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// A Call 
// Story: Speak Not Of The End Of The World 
// by Shaslan 
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When Strawberry Sunrise was only eight years old, the world came to an end.

She was playing in the backyard when it happened. Her dolls were arranged around her on a picnic blanket, plastic utensils and silverware interspaced between them. An empty pink teacup was cradled in her hooves. 

Something came over her then. The birds fell silent, the wind faded away. In that second everything was still. Strawberry looked up at the cloudless sky, where the sun was sitting just above her head.

“Mom?”

And then, the sun vanished. It was gone for less than a second, and reappeared so quickly that light inexplicably failed to dim or change. The cup slipped out of her hooves and onto the grass. Her wings locked up in fear, and she felt the blood roaring in her ears as her heart seized up.

“Mom?!”

As quickly as it happened, it passed. The birds came out again, the wind returned to brush against her skin. Shakily, Strawberry stood up, abandoning her makeshift tea party and heading for the house. 

“Mom!”

The only reply was the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind, resting on the distant chirping of birdsong. As she reached the backdoor, Strawberry turned to glance up at the sky. The sun was still there but… it was different.

All her life, she had been taught about how the sun was essential for all life in Equestria. She had read countless tales and stories about the raising and lowering of the sun, and how Celestia used it to ensure that they all had a world to live and love in. 

But looking up at it, something was different.

There was nothing magical nor beautiful about it anymore. There was no awe nor fear within her as she regarded it. Just… nothingness. With a deep breath, Strawberry pushed open the screen door and stepped into her house.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The blinds were drawn tightly and the lights were off. The door to the kitchen had been left slightly ajar, a few carrots sitting on the cutting board by the sink. Strawberry paused by the fridge and peeked inside, searching for any leftover juice boxes. There was one left: fruit punch flavored. She took it and poked the straw through the opening before continuing.

She stopped again at the stairwell. The hallway directly above it was dark, the house still and quiet as if it were holding its breath. As she began her ascent, sipping on her juicebox, Strawberry paused at the fifth step. Experience of sneaking into the kitchen for midnight snacks had taught her that the step would creak awfully. More out of habit than anything else, she stepped over it, giggling to herself as she did so. 

When she looked up again there was something standing on the top of the stairs.

The figure looked like a pony, but dressed in a strange orange suit that covered all of its skin. It wore a helmet on its head with a black reflective visor, so shiny that Strawberry could see herself in it. They stood still and unmoving as if it were a statue. 

Strawberry took a step up the stairs.

The figure took a step down.

In the helmet’s visor, Strawberry saw blurs and shapes. Stark, white limbs stretching across a pitch black sky. Distant stars burning in a pure bright glow. A roar of fire and a sudden, violent red. They passed by too fast to hold onto.

The two continued to draw closer and closer, step by step. With every step up, Strawberry felt the world bend and break around her. Noise began to fill the air: a heavy, labored breathing, a mechanical beeping, a scream, crying. 

Finally the two came face to face, with Strawberry staring up at the pitch black visor.

“...Hi.”

The figure said nothing. Instead, they slowly raised their hoof. 

Strawberry placed their own hoof in the figure’s. When they touched, she saw everything. Scenes and images flashed through her mind, faster than any Wonderbolt could ever dream of going. Even though she couldn’t make them out, Strawberry could feel the pure emotion embedded into each and every one.

Pain. Loss. Fear. Anger. And then… there was nothing. Just numbness.

They broke contact and the figure reached up to grasp their helmet. There was a hiss of escaping air, and slowly, Strawberry came face to face with herself. 

The adult Strawberry looked down at her, in the same manner one would observe a bug below them. Her mouth was drawn in a taut line, her brow furrowed like she was deep in thought. Her eyes were dull, in a drastic contrast to the visor.

From somewhere behind her there was a low, distant humming: her mother’s favorite song. The adult Strawberry opened their mouth, but no sound came out. She seemed so tired. So empty. 

Strawberry looked down to fiddle with her juicebox. It was a quiet weekend outside. There was no screaming, no frantic running for safety and shelter. Nothing. In the schoolyard, Strawberry had played out some end of the world scenarios with her friends. The return of Discord. Of aliens. Of creatures straight from tartarus. Worlds where they could play the hero and save the world from destruction.

But this. This wasn’t that. This was quiet, meek, barely even noticeable. 

When Strawberry looked up, her adult self was gone, with no trace left behind that she was ever even there to begin with. The windchime on the porch let out a few solitary notes, and Strawberry proceeded up the stairs.

In a way, perhaps it was more poetic that the world came to end on a lazy Sunday afternoon. But it was still odd. Why was it so quiet? Why didn’t anyone fight it? Why was it so unrecognizable? 

Strawberry pushed open the door to her parent’s room. Her mother was sitting on the bed, folding laundry and humming to herself. She didn’t look up as Strawberry entered. Strawberry trotted over to the bed and climbed into her mother’s lap.

“What is it, dear,” her mother asked, stroking her mane.

Strawberry leaned into the warmth of her mother. “Something happened,” she said quietly.

Her mother smiled. “No, nothing happened.” She sighed, taking the juicebox from Strawberry’s hooves. “Sweetie, I told you, you can’t drink this many of these. It’s not good for you.”

Strawberry didn’t reply.

“Do you want a snack? Are you hungry?”

She nodded, deciding that she was, and her mother set her down on the ground. Strawberry followed her mother back to the kitchen, and they spoke nothing more of the end of the world.