadnotyettracedtheorchard'
srows,hidingbetweenthemoments,searchingforthespotwherethesunstoodstillandeverydaywasthesameastheonebeforeandtheoneafter.Whenthehotbrushofwindontheircoatsdrewouttheirsweatandmeltedtheroughedgesfromthehours,blendingthem,untilmorningandnoonandeveningandnightwereallonememorywithnobeginningtheycouldrememberandnoendtheycouldforesee.Aday–aseason–definedbythesinglethreadthatstitchedthemtogether,thatranthroughthemasthesunrunsthroughthesky:
theboundlessjoythatwasthebreathintheirlungsandthestrengthintheirlimbsandcarriedthemupandoutanddown,downtheendlesspathsofsummer,allofitwaitingjustbeyondherdoor.
ssummer,”shesaidagain,loudernow.Shegrinned,andthestairscreakedbeneathherhoovesasshegallopeddownthemandoutthefarmhousedoor.
ssummer!
”sheshoutedontheporch,startlingacoveyofdovesroostingonthelawn.Shelaughedastheyfilledtheair,andshechasedthemacrossthegrass,downthedirtpathleadingoutthearchedgate,intotheendlessrowsofappletreesbeyond.Throughthemistyorchardssherode,untilherlegsachedandherchestburned,andallthewhileshecouldnotstopgrinninglikeamadmare.
“AJ!
”sheyelled,burstingintoaclearingwherehersistersetoutrowsofemptybaskets.“It'
”ShewasgonebeforeApplejackcouldreply.
Sheranagain,vaultingasmallstreamthatmeanderedthroughthetreeslikeatiredsnake.Themuddybankssquelchedbeneathherhoovesasshelanded,andshestoppedlongenoughtostompinthemuckafewextratimes,justbecauseitwassummer,andshecould,andtherewerenoschooldeskstositatorMissCheerileetoscoldherforbeingdirtyorstupidDiamondTiarastomakefunofherbow.Abow,sherealized,thatshewasn'
tevenwearing–itwasstillbackinherbedroom,keepingwatchoverthesilence,wrappingrounditlikeagiftforherreturn.
AppleBloomgrinnedandjumpedintothemudagain,splashingitallupherlegsandoverherbelly.Itfeltwonderful.
Ha!
”sheyelledattherustlingtrees.Andthensheransomemore.
Bythetimeshereachedtheedgeoftheorchards,wherethedirtpathbecameatrueroadleadingdownthewaytoPonyville,shewasexhausted.Strandsofhermaneplasteredthemselvesagainstherstickycoat,herlegsshook,andherbreathwastheloudestsoundonallthefarm.
Andshecouldn'
tstopsmiling.
Shewasn'
tquitesurewhattimeitwas.Clock-time,thatis–sheknewitwasaboutthirtyminutespastsunrise,andinanotherhourthesunwouldbewellclearofthetrees,andjuststandingoutsideinitsrayswouldburnthesweatfromhercoatandsendherscurryingforwaterorshade.Inthesummer,thesunstayedupforever,andlunchwasforeverfaraway,anddinnerforeverfurther.Thesunwas
thesummer,andsheworshipeditbecauseshelovedtheprincesslikeagoodlittlefilly,butmostlybecausethesunwassummerandsummerwasfreedomandohCelestiahowshelovedthat.
Applejackwasn'
taroundtostopher,soshedroppedtothegroundandrolledaroundinthedirt,kickingupgreatcloudsofdustthatclungtohercoat,turningherduntomatchthemudonherlegsandbelly,easingtheitchofdryingsweatandticklinghernose.Shesneezedafewtimesandlaughedatthecloudofdustitproduced.
Timepassed,andshewastedit,loungingonthedirtroad.Backonthefarm,wastingtimewasacrime–ifApplejackorGrannycaughtherdoingnothing,she'
dhaveanotherday'
sworthofchoresdroppedonhershouldersinaflash.Bu
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