//------------------------------//
// Nostalgia 
// Story: The Last Dreams of Pony Island 
// by horizon 
//------------------------------//

Nostalgia

My most precious Rosetta:

"The Nightmares say that dreams cannot lie,
but they have never heard the siren song
of the dream of Myinnkyun."
Do you like it?
When I write my history of the settlement,
I think that must be the opening line.

The colony has let so many down.

The Princesses chartered Myinnkyun
to spread friendship overseas,
but all that came of that dream
was six foalish idealists
in a circle of mud-huts,
until Petal Pusher realized
that the Maregui Archipelago
lay outside Qilinese waters
but close enough to prepare
the poppy-draughts they craved.

"Friendship!" came the cry,
"Friendship and profit!"
And the scent of easy bits
lured hundreds into our box-trap,
until the trade of poppy-draughts
to the natives for gemstones
angered the Mooken,
tripping the trigger
and snapping closed the gates
of the city walls.

Myinn-kyun, they call this place,
pony-island, but we ponies
huddle within our cage,
waves lapping at our hooves,
staring at the impenetrable jungle
of the island proper,

dreaming of the profit
we were promised,
dreaming of the friendship
we're told we're spreading,
as our neighbors vanish
into the ocean
in the dead of night.

We are not being told the truth
about Peridot's death, I fear.
It is not that the Nocturne
did not have their reasons
to lure the loathsome shrew
to where the kelpie
could pull her from the docks,
but why would Peridot
trust a Nocturne enough
to follow one anywhere?
I think there is some pony
with a guilty conscience,
and if the entire garrison
is caught up in pursuit
of the kelpie responsible,
no justice will be done.

As disturbing as it is
to invoke a scion of the Dark Princess,
lest one of them listen and appear,
perhaps Myinnkyun could do with a Nightmare
to uncover the truth.

But then,
what would my own dreams look like?
Would they see me as I am,
noble chronicler of history,
unafraid to chase the truth
an ocean away from Equestria,

Or would my skeletons
come tumbling out
from a thousand closets:
that I married you for money,
that I sleep with stallions
on my many expeditions,
that I falsified a discovery
to discredit Deep Digger?

Would some traitorous voice
blurt out to my inquisitor
that I find all Nocturnes
abominations of nature
and judge the Dark Princess
for twisting the bodies so
of all three noble tribes?

Would they smile a dark smile
upon learning that secret
and arrange a reason
to cast the blame on me?

That is the problem
with dreams, you see:
a dream cannot lie,
but what lives inside
may have precious little relation
to the truth we are here to seek.

With my deepest love always,
Nostalgia.