//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: Moving Forward // Story: Proxy // by Thithle Candytufth //------------------------------// There’s nothing here for me anymore. Twilight thought, rustling through the piles of miscellaneous junk that littered her room. She came across tomes read ages ago, scratched picture frames, and various pieces of magical paraphernalia. She came upon the toy chest left untouched since she was a filly. She lifted the lid and its rusty hinges squealed and cracked. Smarty Pants. Twilight gazed into its button eyes, which hung perilously from single strings. I remember you. You’ve gotten much more attention than you realize. The long-dead clamored to be in your presence. Yes, yes. I remember. I’m sure that was great for you. But your experiences were simply a byproduct of a conjuration. You’d wish it never ended, I’m sure. ‘What is it about reality that’s so special?’ I’m sure you’d ask. I don’t know. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing here to wake up for. Sleep in the chest, Smarty Pants. You can afford to do so. You may as well never awaken. You’re a sack of cloth and stuffing, nothing more. Twilight shut the chest gently. She turned, swiped her empty saddlebag off of the floor, and headed for the door. As she opened it, she gave her room one final glance. Everything happened here. All of the memories were conceived here. She slipped out of the door and into the crisp night air. She began walking, but occasionally stopped mid-stride, the weight of her thoughts encumbering her. They weren’t conceived. Did I not make the memories? Did I not decide my actions for myself? The world was shaped around you, Twilight. They were all scripted. They acted as they did because Celestia created them to do so. It was a stage show. You just were not aware— the other actors cued you in on your lines as scenes presented themselves. Spike drew the curtain and you met the audience, director, and set designer. So now I’m stepping off the stage. No one saw the play. No one will get it. Keep the curtain closed. Twilight came to a full stop. Shining Armor may understand if I try to talk to him again. Keep the curtain closed, Twilight Sparkle. No one will understand. She hesitantly began to move forward again. Twilight shivered. But can I ever put this behind me? Can I stand in front of that curtain and pretend nothing was ever behind it? Move forward, Twilight Sparkle. You have a train to catch. Twilight nodded resolutely. Yes, and a life ahead of me. New friends to make. You can find a shred of meaning in this new world, free from the meddling of a deranged absolute goddess. There are no fabrications. Everything from now on is real. You’ve stepped in front of the curtain, now leave the theatre. After minutes of confident strides through the streets of Canterlot, Twilight found herself at the train station. She ordered a ticket from the half-asleep stallion in the window. She snatched it and turned with a curt “thank you”. Ponyville, here I come. The train was, for the most part, empty. A few tired-eyed mares and stallions occupied the front car, chatting idly over complicated beverages. Twilight walked down the aisle, carefully avoiding the hooves of other passengers, until she reached the very back of the train. She lied down on the velvet cushion, tucking her hooves beneath her head. She faced the window, watching the night-enveloped landscape as it slid by. The brush of moonlight had run dry, it seemed, as the rolling hills and snow-kissed mountaintops were engulfed in complete darkness. Twilight concentrated on the silhouettes, trying to make out the shapes as they passed her by. This diversion kept her mind occupied. She felt the slightest bit of serenity. The scenery was still beautiful, she could be sure. So this is where it starts. Twilight thought, her eyes still fixated on the window. I want this to be a start, not a reset. Nopony needs an encore. Twilight shifted slightly on the cushion, readjusting but unable to become completely comfortable. I wonder what Ponyville will be like. Heck, I wonder what all of Equestria is like. The fire-fringed edges of the sun began to creep up from beneath the mountains. Twilight cringed a little as she saw it crawl upwards. It began to burn away the darkness, highlighting the hills and mountaintops. The blackness disseminated, leaving behind blues and grays and violets. Doing your job, huh, she thought, grinding her teeth. Haven’t found another mare yet? No, no. I really should just forget about her. I have nothing to do with her anymore. With the sound of a whistle and the slowing of the train’s cadence, she had arrived at the station. There was some more tired babbling and the shifting of hooves as the train was emptied. Twilight walked out of the door and stepped off of the platform. Her eyes swept across the image before her. Cloaked in the dim crepuscular light was an array of buildings, all thatched-roofed and exuding comfort and quaintness. Every shutter was closed, freshly blown-out lanterns were pouring out white smoke, and the streets were empty, all understandable at the current hour. Twilight began walking down the roughly paved road, examining the edifices before her. Buildings were tightly packed together, with snug alleyways. The buildings carved a rotary around what was Sugarcube Corner. The building in its place featured a spiraled, pointed roof much like a seashell, and its front was covered in a mosaic of stars. The cottages were, for the most part, the same assembly of straw and oak that she had been accustomed to passing daily. The pathways snaked around differently, forming lanes and byways and boulevards. There was very little open space to be seen; an upward gaze revealed fields of straw. Few standouts with differing architecture caught Twilight’s eye. What was once ‘Quills and Sofas’ now had a flag with an image of a vinyl record hanging from a metal pole over the door. The building was exceptionally larger than before, with what appeared to be an entire cottage as an addition. Twilight found herself instinctively following the pathway to her home. A large part of her desired respite in the upper portion of the hollowed out tree, but at this point she fully realized this was not possible. The once wide pathway to the library was cluttered with identical homes, each with the same overhanging upper floors. Twilight soon came upon her former abode. On the left-hand side, where the grand oak tree stood, was a granite-columned building with a short pyramidal roof. Planted in front were barren forsythia bushes and ferns. A set of stairs led to the front of the building, with a statue of an alicorn on each side. The building reeked of tranquility, an unrelenting stillness and calm. Twilight could feel the thick silence enter her sinuses as she inhaled. The monument sucked in the noise of the night, the crickets chirping and the stirring of the tree branches in the wind. It gripped these noises and consumed them, dragging them into its vast open atrium. Twilight felt the beginnings of sleep come upon her.