The bell chimed, its coarse and unpleasant ringing calling her to supper. Her eyelids twitched. She had never liked the metallic quality of the sound; it reminded her too much of the clanging of spoons against dinner plates filled with her mother’s terrible cooking.
Miserably, she looked up at her surroundings, a canvas of dull, lifeless grey that seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance in every direction. She always saw the exact same scenery, all the time, day after day, the view never changing in the slightest. Time had little meaning here, nor did colour have any place. The earth was a bleak shade of granite, the trees following suit with their harmonised palettes of slate and ash. Even the bright, fiery sun dimmed in this part of the land, draping a blanket of dreary light over the landscape in an almost pity-like fashion.
Lowering her head, she allowed herself a quiet sigh.
“I hate my life,” she muttered under her breath, her voice venomous with heartfelt hatred.
“Hey, don’t say that! Why would anypony hate their life? Life is full of joy and happiness and smiles and other good things!”
“Oh no, definitely not mine.” Sneering, she kicked a rock away from her hooves with bitter force. She loathed every piece of filthy mineral in this place, their ugly monotony being an uncannily accurate reflection of her own life. “Mine’s full of rocks, rocks, more rocks – oh, and did I mention rocks?” She barked out a laugh at the humourless joke.
“Awwww, but pet rocks are fun to play with! You can hug it, cuddle it, give it a bath, play hide and seek –”
“Please, shut up. I’m not in the mood,” she snapped, then spat aggressively onto the ground, her eyes gleaming with resentment.
It wasn’t often that she lost her temper; today was just one of those days when she happened to despise the world she lived in, as well as everything in it. She was already having a hard enough time preventing herself from exploding with rage at the way her family treated her, after all. She could practically feel her insides boiling with anger.
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to take momentary pleasure in imagining several increasingly creative ways of torturing them. Ropes tugging on fractured limbs. Jagged blades digging into skin. Hoarse voices crying, pleading for mercy.
The corners of her mouths curled into a twisted smile at the pleasant images. It was immensely satisfying, not that she would ever try to implement them, of course.
Or would she?
Her eyes flew open, her thoughts rudely cut short by a histrionic gasp. “Oh, my gosh, I’ve just had, like, the best, idea, EVER!”
She could barely keep herself from rolling her eyes and snorting aloud; always brimming with self-claimed strokes of genius, that pony was. She had long since gotten accustomed to her outbursts, as frequent as they were. The exaggerated changes of tone in her voice usually indicated little more than yet another flight of childish fantasy.
“Wanna let ME take over for a day? Then I can show you all the fun things in life you’re missing out on, and make you super-duper happy like me! We could even make some friends! I promise, it’ll be really really really super-duper fun!”
Surprised, she blinked. That didn’t actually sound like a bad idea, for once.
She was beginning to feel utterly sick of the miserable world that she lived in. She despised her boring work, her uncaring family, her insensitive friends – not that she had any, really, unless one chose to count that stupid sedimentary rock her parents forced her to keep as a pet.
Although this pony was, admittedly, not the brightest pony around, she has always had a way of cheering others up with her endless fountain of optimism. Perhaps, just perhaps, this fresh pair of eyes could help her rediscover the better aspects of life?
Her spirits lifted a little at the prospect.
“Really? It’ll be fun? You promise?” she asked tentatively, her voice softening for the first time and betraying the slightest hint of excitement.
“Uh-huh!” the voice inside her head replied cheerily. “Pinkie Promise!”
***
“Thief.”
She giggled, staring at her own image in the mirror. The feeble sunlight streaming through the half-closed curtains cast a strange shadow over her vivid blue eyes.
“Awwww, don’t say that, Mena. I’m not a thief!”
“A day. You promised. One single day.”
“I promised fun, not just for a day, silly.” She laughed, reaching a hoof out to bop the mane of her reflection. “And Ponyville is fun! Not just rocks, rock and more rocks, like you said!”
“I hate you.”
Pinkie chortled. "Oh Mena, you're always so sarcastic, you're almost like Dashie!"
Of course she knew Mena loved her. Mena was a nice pony that knew how to be grateful, and she was definitely very grateful for Pinkie Pie; she's just too shy to admit it. That rock farm was a horrible place that nopony ever liked, and Pinkie got her out of there! She also brought her to Ponyville, where she – oops, they, Pinkie corrected herself quickly - made friends with everypony! Pinkie even threw parties for her every week, not to mention the awesome adventures they go on with Twilight and other friends!
Now Mena could never complain that she hated her life. Who could hate such a fun and exciting life?
Pinkie frowned for a second. She thought she had heard Mena let out a bitter sob, but quickly pushed it to the back of her mind. Mena was always crying; she was probably just one of those ponies that expressed gratitude with tears, Pinkie decided with a proud smile. She loved making other ponies happy; it made her happy too!
Pinkie was also glad that she didn’t have to go back to that awful dark place full of nightmares and scary monsters ever again, where she could never see or hear anything except Mena.
That being said, she never quite figured out where and what that place actually was. Probably just another figment of her overactive imagination.
***
Humming a tune, she left her room and trotted down the stairs, greeting the Cakes cheerily as she prepared to make a start to another bright and happy day. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that they were looking a bit worried, or nervous, she couldn't quite put her hoof on it.
“Whoever were you talking to, Pinkie?” Mrs Cake asked, eyeing the pony uncertainly. Mr Cake shifted his hooves uncomfortably beside her.
“Oh, nopony!” Pinkie replied, beaming. She suppressed a little giggle; she couldn't go around Ponyville telling everypony she had a secret best friend, after all; her other friends would get horribly jealous!
When they were little fillies, she and Mena would tell each other all of their secrets, even the most embarrassing ones! She decided their friendship will be just like that - it'll always be their own little secret.