In the year of our Princess 4251, the Crystal Empire returned to Equestria after it’s mysterious disappearance a thousand years ago. Many of us knew little about the empire and it’s crystal residents. The tales about the Crystal Empire fell into myth and legend. They went from the history books to the bedtime books. I was only a young teen when we heard the news. The return was certainly surprising to us. But it was horrifying to the few who believed the empire’s existence. Even though I was skeptical of its existence, I was also a little scared.

My sister would always tell me the stories when I was growing up. It was the only thing we had to distract us from the current situation. Our parents died after they caught grim reaper disease, a rare and deadly illness that has no cure. I was still a toddler when they died. My sister didn’t know what to do. She now had to manage the family farm all by herself and raise me at the same time. We used to own the second largest farm in all of ponyville, right behind an apple orchard that was not too far down the road from us. But after our parents died, the farm went completely under. It was way too much for my sister to handle. Soon we had to sell off land to new farmers to just help pay the mortgage and put food on the table. Eventually our farm got foreclosed; my sister and I had to move out.

We lived on the streets in town as beggars. My sister would go around town everyday looking for work. Sometimes she would steal from our old neighbors just so we could have at least something in our stomachs to keep us from starving to death. Those were tough times for us.

Every night, before we fell asleep where ever we could find a spot, my sister would tell me the stories about the Crystal Empire. I loved hearing about the Crystal Ponies. Hearing what food they ate, what they did for fun, what they looked like and so on. But the part I didn’t enjoy the most was hearing about the rise of the King Sombra.

From what I know, King Sombra was once an ordinary unicorn stallion with a thirst for knowledge. He was always studying, practicing his magic, and trying to find to material to learn. Eventually his thirst drove him to a dark place where no pony dared to go. His thirst became his undoing. Sombra became mad with dark magic. His heart turned to black and his mind was driven by a lust for power. He took over the Crystal Empire with no opposition and enslaved the all the Crystal Ponies to mine in the crystal mines. I used to beg my sister to skip the part but she would always calm me by saying “don’t worry Sharp Edge, things will get better, they always get better.” Then she would tell me about how the royal sisters took down the wicked king but the king to the empire with him. Knowing that the royal sisters are always there for us to protect and help their subjects the best they can made think that things will get better soon.

But they didn’t get better. One winter during our third year of homelessness, my sister contracted grim reaper disease. I was scared for her life. I tried to help her by going to every single door in town but no one would help. I tried going to the hospital but no one would help. I tried going up to everypony I ran into but no one would help. When I came back to her, she was only minutes away from death. I was crying my eyes out begging her not to leave me. She placed her hoof on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry Sharp Edge, things will get better, they always get better.” With that she gave her final breath and passed away in my hooves. I gave out a massive wail that was loud enough for the ponies in Manehattan to hear me. I just sat their crying and staring at my sister’s dead corpse. I was alone now; I had no one to go to, nowhere to call home, and nothing to hold on to. What was I going to do?

During my sobbing, I heard a deep voice call out to me from the end of the alley that we lived. “Young boy,” the voice called, “are you alright?” I didn’t answer, I didn’t want to answer. That stallion is too late. I guess that’s what it takes to get some help around here. The cries of a young colt after their family died to get everyone else to pay attention. The stallion came down the alley and tried to talk to me again. “Is everything alri--,” he stopped and saw my sister lying dead. “Oh my gosh,” he gasps, “I am so sorry.”

For some reason, his apology turned my sadness into anger. Sorry? Why should he be sorry? “Why are you apologizing,” I said in my anger, “You could’ve done something but you didn’t.”

“Son,” the stallion said, he got closer to put his hoof on my shoulder to comfort me, “I know what it’s--.”

“NO,” I shot up as he touched me. I got a better look at the stallion, he was huge, had a red coat, an orangey-yellow mane, and a green apple as his cutie mark. But his appearance soon meant little to me as my anger sky rocketed, “Everyone always says they know what you’re going through but they don’t. They only say that to make you feel better. You never lost a sister and you were never turned down when you needed help. You don’t know what it feels like.”

The stallion looked at me with sympathy. His eyes showed sadness and kindness for my situation. “You’re right,” he said, “I don’t know what you’re going through. My sister only left for Manehattan and she can return whenever she wants. But your sister is gone for good.”

“Exactly,” I said, “now why don’t you just go on with your own business? I know that something you ponies know how to best around here.” I sat back down in my original spot and continued to look at my sister.

The stallion didn’t go away though. He got closer to me and he put his hoof on my shoulder again. This time I didn’t flinch, I just sat there motionless. I no longer cared what he was going to do. All I wanted was for everyone to leave me alone. No one seemed to care for me before, so why should they care now? Why should they care for the poor homeless orphan colt who has nothing? No one ever cares for those who are so desperately in need. It’s everypony for themselves in this world.

“Come with me,” the stallion said.

Well that came out of nowhere. This giant doesn’t even know me and suddenly he is telling me to go with him? Like heck I will.

“Why,” I asked, “What do you want with me?”

“You look like someone who really needs a friend right now, let alone a place to stay.”

I look up at the stallion; he smiles warmly at me as those we were brothers. But I look back at my sister. This seems too good to be true. Why does he want me to stay with him? He doesn’t even know me.

“You don’t know who I am; you’ll be letting a complete stranger live in your house.”

“Well we can at least start with our names. What’s your name?”

I look up back at the stallion. Is he for real? But none the less, I give him my name anyway, “I’m Sharp Edge.”

“Nice to meet you Sharp Edge, I’m Big Macintosh but you can call me Big Mac.”

“Ok now we know each other’s names that still doesn’t make a difference.”

“Well we can get to know each other a little better as we walk. Come on, I’ll show you to my home.”

Big Mac started walking away from me but I remained seated across from my sister. I don’t want to leave her. I’m not going to leave her for some stranger would offer me a place to stay. I’m not going to leave her. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Big Mac comeback. He placed his hoof on my shoulder again. “Son, she’s not coming back,” he said, “She’s gone and you have to accept that.”

Like Tartarus I will. “I’m not leaving her, I’m not going to leave her alone out here.”

“Don’t worry I will make sure she gets a proper resting place. Now come, I think it’s time we get you off the street.”
I don’t know what came over me but I just got up and began walking with him. I looked back and saw my sister get smaller and smaller as we walked. He doesn’t understand, her final resting place isn’t going to be some hole in the ground or some fancy tomb. Her final resting place was in the back alley of a store that sold quills and sofas. She deserved to die happily at an old age in a bed in her house or at least in a hospital. But she got a cruel one instead. Ponies say to never call a person happy until after they are dead. But how could she be happy after living three years on the street with me as a burden for her to carry? She kept on saying things will get better, but things don’t get better, they never get better.