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// Tales Long Forgotten 
// Story: Twilight Skies 
// by Alexander Hawthorne 
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The girl who stepped out was unlike any of the others I’d met so far. Her hair was a deep, incredibly dark purple, with a few shocks of dark pink. She had on a pair of reading glasses that covered her lavender and blue eyes. There was a certain tranquility of form to her, and I swore I could feel a sort of… energy coming off of her. She had on a simple gown like one you’d expect to see a librarian or schoolteacher wearing, yet it stood out on her as though she were prepared for a ball or a gala. Slightly lighter skin than Applejack, who had tanned from working the farm for so long peered cautiously out from her sleeves; I noticed subsequently that it was without mark or blemish. Her face lit up with a brilliant smile and she shut the door behind her as she stepped into the bright, sunlit day.

“Applejack! I wasn’t expecting anyone to visit me today, least of all you. Aren’t you and Mac busy with applebuck season? Oh! Where are my manners?” She turned to face me, speaking quickly but with pinpoint accuracy. If not for the lack of any accent or distinguishing ethnic features, I’d swear she learned to speak from a textbook. “Hello, my name’s Twilight Sparkle! It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her hand met mine firmly yet with a timidity bordering that of an introvert. I shook it as calmly as I could, yet my voice wavered unexpectedly as I replied.

“Hi.  I’m Starry Skies. I just moved here from Canterlot, and Applejack was kind enough to show me around. If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly is this house? It looks ancient, and the wood is still alive, even though it’s been hollowed out for a home.” My eyes drank in the incredible sight of the tree-house, with its towering branches, enormous leaves, and intricate workmanship of carving and crafting that made up the living space inside while leaving the whole tree, for the most part, somehow unharmed.
Twilight’s tone took on that of a professor or scholar orating to a class full of students, yet also one filled with surprising intensity.
“Well, you see, to the best of my knowledge, this tree is located on the spot where one of the first families settled in Ponyville. They became the town’s founders of course, and kept it growing through hard work and dedication. The wife was a master healer, and she would always be taking care of men and women who had fallen ill or been injured while clearing land and farming. The husband was a man of the land, constantly ploughing fields, sewing crops, reaping the harvest, and would always lend a hand to anyone who needed it; he would fix roofs, milk cows, plant, harvest, and almost any other task there was. This family was loved by the townsfolk, and the town prospered from their combined effort.”
“One particularly difficult winter, however, the wife took ill. It was a cruel twist of fate that the town’s best healer was so busy helping the sick that when she herself was sick, she was too weary and worn down to do anything. At first, it seemed as though she would soon recover; but again, it was as though some great, unshakeable force were at work. She grew weak as the days passed, and her loving husband did everything he could think of to ease her pains. Late into the night he would stay by her side in silent vigil, always there if ever she cried out in pain, there with warm soups and life-bringing herbs whenever she needed them. His dedicated spirit refused to lose hope. But the townsfolk began to wonder if his talents weren’t being wasted; the other members of the little town were beginning to feel the effects of the long winter’s icy breath.”
“Day and night however, he remained steadfast by her bedside, until one day, the source of her malady was made clear. Unbeknownst to either of the pair, a small blossom had taken root in the tenement of their small home. This blossom was a vile plant known as Sorrow’s Embrace, and when it grew, it would develop almost a sentience. The plant, when matured, was wicked in temperament, and fed off of sorrow and pain. And from experience in various other parts of Equestria, it knew that love when shattered produced anguish most exquisite. So it would travel to houses where love flourished and slowly break that love in any way it could.”

“The man tried desperately to rid the household of the accursed blossom, but his efforts were proven fruitless. His beautiful wife continued to sicken until one day, she finally surrendered, and her soul took flight; on that day, the winter grew worse than any before, and many of the town’s residents feared they too would be lost to the cold. The man, now husband only to a memory, grieved night and day for his lost wife, and day by day, winter covered the land in a deeper and deeper cold. At length, the man had made up his mind. One morning, with frost creeping ever deeper into their house, he lay next to her, and his will was broken. His life left him as silently as the snow falls from the sky,  with as much feeling as the frigid winter winds.”

“A young girl living within the village who had been abandoned witnessed this tragic event, and as the man died, tears of regret filled her eyes. She wandered into the house and gazed upon the proud faces of her town’s most beloved and most cherishedfamily for although many were too busy with problems of their own, she herself was hardly older than a child, and remembered well time spent with the woman learning how to heal; time with the man learning the value of honesty and hard work. So she mourned the loss of two so fair, their passing so sudden and so devastating to a town that needed them dearly. Her tears fell upon their upturned faces, silent now, in eternal stillness.  Her tears fell in remembrance of the lives lost. They fell on the hard, barren earth that was the floor; falling as she stumbled, onto the plant that had instigated this tragic event.”
“Invigorated by this fresh sorrow, the plant grew to unspeakable size, entangling the young one in its leaves. Her cries, muffled by leaves and stems and petals of the weed, went unheeded. It grew and grew, until finally the townsfolk all had gathered around to witness the bizarre sight. Few made any effort to stop the plant, for they were too concerned with their own lives, and it paid them no heed. Slowly its tangled vines encircled the child, her breath stopped short with one last cry and at long last, the plant had had its fill.”
“Something happened then that has defied any attempt at explanation to this day. Where the girl’s body hung, surrounded by foliage, a soft, nigh undetectable light began to emanate. It grew ever so slowly in strength until it was a beacon so bright, it was seen from the wild edges of Equestria; the townsfolk were stunned by its brilliance yet somehow unharmed. The light began to eat away at Sorrow’s Embrace, cutting through it with ease, and soon nothing was left of the plant to harm anyone again. You see, what it had not counted on was that little girl. Her sorrow was not for herself, as was the plant’s belief; it was for her town, for her people. Her love for them was selfless, and her sorrow was her concern for them. This was the plant’s undoing, that it tried to consume a force so much stronger than itself. As the light faded, a final, miraculous event took place.”
“As the townspeople shook themselves from the awe of what had transpired moments ago, a tree grew, proud and tall, and many said it was a magic tree. It grew to remember the fallen, and the sacrifice they all three had made. Its roots grew deep, representing the honesty and kindness of the man and his wife. The trunk and boughs remember the girl, whose loyalty sparked something greater than mortal power; she had accessed the magic responsible for defeating the plant’s evil. And the leaves stand to light the way towards Harmony for all, with generosity and laughter to guide us.”


Her tale ended, and with it, my breath slowly returned. So powerful were her words, so keen her ability to bring life into view through language, that I had scarcely breathed a whisper. As though released from the thrall of her voice, the world came back into motion, sound returning with a passion, and awareness with a dull aching through my feet. Applejack stirred next to me as though returning from a world long lost, sent away by tales long forgotten.


Twilight looked at us apologetically.
“ I’m really quite sorry; I’ve kept you for quite some time, and the sun is nearly set. You should get going back home. It was really great meeting you Starry. I’ll see you around!” She waved lightly to us, and returned to her work inside what I now came to recognize as a library. My skin tingling with a feeling of uncertain energy, and I knew I’d be back tomorrow.