The End of an Era

by ObsidianPony

The End

It is as with all creators; we have the joy of bringing life and creativity to the dark places where none exists, to unite and create families of people who would otherwise have never known the joy of friendship and love that can exist between former strangers.

To see our creations come to life through the adoration of others, brought into being by our own hands, but to see them truly live in the hearts and souls of their admirers.

But with this most joyous of privileges must also come the harshness of reality; our creations are not eternal, we do not hold any illusions of such and we know that all good things must come to an end. Even as I can feel the love, laughter and joy of millions across the world, united in their singular love, I know that what I must do is unavoidable.

But how I wish it weren’t true.

I stare down at the inhabitants now, carefree and joyful, enjoying what looks to be a fine day in their wondrous world, a place free from the strife and vitriol that they so banish from the corners of our people; knowingly or not they are a beacon in a dark place for us.

Now it begins.

First the world simply seems to shine brighter than ever, friendships and the wonders of the world enhanced even beyond that which normally graces this land. Conflict seems to end, the shreds of darkness that poison even worlds as beautiful as this beaten back by its wondrous inhabitants.

I feel the outsiders emotions as they observe the scene; they are joyous, some are applauding though the inhabitants could never know it and conversing with each other, even across the oceans and the stretches of land they gather in their domains to discuss and speculate as to what is next for this world.

I can only try not to weep as I hear their joyful and excited whispers and praises of the most recent events, for I know what comes next for this world, the same world they so readily accept despite its unfamiliarity and do their best to add to.

At first things seem almost normal, imperfections appearing where there were previously none, a dimming of the lights and a slowing to the movement and emotion of the inhabitants. One bounds back and forth in a panic, somehow realising what is about to happen and desperate to stop it.

I pity her but unfortunately it is beyond me. I am sorry but I cannot help, much as it pains me to see this happen it must be done.

The influences of this world withdraw from certain areas; commercial ventures to keep it alive and well disappear from the outsiders’ world, their windows into other realms no longer show them the new adventures of the creations they so loved and admired, repeating and reliving older times, the nostalgia is appreciated but still the questions are asked, why is there no new story? When will they make new ones? Have the creators run out of ideas?

I admit that I myself do not know the reason for what is happening, while I knew this day would happen I prayed that there would at least be reasonable justification but it seems even that possible small mercy has been deprived.

By now the world beneath has slowed to a standstill; the mighty and elegant Pegasi fly no more across the skies, no animals running, children playing or birds singing.

I can still see them, though for how much longer they will remain I don’t know. It relieves my burden somewhat to see that there is no pain, they rest as though they are asleep for any other night and seem to be dreaming sweetly, many with smiles even as they dream.

Finally it begins, as they begin to glow with all the colours in the spectrum and some beyond even that; their forms seem to melt into the light enveloping them and soon they and their glow are one in the same. Before long they have begun to move, not sucked up like something through a vortex or snapped as if by a snare but gracefully, flowing through the sky like miniature rivers and eels toward the skies.

Several of them pass by and give me time to observe them; I don’t know whether or not they are still aware enough to be allowing this but I take the time to smile with tears blurring my vision at the familiar images, a trail of bubbles, a lyre, a six pronged star, a rainbow coloured lightning bolt and countless others pass, each of them whispering of those they have inspired and the admiration of countless people.

But even as I indulge myself in days past I can feel the outsiders still; they are panicking, sadness and anger emerging in equal measure, blame is thrown at any name that they can recall to possibly blame for this and I wince as I hear myself mentioned several times, the anger is palpable but the anger itself seems a shroud, a mask for the worries, fears and sadness gripping them.

I fight myself to stay focused as now, along with the swirls of light still passing, I can see the land itself beginning to fade, not into an aurora of lights as its inhabitants had but rather with a simple, soundless fade into nothingness.
I allow myself to despair as I look on the now barren void that had once housed so much life and joy that now has surely been erased by fools.

But then, something defies all that I could have ever expected.

The outsiders are once again making their emotions heard; the initial cries of outrage and sorrow are gone, replaced by… gratitude? Comfort? Hope? These are not emotions I expected from them.

But the feelings are unmistakable, those same outsiders who moments ago would surely have torn the creators of this land asunder for allowing their creation to fade, are now thanking them for the years of happiness and countless friendships forged, wishing them luck in their future endeavours and promising to support them whatever they may be.

And down below I see the most amazing sight.

Before my very eyes, the land is returning; it is different in many respects and the inhabitants seem to have changed, with some I confess I do not recognise, but they are clearly the same as those which I have just seen taken away, partially by my own hand.

This world may fade from those who created it but the loyalty of the outsiders is truly infinite; these are not mere creations or imitations for their entertainment to be discarded. No, the outsiders have turned them into more than that, and as long as that loyalty is maintained, this world shall never be truly gone, eternally sustained by the love and devotion of those it inspired.

Up above the aurora of lights from the former inhabitants has not faded as it should; it burns brighter than the sun itself, a protective guardian over the new world created by the outsiders. Even while we must leave the world to them, it seems that the guidance of the creators is never truly gone.

I now must take my leave of this world. I feared the end of this generation would mark an end of an era, the destruction of truly one of the most beautiful relations between outsiders and creators ever forged.

Instead it seems that it has only strengthened their resolve.

Even now as I work to forge a new generation, I retain fond memories of the world I leave in the loving care of the outsiders. The Creators no longer own this world.

We brought it into being. The outsiders brought it to life.

And for that I am forever grateful.

Author's Note:

Dedicated to Bonnie Zacherle, Lauren Faust and the entire cast and crew of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.
For our wonderful community and for such an inspiring show, no matter how little or much you contributed.
Thank you.

Comments

[Craine]

... There. Are no. Words. To describe how touching and powerful this piece is. I can't even think of any critique to add, it was so beautiful. I... I CAN'T be the only one who thinks this! YOU! YEAH, the one who skipped pasted this story to read the comments! Scroll back up and read this! READ IT NOW!!

[ObsidianPony]

2379030
Thank you, it's reassuring to hear that someone thinks that way; this was written straight from the heart but I wasn't too sure how well it would go down.

[Craine]

Well, you should be DAMN proud of your work! Any who have an eye for bittersweet oneshots can agree... Or, at least, they'd better.

[Cadabra]

I noticed your desire for feedback on the Equestrian Critics Society, so I just had to hop by and give this a look over.

First off I have to compliment you on your paragraphs. It feels sometimes like the paragraph is a lost art in several fics I run across. Yours are beautifully crafted with a great vocabulary, yet another dying art in several fics I run across. For a work so short, you are able to pack a lot of impact into it by using your words.

I know it can be frustrating to not get much feedback on something you worked on, but keep up the good work!

[Fury of the Tempest]

Bravo. Bravo.