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Nothing special here, move along, nothing to see, just ignore the lump under the sheet and the red stuff...

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Ray Bradbury Anniversary - With Ponies · 5:08am May 29th

Ray Bradbury was a giant among science fiction writers, most remembered for his Mars stories. From Bradbury Landing where the Curiosity rover explored, to the many movies and TV shows that follow his writing, he left his footprints across many worlds. June 5 will be the 9th anniversary of his death, and I thought I’d write a small tribute to his influence on my pony hobby. Above the break is a bit from the 1979 miniseries, and below, a peek at my developing project.

The Equestrian Chronicles
In memory of Ray Bradbury

The ships from Earth arrived in the middle of a warm summer day, drifting down from the sky on tongues of golden fire. All across the quiet planet they landed, from the southern harbors to the frozen northlands, and the humans emerged from their metal cocoons into the fresh air. They were travelers now, since their old familiar homes had become mazes of spun steel and glass, filled with wires and concrete channels that shielded them from the hostile outside world. Artificial food and sterilized water sustained them during the journey, much as they lived their lives before the trip, but now was time to explore their new world and bend it to their will.

At the base of the mountain lay a small village where a single ship had landed. A young girl emerged into the unfamiliar sunlight with her father beside her, and the two of them proceeded slowly down the dirt streets.

“Where are the ponies?” asked the girl. “I thought there would be at least a few of them still here.”

“I told you before,” said the father. “The ponies are all gone now.”

“The survey crews can’t have found all of them,” insisted the girl. “Maybe there are still some in the village.”

“We received a message right before landing,” said the father. “The ponies were excited to see us at first, but as the lead ships in our armada grew closer, they grew worried. Then one morning, they were all gone, every single pony and other intelligent creature across the entire planet.”

“But the sun!” The girl pointed up in the sky. “Without Princess Celestia—”

“When the ponies left, the sun and moon resumed a normal course,” said the father. “We don’t understand it either, but the scientists say the world is stable for us to colonize.”

“But no ponies.” The girl frowned and sat down on the edge of a fountain, which still sprayed water over a stone figure of a happy pony. She tilted her head to one side and added, “I think I can still hear them laughing.”

“It’s only the wind blowing the water.” Her father stood up and stretched, checking the glittering crystal weapon he carried on his hip. “Can I get you to stay here and not wander? A group of us are going into the forest to make certain the monsters have all vanished also. If it’s safe, I’ll take you there sometime later.”

She nodded, and waited until her father had walked out of sight before taking off her shoes and wriggling her toes in the grass. “It must have been so much fun to live here,” she said to herself. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the ponies trotting down the paths and singing, eating at the cake-shaped building and drinking…

The water was cold, trickling between her fingers and making them numb, quite unlike the tepid stuff that flowed out of faucets. There were… things in the water, tiny dark flecks that did not move, like—

“Dirt,” she said. “It’s not just on the ground. They drank the stuff too.”

After a moment to think, she leaned over and let the water splash against her face. At home, she would have been punished for wasting water, but water was everywhere here. It even tasted, which she could not believe until she took a second drink and luxuriated in the sensation.

Report Georg · 360 views · #Writing #Bradbury
Comments ( 14 )
Georg #1 · May 29th · · ·

The Maretians. Do you think it would work as The Maretian Chronicles?

--Sweetie Belle

One of Bradbury’s bleaker and more somber works, and that’s saying something seeing as he wrote Fahrenheit 451 just a few years later.

Honestly? I'd probably read it! I loved a fair bit of Bradbury's work. It'd be interesting to see what he thought of My Little Pony if I'm honest.

I dont know which I class as horror more. This, or the one where Canterlot ends up as a spaceship.:pinkiesick:


Why do I feel like there's a magically automated house somewhere in Canterlot, making breakfast and reciting poetry for ponies who will never come home again?

If I recall the Martian Chronicles correctly, the ponies will be back.

"We've won the war, you can come back!", shouted the man as he approached the homes the Earthmen had set up. "Jacob? Ruth? Where are you?"

As he looked around the houses, seeing the drying clothes fluttering on the clotheslines, he pushed open the front door and raced in, eager to find his brother.

The kitchen was empty, bare for the plates and cutlery and cups, sitting ready for supper.

"John, get over here!" he heard his copilot called out.

Stampeding out the house, boots stamping against the hardwood and shutting the door with a slam, John ran in a panic. "What is it? Did you find them? Wha-?" he stuttered as he suddenly ground to a halt.

"I know, right? The last transmission said they were gone, but it looks like some natives survived!"

The pony, for what else could it be other than a pony, neighed and bickered at them. It's coat a white color, dirty with shadowy streaks, and it's mane a golden yellow. For a moment his vision blurred, and he saw two spacemen, their suits white, dirty with crease caused shadows, golden reflective eye protection helmets standing side by side, but he shook his head and the image was lost.

"Couldn't they talk? They had a princess, we had transmissions, they offered safety for refuges from the war? Why is this one not able?"

"Could be some small number survived, they devolved. You know, with no one here to counter the claim, the planet's free for the taking, right?"

He thought about it for a moment. Planets that one could live unaided on were rare, and ones that were not struck by the most recent war even moreso. The houses were already here, but empty, and if he brought his family, they'd be safe, not having to worry about post war troubles. Simple math, really.

"Well, if we are the first ones here, we get to name things! You know, that mountain over there looks like a castle, I think I'll call it Camelot. And that island we passed over earlier? I could have sworn it looked like Long Island, I think we'll call it Manhattan!" He tried to put the thoughts of Jacob out of his mind, another casualty of the war, remembering as those grey eyes stared at him and told him that this was would be the death of him. Well, hah, who died? Not me!

The two pilots carried on, whilst the pony, for what ever could it be but a pony, chewed some haygrass, and watched, as the two Earthmen divvied up the planet, and made plans. His horn glowed softly, and he trotted away, unnoticed. His family had found a few apple trees recently, and his wife was wanting to make some pastries. Jacob, the pony, for what ever could he be but a pony, went home.

The One Who Waits is now a story about deep-time Equestria, and the uwitting human explorers encounter Sombra's spirit reaching out from his horn fragment in (what is left of) the pit of Tartarus. No ponification required.


There will comw soft rains.:fluttercry:

I finished Something Wicked This Way Comes about a month ago; I picked it up after remembering seeing a movie adaptation as a kid. I'd forgotten how poetic and flat-out haunting Bradbury's prose can be.

I think these are appropriate and are favorites of mine.

Here There Be Tygers

A Miracle of Rare Device

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