//------------------------------//
// Chapter Three 
// Story: The Saddest Story 
// by MemoryLane 
//------------------------------//

        It was 10:52 AM–roughly 14 minutes after Prose’s death, and 31 minutes before Cheerilee’s Elementary School's mass suicide.

        But Spike couldn’t have known that. The explosion that rocked the Ponyville Supermarket had knocked the poor dragon’s list of priorities around. The air was murky–riddled with dust and debris that would stick to Spike’s face, painting his normally purple face a sickly grey. There was something in his eyes–probably grime from the recently disturbed foundation. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get it out, and he was forced to let the discomfort sit in his eyes.

        The supermarket was in shambles. The casual din that it once had was no longer, replaced with a darkness that Spike could sense in the air. He was extremely lucky that he wasn’t killed, and that the building was strong enough to not cave in on itself. He was fortunate enough to have survived–to have lived.

        Spike’s head was a complete mess. Even though his eyes were closed, he knew what had happened. His brain was spinning circles, giving the body orders that he just wasn’t able to follow. It had taken Spike a total of two minutes to gain back his consciousness, and it had taken him far longer than that to remember just where he was.

        Spike’s brain began to shift back into reality, a feeling that the poor dragon was not ready for yet. While he was blessed to still be living, Spike wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. He had seen the blast wave making its way through the massive supermarket, barreling through shelves and aisles like a chaotic, rushing bull.

        When he had woken up, he immediately wished he hadn’t. He wanted to lay there forever.

        Spike’s entire body was throbbing to the beat of his heart, a dull pain coursing through him. He felt as if his blood had turned into sharp tacks. He let out an agonizing wail, one that tore his chest to pieces from the inside out. The realization of what had occurred, the fact that he wasn’t dead, the pain that riddled his body, it was too much.

        Spike screamed as loudly and as much as he could. He didn’t know what else to do. “Twilight!” he called out into the ruins of the supermarket, nowhere near where Twilight Sparkle was actually located. The baby dragon was traumatized, and therefore could not recognize that the closest mare to him wasn’t there to help. The entire situation very similar to a child calling after his mother after having a scary dream. “Twilight, save me! Plee-ee-ase!”

        Spike was trapped. A shelf had fallen on top of him, as well as a few other items, such as snacks, a few pieces of fruit, and some small pieces of what used to be the walls. It was a good thing Spike was still a baby. Little did he know that his short stature actually saved his life. While the shelf on top of his was currently entrapping him in his own makeshift version of Hell, he was lucky that it was the only thing that made connection with his body.

        The more Spike came to his senses, the more his blood began to thicken inside of himself. His mind registered nothing but pure suffering. He felt that his arm was twisted at an irregular angle, but he couldn’t tell if it was broken. Sharp pieces of debris dug into his sides and back, making it seem like he was sleeping on a bed of nails. He could feel something warm trickling down his sides, and his awkward left arm. 

        Another anguished howl escaped Spike’s lips. He was unable to move without experiencing pain beyond his wildest imagination. Spike’s breathing intensified as he was overcome with a dangerous amount of unbridled panic. “Somepony, please! Help me!” he cried. Tears ran down his face, his fear finally showing itself. “Twilight!”

        Spike hadn’t expected anything like that to happen when he had woken up this morning. He hadn’t planned on going to the store today, upon Twilight’s request. He hadn’t wished to get caught in some kind of explosion. 
        
        He hadn’t wanted to break his brain.

        Not only ten minutes ago, Spike was content–a feeling that he felt he’d never experience again for the rest of his life. 

        Walking into the Ponyville Supermarket was something that Spike had did at least once a week. It wasn’t all that big of a task for him. He had gotten used to the quiet dinging that the doors made when he walked in, and a cheery “hello” from one of the cashiers. With white, freshly painted walls, and floors so clean it mimicked a hospital, Spike was growing more and more accustomed to his surroundings.

        “Hmm,” he muttered to himself, holding a small list in his claws. The items that Twilight had sent him to retrieve were, unfortunately, not found in one central location. He’d have to wander around the entire store, much to his chagrin. He shrugged. It was not as if he had anything better to do.

        “Eggs, milk, roses--” Spike read aloud, trying to memorize the list as well as he could in an effort to not forget anything, and organize his thoughts. It was a method that Spike had mastered, and hardly failed him. While most would assume that the baby dragon was merely talking to himself, it never the case. “--some disinfectant wipes, quills, ink… should be easy enough…”

        Spike grabbed a small basket at the front of the door, and made his way through the store. He hummed a small tune as he waddled. There was some kind of music playing over the radio that Spike couldn’t exactly hear, or recognize. Ponies were milling about, doing their shopping for the morning. There was an elderly couple that Spike had passed in the aisle with various kinds of bird seed. Spike saw a young mare wandering up and down the aisle with the paperback novels. There was an older stallion with his two fillies that were playfully arguing about what kind of cereal they should buy. Spike wasn’t all too interested, so he didn’t pay attention any further. He had his own list of things to do.

        Spike glanced from his list, to the numbers of the aisles, and back again multiple times. “Eggs are… somewhere around here,” he murmured. While he had grown used to the entirety of the store, Spike still had trouble locating different things from time to time. 

        After asking an employee for help, it turned out that Spike was on the wrong side of the store, with the eggs being in the northeast corner rather than the southeast. With a tired groan, Spike thanked the teenager and made his way.

        To Spike, this was nothing. Twilight had asked him to do worse. In fact, he quite enjoyed his frequent trips to the store. It let him clear his head. Besides, there were definitely more menial and difficult tasks that he could have done instead, so he was somewhat glad.

        Spike had made his way through the store quickly, walking up and down aisles and gingerly placing things in his basket. Only about five minutes later, Spike was nearing the end of his list. Mentally checking items off in his head, the ink and quills were the last things he needed to get. Unfortunately, it was at the other side of the store. His feet were starting to get sore. Perhaps next time he should organize his list further by location.

        Spike waddled to the western corner of the store, absently. While he was lost in thought, he still managed to have a decent sense of direction. He could not stop his mind from wandering, for some reason. Maybe it was just from boredom, or restlessness. Either way, Spike did not snap back to reality until he was standing in front of the items that he needed.

        “Ink, here we--” he stopped. There were many different kinds of ink. Spike was unsure of what kind Twilight needed. What was the kind that she always used? Why couldn’t he remember? He was the one who bought it last time. “Erm… here we go,” Spike muttered to himself as he grabbed the most standard kind of ink, and threw it into his basket.

        From the other side of the store, Spike heard some kind of commotion. Though, he naturally tuned it out. It was only until Spike’s better-than-average hearing picked up on certain words did he pause.
        
        “Hey! Are you okay?” called a voice at the other side of the store. Spike was at the very end of the aisle, so he had to lean over intrusively so he could try to catch a glimpse of the scene. Whatever was going on, it was in an aisle not very close to him. He bit the inside of his cheek, curiously. He returned back to the items in front of him. Now, where were the quills? Somewhere around there…

        The noise was only escalating, Spike knew that. No matter how hard he tried, there was no way he could ignore the distant yelling. “What are you doing? Calm down, miss!”

        There was a earsplitting scream. At that point, not only Spike was taking notice of the commotion on the other side of the store. Everyone was looking, trying to get a feel for what was happening. There was the sound of hooves clopping on the grocery floor–eager, frantic hooves. 

        A few of the other ponies in the store were at a loss. A few ponies had actually dropped their baskets to check out the situation, and make sure everything was alright. Spike saw a mare actually ditch her basket entirely, making her way out of the store for fear of what was to come.

Another earsplitting scream from the same exact mare. “Stop! What are you doing? You’re bleeding! Everypony, clear the way! We need to get her to a hospital!” said a much deeper voice, one of authority. 

More screams, more running hooves, more panic in their voices. Spike’s heart was beginning to beat faster and faster, like a swirling wave of confusion and regret. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. An awkward, nagging feeling tugged at his heart, as he grew increasingly torn. He didn’t know whether to simply finish his shopping, check out the scene, or just come back to the store later when everything was better. Surely Twilight would understand.

Then, all of a sudden, the voice from the other side of the store piped up. Then Spike heard the most frightened, panicked voice shout at practically everypony in the store. It rang across the aisles like an echo. The voice was riddled with despair, as if he was giving into a silent defeat.

“Everypony run!”

Then the explosion occurred–a massive heat ripped through the air, warming the young dragon’s face to the point where he felt he was going to combust. The bright light that enshrouded the supermarket in a thick mask of death was blinding and exhilarating at the same time. The large boom was enough to make him fear losing his hearing for just a few moments. 
        
Spike had enough time to see the other ponies in front of him disappear into a dense fog of fire. He was able to see the ponies get thrown back from the blast itself like ragdolls.

Luckily, Spike was thrown by the shock wave itself, and wasn’t engulfed in flames.

So now, Spike was forced to come to terms that he that just narrowly escaped Death’s vice. The smell of burning flesh was heavy in the air just as Spike was beginning to grow desperate for help.

“Twilight!” he called. “Somepony, please help me!” His screams tore through the empty supermarket, echoing off the charred remains of his fellow Ponyville citizens and the broken walls. With every breath he took, adrenaline coursed through his veins. The sharp pieces of wood and debris that prodded at his young body were agonizingly painful.

Tears streamed down his face, and his mouth contorted into a disgusting grimace as he lay there. His heart began to beat faster and faster, and the feeling was beginning to frighten him even more. No matter how much he cried for help, he received no response. This lead him to believe that he was the only survivor of the explosion.

Why did it even happen? Spike had no idea. It was apparent that somepony was hurt before the explosion went off. He had no idea why they were connected, and it hurt his brain to even think about it. Nothing made sense. The amount of unanswered questions was staggering enough, and brought on even more unnecessary stress.

Spike knew he was on his own. He’d have to get out of this by himself. With more adrenaline running through him, he tried to move himself without getting hurt even further. Using his uninjured arm, he removed the small pieces of debris away from himself, and his other arm. When it was lodged free, Spike surveyed the damage.

While his arm was not broken, it was in poor shape. There were mortal cuts and wounds running up and down his arm, surprising the dragon. His scales were near-impenetrable, so it was a wonder how it had even happened in the first place. All he knew what that his arm throbbing excruciatingly. He was pretty sure something was dislocated. Blood dripped down his arm from his shoulder, to his claws, and then to the floor. Spike shook violently at the sight.

He leaned over and vomited, the sight too much to bear.

He didn’t look at it. He tried to ignore the grotesque sight of his left arm. He just couldn’t take it.

The only thing keeping Spike on the ground was the large shelf that pinned him. Even for Spike, it was pretty small in comparison. Had it been a shelf from a different section of the store, he would have certainly been crushed to death. Using his one arm, he grabbed the edge of the shelf and tried to lift it off of him. He grunted loudly, before it morphed into a pained squeal. It didn’t budge.

The adrenaline still knocked away at Spike’s blood and body. When Spike tried again, he ignored all the pain inside him, letting it fade away into nothingness. With a harrowing cry, he put all of his power into his torso. The shelf slowly began to rise off of him, but it didn’t help Spike feel joy. When the shelf was roughly eight inches off of Spike, he kicked himself back, launching himself a few feet away. The shelf clashed on the ground, making a mighty noise that could have awoken the dead. Spike didn’t hear.

The minute he was free, Spike broke down. Sobbing incoherently and sporadically, Spike rolled on the ground like an absolute mess. The adrenaline almost immediately came to an end, helping Spike to register the extreme pain in his left arm. Kicking and sliding his legs across the ground, he let loose another bombardment of terrified howls. How he hadn’t lost his voice was a mystery.

He was finally able to wipe the grime out of his eyes. There were large holes in the ceiling, and large pieces of it were littered about. Sunlight shone in through the gaps–a sign of false safety. There were fires that scaled the walls, but they were small and nonthreatening. Other shelves like the one that had trapped Spike were tipped over, lying on their side. Oddly enough, there were some white books scattered about here and there, completely untouched. Spike didn’t give it a second though.

He forced himself off of the ground. The lingering smell of death haunted him. His eyes were wide and wet, his face and cheeks drenched. The moment he stood up was when blood began to pour out of his wounded arm. Droplets of red hit the ground a few times every second, and Spike had to force himself not to look, or risk passing out.

He began to walk through the remains. He needed to get out of there. His mind was shattered into pieces, merely a shell of its former giddy self. However, he still retained his common sense. He needed to get help. He needed treatment. He needed Twilight.

Twilight.

“H-Help! Somepony…!” she yelled into the nothingness. Not even the smouldering bodies that lay on the ground heard him scream. As Spike made his way, he must have passed at least fifteen bodies.

Fifteen ponies, at least. Spike couldn’t tell who they were–their faces and bodies painted black like charcoal. He couldn’t even tell if they were male or female. He had no idea if the mare reading books earlier survived. He didn’t know if the elderly couple purchasing bird seed, or the stallion and his two fillies made it out with their lives. So far, the supermarket was a barren wasteland. It looked like the aftermath to a war, or the apocalypse.

“Twilight, please!” Spike was having trouble realizing that he was still screaming Twilight’s name. It was more of an automatic instinct, similarly found in mere animals. He didn’t die in the explosion, but other specific parts of him did. 

Spike traversed along the turmoil, holding his bloody arm and trying his best to ignore the dead bodies that slept at the poor dragon’s feet. He needed to get out of there. He needed help. He needed Twilight.

Every step was damaging. With all the debris and immovable objects in the way, Spike found himself exploring a jungle of metal and broken architecture. Every time he needed to step over a sharp piece of wood, or clamor over a tipped shelf, it killed him a little more. Everything was hurting. At some point, he tripped over a small wire, and landed on a sharp piece of wood–earning him a brand new gash in his stomach. Unfortunately, his belly was just another place where Spike’s body was susceptible to injury.

He had vomited earlier, and his stomach was too empty now. All that came out was acid. The pain was becoming just too much to bear, and the urge to just lie over and surcumb to his fate was becoming more tempting by the second. However, this was not what Twilight had taught him. Spike was not one to lay down and accept something like this to end his life. Spike was small, but he was just too strong for that. Twilight helped him become that way.

It took longer than expected, but Spike found a small hole in the wall, one perfect for someone his size. Sunlight was pouring in from outside, and his heart practically jumped out of his chest when he walked through.

There was a crowd of ponies gathering outside of the remnants of the supermarket, watching and looking in awe at the chaos and destruction. Ponies who lived nearby, were just about to enter the store, or just happened to be wandering by were massed outside in a large semicircle that encompassed what used to be the store. There were emergency personnel talking to witnesses, and a few were trying to create a different exit in case there were other survivors. He didn’t take the time to wonder why. Spike’s throat was becoming sore, and he tasted blood in his mouth. He wasn’t sure if it was the incessant screaming, or the cut on his stomach.

        “Hey! Look!” somepony shouted. Spike didn’t even acknowledge the fact that he had been found. Knowing that he would soon be safe in the hooves of somepony else, Spike let his mind wane. He collapsed. A group of five or so ponies, who were nearest at the time, ran over to Spike.

        “H-He’s hurt! Someone get a doctor!” said a mare. Spike’s vision was getting foggy. He had no idea who those ponies were.

        “The kid… the kid actually survived!” said a younger stallion. “The only survivor so far…”

        An older pegasus grabbed Spike by the shoulders, and tried to meet Spike’s foggy gaze. “Who did this? Tell us who killed everyone! What happened?” The mare yelled again for the doctor, who was now on his way. He pushed the older pegasus aside. His medical mask shimmered in the sun.

        But Spike was scared. He didn’t know what was going to happen. Spike’s energy–much like his blood–were depleted. He couldn’t open his mouth to answer. Everything was slipping away. He felt like he was in some kind of sick dream.

        Then, his brain decided that it had had enough.

        Spike closed his eyes, and shuddered when he felt an unfamiliar darkness descend upon him.