Chapter 3
You wake up in the Manehatten Train Station. Every start and stop, every time the train seemed like it was turning a little too quickly, I prayed for a crash. I prayed that I might close my eyes and find eternal sleep, hundreds of ponies packed together in the fuselage. This was how I met Twilight Sparkle. You wake up in Appleloosa. You wake up in Trottingham. You wake up in Fillydelphia.
Twilight worked for Princess Celestia. She was her personal assistant and understudy. When she wasn’t gallivanting all over Equestria for our good leader, she was working part time in the castle’s library. Because of her position and good standing with Celestia, she was one of the few ponies allowed in the forbidden section of the royal book and scroll collection. This was a mistake that no one knew until it was far, far too late. She would spend night after night buried in the texts of those ancient pages, reading until her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with black. She would lay sprawled on the floor, books in towers around her, taking note of any interesting spell she could find.
She wasn’t actually supposed to spend her hours reading. Her actual job was to organize the reading material, make catalogues of the books and scrolls and most importantly, make sure that no pony other than herself was allowed in the restricted section. That was the only part of her job she actually did. Those books were hers and no one would lay a horn on them as long as she was there. Sometimes she even hid particularly special books from the normal section in the restricted area, just so other ponies couldn’t get their hooves on them. I knew this because Twilight knew this.
You wake up in Baltimare. I study the ponies around me as I push through the crowd of the station. I spot a mare sitting on a bench next to the ticket booth. Her eyes are wide and she’s gripping a saddlebag close to her chest. Terror is written all over her face. I could see the scene playing out in her eyes. The train going faster and faster, losing control. It tips to one side, slamming all the passengers to the wall, luggage tumbling down on them. The train is falling off of a bridge, plummeting to the canyon below. I shoot her a weak smile as I pass. I feel no sympathy, but maybe the smile will comfort her.
The charm of traveling is that everywhere I go, I get tiny life. I go to the hotel, tiny soaps, tiny shampoos, single-use toothbrushes. Dinner arrives in tiny, one pony sized portions. It makes me feel like I’m a giant in this massive world. Like maybe I could be important. Isnt that a joke?
Twilight Sparkle kept the forbidden spells she’d copied in a huge leather bound journal, her cutie mark engraved on the front. She spent hours upon hours memorizing the texts, practicing the spells until her horn ached. This was something she was never supposed to have done. She was allowed to read whatever she wanted, but only for research purposes. She, nor no other pony, were to actually learn these spells and curses. They were to remain hidden from ponykind for the rest of eternity. They were too strong for any one creature to control. Twilight held no regard for limits. She was above them. Having those powers at her disposal made her feel powerful, superior even, to every pony around her. She knew ways to kill a pony before they knew it was coming. Twilight sparkle was a god.
You wake up in Los Pegasus. I have an almost empty train tonight, so I felt free to sprawl out in the seat of my empty cabin. I look at my watch, and then start spinning the arms around and around and around, time no longer mattering. This was my life and it’s ending one minute at a time. You’re a goddess among ponies. You’re powerful. You’re strong. You’re bored. You learn things you shouldn’t, that have been hidden away, and you get stronger. More godlike. Everyone will fear you. If they don’t they should. Twilight rambled something like this once, while she was practicing a spell, and I shivered, realizing its truth.
You wake up in Dodge Junction. Every trip Celestia sends me on, for whatever reason it may be, I pray for it to be the last. That I’ll sleep and never wake. I realize that I shouldn’t pray to whatever deity is hiding in the clouds, watching our puny lives for its amusement. I should be praying to Twilight Sparkle.
You wake up in Canterlot. Again. How I met Twilight Sparkle was I went to a beach. It was the end of the summer and I was asleep. Twilight was sweaty and gritty with sand, her mane stringy and hanging in her face and she was reading. Her nose was buried in a book with a bright red cover with large glowing letters. I couldn’t read the title, all I could see was that her eyes never left it’s pages. She’d stop reading only to scribble a note or two or to appease the group of ponies who had come with her. She’s pretend to listen to their words, then quickly shoo them away, returning to the mystical words written on the paper before her.
You wake up at the beach. I’m starring and she knows I’m starring and for that instant it feels like we’re the only two ponies there. She looks up from her studies and smiles and shouts, “Do you have the time?” All the time in the world for you, Twilight. A lifetime ticking away one second at a time. I look down at my watch.
“It’s 4:06,” I shout back. She nodded then went back to the book. I starred at the studious pony until she had finally finished and closed the cover hard. I watched her stand and take a short splash in the water, the pull on her saddlebag and start to leave. I had to ask. I had to know what book had her so mesmerized. What words could keep a pony that enthralled. She smiled, happy to talk about her studies. The book was a study on something called The Elements of Harmony. She ranted about the book until the sun had set, abandoning the group she’d come with to talk with me. And I was infatuated with her the way she was with her books. Her spells made her feel meaningful, like she had a purpose. Twilight Sparkle gave me my purpose. Twilight was my god.
You wake up and you’re nowhere. You’re nowhere and it’s perfect. You wake up and that’s enough. Her name was Twilight Sparkle and she was an understudy to Princess Celestia, and she was a librarian at the castle, and she gave me her address. And this was how we met.
All the usual hornless unicorns are here tonight. This was the biggest of all the support groups that I went to. So many ponies that had lost their magic, lost their purpose. This is Comet Tail. This is Amethyst Star. This is May Ball. Hi. The introductions, everypony, this is Pinkie Pie and this is her first time with us. Hi Pinkie.
The group always starts by talking about the accomplishments the members had made over the week. How they had coped with their malfunctions, with the loss they’ve endured. They never say magic here. They never say talent. No one wants reminded of what they can never have again. Everypony gets a name tag, and ponies you’ve met over and over again come at you for a hug or a hoofshake. Like you’re their best friend. Like you’re their only friend.
Before the session starts, the group leader stands, tears in his eyes and announces that something very sad has happened. She says with a cracking voice that Lemony Gem had taken her own life the evening before. That she was so lonely and so broken that she had given up. She wanted to dream forever. Lucky bitch. Everypony had a tear in their eye. They were all emotional, ready to break down. I would be too if not for her. Pinkie. Faker, faker, faker. And she’s starring again with those creepy blue eyes. The word liar was flashing in neon around her head. I can’t break when she’s watching. She’s the fake. You’re the fake. Everyone around you is fake. Except Lemony Gem. She wasn’t fake.
I knew this meeting wasn’t taking me anywhere tonight. I knew I wasn’t breaking. Pinkie was sitting starring and eating a cupcake from the refreshment table. Her gaze is piercing into me, boring holes, and it burns like I’ve been set ablaze. Liar. Faker. You can’t escape.
Lemony Gem was the real deal. She wasn’t a fake. Her mind and body ached and she had nowhere to turn. She was lonely and in the end she found peace in herself. I wanted to cry for her, to mourn, but I can’t cry. And it’s all her fucking fault. It’s time to hug, to mourn the loss of fighter. My arms clamp around Pinkie Pie. The cupcake that had been in her hoof was now pinned at her waist. Pinkie hadn’t lost her wings. She hadn’t lost her magic. She hadn’t lost her purpose. She wasn’t lonely the way Lemony Gem was lonely. She wasn’t broken or empty. The cues come, share yourself with your partner.
So, Pinkie, how do you like them apples? Share yourself completely. So Pinkie, get out. Get out, get out, get out. Go ahead, cry if you need to. Pinkie stares up at me, her big blue eyes diving into mine. Her ears perk up from beneath her mountain of pink mane, her lips covered in frosting. Go ahead and cry.
“You’re as fake as me,” Pinkie says. Around us, couples start sobbing, weeping for the warrior who had fallen. Tears raining down as they propped their bodies against one another. “You tell on me, I tell on you.”
“Then we can split the week,” I tell her. You can have such-and-such, and blah-blah-blah and whatever else you want. But I get Wingrot and Horn Loss. I get Rainbow Dash. I get Lemony Gem.
“No,” she says, her eyes narrowing. She wants it all. She never dreamed she could feel this way. So complete. She actually felt alive. All her life had been a wave of perfection. She’d never felt alive because she’d never had something to compare it to. She’d never known how terrible a pony’s life could be. How fast a world could crumble. Now that she knows where we’re all headed, Pinkie feels every moment of her life. No, she wasn’t leaving.
“Not and go back to the way life felt before,” She says. “No spell, no party, no food. Nothing can make me feel like this. I’m an addict and I this is my drug.” Couples around us are drying their tears, sniffling and letting go. I had to think of something fast.
“Please, Pinkie Pie, you don’t understand,” I plead. “I need this.” Everyone is breaking up from their duos to say their goodbyes. I was saying my goodbyes to sleep. To dreams. Tonight, I had lost a war. Tonight, like Lemony, I would cry myself into an eternal sleep. I looked to Pinkie, who’s head way cocked to one side. She sighed and turned as she started to gather her things.
“Ugh. Fine, okay. You win,” She says. “You can have wingrot.” Rainbow Dash, that blob of misplaced flab, whimpering all over me. Oblivion. Thank you. I smile and I am at peace.
“Don’t mention it,” She says as she trots out of the room. This is how I met Pinkie Pie.