We have a two-seater kayak. It has a custom paint job on it. One half is colored mint green and brown, and the other half is colored pale blue and peach. My little sister and I used to take out the kayak a lot. We were cooped up in the house a lot as foals when we weren’t at school. And kayaking was one of the few ways we got out, and Ma and Pa approved ‘cause they thought it’d be a nice non-violent way for me and my sister to spend time together in nature.
Ma and Pa never went kayaking with my sister. They can’t swim—only wild swamp ponies know how to swim—and I have wings so I can save myself if Cozy tipped over the kayak or did something naughty liked that.
That never happened. My sister would never do that kind of thing to me in any case.
I remember starting when I was nine and she was five, we’d take the kayak and paddle out to a secret spot on the bayou where Ma and Pa couldn’t watch us. We didn’t have just one secret spot. The swamp forest is so thick in the summer that you could be fifty yards away and be invisible.
Invisible. That’s it. My sister and I were invisible.
I sharpened a little branch against a rock to give to my sister. She stabbed a few little swamp creatures ‘cause she secretly liked to do that. She never really caused that much harm—her aim was pretty bad, she missed half of the time. And it wasn’t a secret, really. Ma and Pa told her to stop stabbing swamp creatures, and she promised, but the secret was that she didn’t actually promise.
I pwomise Mommy. Boo-hoo! I pwomise I’ll never do it again!
You too, Daddy. I pwomise I’ll never do it again!
You too, sis. I promise pwomise I’ll never do it again!
Now I apologized, do you wanna be friends again?
Sis?
Mommy?
Daddy?
So that was her secret. I told my sister about my secrets too. My secret crushes. When I was nine I used to have a huge crush on a colt at my school. He was named Lotus Paradise, and he was just as handsome as his name sounds. I’ve had crushes on colts since I was in kindergarten—about my sister’s age at the time.
I also asked my sister: “Do you have a crush on any colt at school?”
“No.”
“Do you like any colt outside school?”
“No.”
“Even as a friend? C’mon, this is kayak time. You can tell me, I promise I won’t tell.”
“No.”
“There any fillies you like?”
“No.”
“Do…do you like anypony?”
“No.”
“Do you like me?”
“No.”
And then I remember real clearly what I said after that. “But you can’t not be friends with anypony, Cozy. You’ll never be successful just depending on yourself. You gotta have friends to help you out, because they may be good at things that you aren’t good at. Only if you make friends, then you’ll be powerful.”
I was nine. I didn’t know a word better than “powerful,” like “influencer” or “popular.” I just had to tell her the word…“powerful.”
I hate my nine-year-old self.
“Like how do you make friends?” my sister asked.
“Well, you could say hi to somepony—make sure you smile—and then say something nice to them. And then maybe…ask them something like…‘wanna be friends’?”
“‘Wanna pee…fwiends?’”
“Yeah. Like that. You try.”
“Erm…hi sis.” She smiled a little crooked. “Your mane looks as nice as mine. Waaaa…nabe…fweinds?”
“Ya almost got it.” I spoke real slow for her. “Wa…nna…be…friends…”
“Wanna…be…friends…wanna be friends…wanna be friends?”
“Yes. You got it.”
“Wanna be friends? Wanna be friends?”
“Sure, Cozy. Of course I’ll be your friend.”
“Wanna be friends?
“Wanna be friends?”
She wouldn’t stop saying that the whole afternoon on the kayak.
Now that I can’t go kayaking in the bayou with my sister anymore, I go out kayaking with Biscuit and Bloofy. We went out a few days after Hearth’s Warming, when all the family had gone on back to their homes.
“When’s he coming over?” Ma asked me in the kitchen.
“After his dance lessons. I’ll go out to the pier and wait for him.”
“It’s mighty chilly, hon. Why don’t ya finish yer lunch, and then wait inside till he gets here?”
We were eating Hearth’s Warming leftovers for the third day in a row. I was starting to get sick of my own peach cobbler filling. “It’s all right,” I said. “I’m gonna be outside anyway.”
That day, Ma and Pa were reframing some old pictures of my little sister. And I couldn’t stand the sounds of them crying all morning. Not that I hate crying. It’s just…I kinda wanted to leave. I wasn’t even crying that much, and it made me feel like I was different. I peeped into my sister’s room, where Ma and Pa were, and I caught a glimpse of a picture of my sister that they were looking at. And I remember I was just thinking to myself, that a’int her. That smiling little swiss-roll foal with the curly mane and the cute violet knit cap and hoof covers, hugging a plush dolly like it’s her best friend—that a’int her. I didn’t say that to Ma and Pa. Because I know that’ll hurt their feelings.
But I wanted to say it.
Does that I mean I want to hurt Ma and Pa’s feelings?
So anyway I hovered outside around the backyard in the damp cold all by myself, waiting for Biscuit to arrive from his dance lessons.
Our flat backyard has a little gravel embankment to prevent it from eroding into the bayou water. Maybe there’s a part of her that’s keeping our backyard nice and flat. All right, I know it’s unlikely, since the Everfree Forest is so far away, but…it a’int that far. Somepony could’ve carried a piece of gravel—or even a fraction of a piece—from the Everfree, to Ponyville, onto the train, to Hayseed Junction. And I’ve walked plenty of times from home to Hayseed Junction.
I picked up one of the pieces of gravel on the embankment. Not the one that sort of looked like my sister. The one that sort of felt like my sister. It was rough and jagged round the corners, but soaked in the water so that it sort of glistened in the light. It kind of looked like a gem, but only if you were stupid enough not to realize it was just a thin coat of water.
A lot of ponies are stupid.
I took the piece of gravel and I dropped it into the water. It went plosh, into the water. Just like that. I was hearing my sister’s voice in my head again—I hear her most often when I’m alone—but when the rock fell into the water, it just turned into a muffled glub glub glub.
I stared at the water for a while, then I picked up another piece of gravel. And the whole process started again.
“Whatcha doing?” Biscuit said.
I got shocked by his voice. I quickly put down the gravel. “You…you finished your dance lessons?”
“Yeah. Whatcha doing?”
Guess I couldn’t get round that question. “I…I’m skippin’ stones.”
“Here. Lemme try. Hee…YAH!” He took the piece of gravel and he kicked it real hard, like a buckball, with his strong earth pony legs. I winced. The gravel skipped across the water, hitting the surface a good seven or eight times. I winced every time.
“You…you all right?”
“Yeah.”
“C’mon. It’s just a piece of gravel.”
“Just.”
I guess my sister’s fate ain’t that different from what happens when we all die. I never really thought about it until…well, recently, but, well…it’s true, ain’t it? It’s like the wild swamp pony carcasses that you see floating in the bayou water sometimes. You paddle by there one day, and the body’s floating in the water. The next day, they’re bugs eating at the flesh. Soon it’s just a bunch of bone hanging by a fallen tree branch. Soon it’s just little…bits in the ground…that you’d step on never thinking it was a dead pony.
No matter how kind I am. No matter how evil I am. I’m gonna be a piece of gravel someday. So will Biscuit. So will Bloofy.
Just like my sister.
“Hello? Spur? You there…?” Biscuit waved a hoof over my face.
“Nothing,” I said, picking up another piece of gravel from the embankment. “I was just staring at you.”
Biscuit didn’t blush, instead he gave me a confused look. “Hmm…kay?”
“What?” I said.
“Erm…well…?”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah.”
We both laughed.
“Ready to go?” I said.
“Sure.”
Bloofy purred in agreement.
We left the shore around two o’clock that afternoon. Inside the kayak, I sat on my tail and covered my mane with a thick knit cap. I liked that a lot. I could stare at my reflection in the water and feel like not my sister for a moment. Until my super springy mane started poking out the cap. That always happens when I wear hats.
It was a cold and rainy winter day. I’d never gone kayaking in the winter before. Biscuit brought a raincoat and some galoshes, but the wind with the rain still made his mane a little wet. The rainwater seeped right through my knit cap. Clearing the sky would’ve been too much work for just me.
But it didn’t really matter, in any case. My mane is just as curly when it’s drenched by rain.
I paddled us to one of the hidden places where my sister and I used to share our secrets. All the trees were barren in the winter and the forest exposed, so it wasn’t like when I went kayaking with Cozy.
We weren’t invisible.
I packed some food for me, Bloofy, and Biscuit to eat. We drank hot tea and we ate, well, biscuits. The real bland kind that Bloofy can also eat.
“This cookie is gross,” Biscuit said. “There’s like, zero sugar.”
“Well, give yours to Bloofy. I’m sure he don’t mind your saliva.” Biscuit gave Bloofy a few bites. Bloofy smiled.
“I think he likes you,” I said. I gestured a little, with a smile, and Biscuit pet his fur.
“Heh, he sure does. Even after the whole…”
“Oh, don’t you worry about it. Sure, you took Bloofy against my wishes…and he ended up destroying half of Appaloosa because of you…”
“…because of me?” Biscuit said. “Bloofy deserves at least some of the credit.”
“Well how was I supposed to know he’d go into full tornado mode like that?”
Biscuit looked pretty angry. “I don’t know, maybe you should’ve figured that out before you decided to keep such a dangerous creature as your pet!”
Bloofy smiled at Biscuit again. He obviously can’t understand a word we’re saying. That’s why I giggled.
“Well, Biscuit,” I said, “I’m gonna turn a blind eye to the Appaloosa fair incident ‘cause Princess Twilight agreed to foot the bill using her royal entertainment allowance. Plus, the fact I’m taking you out kayaking in the winter, when the water’s nice and the bugs aren’t out…I’m just gonna say, you owe me. Big time,” I teased.
Biscuit calmed down. “Like, owe you what?”
“Nothin’. I’m just saying if I need a favor from you sometime, you better say yes.”
Biscuit chuckled. “Okay, Spur. Whatever you say.”
Biscuit was quiet for a bit. He’s afraid of something. I think it’s my mane. I remind him of my evil younger sister. I poured myself some hot tea—I closed my eyes to smell the aroma—and I saw her again. In stone. Frozen at that smile. I shivered.
“I like your…hat,” Biscuit said.
“Please…don’t remind me.” A bit of my curly mane was staring to poke out. I pulled the knit cap down a little lower. Biscuit likes my mane. He thinks my curly mane looks cute, and his friends at school make fun of him for that. “The Cozy Glow mane,” they call it.
I got a little annoyed because I already told Biscuit to stop complementing my mane. I don’t even feel right if he compliments the color. I told him already. Anything about my mane is off limits.
I started paddling towards the shore. “Biscuit…you don’t think I’m evil, do you?”
“No.”
“Well you know how they stare at my mane. And how much I look like…”
“You’re a different pony. It matters what’s on the inside, not on the outside.”
But it’s not just the outside. I hear my sister’s voice inside me.
Wanna be friends? Wanna be friends?
Wait. That was me. That was my voice. I taught her to say that.
“Are you…afraid of me?” I said out loud.
“Course not, why’d you think that? We’re friends.”
“Come on. Th-there must’ve been at least one time you were scared of me.”
“No, not at all.”
I insisted, and Biscuit finally admitted something. “Well…there was that one time you didn’t want me to leave your house cause you wanted to keep playing buckball with me. And they way you screamed 'don't go'…it sounded a little scary.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You…you’re kind of cute when you get mad, actually.” He blushed.
Biscuit’s the only pony at school that still talks to me as a friend. There are ponies that do actually talk to me at school and not just give me their lunch money, but they always ask me about my sister. How is she doing in Tartarus. What gonna happen to her now she’s turned to stone. Whether she ever behaved violently at home. Whether she was ever abused.
Biscuit’s not like that. I remember the day the news got out that my sister got sent to Tartarus, and everypony from parents to teachers to students asked me about her.
Biscuit was the only who asked me, “And how are you feeling, Spur?”
I don’t know why he’s the only one who still talks to me like a friend. Maybe he knows something that other ponies don’t. Like, some…fundamental truth or whatever. I never asked him.
We paddled back home to the pier. I tied up the kayak, and I lifted Biscuit and Bloofy off the boat with my wings.
“Look, Spur, I’m can’t imagine what it’s like dealing with your sister gone, after all those horrible things she did. You must have a lotta mixed emotions. If you ever wanna talk about it…”
I sighed. “You…you wanna come inside?” I opened the back door to our house. I let the warm air from the fire flow out.
“Erm…sure.” It was already 4 o’clock. “I’ll have to leave before dark though—the road back’s pretty lonely, and—”
“Well, you can stay over if you like.”
“I…I don’t think your Ma would let me—”
“Well…Cozy Glow’s old room is empty,” I said. “We’re using it as storage, but I guess you could stay in her room if it’s awkward or whatever.”
“Oh yeah. Guess it works out then.” He stepped inside. I shut the door behind him.
Biscuit’s really cute. I like him a lot. I’m not sure if Biscuit likes me too. I wouldn’t mind one bit if he did.
Sweet! New chapter.
Next chapter, she says to the therapist:
You don't listen, do you?
Oof. Those flashbacks open up a whole new can of worms. How Cozy turned out was not her fault. Let's hope Spur understands that.
Then again, this is the swamp. Odds are the worms get canned here in the first place.
Another great chapter. It's interesting how such little things can have huge impacts, and how Spur unintentionally helped her little sister become the chessmaster she was in the series.
I'm curious will we see Spur meet any canon MLP characters?
9896313
Oh yes, I felt something: I felt anger and sadness that there are people in this world who can watch a show about friendship, love, tolerance, and forgiveness and then write a fan fiction for this show that has none of these things.
We all know how the therapy session is going to go
Spur, does it help to have somepony to talk to?
My sister, always told me to smile and put on a happy face. She told me I had a purpose, to bring laughter and joy to the world. Is it just me, or is it getting crazy out there?
9896239
Biscuit's canon.
9896332
It's the Internet. What did you expect?
9893211
You mean the sociopath who stripped Equestria of magic, conspired to overthrow the Equestrian government, colluded with known enemies of Equestria, and showed absolutely no remorse?
9896332
There's this thing called 'Juxtaposition' and 'Subversion', its totally new and never been done before. You should try it some time.
Lets be serious here, dont try and act as if 'Cupcakes' or 'Rainbow Factory' or its extremely edgy ilk never existed, or that 'What if this world of friendship and brightly-colored pastel horses was actually really fucked up?' isnt an extremely cliche writing prompt.
Furthermore, thats a lot of big talk, presuming that in order to write dark or edgy fanfiction for a show proclaiming virtures, you must be devoid of the virtues the show encourages.
I can understand that if Dark stories arent your cup of tea, but please dont try to morally grandstand about "the death of virtuous MLP fanfiction" because a villain received a fate that wasnt TV12
9896443
And if Dark stories are not their thing, then it is kind of on them if they read one and don't like the dark subject matter.
If Biscuit we'll be her star, then Spur will be his sky.
I know this story is still dark, but this chapter felt hopeful. Kids are cruel, but at least Spur has someone that is on her side.
9896239
No telling what a kid will take from stuff they hear. Spur, don't feel guilty. You couldn't have known.
Speaking of terrible stuff to tell kids, when I was but a young crotchfruit, some asshole told me that Earwigs liked to burrow into people's ears. That wigged me out.
Hmmm. I'm beginning to think a lot of Spur's reactions to things, and other ponies' reactions to her and Cozy, are at least partly inspired by the fandom's reaction to the finale. Just a gut feeling. I'm interested. Very interested to see what comes next.
9896405
Yes, giving the character that did that the characteristic "child" was a poor writing decision.
Spur needs to see a therapist. Badly.
well get too dark my taste.
I was hope this wasn't going turn into depressing story.
maybe twilight didn't have her statue destory and replace fake and hide real one away.
9896529
Not exactly a new field.. Ever watch the Omen? Children of the Corn? Evil children are not a new or bad writing field.
9896473
Today I learned something new.
9896783
"The Bad Seed" came out in the 1950's.
And so it began. And Spur was only trying to help.
Brilliant bit with the Cozy-like piece of gravel.
Story tone aside, I have to love how rebuilding Appleoosa came out of Twilight's entertainment budget. Makes me wonder if Celestia ever fiddled while Canterlot burned.
Oh boy. That could go in all sorts of directions.
Poor Spur. She's actually looking for reasons for ponies to be afraid of her, even her closest friend. Something to justify the fear surrounding her. She needs Biscuit. She needs a heck of a lot more than him. Hopefully the therapist will actually help.
9897023 9896443
Thinking about Oh’s comment, I see how imagination and compassion are so closely connected in my mind that my previous comments are unclear. The fact that Cozy is killed in this story isn’t what upsets me. At the end of S8, I took the interpretation that Cozy was executed for her crimes, because Tartarus is not a land for the living. A person with compassion having watched that should immediately feel that something is wrong with that and begin using his or her imagination to figure out why it has played out this way. “Cozy” assumes the canon all the way to the end of S8, then the author started answering the questions that arise from feeling that something isn’t right. Such as “Why did Cozy Glow do this?”, the only logical explanation is that she wasn’t thinking right, even Micah acknowledges that Cozy is mentally ill. Then there are questions like “Why didn’t this come out during the trial, and why didn’t it change her punishment?” The answer to this question is really that there wasn’t a trial because the recent writers for the show don’t think about the consequences of their actions.
So there is BS in the writing of the show, and I acknowledge that, but if someone is going to write about a crueler Equestria, why bother turning Cozy to stone before killing her? One could write that Cozy was executed for her crimes against Equestria and is in Tartarus because she is dead. If the story relies on things that happened during the S9, then it could be written that she was killed on the battlefield after losing her alicorn power. Both of these outcomes kill the character of Cozy in ways that leave a sister character in pain for how Cozy’s mental illness was not recognized and treated. Obviously either of these choices would be canon breaking, I have no problem with that, but Cozy Glow would not have been turned to stone after being sent to Tartarus if the princesses didn’t believe that she could be reformed. Like I said before, this is what was done for Discord. “Stoning” is not merely a punishment, but way to help those who are broken. If the princesses didn’t believe Cozy could be reformed, she would have been killed, like Sombra. The problem that I have with this story is that it keeps the actions of the show, which are always moving in the direction of friendship and redemption, but then undermines the intention by writing that the princessesses are just going to kill her off anyway. That’s not juxtaposition, it’s just bad writing.
9897338
I agree with you that the finale, and in general, everything to do with Cozy Glow's motivations, backstory, and punishments were poorly and lazily written, and admitted by Haber and the writers explicitly for the sole purpose of being 'subversive', but in regards to the idea that their stoning meant an eventual reformation, I simply must disagree with you on that possibility - on the fact that Discord explicitly said their punishment was to be 'together forever' and considering the fact that the show ends right then and there, and within a 20 year timeskip there's no indication that Twilight has even presumed the notion of redeeming them, its fairly safe to say that they will be stoned with the intention of it being eternal.
Id also disagree as to what Tartarus represents and as for what stoning represents.
Id hardly think you have to be dead in some form or another to be sent to Tartarus, considering how Tirek managed to just walk out with no notice after Cerebus escaped, and how every hodgepodge of creature in Equestria was there just in a cage, its more so likely that its literally just what it is - a life sentence.
Stoning is much more akin to the death penalty, considering that it has only ever been used upon the worst of the worst threats to Equestria who have proven themselves unable to contained within a life sentence in Tartarus, and the only being who ever unstoned themselves was the immortal Chaos god after 1000 years of effort, and the whole concept of purposefully unstoning him for the sake of redemption was a horrendously radical idea backed up by the full intention that he was probably just going to be turned back to stone. Given the fact that never did Celestia bother to try to reform him uptill Discord showcased that he can eventually break out of the spell, its sufficient to say that turning someone to stone is not a 'pathway to eventual redemption' but a punishment for eternal damnation.
Given that, and in the context of the Legion of Doom's stoning, their punishment was meant to be eternal. And petrification had been shown to fail in the past, its not a far jump to what Twilight does in the fic, albeit it comes across as almost overkill as a method of ensuring they don't come back. Leaving them in stone implies a pathway for them to not be in stone, and the whole point of this story is Spurr dealing with the fact her sister is gone forever. So no, at the worst, you can say the graveling of the statue was just a hamfisted way of making the stoning permanent, but I would hardly call it 'bad'
Fascinating. Veeeery fascinating.
9898137
Glad you liked it! Hope you'll stay tuned for more...!
Very chilly.
This story is written in a believably young tone. It's realistically youthful, as if written by someone of similar age to the narrator, except with much better mechanics and story telling skills.
Goodness. Spur, how often, exactly, do you find pony corpses in the bayou? This seems a bit worrisome.
9898317
This is very good.
Three quotes that fit well with this story. And Cozy Glow in general.
“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”
― Stephen King
“I think that we're all mentally ill. Those of us outside the asylums only hide it a little better - and maybe not all that much better after all.”
― Stephen King
“No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side.
Or you don't.”
― Stephen King, The Stand
9898350
Imagine how many pony corpses get fed to the pigs instead.
9893211
Tartarus is a prison, 4head
He probably understands that they way others treat you warps you
Without him one day you'll just wake up a bitter old evil nag and you'll wish you had him in your life. Cozy Glow was broken inside and something in you is being put under pressure; why, you just might break.
Ah. Phsychology 101. Taking delight in taking animals' lives as a child often translates into little regard for peoples' lives as an adult. In essence, Cozy was a phsychopath.
Ah hope she becomes Cozy #2.
Mwahahahahaha- gurghk- kuhkuhkuh.... Mwahahahaha!!!
Curls that resist natural gravity and physics? Crap, it's worse than what I thought. I'll come back with an exorcist.
Aw so fuckin cute!
10020459
I'm sorry.
I read that last part with a lisp.
10020459
*sociopath