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// 5... 
// Story: Five Minutes to Midnight 
// by WinterShade 
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“… and that is how Princess Luna defeated Nightmare Moon, thereby ridding us of her evil and restoring order to Equestria.” – the teacher finished her monotonous speech, leaving a few seconds of silence for her story to sink in.

In the ensuing murmur, the teacher’s eyes glossed over the uniform collection of foals sitting in rows before her as she carefully studied their expressions trying to judge how much attention they had paid. She noted that, although there were a few of them visibly interested in the subject at hoof, their eyes fixed on the timeline on the blackboard at the helm of the classroom,  it seemed that the majority cared little for their history. Or at least the version that the Ministry and the school board told them to teach.

Her gaze first reached a couple of fillies seated together near the wall, who, instead of listening to her, were silently whispering among themselves and drawing sketches in each other’s notebooks, occasionally giggling as one of them drew something funny. Next to them sat a group of similarly noisy colts who were also talking among themselves, but instead of doodling, they were apparently holding a competition of who will fold the best paper airplane. Just a row behind them, without a desk partner, sat a curious lithe blue-haired filly who seemingly ignored the chatter in front of her, choosing instead to stare out the window and into the distance. And behind her, in the last row before the back wall, sat one of the repeating students, who despite already failing a year, still seemed to take snoozing as a viable alternative to participating in the lesson. In the row next to him, lying on the desk in a similar fashion, was another sleeper – this one at least having the fact he worked on the farm as an excuse to doze off. In fact, it seemed that he was so tired that not even the passionate debate of the pair of Pegasi colts sitting in front of him disturbed his slumber.

“Rainbow Dash is the coolest Shadowbolt there is.” – the teacher heard one of them pipe as silently as possible, waving a crude drawing of his idol in front of the other’s muzzle. 

“You don’t know what you are talking about! Spitfire is a far superior Shadowbolt to Rainbow Dash.” – the second one argued back in a similar fashion, presenting instead his rendition of the aforementioned mare’s Cutie Mark.

Now, as much as Ms. Motte valued discipline and hard work, for some reason the aged teacher just couldn’t bring herself to scold the mischievous foals. Perhaps it was the fact that the next period was lunch break and she was well aware that any admonishment she might make will do little good. Currently the only thing on these foal’s minds was how they will jump out of the classroom and go play in the schoolyard. Or perhaps it was just the fact that, after all, they were still foals, and given the situation the entire land was in, every happy moment of their foalhoods is precious to them. Sure, the war seems to be going better now, and the press is making sure that everyone knows it, but a dark cloud still hangs over everypony. She knows too well that many of these foals have parents on the frontlines - some still fighting what seems to be the second greatest battle ever and others who already lost the greatest one. And even those who are not directly fighting are working day and night to supply the frontlines, toiling in mines, farms and factories. Finally, the ever-present rumours of Zebra’s acquiring a powerful new weapon certainly don’t help. To be honest, it’s a miracle the spirits are this good.

But still, despite all this, some authority has to be maintained. The war will end and then somepony will have to rebuild the county once all this is done. And they can’t do that without hard work and discipline.

“Alright class.” – the teacher resumed in a firmer and louder tone, hoping to catch everypony’s attention. – “I hope you paid attention because we will now be having a short quiz on what you just heard.”

At the mention of a test, everypony in the classroom, even those previously sleeping, suddenly jumped in their seats, their awareness turning to the front of the class and the teacher. All of a sudden, a different kind of commotion erupted in the room as the foals scrambled to their (MoI-approved) history books, frantically listing in hopes to quickly obtain the missed knowledge. Countless years of history and lore were flown by in mere seconds as the quick little hooves searched for the correct story. Mildly amused, the teacher gave them a moment which she knew would make no real change, before telling them to pack their things and prepare a sheet of blank paper on which to write questions. 

The hastily obtained books now began a much slower descent back into school bags as the students tried to steal one last glance in a futile effort to cram as many facts into their little brains as possible. 

“Come on! The more time you spend on this, the less you will have for the quiz.” - the teacher hurried them along.

Finally, once everypony’s books and notebooks were safely out of sight, the teacher turned to the black board. As she enveloped a piece of chalk in her magical aura and brought it closer to the board, the tension in the room grew. Foals nervously glanced around, some desperately looking to their more attentive peers for assistance. Others, who didn’t have the luck of sitting next to someone who listens to the lesson, nervously poked their papers and the desks with pencils while massaging their heads with their other hooves. One of the fillies even seemed to be praying to Celestia to do something, anything, to stop the test.

Unbeknownst to them however, all of this was completely unnecessary as the old schoolteacher never really intended to grade the test. She just wanted them to squirm around a bit and perhaps listen to her a little more next time. In truth, she felt a little sorry seeing them all stressed out like this, but she knew it was too late to stop now. After all, what doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger. With that thought in mind, she touched the chalk to the smooth dark surface, thinking of what question to pose first. It took her only a moment of thinking before she had it and was ready to start writing it. 

However, before she could draw as much as a line, the filly’s prayer seemed to have somehow come true as an ominous wail pierced the air. It grew louder and louder, soon drowning out any other sound. Its painful shriek was but a harbinger of the screams that were soon to follow…