//------------------------------// // This is the Pony You See Before You Die // Story: Flash Sentry, Savior of the Universe // by redsquirrel456 //------------------------------// Flash sat next to Sunset Shimmer at lunch hour. He always did, because she demanded it, and it wasn't like it inconvenienced him or anything. She mostly sat there glowering at everyone and muttering to him under her breath about 'disorganized monkeys' and 'sparkless idiots.' Her glare kept everyone away so he could eat his lunch in peace, and it made him feel just a little bit special that she let him listen to her private ranting. Not even the impenetrable retinue that shielded Sunset from the undesirables in the student body heard these little outbursts—they all sat two seats down, alternately staring into their phones or make-up mirrors. Apart from the occasional rebuke for not standing straight or having stains on his jacket, it was the only real insight Flash ever got into how Sunset really thought. Those little special moments, which he had to hope were moments of emotional connection, almost made up for everything else. "Look at them, Flash," Sunset hissed, elbows on the table and her sandwich uneaten in front of her. "They're like chimps at the zoo. I never get tired of watching them hop around. They think they're so special, walking around with their phones and their prissy bags and dreams of fancy colleges. They have no idea how easy it is to manipulate them, even without using magic." "Like a magician?" "... Yes. Like a magician, Flash." Flash shrugged and bit into his sandwich. It was ham. He liked ham, especially with extra mayo. "So, babe," he said with his mouth full, which she elbowed him in the ribs for. It was like tradition. "I think there's a sickness or something going around." Sunset grunted. He needed to broach the subject carefully, since she was obviously in a bad mood. She was always in a bad mood, but that was beside the point. "Like, I guess I'm not getting enough sleep or something. I'm starting to see things." She grunted again. Feeling embarrassed now for even bringing it up, he put his sandwich down and twirled his finger on the tabletop. "I saw something just this morning." "Eh." "Well, I guess saw isn't appropriate. I imagined it, like a mirage or a hallucination." "Hnn." He rubbed the back of his neck and forced himself to laugh. It should be safe to tell her, since she barely listened to a word he ever said, and if he didn't tell somebody, he was going to go insane. Simple as that. "So, like, I woke up and was doing all my morning stuff, right? And then in my closet, I dunno, one of my old stuffed toys started talking. Or I guess that's what I thought it was, because, like, this whatever-it-was was kinda cute in a weird way. I mean, I could touch it and everything, and it felt like a toy. A living thing that feels like a toy! How weird is that?" "Toys, yeah." He looked to one side, sniffed, looked back again, licked his lips. "I guess... what I'd like to know is, have you ever been in a certain sort of really weird position where a pony appeared in your bedroom closet?" Sunset's glare snapped over to him. "A what?" He tugged at his shirt collar. She was using The Voice. That low, dangerous growl like the wind taking a breath before a hurricane. Whenever she used The Voice, he knew he had asked the exact wrong question. "You know... a pony. Like a little horse. They walk on four legs and eat grass and—" "I know what a pony is, Flash!" Sunset squealed, grinding her gritted teeth. "And they don't appear in people's bedrooms! Especially yours!" She slammed her hands on the table and stood up, snapping her fingers at the other teens. "Girls!" she barked, power-walking past them to the door. "I am perturbed. Distract me." They gaped at her like fish, as if having their high-school chatter interrupted turned their brains off as well as their mouths. They were her designated flock of followers, but lunch had barely even started and they were hungry. "GIRLS," Sunset seethed, stomping her foot. Like a mob of startled puppies they scrambled out of their seats, swept phones and makeup kits into their bags, and followed her out, babbling flippantly about inconsequential things. Flash was left alone, picking sadly at the saran wrap he brought his sandwich in. The little pony that had been sitting next to him the whole time unnoticed by anyone reached up and plaintively tugged his sleeve with a hoof. "I don't think she's good for you." ------ The pony stood waist high, with sapphire-blue hair just like Flash’s own and a pelt disturbingly reminiscent of his own skin color. Its voice wasn’t the most annoying thing in the world, even though it was basically Flash’s own voice a few octaves higher with a little squeak added in. Flash found it in his closet that morning, nestled between his guitar stand and a pile of old sweaters. Staring up at him with baby-blue eyes the size of dinner plates, little hoofsies tucked up against its chest, Flash really did mistake it for some old plushie he bought as a child and forgot until now. Then it talked, and that was when everything went downhill. It said its name was Flash and they were "like, super tight but didn't know it yet," but Flash refused to entertain that idea. Mostly just tried to ignore it. He ignored it while he brushed his teeth. He ignored it while he ate breakfast. He ignored it on the bus, and he ignored it all the way up to lunch. Yet on and on the pony talked. It never stopped talking, in fact. It babbled and bubbled and giggled about how pretty the sky here was or how weird humans smelled or about how similar they were to his friends “back home.” Flash was determined to remain willfully ignorant. It was a hallucination. A weird dream. A prank. It had to be, it must be. Even if it wasn’t, Flash was pretty sure acknowledging the alien creature would just make everything worse. He didn’t like thinking very hard. He didn’t like confrontation. He most certainly didn’t like being seen as strange. That was a death sentence in this school. He was just Flash. Normal, boring, everyday Flash, with a kickin’ car and a hot girlfriend like guys were supposed to have. Guys did not have ponies following them around. Of course the little pest stuck to his side like glue, no matter how many times Flash said ‘shoo’ or made little wavy motions with his hands in the opposite direction, or gently shoved the pony behind a door he quickly locked. Somehow the pony was always there, walking with him. Like it physically could not be away from him. But that wasn’t even the strangest part. Kids actually made room for the little guy. Flash knew, conceptually, that it made no sense that everyone ignored the pony even as they stepped around it. But they did, curving and scuttling and absently swerving when they needed to, as if the pony were a boat cutting through a sea of denim jeans and neon mini-skirts. Like they were in on the joke. Like they wanted Flash to think he was insane. But why stick to the script with such eerie enthusiasm? “I’ve had my fair share of fillyfriends, Flash,” the pony version of Flash said as Flash emptied his locker. “And let me tell you: it’s not supposed to go like that.” “Uh huh,” said Flash, throwing his books into his bag. It helped to just agree with everything the pony said. Much easier to ignore him that way. Much easier to ignore his relationship issues too. The pony spread his little wings and leaned his head forward, which was probably his way of sticking arms out to imagine something. “You’re supposed to talk about your feelings, not push them away. Hold hooves, take walks on the stormfront, fly a jet stream, you know. Find a way to unwind.” “Yep.” Flash slung his bag over his shoulder and elbowed his way into the crowd getting out of fifth period. Just another forty-five minutes of sitting next to a pony in class and he could go home. A pony that breathed abnormally loudly and stared at him the entire time. “I would know,” said the pony, “because I’ve had a lot of fillyfriends, Flash.” “I’m sure.” “Like, a lot.” Flash sighed. ------ The pony sat on his desk during last period. On his book. Staring him right in the eyes. Flash tried to act nonchalant, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed and gaze straight forward. The pony, undaunted, continued to talk. “—so I said, Static? If you’re gonna be so lame that you won’t cover my shift? I’ll just have to let slip who ate all the churros at Maisy’s last birthday party.” Flash blinked so slowly he could swear he heard his eyelids creak. Who knew a talking pony could be so… banal. Even Professor Turner’s normal droning was heaven compared to this monotonous assault on his eardrums. He looked down at the pony’s butt. Not for any reason. Just curiosity. He noticed something even more peculiar than the Parting of the Hallway before class. The book’s pages weren’t even indented by the pony’s hindquarters. The pony had no weight. No presence. The paper didn’t even crinkle when it wiggled around. “And let me tell you, he covered, like, eight of my shifts after that. I think he has a thing for Maisy. Hey, speaking of girls lemme just say that that Sunset girl has some serious--” Flash shoved the pony with both hands. It felt like smacking a teddy bear, in spite of the fact that the pony seemed like it should weigh the same as a large dog. It let out a tiny ‘oof!’ and went flying, hitting the student in front of Flash right between their shoulders with a squeak--a real, audible squeak toy squeak. It bounced like a rubber ball and collapsed beneath Flash’s desk. Nobody noticed. Nobody turned and gasped or screamed or shouted ‘hey, what’s a talking crayon drawing doing in the classroom?’ The teacher kept droning on about something something science, drawing arrows back and forth between graphs and charts in limitless, blissful monotony. The pony clawed its way back up, glaring at Flash. “Uh, dude?” Flash buried his head in his hands. ------ When the final bell rang, he grabbed his bag and sprinted for the exit. He shoved aside students and was out of earshot before he heard them hit the floor. He rushed past Sunset Shimmer as she called out, reminding him to dress handsomely tomorrow for passing out flyers to her class president meeting. He burst through the double doors into glaring afternoon sunlight and booked it for his car, pounding the pavement and ignoring how his backpack flopped around, digging volumes of sophomore Enlightenment poetry into his spine. He didn’t care. He had to get home. He had to get away from the pony. The pony that wouldn’t shut up. The pony that dogged him since seven-thirty AM that morning. The pony that nobody saw but everyone scooted away from. He dug around for his keys and almost scratched the paint as he stabbed the keyhole, feeling a cold sweat come over him. “Flash?” “YAAAAHHH!” Flash spun, weaponizing his backpack for a brief moment as it slipped down his arm. The momentum of eight hundred dollars’ worth of mandatory study material sent him spinning in a dizzy whirlwind, ending with a sudden collision with his car’s driver side window. Sunset Shimmer stood unfazed, hands akimbo. Her lips jutted out in a perfect little angry pout, and her eyebrow was arched in a perfect curve. Everything about Sunset was perfectly curved, but there was bite behind those full, painted lips. Flash knew about that all too well. “Flash,” she snapped, “why do you do these things to me?” “Umm, things?” Flash whimpered as he peeled his face from the window. “I don’t do things, babe. Not unless you tell me to!” “You ran away from me after the last bell,” she said, The Voice starting to bubble up beneath her svelte tones. “You literally pushed me into a locker and ran away.” Flash went pale, and his knees felt weak. “I-I pushed you? Oh cheez-its, I’m so sorry, babe! You’re not hurt, are you? I’ve just been having the weirdest day and—” “Everyone saw it, Flash. That’s my point. They saw you acting like a freakazoid fresh off the short bus. And of course I’m not hurt. Your upper body strength is too lacking. Have you been skipping the workout days I scheduled for you?” “What?! No, of course not—” “What’s this about a weird day?” Sunset sounded less curious and more demanding as she crossed her arms, putting her weight on one leg and sticking out one of her dangerously curvy hips. “Uhh.” Flash tugged his jacket collar. She didn’t sound totally disinterested, unlike every other time she spoke to him. That in itself was encouraging, in a strange way. He pressed forward, forcing the words past stammering lips. “W-well, it’s like I was trying to say at lunch, babe. I think I’m starting to see things. Maybe it’s the stress of, I dunno, tests or something? You have that super-important class president meeting, I guess? And, well, I woke up, and in my closet there was this talking thing, like a pony, and it’s been, you know, talking at me all day and people see it but they act like they don’t but they do and—” “Stop.” Sunset held up her hand, open palm right in front of his nose. “I believe you.” “Uh, what?” Flash felt a flutter of hope tickle his tummy. Then Sunset closed her eyes and sighed. “I believe that you forgot that you were supposed to touch base with Minty Green about getting the flyers for tomorrow made and you’re making up some lame excuse to try and keep me from getting angry.” Flash flapped his arms up and down. “But the pony!” he sputtered, and immediately felt stupid for saying it. “Babe, I wouldn’t lie to you—” Sunset’s hand curled into a fist, hard and fast enough he felt the brush of air from her fingers, crushing the next words out of his mouth. “Just. Don’t. Flash. Don’t. I’m too tired from a long day of planning our big announcement to try and explain why your behavior is so… weird. I don’t know where you’re from, but here on Earth, where all the normal kids live, ponies don’t talk.” “But they—” “Don’t. They really, really don’t.” She sauntered up to him and placed her warm, soft hands on both his cheeks, smiling. It was not a nice smile. Not at all. Her smile was made of sharp edges and unspoken promises. “Sweetie, please try to remember that of the two of us, I pretty much make this whole thing work. If you really can’t handle the pressure that comes of being the former most eligible bachelor of Canterlot High, then please…” She trailed into silence. Flash, cheeks slightly smooshed, glanced quickly back and forth. “Try and… communicate with you?” he guessed. “No.” Sunset gave his cheeks a single pat. “Never say a word of it, and let me handle the rest.” She sighed, melodrama and sarcasm dripping from her lips. Her breath was warm on his nose. “Student body president, prom queen, and now babysitter to a bundle of nerves. It’s a good thing you’re so cute, Flash.” Flash felt something heavy shove him forward. With no warning his lips crashed into Sunset's with bruising, passionate force. Stars exploded behind Flash's eyes and the world went all fuzzy, but that was more because of the pain of their foreheads colliding than anything else. Sunset had the presence of mind to keep her balance, putting her hands firmly on Flash's chest to try and brace against his weight bearing down. Flash just kept trying not to bear down at all, but something round and firm had his head in a vise grip, keeping him firmly mashed against his girlfriend's face. "Mmmff!" he said, trying to apologize. "Ffffmmmhh!" Sunset said, demanding an explanation. The pressure on Flash's head suddenly released, but the moment he tried to lean back, Sunset spun to one side. Her pushing became grabbing, then pulling, and then throwing as she judo-flipped Flash onto the asphalt in one swift go. The backpack took most of the blow, but then, his spine took the blow of the books inside, so it was a nasty trade-off. "Ow, babe," he grunted, and in the face of her frazzled expression that bordered between severe confusion and volcanic fury, he opted for what normally worked: his trademark boy band smile. "On any other day, I'd find that kinda hot," he said, quirking his lip up in a grinning smirk. Sunset stared down at him in silence. One of her eyelids twitched. Flash's grin faltered. He awkwardly turned over like an upended turtle, dusting his pant legs. "Heh, um, sorry about the... I don't know what could've—" "Flash," Sunset said, her voice flat. "Uh, yes?" Flash looked up with hope in his eyes. "Just..." Sunset's lips bobbed open and closed like a fish. She stared off into the horizon. "Just warn me next time you're feeling... whatever that was." She spun on a dime and marched away, shoulders square and gait stiff. About five feet off she stopped mid-step and snapped her fingers. The sound echoing across the parking lot. “Girls!” she barked, and a swarm of mini-skirted females swooped down from nowhere, filling the space around Sunset with vapid small talk as they receded into the distance. “Uh,” Flash said, reaching out. “But. Wait. I don’t…” And then he was alone. “... Remember what the big announcement is.” He sat there on one knee, arm out in desperate appeal, waiting for Sunset to come back and tell him just one more time what he was supposed to remember, that ponies didn’t talk, that he wasn’t going crazy. Even to just straighten out his posture and stop gawking like she usually did. Trying to come to intelligent, measured conclusions about what invisible talking horses meant was hard when Sunset wasn’t there to give instructions. Sunset was really good at giving instructions. It was one of the things he liked most about her, on top of the curves. Flash turned back to his car, feeling the crushing weight of guilt that he had disappointed her. It wasn’t his fault he saw things and didn’t know what to do about them. Almost nothing was his fault, because he didn’t really do anything at all, most of the time. He tried to do what made people happy, or at least satisfied. The pony just threw everything off-kilter, that’s all. It just… just happened to— —be fluttering in the air right behind him. Flash supposed those wings had to be good for something. He was too angry for awe-struck wonder at the moment. “Wow,” said the pony. “I don’t know what it is about that girl, but she gives me the feather ruffle something fierce. And that's not necessarily a good thing!” "You!" Flash jabbed his finger in the pony's face. Its wings snapped open, and it plopped onto the hood of the car. "Did you do that? The pushing and the kissing and getting my butt whooped by my girlfriend?!" "Of course!" the pony said, with a winning smile, quirking the corner of his lip up. Flash felt a sudden blush of jealousy. That was his trademark smile. The pony was wearing his smile. "She just called you cute, your faces were really close, what else was gonna happen? It's what I would've done. I'm here to help you, Flash, and if your fillyfriend is any indication, you need a lot of it. Fortunately, from what I can tell, we're pretty similar, you and I. Even got the same name!" "No we don't." "Yes we do, Flash Sentry. Ha ha, so weird to be calling you that when that's my name too!" "It's not." The pony ignored him, turning in a little dog-like circle on the hood of his car, staring at everything and anything with childlike affection. "So where am I going next, me?" Flash narrowed his eyes. “You’re going back in the closet.”