APP: The Shadow of a Pink Pony

by Underwood

Mirror, Mirror

Sense. Sensation. Something deep inside stirred. Had something awoken, long forgotten, or was this new? It felt like that strange sensation you get while swimming, when some quiet voice in the recesses of your mind tells you 'just breathe normally, it's fine, you can breathe underwater'. Part of you knows you will drown, yet some silent force urges you forward, insisting you have this hereunto unknown superpower. So what would it be; sink or swim? Breathe or drown? Was life truly worth exploring the unknown, or was the safety of this dark cocoon cold comfort enough? It seemed the choice was not entirely her own. Maybe it was better that way.

From the murky depths a small, pink hoof emerged, coming to rest on the rocky bank as droplets stained the dusty floor. First the one, then a second, followed by two ears and a slick mane. As her nose and mouth breached the surface, she instinctively gasped for air, not for need of oxygen, but an almost primal call of existence to the world; 'I am here. I live.'

The room around her was hazy, devoid of details and stained pitch black. Where was she?

The bitter chill of the water prompted her to lift her body onto dry land, planting all four hooves firmly on the stone floor of the cave she found herself in. Turning, she considered the small underground pool she had climbed from. How did she get here? Where was this? ... Who was she?

A sharp chill coursed through her body, causing her coat to stand on end. She would catch her death if she didn't dry off. She didn't have the energy to shake the damp from her entire body, but shook each leg in turn before taking another look at her surroundings. It was a large cavern of some kind, as rich in minerals as it was untouched by pony hooves, lit by the faintest, otherworldly glow of the pool she had emerged from. The only external light sources came from two distinct holes: one high above to the right, and another up a winding slope to the left. The choice was obvious. Perhaps there was somepony outside who knew where she was, or who she was?

Passing the threshold of the cave's terrestrial entrance, the light of the outside world was overwhelmingly bright, despite the overcast sky. With one hoof over her eyes, she soldiered forward, forcing her way through bushes, brambles, ferns, and trees, until she found her way to what could be considered a lightly trod path. There was absolutely no sign of intelligent life betwixt the thick, intimidating trees of this forest. Despite her lack of memories and unexplained origin, something about this place remained familiar, as though she had only just been here. She turned her head to the left and right, assessing the path in both directions, trying to decide which would be the most fruitful route to proceed along. The path stretched on to the right with a slight curve beyond which she couldn't see, while the left was much longer and straighter, but appeared to end at some sort of structure she couldn't quite make out. A beastly roar from her right and a flurry of disturbed birds crossing the sky made the choice for her. With a slightly hurried trot she made her way towards the grey mass in the distance.

Beads of lake-water rolled down her straight, magenta mane, leaving a trail of stains upon the floor as she went. The first sign of life she noticed were marks on the ground; nothing terribly clear, but left by somepony—or something—for sure. The hard-packed dirt of the grassy path had been torn up and scarred by what seemed to be a mixture of hoofprints and claws, fairly jumbled in their direction, quantity and depth. The second sign was a far more concrete proof of life: a red bag. Her red bag. A red and white-polka-dot bindle, to be precise, though currently separated from its stick. How did she know this was hers, and what was it doing out here? Did she drop it? It appeared to be in a somewhat worn state, as though something very large had trodden on it. Despite trepidation, the desire to gain answers to the questions filling her mind like a black smog was overpowering. She reached down, tentatively untying the knot holding its contents within.

Like a burning poker rammed into her temple, the items within the package were enough to send her reeling backwards, mind aflame with a migraine like she had never before felt. Backing herself into a tree with enough force to dislodge a number of healthy leaves, her forehooves clasped the sides of her head, close to shrieking in agony. It was all there; all the memories she had forgotten, or at least as many as answered her questions. Ponyville. Rainbow Dash. Applejack. Rarity. Fluttershy. Gummy. Twilight- Sparkle. The name couldn't even be thought without being spat. It was all so clear, so vivid. As potent as a snakebite. The pilgrimage from her adult home to her childhood house and back, cast away by even her closest family members. It had almost been a blessing that Maud was not there at the time, as she would not have survived a similar rejection from her elder sister. The last thing she remembered was collapsing after walking in a stupor for miles upon miles. But how did she end up at the bottom of an underground lake? At this point she hardly cared. What did anything matter anymore?

Calming her senses and regaining her poise, she returned to the opened cloth satchel, ready to face the bittersweet memories within. The first item to meet her gaze was the most bitter of them all; a framed photograph of her and the other five ponies, once playfully called 'the mane six', posed together as the closest of friends. It was in bad shape, having taken the brunt of whatever had happened to the bag. Its wooden frame was split in half and the glass utterly shattered, which she took care not to touch as she indifferently brushed it aside. Next was a slate-framed picture of her family, in slightly better condition that the other, with its frame split lengthways and its glass a mess of cracks, but otherwise together. She ran her hoof across its crazed face listlessly, as though the memories of those ponies were locked behind their own frosted pane; familiar yet distant. Beside the image was a rank apple, crushed to a pulp and oozing a clammy, choking ichor. Its stench made her eyes water, but she was beyond such trivial things brought by her senses. The foul putrefaction was spread across an assortment of colour paper scraps, a large, fractured lollipop, smaller wrapped candies, and a few other knick-knacks. Trash, all of it. All of it but one...

Leaning down, she scooped up one item in particular, bringing it closer for inspection. It was a small, red collar, hanging from which was a disk inscribed with a very important name; Gummy. She clutched the item close to her chest, ignoring the sticky reek that too coated it. Gummy... He was her purpose to continue. It would be an existence filled of bitter hatred and a burning fire for revenge, but it was better than no purpose at all. Twilight Sparkle, you would rue the day you took everything from Pinkamena Diane Pie.

Looking up from the bag of broken dreams, she was close enough to what she had previously thought a structure to now recognise it as a cave; a natural formation of loose rocks and two distinct spires, at the centre of which loomed the inky black abyss within. It might have been an intimidating sight if she still felt a sense of self. It was unclear what drove her, but she felt compelled towards the darkness, as though something waited for her inside. Comforting, yet just as dark as the realm in which it resides. The compulsion to enter its stygian womb was the only guide she had, so she followed it unquestioningly, a mere pawn to this silent inner-voice's whim. Clipping Gummy's collar around her foreankle, she moved on, leaving her old life behind on the floor.

No. She stopped, looking back at the mess of fetid objects. She needed the memory to fuel her rage, to keep the fires of revenge burning inside her chest. It would be a reminder of her goal. A checklist.

Returning to the splayed bindle, she pulled the photograph of 'the mane six' from its jagged shell, catching it on one of the corners. Lifting it to her face, the glass shard had kept the upper-left corner of the image, and by doing so decapitated her old self. A fitting accident.

Picking up the battered frame of her family photo, she slid the reminder of Ponyville over the rock farm, taking its place as a symbol of a far stronger motivation. She looked down at the items that remained, letting her eyes settle on the instant photograph of her and Gummy on his first birthday. She vowed they would be together again, but she couldn't just waltz into Ponyville and take him. No, this would require careful planning, preparation, and most importantly, a safe home to care for him in.

Once again the gaping maw of the cave called to her, and this time she heeded it without hesitation. She did not know what awaited her in this direction—its true intentions belied by her need for purpose in this bizarre, estranged world—but what she did know was that something far greater than herself existed beyond its dark stone walls, something that was expected of her, something she could not escape. Her destiny.

Author's Note:

Inspired into the mood by the ill health of my great-aunt, this short story is a spin-off from events that have yet to happen in the comic, but has been planned for some time. It returns to Everfree/Ask-Pink-Pony's roots of dark venting, so the lexicon is notably bleaker than he prequel novella. You could consider it to have the soul of a grimdark story, but without the content.

Written in one sitting on April 26th, 2019.

Comments

[FOXTrot2]

. As her nose and mouth breached the surface, she instinctively gasped for air, not for need of oxygen, but an almost primal call of existence to the world; 'I am here. I live.'

Dramatic. Already it adds a lot of depth to the character and foreshadows a certain lust for life sometimes absent in those who've taken it for granted.