The stationary pink bubbles dotted an endlessly bright, blue sky above a great expansion of rolling and inverted hills. Among these hills lay deep pits, flowers of every color, the softest grass ever felt by a pony, and enough good things to eat to keep even the most ravenous of creatures content. An even rationing of warm, sweet air, usually only savored upon perfect summer nights, coated the landscape. Among the endless wonder of the land was the wonder of why it was dead. Atop the summits of hills, the depths of foreboding pits, and the curiously positioned fields was nary a soul. No birds sung here, no crickets chirped, and no voices sang. Silence would have reigned here without any contest, save for laughter. A bright, happy laughter often rang out from the world, the only voice to be heard, the only sound to press against the silence.
Pinkie Pie was lying on her back; enjoying a cupcake so tasty she might as well have baked it herself. She took a bite, savored the tremendous flavor of the icing, the light, fluffy texture of the bread, and promptly engulfed the rest. She glanced over at her side, where another sat ready. It was consumed in a similar technique. More cupcakes were scattered about her, with no pests to spoil them, any were perfectly fine to eat. Pinkie patted her stomach, and rose, stretching. How long had she been lying here? She couldn’t remember. If she had to guess, however, it would be about two baker’s dozens ago. That felt about right. She strolled over to the edge of the field and looked over to witness blue, and plenty of it. That’s boring, who needs that much blue? She huffed and looked up; above her was a vast landscape of hills and fields. Much better, but she would need a running jump, lest she find herself in the same place.
Pinkie turned and bounced over to the other end of the spat of grass, squashing a stray cupcake in the process.
“Hmm…still good.” She decided as she licked the rather delectable mess from her hoof.
There was a run, a hop, a skip, a back flip, and a perfect landing. Seeing no reason to pause here, the pony hopped along, looking up to see the small selection of grass high above her, dotted with cupcakes. She should have taken one with her. Chances were that there would be others; in fact, it was pretty certain there would be others waiting for her. After all, this was her mind.
Pinkie began to run, passing a large selection of extravagantly shaped balloons, stopping briefly to pick out a few pieces from a mound of candy, and wading through a normal river, except it seemed to be flowing uphill. Yet, silly her, there was no uphill in this place, only the flat of the ground beneath her hooves. Pinkie was quite content with this now, as there was never a risk of falling or getting hurt; there was only the flat of the ground beneath her, regardless of where it was or where she had been.
She stuck her nose to the air and sniffed once more, the lustrous aroma of freshly baked bread wafted above her. It was not hard to find the origin of the smell, a large selection of rolls and baguettes had been placed in a rather odd formation: the flat ground leading up to a vertical wall that turned into a ceiling. The fourth side was missing, giving her access to the goods inside. Yet there was one quite curious ending to the formation: off the edge of what was now a ceiling was a lump of dirt. No grass, no treats, just dirt. Dirt was fun, she had decided, dirt was good.
Pinkie spent no time moving along the three sides, feeling the world shift around her to ensure she was always on the ground, yet now before her was the dirt. It was too far for her hooves to reach by stretching…it seemed a jump was in order. Pinkie stepped back, measured the distance, disregarded that, and jump as far as she could. Yet she did not land. There was air around her, and she was falling. The mound of dirt and the rest of the world were falling away above her. Had she done something wrong? No, she couldn’t have, it was impossible. She had decided that she did, in fact, own this place. It was hers by right or mental capability; whichever came first.
She landed softly, which she thanked herself for. Still, it was strange that that part of her world would reject her like that. Maybe it was forcing her to keep moving. Not a bad way of doing it. This part of her mind seemed similar, yet the air was not as sweet here. It wasn’t foul, per say, just not as sweet. Yet…there was something else here. Something very familiar, and warmly welcomed to her lonely ears: voices. Pony voices. A wide smile appeared on Pinkie’s face as she galloped over the few hills standing in her way to discover who it was.
“Twilight? Rarity? Applejack? Rainbow? Fluttershy?” she called out, hoping for a reply. Yet none came. The voices were still there, yet the closer she got the more certain she became that they did not belong to her friends. Still, somepony is better than nopony. Pinkie reached the summit of a rather strange hill, and looked over to see somepony she had not beheld in a very long time.
“Sis?” she whispered. There before her was none other than one of her sisters, the grey one to be exact, moving the scattered rocks into one pile Why couldn’t she remember her sister’s name? She hadn’t expected to see any of her family here, but then again, it seemed to make sense that her family would be here.
Pinkie jumped from her perch and landed on the same plane as her sister.
“Sis!” she called out. Her sister halted the rock farming to glance up at her. There was no emotion in her eyes. “Hey! What are you doing here? Oh, wait, of course you would be here. Silly me! I’m guessing our parents are here too? What about our other sister?”
The reply was unexpected. Pinkie spun and hit the ground from the sudden lashing out of her sibling’s hoof. Pinkie rose and winced. What had just happened? She had run up to her sister and gotten hit? Why?
“What’s the matter, Pinkie?” came a familiar voice. Pinkie turned as the tears began to form in her eyes. Rocky was there before her, complete with party hat. “Oh, come now Pinkie, you know you’re not allowed to be sad here.”
“Why?” the pony sniffed, wiping a tear away.
“This is not the part of your mind you are sad. This is the place where you’re happy. Sunshine, candy, grass and happiness, yes?”
“I guess so, but why did my sister hit me?”
“Don’t know.”
“Why is she here?”
“That’s a question you will have to ask yourself. I think normally they lurk elsewhere, but right now the whole family is here in your mind, and if I recall you didn’t part on perfect terms.”
“I wasn’t like them. I didn’t want to live and work on a rock farm forever.”
“Hmm. Think about it. Remember, you can’t be sad here, Pinks. You have to buck up and take it. Save your tears, you’ll need them.
“Ok.” Pinkie managed a weak smile.
“Oh, but I did find out one thing for you. The door leading out is locked, and I’m guessing one of your parents has the key.”
Pinkie frowned at this bit of news, yet did her best to keep a stiff upper lip.
“Oh dear.” Rocky murmured, and began to slide away. Yet it was not faster than Pinkie’s sister, who promptly knocked it over and rolled in into the stack of rocks as Pinkie worked her around the hostile relative.