"There are places we can go, places we can see...but we'll never go anywhere, until we break Reality"
ThursdayThe question I'm trying my best to never have anyone ask me. 1 comments · 36 views
5w, 2dAnd then I opened my eyes. 3 comments · 53 views
8w, 6d-.- !!! 2 comments · 57 views
10w, 5dWorking through the night. 0 comments · 52 views
11w, 1dOk now seriously...it's time to get to work. 1 comments · 45 views
11w, 5dHappy Birthday WOLOKAI!!! 10 comments · 63 views
12w, 6dI'm not dead q_q 3 comments · 58 views
16w, 21hBy jove I think I've got it! 2 comments · 53 views
17w, 2dInspiration...I need it. 1 comments · 59 views
18w, 3dWorking through the pain! 0 comments · 37 views
Based off of “Ask Pinkamena Diane Pie’s Tumblr” and “Sweeny Todd” Happy Nightmare Night!
I remember…it was many, many years ago…that I last came by this way, to Ponyville. It was raining lightly when my carriage dropped me off down Mane Street, several ponies walking this way and that, either trying to get out of the rain or to finish their errands quickly so they could get home quickly. I had already gotten permission from the Town Mayor to do a small investigation of a now condemned building that lay on this street. I shook my mane, getting much of the thick wetness out of my coat. I trudged down the muddy streets, the rain beginning to patter harder amongst the streets and roofs of the dark, menacing buildings that lined the sides of the street. A few ponies glanced my way but none made eye-contact, and if they did their eyes shifted away immediately after. It was this time of year, I told myself, which accounted for the odd behavior of the Pony-Folk here. It was another anniversary, I believed, and I didn’t want to have to stay here longer then I had to. I had paper-work to file and another case already on my hands, so time was of the essence. I walked for another five minutes before coming across the building of my interest…an old bakery and sweets shop. The windows were boarded up, the door as well. All over the shop hung sopping wet signs of ‘KEEP OUT’ and ‘CONDEMNED’, the roof in tatters and much of the flora around the shop dead or dying. I gently trotted up to the building and put a hoof against the door’s surface, rubbing it gently where the doorknob used to be. I could feel the pain in this place…the anger…the cries of anguish…the sadness that echoed here…the pain of a Pink Mare. A sudden shout had me jumping a few feet off the ground in fright, my head snapping towards another elderly colt that had come up to me. He was aging badly…his legs looking weak and unstable, his coat graying quickly with a cutie-mark of a small gardening rake. He rasped loudly “What’s you WANT!” at this I simply cleared my throat and recited professionally
“I’m Detective Quill from Canterlot Investigative Services and Inquiry, in direct command of the Princess Celestia and by the permissions of Mayor Mare of Ponyville to hereby investigate the ‘late’ Sugar Cube Corner.” After I uttered this I reached into my saddlebags and produced a small leather wallet of sorts, my grimacing picture and a badge that read
“Det.W.Quill – C.I.S.I.” The elderly colt simply spat and wheezed
“I don’t care who ye be! I’m the caretaker for these haunted grounds, and you’re a trespassing! Now GET!” He was rather rude, and I couldn’t help but furrow my brow and frown. I opened my mouth to retort when another voice, much younger, echoed out first
“Grandpa, don’t be so rude to the man! He doesn’t know about this place! Go on back to the house Grandpa; I’ll get rid of this varmint!” The voice had belonged to a mare of blue color, her mane a bit of a mess and the cutie-mark of a potted-plant on her flank. The Caretaker simply grumbled and turned away, walking back towards a house just a small distance away from Sugar Cube Corner. The mare gave an apologetic smile and sighed “Sorry about that…he’s touchy when it comes to this shop…” I nodded a little and muttered
“I can understand…I only read initial reports of what had actually transpired here, but was unable to investigate it in detail because of the condemning. What…did happen here…fully?” The mare’s eyes widened as she whispered frantically
“You…don’t know The Ballad of Pinkie Pie, the Party Pony of Ponyville?” I shook my head, and suddenly my eyes shot to her left. Other ponies were starting to gather, glaring at me with eyes that weren’t angry…but afraid, frightened, and mystified. I was about to ask what all this was about when a voice from the crowd started to sing…
“Attend the tale of Pinkie Pie...” More voices joined as the song continued
“A Mare who was forced to live a lie...
They took from her what made her smile
Who could do something so evil and vile...
To Pinkie....To Pinkie Pie…
The Party Pony of Ponyville...”
I had begun to back up, towards the door of Sugar Cube Corner, my rump hitting the boards of the door as the Pony-Folk gathered in greater in greater numbers. I turned my head sharply to the blue Mare and whispered “Pinkie Pie, she’s the one who used to own Sugar Cube Corner, yes?” The Mare nodded sadly, sighing
“She was running the place when The Cakes retired, but it was only recently that a rival chain of bakery and sweet shops was sweeping across of Equestria. Once a shop had been built in Ponyville…it wasn’t soon after that a body was found in Sugar Cube Corner’s basement”. I nodded a little, muttering as the Pony-Folk grew larger in numbers
“She was blamed for the murder…correct?” The Mare didn’t answer, but instead the chorus of the Pony-Folk did, singing in an eerie tone
“She ran away from ponyville.
Blamed a murderer even still.
To Hoofington she quickly fled
Everypony believing her dead
Dear Pinkie, Dear Pinkie Pie...
The Baker Pony of Hoofington...”
I gulped, my breath becoming shallow as I squeaked “What…what happened then?” I was met with only the singing cries of the town…they told me a voice called out to her…it screamed…
“HOLD YOUR KNIFE UP HIGH, PINKIE, PONIES THEY MUST DIE!!! INTO OVENS THEY MUST GO TONIIGGHT!!!”
I fell back on my haunches and shivered as the blue mare approached me, putting a hoof on my shoulder and whispering
“Let me tell you the story, of Pinkamena Diane Pie…
…and the beginning of her Dark Descent”