//------------------------------//
// Entry #4 
// Story: Mamihlapinatapai 
// by WritingSpirit 
//------------------------------//

"Flash? Flash, you awake?"

"I am now."

I lied when I said that. It's hard to get some sleep these days. Twilight once told me that's the result of a cluttered head still desperately searching for answers, the mind cranking and keeping its motor running way past the working hours. True to her word, there were many questions I'm asking and the rubber was already smoking from the overbearing friction it was undergoing. It's not healthy, as some of my friends would tell me, especially the one giving me a place to stay. I've already asked too much from him; the last thing I would want to take from him is a piece of advice. Disrespectful, I know, but in a time like this, who has time for respect anymore? Who has time to say 'please' and 'thank you' anymore? Who has time for letting others go first anymore? Who has time to knock on the bedroom door to check if somepony's sleeping anymore?

Right now, respect is just another fucking word.

"Sorry about that," came the contrite voice of Cloudchaser, known by many of her friends as Chase. "Someone's here to see you."

I rubbed the fuzz out my eyes and stared out in the darkness peering from the window. Was it the royal guard? Was it some self-appointed vigilante wannabe? Was it an angry mob of ponies, or just one pony like last time? Who could say for sure? Who else would look for me at this late an hour? The night doesn't bear any good news from anyone except the night itself, though the lack of fanfare told me otherwise. Looking outside, I had to squint with my brows furrowed at the figure standing in the cold night. In the nocturnal fog, I couldn't make out who it was. I feared it and welcomed it all the same.

"Who is it?"

When she answered, my lungs begun heaving before I even realized it. Quickly, I turned to the window again, hooves joining by my side as I pressed my forehead into the glass, just in time to see the blur of a figure stepping into the house. With a thrashing heart, I tried to retain control of my ragged breathing, my hooves feverishly clenching onto the sheets. My vision became misty, provoking me to blink it away to no avail. It was only when I shot a look back up to the open doorway that I realized a very concerned Cloudchaser was still standing there.

"Chase, what's going on in there?"

"He's coming down in a moment, Lane!"

"Give..." I gasped, finding my voice and quickly picking itself back up. "Give me a moment... please..."

She gifted me with a lenient smile. "Okay. I'll let them know."

Was I ever this scared? Was this moment truly the scariest moment of my life? The empty doorway never looked so foreboding; I could feel the shadows trailing across my back, caressing my cheek before swirling into a cyclonic entity before me, threatening to shred away at flesh and bone. I struggled to find the ground, limping across the room and to the door; the last barrier before entering the realm where the pony awaits me. Teetering down the stairs, I held my breath at the sight of blue snarling at me in both mane and eye. My wings retracted, my head held low as this pony kept a stern gaze at me, as if he was chiseling his way into the back of my skull.

"Why?"

The first word rolled out and painted an unnerving portrait on our visitor's face. He wasn't impressed, to say the least, not that it was much of a surprise. I could almost see the drear hanging above the four of us, though I believed he was the only one reveling in it. I gave a glance at the owners of the house, my brows drooping down with my sinking heart. What courage I had left leaked between the cracks of the floorboards, feeding the demons below that were awaiting my arrival. Fear had spun me like a marionette; I could only quiver as I stared right into the puppeteer's eyes.

"Why?"

My hairs frizzled at the second word; an impeccable, perhaps more effective copy of the first. It did not come from me, however, though I wished it had. A smile eventually crept up on his face when he realized how much he accomplished with that word alone, how much of a stinging cord he had struck. That was when he reached out a hoof and, to my utter surprise, gestured me towards the couch; a small offer of comfort in this trying times. I was hesitant, but the company of the other two convinced me to be a player in his little game. He was fond of games, certainly, much like how the princess was fond of hillside picnics, though there was always something underneath the curtain. Knowing him, innocence was a surreal thing, a concept to be imagined and not experienced. Knowing him, this game has a purpose of which involves me.

"Surely you must be joking, Flash," he spoke. "You know why."

"I don't know."

"You have an idea of it."

"You came all the way down here for this?" I scoffed. "Please, go back. Just go back."

"Your mother insisted that I should be here."

"It doesn't matter. Go back before somepony gets hurt."

It was a tone I had never used in my life before. It was a tone brewed from the cold, spiritless languor in my withered nights mixed with the bubbling, squalid voices jeering at me from all over and the obscure miasma of the entire scenario, garnished with my growing feckless, nescient attitude. I felt betrayed by my fear: the one thing I had trusted upon to stop me from making such a grand mistake, especially when it comes to dealing with the pony before me. The shadows were closing in faster than I had anticipated and all I could do was give a helpless glance at the other two ponies in the room. All they could do was reciprocate.

"Is that a threat?"

I decided to be quiet; I didn't want to sour it anymore with my contempt and disgust.

"So this is how it is then? Diplomacy doesn't work and now you resort to cowardice?" he sneered. "You have no idea how disappointed I am in you, Flash. I've raised you better than this."

"Dad, please leave."

"I intend to," Gallant Sentry rumbled. "Though not without parting advice."

Have you ever heard of a guard who gives advice? I doubt you did. We may look stern and resolute but we're no better than the rest of the world. We're still ponies who make mistakes, ponies who throw tantrums and cry in their sleep, ponies who blindly follow the rest of the world for the most farcical reasons. We're all ponies who, like all others, shouldn't be giving advice in the first place, not because we have bigger things to worry about or that the advice we give is bad, but because in time, we would stop acting upon them. Be it from whispers of love or words of law, we would regress back into the shallow view we had, forgetting all that was learned. Still, we listen. Why do we listen? Why do we always listen?

"You have to wake up. You have to realize that you would never do such a thing, Flash Sentry. What happened that night... perhaps it wasn't an accident. I'll admit, perhaps there were some cruel intentions to be had in this mess. I was there, remember? I was there when it all happened. For all I know, you may be involved with it, but I'm positively certain it wasn't your fault."

"How would you know?"

"Let me ask you a question." he shuffled forwards in his seat. "Would you kill Princess Twilight Sparkle?"

I gave the answer that anyone would give.

"No."

"You wouldn't. That's enough of a confession for me," he admonished with a huff. "I shall take my leave now."

I wasn't there at the doorway when my father left; Thunderlane did the honors for me. Rightfully so, considering he was the owner of the house whereas I am just the unscrupulous guest. You don't find a friend like him these days. Still, I did give a little glance over the shoulder, watching the fabled guard that is my father put on his trilby hat — a retirement choice in which he traded his golden helmet for — and giving a farewell tip of the brim. It was only when Thunderlane shut the door that I could finally breath, the air wrested free from his presence. I was about to help myself up and hobble back to my room when my friend stopped me in my tracks.

"Your dad left you something," Thunderlane said, slipping into my hooves an envelope.

I wrinkled my nose at the browning paper. "Thanks," I murmured.

"You know he's trying to help you."

"I don't know."

"Yeah, I can tell. You haven't been 'knowing' anything ever since it happened."

"Fuck off."

I must say, Thunderlane took it well, as he just shook his head and cantered over to his marefriend's side. They would become my audience, watching a show where I waxed their disinterest with my slow struggle of climbing up the stairs and doddering back to the guest room. They have learned their lesson, it would seem, because fuck me if I need any help. Fuck me if I can't stand up straight or walk right on my own when I can bring down the Princess of Friendship. I had done what many had failed to do. The names were flashing before me: Nightmare Moon, Discord, King Sombra, Tirek... Equestria had believed they fell because of her; now they believe she fell because of me.

What guard can say they dethroned a princess?

Tell me, what guard can say that?

I shut the door behind me and slumped onto my bed, hissing at the sting in my belly. As I ended my search for comfort and rested my head on the pillow, I began to tear open my father's envelope, sighing when I see the scrawl of words before me. He had been hasty with his writing, which was almost unintelligble with splots of black here and there. It was really unlike him, for someone as stalwart as he was to provide this grueling piece of work for me to read. I tossed it on the table and found a way to tuck myself in without causing any more harm to myself, yet as I reached for the lamp, I stopped short when I gave one last glance at the foot of the paper.










Stay safe

















"I fear the stars."

Strange lines filled the paper; my voice breathed life into the ink.

"For they glitter the sky, greeting me in this warm night."

The air was colored with a wonderful symphony of words.

"Attention dazzled, my gaze lingers on them to no end."

I was laid on my side, book in hoof with a wandering gaze.

"As I wonder: what hides behind this glorious view?"

A wandering gaze that occasionally darts over the veil of the pages, to the mesmerized smile I see before me.

"What hides behind the stars, lying await in the darkness? Will it come one day, to this fertile soil and reap it of life? Will it come one day, to swallow the sun? I wonder and wonder still, yet the stars are still there; smiling, comforting, assuring that it will never come to be. They whisper them gently, so much so that it makes me shiver."

A smile swaying with the melody, which began to tremble as it neared its end.

"I fear the stars."

Princess Twilight finally opened her eyes, lips curving higher in silent applause. I set the book down and smiled back, pride swirling in an ecstatic whirlwind across my chest. For half a minute, we both smiled at each other in silence, before she broke away and kept the book in one of my saddlebags. I don't really recall what the title of the book was — something about contemporary Yakyakistani literature — but I certainly had regretted not picking it up sooner. I promised her that I'll read it on the train, though a little motion sickness and the sight of her dozing off on the ride retracted the promise back.

"How was it?"

"It's beautiful," I had to admit. "It's... I don't know, a little magical in it's own way."

"Wanna read some more?"

"I think I have enough magic for one night."

"Same here," Twilight sighed softly, gazing up to the sky.

She was talking about the dazzling sight above us, one beyond all manner of reach. Tonight, like many other nights, we were on a hillside picnic, enjoying the view and the comfort of each other. I had brought my personal stories and witty sarcasm; she had brought her annals of beautifully written works. We had brought scarves that matched our manes to brace against the frigid, crispy winds that would swarm across the snowy plains, though neither of us predicted it to be this harsh. I'm ashamed of myself for not knowing about it, being a pegasus from Cloudsdale and all. Then again, if I did, I wouldn't find myself in the situation I am in. I believe the idiom for this situation was 'a blessing in disguise'.

"Flash, can you move a little closer to... you know what, never mind."

"You okay, Twilight?"

"Not really," she mumbled with a quiet chatter. "Maybe this was a bad idea..."

"Look on the bright side. It's not that bad."

"You're saying that because you're enjoying it."

"Probably as much as you are."

Twilight Sparkle scrunched her snout up in the most adorable way possible, leaving me drifting backwards with my misty chuckles. I didn't drift too far for fear of dragging her along with me; the weather was so unforgivingly cold that we were actually huddling together. Though we had been sleeping in the same castle and, on the regular trips out of town like this one, in the same room, we had never been this close to each other. The closest we were together in terms of proximity was back at the Crystal Empire: the two times she bumped into me in the palace. They were awkward in their own right, that I'm certain, though it could never compare to our situation now.

"I knew it would be cold up here," she mumbled, rubbing her hooves. "But I didn't realize it would be this cold."

"It's not your fault."

"I didn't say it was."

"You were thinking it."

"I'm not thinking anything right now."

"Brainfreeze?"

"Faust's sake, Flash, you did not just go there," she deadpanned as I laughed my heart out. "Celestia, what did I do to deserve this..."

"Just trying to lighten the mood," was my reply, smirking. "If you want to, we can head back to the inn and order a takeaway—"

"Just stop," Twilight immediately snapped with hooves stiffened and wings outstretched, served with a sliver of her venomous glare, to which I immediately complied. Apparently, being in the cold made her a more crustier pony than one would hope. Still, I felt blessed that she made no effort to suppress the voice for her thoughts; the other princesses always put up this royal, elegant front about them, as if a little laugh could erupt the tabloids into a never ending frenzy. For Princess Twilight, I think if I tried hard enough, I could read her like an open book, though I'm sure she wouldn't want me to do the same to her as she is doing to her entire collection in her library. Time would only tell.

"Flash."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Formalities," she grumbled. My mistake. "Listen, about last time..."

Last time. How long ago was that fabled period in which she had inaptly called last time? Forever and a day? Just a morning ago? It was neither of those, that I'm certain. Last time... we weren't presenting the best sides of ourselves, both Twilight and I. It was an awkward time for sure, but we were long past that. Well, I was long past that at least, whereas for Twilight, I never really knew about what happened. All I knew was that one day she was refusing to meet my gaze and the next we were happily chatting over a basket of cupcakes at Sugarcube Corner. Genial conversations were had, but not an apology. I slapped myself mentally for overlooking that.

"Do you really mean it?"

My spirit started to tremble, my gaze withered. The smile that lasted all night was losing its touch. "Not everything."

"That's a little vague."

"It's fuzzy on this end too, believe me," I fumbled. "I... I really don't know how to feel about how this whole arrangement's working out so far."

"I'm not so sure now either." Twilight Sparkle rested her head on her forehooves, sighing glumly while she circled another layer of her scarf around her neck. "Horsefeathers, tonight wasn't supposed to be like this," she hissed mostly at herself.

"I don't know," I found myself mumbling. "Maybe we needed a night like this after all."

That statement made Twilight turn and look at me with such surprise, it was as if I said the most disgusting thing she had ever heard. She then exhaled once more and buried her head deeper into the sanctuary of her scarf, leaving me outside its gates for the next several minutes. The atmosphere around us was reduced to a queer warmth, devoid of the raging, tranquil cold. In that time, I solemnly watched the swaying of bald birch trees in the distance, slow dancing to the tune of the wintry breeze. The rhythm of it became stuck in my head as I hitched myself out of the reverie and turned back to Twilight. Slowly, I made my approach, hoping she would finally let me in, hoping she would keep me company. Slowly, she complied.

I don't remember how long we huddled there. It wasn't short enough to be forgettable, yet it wasn't long enough for the other princesses to send a search party after us. The rest of the night was spent in quiet silence, one that we both appreciated. There were no cold shoulders like last time when we headed back to the inn, only warm smiles. Who knew we could find peace in Yakyakistan, of all places? Of course, that stemmed from my narrow alleyway of judgement, like with contemporary Yakyakistani literature. On that note, I recalled one line that stuck with me for a while, chiming itself once more in my head when I watched Twilight tucked in the comfort of the inn's hay beds, sleeping in peace.

"I fear the stars."









"Have you listened to the radio lately?"

I kept my thick silence.

"Flash, the things they're saying about you out there... that's not you, Flash. That's not the pony I know."

The light waltzed with the dark.

"I need answers, Flash. We all need answers."

I stared into desperation.

"At least give me something I can work with. Help me help you, Flash Sentry."

My glance shifted to a cold, hollow pony in the mirror; he shot me a glare with black rings pulsating around his eyes.

"Flash, look at me," commanded the other pony in the room. "Look at me, fucking Faust, look at me."

I found myself looking at him. He had aged considerably well the last time we met, which was at the train station in the Crystal Empire. That had been almost two years ago, if my memory serves me well. It was a happier time, for him and me; he was still better off anyway, fuck him. Probably fucking planned this whole fiasco behind the scenes as well, if I were to take up the offer of judging. I'm horrendously bad at that role, sure, but I'm no better at where I stand right now, with his domineering stance looming over me like a hurricane while I'm meekly chained to a table like some rabid dog. I glanced back at the mirror, to the realm beyond, in scrutiny of what lies there. That changed, however, when he began to turn the knob of the radio.

"—yet he still remains as free as a bird to this day! What were they thinking, letting a murderer like him roam the streets?! I ask you, our listeners: do you want killers walking the same roads as our children do? Ask yourself: would you walk the same road, knowing that a murderer had and still is walking down that same road? Can you believe that something like that still happens in today's society? Can you believe that? Really unbelievable, isn't it? And so, we shall end today's show with a question: how much more disgusting, immoral pigs who'd dare bring hell to our rulers will be drafted into the guard before their captains call it quits? How many more Flash Sentries do we need to bring down our smart, loving, responsible and kind rulers down before we could finally wake up and smell the sewage spilling from the ranks of those serving to protect our country? Our families? Our children? More importantly, would justice finally come to this world?"

"Turn it off."

Mercy was provided to me in my time of need. In any other time, I would be grateful. However, the shadows dancing in the realm beyond the mirror still lingered, their negotiator now standing at me with a graceless look of pity in his eyes. The chain around my hoof felt tighter at the presence of my demons broiling within me, my pupils seeping with venom to face his. The waltz above our heads was slowing little by little, pausing to view our brooding display.

"You heard the radio."

"I've heard it a thousand times before. One more wouldn't make a fucking difference."

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" he scowled. "Back then, one more would've made you change."

"There was nothing like this back then," I corrected with the manner of a snarl. "You wouldn't have known. You were too busy on cloud nine to take a peek down here anyway."

"I'm here now, Flash Sentry. Make the most of it."

"Make the most of fuck all, Pierce Swiftwind."

Pierce's grim frown twisted even further. It was rare, seeing him this angry; I think I might be doing something right. His wings were flared up, his lips were trembling like a shriveling sprout in the frozen north and the first beads of sweat resounded with a clink as they landed on the table. I shifted my gaze once more to the realm beyond, knowing full well what those shadows were and to whom they belong to. I stared beyond the pony with the black rings around his eye and fixated at the two, maybe three or four. They were all there to get what they want; I'm here to show them that they can't get what they want that easily.

"Say what you want to say, Flash," my friend continued. "I'm here for you, no matter what. I'm here to help."

"Did they tell you to say that?"

Pierce stopped momentarily, eyebrow raised. "They?" he asked.

"Them," I answered, cocking my head to the mirror where the shadows lie. "You're not actually looking for answers, are you, Pierce?"

"Flash—"

"You're the star of the play. I'm the antagonist."

"Fucking hell, Flash," he groaned, burying his hanging head into his hooves. "How delusional can you get? Don't you see, I'm your friend! I had been your friend for more than a decade! I'm here because I decided to myself that you needed my help and I have the means to help! There's no script, there's no play or whatever the fuck you think is happening right now! I need you to work with me here, to cooperate!"

"Tell me, who hired you to be here?"

"For Faust's sake, Flash, this isn't helping you—"

"Let's pretend it is," I snapped. "You love that, don't you? Playing pretend? You know, pretending to be all nice and friendly and caring when you didn't even bother standing up for me for these past few months? You can't lie to me, Pierce; I've seen enough liars to tell them apart. Right now, you're only here because somepony told you to. Right now, you're here not because of sympathy, but because of your fucking job, so I'll asking again: who hired you? Give me some names and I'll cooperate."

Having been sagging throughout my onslaught, Pierce's ears visibly twitched at that last word. "You would?"

"Depending on the terms," I added, much to his disgruntlement. "So then, who's behind this mirror right now?"

Nervously, Pierce drew her gaze to the shadows in the mirror. It took a moment for him to reel it and launch it back towards me, all tensed up and ready. With a screech of iron leg against concrete, he lurched his chair closer and leaned in forwards, his eyes shifty and his breathing beginning to sound ragged. I sank my head to meet his level, holding my breath as my hooves instinctively clutched onto the sides of my seat. When he opened his mouth and uttered the first two words, it was too fast for a moment for me to restrain my grin.

"Gallant Sentry."

"Of course," I sighed with a morose chuckle. "If Dad's here, that means he's here too."

I turned to the second shadow in the room; I'd imagine he would be stiff as a plank after I snuffed out his anonymity. As ponies come and go, he was the last pony that I would help right now, which made it more entertaining when I realized how desperate he might be to send Pierce after me. My glare narrowed to where that scumbag might be standing; I was hoping I could kill him right here, right now, with my very own eyes. The coroner would never pinpoint his death to me. In fact, I'm pretty certain that his death would be due to him never being able to shoulder the weight of his guilt.

"Flash, please..." Pierce sighed, sounding defeated. "I want to help, really, I do... but I can't do it when you're... like this..."

"Are we done here?"

Once more, the former guard looked up at me, before sinking down into the trench of his iron seat and giving a limp nod. From behind me, the door swung open with a rusty squeak, the cuff around my hoof was removed and I was finally freed from the center stage. Wriggling out of the room, I stopped short to glance at two ponies looking at me from down the hallway, trying to shower me with their false concern. It was quite a commendable facade, yet I knew better than they could've ever predicted and for that I felt a little more than pride washing up my chest. We royal guards are taught how to put up a farce, after all; what they're doing to me was satirical at best.

From my father, concern hid his disappointment. If we're not in the public arena, he would be shaking his head, perhaps even shout me to my grave with his mythril blade. His eyes were narrowed, disgust swarming like locusts shredding away at the image of his son. Moreover, he was angry, mostly at himself. Shame to direct so much hatred and stress at the wrong pony, really; shame when he should've directed it to the pony standing just right next to him.

From the other pony, concern... concern probably hid his guilt. There's no need for me to elaborate, for this pony knew what he did wrong anyway. He should've been the one chained to the chair and facing Pierce instead of me. He should've been the one ridiculed and mocked and ripped apart by the enigmatic voices of the radio. He should've been the one... he should've been the one and yet they chose me instead. I don't deserve this. I never deserve this.

"Just you wait..." I swore to myself as I stomped away. "Justice will come to this world, alright. When it knocks at your front door, however..."

Something dark pried a smile from within me.

"What would you do then, Mr. Atelier?"