1024 AC, ? Month, ? Day, ? h/min/s

Bluejays and mockingbirds and canaries galore...
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I have no idea what happened last night. Really, I don't.

Now, as all of you might wonder, you had seen my travels in the TARDIS. To be completely honest with you, I had no idea what I was doing until I remembered.... I remembered! Jolly good McGee, I remembered something!! I REMEMB--!!!
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Ahem.

On to the point at hoof, I saw myself traveling back, where I saw myself traveling back again to protect a little baby version of myself. Now who would've thought of it, that I would go back in time to shield myself from the rain? I don't know how I could even think of a more splendid idea than that, unless it was the cause that sent me unto my untimely demise in this rotting jail cell without anything to look forward to.

I had no idea why I am here. If I reputedly had Alzheimer's (which I oh so wrote about it happily in this logbook; I would've traveled back in time to murder myself if I could) then why was I placed in prison? Wasn't I supposed to be in some comfy bed in the hospital, listening to bluegrass and jazz music while basking in the summer sunset? Alright, maybe not the last part, but still? If I am not mistaken, white mattresses are comfier than broken planks of wood!

The only way that somepony would land himself here is if he did something wrong.

I can't say for sure: I have a memory condition, after all. At least it didn't worsen up to the point where I can't remember my name, but I fear that day might be coming closer faster than I think. But before it comes, I must not panic! Keep your head in the game, Turner! Keep it in the game!

But still... that memory of it... there was no doubt that before that, I had an intention to record it and remember what I've been through. It was strange, trying to remember what happened when you were a mere three years old, but what was more disturbing was that I meddled with the affairs of the past; my past, to be exact. Even though it was admirable (narcissist much?) I wasn't supposed to be there. You can't exist in two dimensions of time at once; it's a violation of one of the many Laws of Time.

I'm placed in jail for protecting myself......

Besides that, it all comes down to tracing back my origins. Trust me, I can still remember my name, my age, all these general things about myself, but I'm not actually sure how my life works right now. Not much goes on during infancy, and so far that's the only prominent thing worth mentioning about me back then, according to the logbook.

The next date was in 997 AC: four years after I was left on the pavement of the orphanage. I was seven back then, if I could recall correctly. Now if only I could remember exactly what happened...

Hopefully this magic would be able to sustain me, and my body to it. With destination in mind, I clenched my eyes shut, uttering out that one single date as my knees grew weak...
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997 AC, First Winter, 12, 14:32:47

Was this an example of how nurseries are like? This gloomy, tight little space with a creaky wooden bed and the dustiest of windows that lets in only the gloomiest of sunlight? These drooping curls of wallpaper that strips the panels bare, revealing its plentiful holes and growing moss that dwell comfortably more than its intended inhabitants? This... this tar pit? A hellhole abandoned? A... a...... w-well, I'm out of anything to describe it.

The TARDIS replaced what probably should've been the closet, seeing how finely arranged it was with the remaining... extraordinary decor of the room. Despite all this tarnishes, whoever stayed in here really tried his or her best to touch it up. Look at the clockwork and gears on the table! Or how about these small airship models hanging from the ceiling? Now that takes some incredible creativity to build, especially these kinds who can work as much as they can be displayed! Throw one of these, you might see it landing in Manehatten in a few minutes! Absolutely thrilling, the technology of ponykind!

It was much more difficult, some would say, to explore the confines in which connects to your life in some way. Oh, and I forgot to mention, yes, I've set the TARDIS to the important chain of events in my life. I'm not quite sure where this part is, but as I mentioned... did I mention? Just to be sure, I was seven years old back then, so I was probably having a jolly little trip to the candy store or perhaps tossing marbles with some other colts around some sort of chalk circle.

Ah, wait, wait, wait, wait, WAIT!! I've got it now! I've got it! It's all coming back to me now! Creeping down the stairs, my eyes were given the sight I had expected to see. It was the warm, beckoning sight of the living room, safe from the hazard of the first chills of winter, where sitting (more like sinking) into a red couch and snoozing was a young little pony, with a coat of faded pine and a mane of dark mahogany. Already cuddled up, I see, judging from how he curled up into the patchy blanket like a snail, comfortable and warm from the winter storm.

"Yes?" I replied, before clamping my mouth shut. I wasn't supposed to be seen in any way, which is why I shrouded myself in a barrier that allows nopony to see me and the TARDIS (just to be safe; you wouldn't want ponies sneaking into their rooms to find their closet had turned into a blue police box). That lady didn't call for me, no. He called for the colt sleeping on the chair. Ah, yes.

I tried my best to hold back a snort when I saw my younger self dragging his limping body, the blanket sagging over him and covering him with a small quiver as he shuffled further from the welcoming fireplace. As I followed, I glanced about the dainty little home, with framed pictures faded and graying and the walls they were nailed upon cracking and chipping. Celestia, this house really needs a double makeover!

My toddler self huddled into another room; the foyer, I believe. He glanced up with azure eyes, fixated at two mares seated in velvet chairs with senile smiles and warm teacups in their hooves. One of them chuckled, beckoning a pale magenta hoof towards me. The smaller me, not 'me' me.

"Come, Turner," she spoke, which tingled my heart. I couldn't think of any words to describe how... how comforting it sounded. It was soothing, but not as in 'calm my heart' soothing. No, this was a very sophisticated type of soothing; something that... has the chill of winter, yet the warmth of summer. My younger self also knew about it, as he gazed upon her sympathetic visage, eyes stirring with innocence as he called:

The name clicked in my gears. That... that was too familiar of a name to forget.

Mrs. Benevolent Hearthfire was the keeper of the Canterlot Center for Foster Children, known as the orphanage for the more ignorant ponies in this society. She was the kindest pony I've ever met back in the day, being the best mother she could be -- now that changes things up, doesn't it? I bet most, if not all of you are expecting some rotten, cranky old mare to be our caretaker just because I said the house was a little torn apart, didn't you? Well, the truth was that the Center had been experiencing financial issues back then and one day, it got to the point where she was about to give up on any hope that it would be restored. Our one any only home -- my home -- would be lost.

When hope was lost, she came like an angel.

True to whom we know her as, she did what she had to do....

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"He certainly is a fine child, isn't he?"

Watching my younger self's mane being ruffled by the other mare made me instinctively raise my hoof to touch my own tuft of hair. A nostalgic smile crept on my face as he let out a purr, snuggling right beside the stranger that became his new friend. In response, both older ponies chuckled softly, before continuing their conversation.

"You really are considering this?" Mrs. Hearthfire asked with slight concern. "We require tons of money to refurnish everything here, and you're paying for that and considering to hire some ponies to help us with our renovation?"

"Benevy, my old friend," the other mare began. "You've done wonderful things in life, things that I'm afraid I'm not of age to accomplish now. This... this is your sanctuary; your legacy that you have carried ever since you built it up decades ago. You've given all these kind children," she caressed the side of my younger self's cheek," a place to stay when they had none. A place that we would all cherish for eternity. If I had brought my daughter, I'm sure she would've made a lot of great friends with the ponies here. Those Canterlotian children always follow their parents' horribly snobbish attitudes from their harsh voice and their insolent scoffs! Jagged and crooked down to the fringes of their porcelain tea cups! I dare say, if Celestia had imposed a rule about banishment from cruelty, there would only be a few ponies I know of who would remain!"

"Call me Dandy. We are but old friends after all, Benevy. Formalities aren't necessary."

"Of course." With a cough, Mrs. Hearthfire tried again: "We can't change the ways of the world, Dandy, but that doesn't mean we can't change the ways of the coming world. Your donation... it's... it's a miracle for this children! You are restoring the home of these children, Dandy Doo! You are changing lives for the better!"

"It's a necessity, Benevy Hearthfire," Mrs. Doo replied warmly, her pale crimson hooves stroking my already sleeping past self. I do question why I sleep in such an odd posture that resembled an ostrich digging its head into the ground, but none of that matters now. "We are all but ponies," she continued with a wistful sigh, gazing down at little old me snuggling against her. "One day, I would leave this world and perhaps you would too. One day we would leave all these ponies to themselves and let them lead their lives on their own. Hopefully they would take it in the right direction. Hopefully... they would make us proud when we watch them from the heavens. But till then, we are their teachers as much as we are their guardians."

Something touched my heart when I heard that. To be a teacher and a guardian must be terribly frustrating, one might agree, but what she said... it somehow made sense. Mrs. Hearthfire did teach us a few things we've never learned in school; simple things such as sharing, fairness and everyday life lessons. They seem pretty simple to follow, but when you realize that in the adult world such things don't exist to them, it makes you feel a tad bit sad. Perhaps that is why the TARDIS feels this is an important occasion to be, seeing that I was asleep then and was probably too naive to understand a word that older ponies would say. Somepony like Mrs. Doo was probably respected as the mare she was by somepony else.

When hope was lost, she came like an angel.

True to whom we know her as, she did what she had to do....

She did what she had to do.

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Thank you, Mrs. Doo.
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. "Always knowing what to say, Dandy."

"Oh yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much, Dandy! You would never believe how excited the children would be when they hear this!"

"I'm certain they would be overjoyed." Mrs. Do suddenly reached behind, pulling out a small pocket watch, her smile turning into a greasy yet mediocre frown as she spoke: "Look at the time! Toodle-loo, Benevy! Have to pick my Ditzy from school!"

I stopped midway up the rotting stairs. That... that other, painstakingly familiar name. Unlike her mother, this struck a different chord to which I don't understand. It was as if... like the blood in my heart was emptied, along with all the emotions, all the laughter, the sadness... th-there... was nothing left... nothing but a parched, empty cavity waiting to be tossed around like a punching bag again. Just... waiting! "Of course, of course!" I barely picked up Mrs. Hearthfire's words. That name kept appearing in my head, begging and begging and begging to be known! I heard it somewhere before, I just knew it! But... but... where...?!

Ditzy Doo......?
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Who is this...... Ditzy Doo?
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Perhaps Death

by WritingSpirit

Down To The Fringes Of Their Porcelain Tea Cups