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// Epilogue 
// Story: Better Left Buried 
// by Shahrazad 
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Twilight opened her eyes to see the morning sun, then squeezed them closed again. It had taken her hours to convince the doctor to remove the machines and their incessant beeping. She fell asleep quickly once she had some peace and quiet. The bed was a bit more firm than she would have liked, but she could have slept on the floor last night. She knew why she was mentally drained, but she was physically exhausted as well. The experience had wrung her out; it must have been the blood loss. She was told after the fact by the doctors that she bled during the ordeal.

Her stomach rumbled. Her tongue felt like it would expand out of her mouth. Water, she thought, fumbling for the glass that was there last night. Spike left the full glass of ice water on the stand near the bed, before he and her parents left her to sleep. They should have let her rest, but they were worried. They had many questions. Twilight had to duel with words, evading their questions about what she had seen. All the while her mouth was dry, her eyelids kept slipping down with her head, and her stomach was practicing for some kind of flight show.

But she didn’t mind. After seeing... what she had seen, her mother and father became the center of her focus. When she hugged them, she did so as if it were for the last time. When she answered their questions it was with a respect for the feelings they had for her. When they left, she felt very much like a filly who wanted to stay awake with her parents, but wasn’t allowed to.

Her parents were a bit old-fashioned. When she was a filly, her mother always cooked dinner for the family. Her father always read the Canterlot times over coffee after dinner. Her mother always tucked her in and kissed her goodnight—right after her father read her a bedtime story. It would never be the same. Her mother wouldn’t do that for her anymore and her father wouldn’t read her a bedtime story ever again. She didn’t realize how important those things were until now. Before they left for Canterlot, she was determined to help her mother cook dinner. She was going to give her father coffee after that dinner. She wasn’t going to let them leave today. She was going to read a friendship letter to her father tonight. 

She just had to write one. The paper, quill, and inkwell floated over her head and rested on the nightstand. She took a breath, raised the quill, and began to scratch out a letter.

Dear Princess Celestia,

Today, I learned not to take things for granted…