The Lack
Still, and beautifully broken lay Applejack. Her mane twisted and tangled, her hooves bloodied and battered; a journey has indeed been undertaken as this pony attempts to understand what life truly is. The voices continue to echo in the calm night air surrounding her. It is peaceful, forever present; something that is infinite and fixated. As she calls upon the muses of the sky, she takes out a quill, ink, and a scroll from her bag. “This is it”, Applejack whispers, “This is what I can leave behind in this life…”
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The quill meets, the black ink flowing effortlessly like a stream of water onto the parchment. After writing down a few words, she notices the serenity of her environment. The sky is sparkling with Princess Luna’s stars; all beautiful separately but together create something that not even words can describe. The moon shines with a particular shade of white, and in itself creates a sort of warmth within the chilled breeze. As sun and moon are different, they too are the same; just as Princess Celestia and Princess Luna together are separate but equal. The moonlight reflects off still water of a nearby pond, and Applejack trots towards it in a mystical hypnosis. The grass beneath her hooves is damp and cool, somehow seeming to pave the way for her like a curtain opening for a grand show. She meets the edge of the pond and looks down into her reflection. Those eyes, a bright, deep green look back at her. Applejack loses composure, and begins to tear up at this sight. A single tear-drop falls down from her nose, and lands inside the pond; creating ripples through her reflection. She takes it all in; the colour, the sound, the shape and the smell. “It all seems so…real…” she explains. “But this can’t be…it just…can’t…”
She returns to her writing. After a few failed attempts to express herself, she is finally able to create an introduction that seems worthy of her message. She takes a deep breath, puts the quill in her mouth, and begins to write… “Listen to my story. I am slowly losing my grip on ‘reality’…and I want to share my experiences with you all. Especially my friends. You have all taught me so much and have helped me grow into the pony I am today. But I am about to fall into a never-ending pit of confusion, and I fear I will never be the same again. Don’t worry though; sometimes it is better to die knowing the truth than to live a false life. Please…listen. For me. For Ponyville. For Equestria. But most of all; listen for yourselves…”
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“I began an odyssey shortly after my experiences with the rodeo. As you may know, I left Ponyville in order to win all the blue ribbons I could accrue, as well as money to fix up Town Hall. What you don’t know is that my memory of the rodeo is vague, and nearly non-existent. As soon as I boarded the train, everything became a blur. It all just sort of disappeared in an instant, and the next thing I knew my friends saw me at Appleosa. I still can’t explain to this day how I arrived in that town. All that I can seem to remember was voices, the sound of pencil hitting paper, and images of Ponyville trying to figure out where I was after a day or two. When I saw my friends, I had all of these thoughts circling in my head, yet I was unable to express these thoughts. Instead, I seem to speak against my own will and with it at the same time. It was as if I was in two separate universes arriving at the same point. After returning to Sweet Apple Acres, this unexplainable feeling bore down on me heavily. I began to become worried, curious, and passive all at the same time. Every meeting I had with everypony was met with critical thought. Why am I here? How did this all appear? Why can’t I seem to remember events in their fullest context? Unable to reconcile with these thoughts, I tried to find knowledge in the one place I could; the library.
Spike opened the door, and was happy to see me. But his face, and his eyes especially, seemed empty and lacking charisma. Then again, so did everypony else I saw on my way there. I asked if I would be able to borrow some books, and Spike giggled and poked fun at how he expected me to be the last pony to ask for books. He said sure why not, and walked upstairs. I looked into the endless array of pages, scrolls, and books that lay before me. I pace around, trying to find anything that might be able to help with my worries. A certain book struck my eye, and I open it up. It was at this moment when everything truly changed in my world…
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The pages were empty. Not a single word was etched across its parchment, and even more troubling was that I wasn’t able to turn these pages. The book only opened at one point, and seemed to be essentially two white blocks on either end of the spine. I gasp, not able to fully comprehend what is happening. I begin to take book after book off the shelf, and again; the same phenomena occurs. I look up, and can feel the walls closing in around me. The bookshelves transform into spirals of color and engulf me whole. I can feel myself falling, falling down…further and further…until I hear Twilight’s voice. She has a puzzled look on her face, and asks me why I was staring off into space. She notices that I am sweating uncontrollably, and walks towards me as her expression goes from one of quizzical nature to worried emotion. She looks down onto the books scattered across the floor, and smiles, explaining that these are some of her favorite books. She picks one up and starts reading it aloud, fully able to turn pages. My eyes widen for a moment, and out of confused instinct, I snatch the book from her hooves. I stare back into just pure white. I…I couldn’t handle it. I explain that I needed to go, and I thanked her and Spike for letting me into their home as I slowly back away into the doorway. As soon as I shut the door, I sprint into full speed away from the tree, which seemed to give off this aura of deceit. I run, run, run away from it all. I need to collect my thoughts, hide myself, and maybe things will start making sense. Little did I know that this would actually trench me in deeper into the question of what reality is…was…can be…
I find a tree on the farm to lie under. I try to get my breathing under control, but to no avail. Everything is spinning out of control, seeming to be one blur of brilliant light. Looking back on it, I wonder if that is the way a pony feels when born. Coming into existence, red and yellow come to be, followed by other colours. What was once black and grey turned into something that just…hurts. All of it. The noise, the smell, the motion. Not even able to have an internal conversation with yourself. That’s exactly how I felt. Just, minute after minute of nothing and everything slamming together in my being. When I finally come to, I am thankful that I can finally have internal thought once again. I look around; the apple trees shimmering, the grass moving with the breeze, and Granny Smith napping on the porch. I smile, and shake my head. I never should have been so worked up, because everything is fine. I take in a fresh breath of air, and put the hat over my eyes and lay down on the tree behind me. Absolute serenity flows through me. I must have drifted off, because the next thing I know it is night-time.
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You know, I am usually so busy I can never fully comprehend my surroundings and my peers. But when I awoke, a thought crept into my head. I was struck by the dichotomy of town during the day, and the one that I am now seeing at night. In the day, ponies shop, work, all eager for the day to be over to return home to their families for dinner and stories. During night, however; the town retreats into isolation. The streets nearly emptied, only filled with the occasional filly looking for friends. All though this may seem normal, for some reason I began to wonder why people rejected the night so much. It too has beauty, like the day, and I am sure Luna puts in so much work to make it so. I look up to ensure myself, and as I predicted; the sky sparkled with such radiance not even Rarity could encompass it in one of her gowns. I look at the moon, standing still and confident. Not a cloud in the sky, the moonlight is as prevalent as ever. I look around, and suddenly something else sent me into despair…
I noticed voices yet again. Not from anypony I recognize. I cannot even make out what they are saying, but it reverberates in my ears. I look around and see nopony. But then I notice something even stranger…only certain trees have shadows emanating from them. It is as if only certain trees are graced with the ability to show their structure in more than a physical way. I couldn’t believe it. Why is all of this happening? My thoughts began to go back into the books, the train ride, the rodeo, all of it. Something is wrong, I just know it. And I am determined to find out what it is. So I fill my bag with some apple fritters, writing essentials, and a pack of cigarettes. I travel down the road away from Ponyville, not looking back.
As I am travelling, I start noticing that certain parts of my environment are more detailed and brightly coloured than others. I tried to document everything I could, but it was impossible. The voices were back again, and this time I could recognize them. Not only that, but I could see clearly in my head a scene occurring in Ponyville. It’s as if my mind is some old projector screen, documenting the moment on a movie reel. Fluttershy attempting to calm down my little sis and her friends…the Cutie Mark Crusaders having a sleep over. During this moment, I could feel myself transcend from my physical being. I could see myself trotting along, seeming empty…shelled out…almost like a photograph. I snap back into ‘reality’, and start crying. Why is this happening? Everything seems so…scripted…non-genuine…
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I began to let my mind wander to different scenes of my life. When I first met Twilight, Pinkie Pie’s parties, Winter Wrap-Up, all of it. I start realizing that everything I said just…happened. I had no thought whatsoever. It was as if my own discourse was just…an object willed on by somepony else. It wasn’t my own action and decision. I was…am…a puppet, and nothing more. I begin to cry even further, and finally have had enough. I scream at the heavens, at the sky, at anything willing to listen. I finally stop out of exhaustion, and begin to trot my way into a field with my head down.
The voices return, and I can begin to understand what they are saying. I hear laughter from thousands of different voices at once. Comments like ‘that’s vintage Fluttershy’, ‘I bet Applejack could totally whip those fillys into shape’, or ‘THE STARE OH MY GOD LOOK EVERYBODY’. What does that mean?
God?..
Everybody?...
Why is somepony, or body, telling me what I could do? How do they even know I exist? Why can I hear them?
It all starts to come together at once…
I leave the physical yet again and transcend into the metaphysical. I realize that I am, as well as everything around me, a simple story for something else’s enjoyment. Just as the stories I was told as a filly. I begin to become dizzy. These stories only exist on pages, and aren’t real. So am I not real? Is there something even greater and more-knowing than a pony? Am I just a figment of imagination? The more I thought about it, the more the answer became clear. It’s a resounding yes…
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And this is why I am here, writing these words. Everything has concluded, as I lie here expressing myself as ‘reality’ literally shatters around me. I have no free will in the grand scheme of things. But it seems that, out of some sort of loophole and magical occurrence, I am able to think and comprehend on a different level than the puppet master’s control. I know I will never fully understand, and I am content with that. The only thing I care about is to be able to do something, physically, that I can do on my own. Just one act, of real freedom. So I thank all of you, for reading this. Hopefully you will be able to do something to escape the constructed world laid before all us ponies. But as for me…”
A teardrop bleeds through the paper next to this line, causing the black ink to smear over. As to what the last words are, I cannot tell you. All I can do is explain what she did after this. Applejack, regaining composure, stands up tall and proud like the pony she has always been. She takes out a cigarette out of her pack, lights it up, and begins to inhale. The ember burns the paper downward, as smoke escapes and creates a sort of veil around her face. She walks back towards the pond, confident and stead-fast. She looks down one more time at her reflection, taking in the color and sound. She inhales one more time. Walking on the water, she goes towards the middle. Taking off her hat, the smoke surrounds her. Moonlight bleeds out of her soul, and she herself evaporates into fog and smoke. Disappeared completely, the scene returns to normal. Crickets chirping, water rippling, and the electric energy of Luna’s night sky.
Everything is still, and beautifully broken. In the distance, you can still hear Applejack’s call through the muse’s.
“Listen to my story…”