//------------------------------//
// The Ritual (Friday, October 13th) 
// Story: The Past Life of Pinkamena Diane Pie 
// by Mlws 
//------------------------------//

Friday, October 13th
I stared into the oven with utter shock and dismay at what I had found inside it. Was that really…? No way… This is all a bad nightmare, I thought. I rubbed my eyes, hoping it was all a hallucination, or my eyes were possibly still irritated and that was what had distorted my view of the meal inside the oven. But it wasn’t. Everything was as clear as day. I found two bodies inside the oven. The bodies of my dear filly sisters lay in a supine position in the oven. They were decapitated. Their heads were departed from their bodies, but I wasn’t going to go look around for them. The shock took over my body. I couldn’t move. I was still as stone. Emotional shock and stress hold me in one place. I couldn’t cry, and I couldn’t feel anything. Not even pain, or depression. I couldn’t do anything. I was upset, sure, but it was nothing that hadn’t already happened before. I stood in utter shock, ready to scream and wail. But I thought it all through before I really had. Should I go and scream? No one is within a few miles of here, and I’m alone with the dead bodies of my family. How am I supposed to live here with all of these carcasses, and no food, and no proper rock training?! 
I realized that sooner or later, I’d need to remove the bodies from the house if I were to continue living here. My parents used to talk about this weird ritual that had been passed down through my family. He said that if anyone died, and we set up the ritual, a strange woman would arrive and revive the person from the dead, and allow their spirit to roam. I wondered if this would work, and tried to remember everything from that conversation we had a few years ago.
I created small little rock memorials set up for each of my dead relatives. There was a circle of rocks to go around their body, and their name was carved into a stone that would lie above their heads (or for Gertrude and Helga, their necks), and I carved their cutie mark into a rock as well. Father’s little pickaxe was carved into his rock, and mother had her three stones carved into her rock. Poor Gertrude and Helga hadn’t even gotten their cutie marks yet. What a shame! I declared them “Blank Flanks” and gave them a clear rock without anything carved into it. 
I had everything perfectly set up… except for one thing. The bodies were too weighty. The memorials were pointless without the bodies. I had tried to bring ma out of the silo, and I succeeded in doing so, but her body practically fell apart in my arms. I shuddered as I stared at the nasty, decomposed body of my mother. I realized this may have been disturbing her peace, so I looked away. How would I do this? I easily placed Gertrude and Helga into their spots in the ritual. I went to look at Pa. I realized it had been two days since Pa was underneath that piano. He’d be sure to be a rotting, smelly mess. I couldn’t lift a piano, and his body would definitely not come out whole if I tried to pull his heavy body out from underneath the instrument. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but I took Pa’s arm, and threw it in his place for the ritual. I lifted Ma, and put whatever would stay intact into the rock circle. Everything should work now. The only thing I was worried about was the fact not ALL of the body made it there for Pa or Ma. But soon enough, I turned my head to the right and looked at the cottage. 
Suddenly, a massive cloud of mist covered our property. I couldn’t see through the fog, but I knew someone would be there if this happened to be the woman from the ritual. I stood still in order to keep from tripping over their corpses due to my temporary blindness. It was silent, and not a single noise came from me or another woman. I waited for several minutes in the deep puffs of mist and fog, soon to hear a faded voice call out “Pinkamena? Pinkamena is that you?” 
“Hello?” I called out somewhat harshly, on accident due to surprise.
“Is that you Pinkamena?” asked a quiet voice.
I replied with excitement. Had it worked? “Yes. It’s me. It’s Pinkamena. Who are you?” 
All of a sudden, the fog cleared, and everything was bright. I could see transparent figures standing before me, even grayer than before. It was upsetting, but I was overjoyed to see them again. I ran at Ma. I felt so horrible. Was it all my fault like she said? I was a centimeter away from Ma before I fell through her. It upset me so much. Gertrude and Helga’s ghosts were sobbing and apologizing, so I couldn’t hear anything my mother said. All I picked up was the name “Zecora”. I decided not to push it further, because I missed them so much, and this wasn’t time for questions. Father stood still, unharmed by any of the incidents. I decided not to be hurt by this, because I was confused on how to feel as well.
Soon enough, I realized that it was Friday and ignored the joy I should have been feeling at this reunion. I wasn't happy. There was never smiling, and there never would be. Not here. This Friday was the day the south field’s rocks to be rotated to the east field! It was still early! I had time! I looked at the cottage searching for the wheelbarrow to set up for Helga and Gertrude while I was busy rotating so they could harvest early, but I was frozen for a moment. A pony.. No… A zebra stood facing away from the cottage. As I stared at the woman, everypony went inside. A zebra with a sun in place of a cutie mark... and she started to walk away and fade in the distance. And that was when I called out for her. It was the woman. The very woman I was looking for. It was the very woman that revived my family.