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// Chapter 12-1: Pleasantville – Part 1 
// Story: Callsign MANE VI: Twilight 
// by Col_StaR 
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	“So, AJ, what’s the plan?”

“Head into town. Split up. Fan out. And find Twilight ASAP. We’ll bring her back if we can, but we’ll have to stop her if we can’t. After that, we’ll just have to wing it.”

“Pleasantville isn’t very big, but it’s easy to get lost with so much excitement. I’d be willing to guide you through town, if that’s alright with you.”

“We’d be most grateful for your help, dear. Though, on that note, may I suggest a change in wardrobe?  I feel our current attire makes us stand out like a set of mismatched buttons.” 

“Rarity’s got the right idea. Stow your gear and toss on whatever civvies you’ve got. Concealed carry only. Let’s not draw any attention until we find our target.”

“The USF should know what’s coming their way. There’s no telling what a UNI might do if she makes it into town.”

“Then here’s hoping their CO’ll listen. Now come on, get changed and get moving.”




Twilight counted the seconds that passed since she had left the confines of the cottage behind her. Hidden by the thicket of trees, she ran through wet dirt and fallen leaves, stopping briefly to catch her breath before picking up her pace again. The freedom of fresh air came with an oppressive chill that burned in her lungs, a reminder of how far she was from the comforts of her bed and her books. The Institute’s guardsmen weren’t coming for her: she was on the wrong side of the wall. She may have escaped from her previous confines, but Twilight admitted that she wasn’t out of the woods yet.

‘Out of the woods’. Spike would have liked that pun. If only he were here...

The young woman had reached the aged road sooner than expected, following it until the birch trees and green foliage gave way to empty fields and man-made buildings. The town of Pleasantville may have been civilization, but it was still wilderness to her. After what felt like a marathon's worth of running, Twilight's legs and lungs burned in equal measure. Her only relief was the knowledge that she was getting further from her captors and closer to her goal. 

The only thing that mattered was getting back home. Maybe there, she would be safe. Maybe there, she would learn what was happening to her. Maybe there, things would go back to the way they were before. Nothing was certain, but it was enough to push her deeper into the unknown alone.

To most students of the Institute, referring to the world beyond the walls was akin to speaking of the surface of the moon. The royal historical records state that Cell herself ordered that the gates be closed and locked nearly twenty years ago, never again to be opened. No one knows why, but no one dared question her judgement. During that self-imposed isolation, a generation of students would only know of the outside world through dusty old books and the tales the old guardsmen shared. 

From an academic perspective, Twilight was making history: not only was she was one of the few people to leave the walls, but she also discovered an outside city. Ideally, she would have been on point with a notebook in hand, vigorously taking notes on any and everything she could in order to report her findings to her teacher. Even now, in the midst of her escape, her mind couldn’t help but catalogue her observations; if she ever made it back, she’d have one heck of a paper to write. 

Pleasantville wasn’t nearly as developed as the Institute, but it was definitively a civilized town. Several structures of a variety of shapes and sizes flanked the roads, but they shared the same wooden skeleton. The forest had supplied a majority of the building materials from the wooden struts to the thatched roofs, and the town as a whole shared a natural, cut-from-nature aesthetic. The paved roads were cracked and uneven with age, but the buildings had yet to show such wear. If Twilight had to guess, Pleasantville was barely older than she was.

In spite of its young age, the town had gone from busy to abandon in a matter of hours. Windows were boarded and doors barred shut. Families packed their lives into worn suitcases before walking away from their former homes. Children held on their parents hands, crying, unable to comprehend. The parents can offer no answers or reassurances, but they keep walking. The busy streets were lined with fear, sadness, and uncertainty as the townspeople made their way towards the center of town. Their expressions made the grey sky darken just that much more.

A convoy of military-style trucks roared down the street beside the countless refugees, kicking up pavement on their way out of town. The towering trucks were a mish-mash of colors, models, and ages, but they shared a single emblem painted on their sides: a navy blue box with the letters “USF” stenciled in white. Soldiers ride in the back with their rifles in their hands, their empty eyes scanning the passing crowds. Behind them is a bed full of people, those lucky enough to be given a ride to safety. A handful of hopeful refugees shout towards the trucks, waving them down, asking them to stop. But the trucks can carry no more, leaving them all in the dust and cold.

The evacuation was in full swing, but Twilight could still see hints at what normal life in Pleasantville had been like. A toy store’s door was boarded up, but dolls and games still hung in the window. An empty lot had been converted into a community garden whose soil had been freshly tilled before being trampled over by rushing refugees. Crows picked at the half-eaten remains of a sandwich that were left behind on a restaurant patio.  On any other day, Pleasantville may have even been a pleasant place to visit. Twilight was sorry she wouldn’t get the chance to. 

It was then that a familiar rumbling could be heard from behind. And as she turned, she saw it: an orange pickup truck coming up the road in the distance. Her gut sank as her mind raced for options. The streets were no longer safe for her, and they were no doubt searching for her. 

Twilight picked up the pace, walking quickly to avoid suspicion.  Crossing the street would be too risky, and there was nothing she could hide behind on the street. Her only option was to get inside, and fast. Hanging her head low to avoid detection, her eyes kept scanning to the right. The first house had its door closed and no doubt locked. The second house had its front door boarded up nails firmly in place over the door frame. As she passed by the third closed house, a sense of dread grew within her as she was overcome by the feeling that she was being watched. The town was closing in around her to the sound of an approaching engine. 

The next plot of land was undeveloped and empty. At this rate, Twilight wondered if she’d even make it to the end of the block before being caught. But that’s when she saw it: an empty door frame in the next building over. An open door felt like most welcoming sight she’d seen all day. It was only 100 meters away, but meters feel like miles when you’re forced to walk them. But without any other option, Twilight pumped her legs as quickly as she could while still keeping both legs on the ground.

100 meters. She could make it with a few seconds of running, but she couldn’t risk drawing attention to herself. Clutching the lapels of Captain Light’s jacket, she hoped to hide her face from any passing onlookers.

60 meters. She was halfway across the empty lot, but she still felt a football field away from her goal. The building ahead is approaching quickly, its aged design appearing distinctive from the other buildings in town.

40 meters. Against her better judgement, she turned to look down the road. Figures could be distinguished within Applejack’s truck, with Rarity’s hair in the passenger's seat being the most defined. Twilight turned forward, ducking her head ever so slightly as she picked up the pace.

20 meters. The empty lot ended and her goal was in sight. All that stood between her was a short stretch of lawn, a large sign in front, and only a few meters worth of distance.

10 meters. The stepping stone path towards the door was too far to risk. Twilight chose to walk over the building’s well-manicured lawn, finding a guilty comfort in feeling the soft grass underfoot.

5 meters. Safety was almost within reach. She held her breath and shut her eyes as the open door neared, quickly prayed she would make it.

The feeling of wood brushes against her fingers, followed by the sound of brass hinges creaking to greet their newest visitor. She had made it.

Twilight stepped inside just as quickly as she shut the door behind her. The walls rattled as the door slammed shut, but the act reassured her that she was indeed safe inside. With her back pressed against the nearby wall, she inched closer to one of the windows overlooking the road.  Applejack meandered past, oblivious to Twilight’s evasion. The truck disappeared from sight, and her breath returned to her.

Sliding to her knees for a brief moment of respite, Twilight rubbed the nervous sweat from her brow and closing her anxiously-dry eyes. She had expected that her trek through town would be taxing, and that she was bound to be followed. What she didn’t expect was to find someone standing right in front of her, nose to nose, when she opened her eyes.

“Surprise!”

Pops like gunshots rang in her ears, followed by a flash of light so sudden that Twilight felt her irises nearly shut. Her heart missed no less than two beats as she collapsed to the floor. Frozen in fear, she was sprinkled with streamers and confetti. 

Standing over her was a woman with a smile as wide as her head, a salvo of used party poppers in her hands. “Ha! The look on your face! Priceless!” she said, her words giving way to a fit of laughter.

The only thing brighter than the woman’s smile was her eyes, sky blue spheres that gleamed in the midst of such excitement. She seemed to exude pent-up energy, so much so that the air tingled with electricity as she laughed. Perhaps that explained the current state of her hair, frazzled curls of electric pink that looked like an untamed head of cotton candy. 

The woman pulled Twilight to her feet, brushing off the mess she had made on her guest. “Hey, I’ve never seen you before. Y'see I've never saw you before and if I've never saw you before that means you're new, 'cause I know everyone- and I mean everyone- in Pleasantville!” 

The student got to her feet, picking up her train of thought as she combed errant confetti out of her hair. “Yes, I just arrived, but I should really be-.”

“It’s too bad I didn’t know you were coming. I would have thrown you a surprise, ‘welcome to Pleasantville’ party. I guess a, ‘farewell to Pleasantville party’ will have to do. But hey, a party’s still a party, right?”

“But I was just about to go-“

“Well of course you're about to go. We’re all about to go: go someplace new and exciting, of course! Pleasantville was nice, but who knows where we’ll go next. Where would you like to go?” 

“I was actually hoping to-“

“I hope we go somewhere exciting and fun. Maybe we’ll go to Manhattan, or Paris, or the Shire! I hear Narnia’s nice this time of year.”

“Okay, Narnia isn’t even a real-“

“Hey, want to come with me? The USF’s moving everyone out from the center of town. It’s always more fun when a friend tags along.”

“Look, I appreciate your offer, but I don’t need a-“

Friend. Inspiration struck before the word could escape her mouth. Twilight was stuck staring at the woman in front of her, who cheerfully rocked back and forth on her heels with eager anticipation. Walking alone would draw attention; having company would help her blend in.

“Actually… it would be nice if someone could show me around. Never know if I might get lost. Since I’m so new. Like you noticed.”

“Exactamundo, my new friend!” She said, emphasizing the latter two words. “Here, I’ve got my backpack back packed back here. Stay right there, and I’ll be out in a jiffy.” 

In a blink of an eye, the girl in pink disappeared between the bookshelves, leaving behind a trail of loose confetti fluttering to the ground. 

“Hey, wait a second! Come back!” Twilight said, pausing for a moment to ask, “What’s a jiffy?”

As the last of the colored paper hit the ground, it was clear that her new-found friend wasn’t going to be answering her question just yet. Without anything further to go on, the student did exactly as she had been asked: wait.

Twilight studied the immediate area from top to bottom, noting the aging wood panels of the floors along with the colorful streamers that hung from the ceilings. Looking up, she discovered a string of paper letters, handcrafted and brightly colored that made out the heartbreakingly cheerful message: “Farewell to Pleasantville!” Inferring from the arrangement of the tables and chairs, this particular section was likely the designated reading area.  But while the wooden homemade tables were designed to be filled with books and avid readers, Twilight found them to be covered in platters that had once been laden with food. A few stacks of crackers, cheese, and bread remained, though all that remained of the cake were smears of sweetly-scented pink frosting. It was difficult to say how many guests the library had had recently, but they left ample evidence of a party in their wake. 

The copious amount of crumbs on the tables and floors were a strong reminder of why eating was always banned inside the Institute’s libraries. But, given how her mouth salivated and how her stomach grumbled as she looked at the remains of the feast, Twilight would make an exception. Two cheese sandwiches and a cracker stack later, the cheerful woman had yet to return. From the front windows, Twilight could see countless people hurrying along the street, their arms full of bags and belongings. The grey sky loomed overhead, and it seemed to grow darker with every moment she spent waiting. Urgency overruled patience, and Twilight began to search for her newfound guide.

The trail of confetti was the first clue that lead her between the bookshelves and deeper into the library. She made her way through the narrow canyon of wooden shelves. Twilight was well acquainted with the several libraries back at the Institute, but she couldn’t help but be disappointed with the state of this library. The Institute always maintained shelves full of books on seeming every subject known to man, but the Pleasantville library had perhaps four shelves worth of books spread across twelve. It wasn’t uncommon to see large gaps in between sections of books, if not empty shelves altogether. 

But in spite of the lack of quantity, Twilight was still intrigued by what books this library did have. Many of the titles she had never seen before, making her wonder if they were available in the Institute at all. Books like “Happiness and Horticulture” and “Ishmael’s Story: Life before the Great Collapse” couldn’t be found within the Institute’s walls,  which made their discovery all the more exciting. One book had fallen off the shelf, left lying on the floor long enough for a noticeable layer of dust to accumulate across its patchwork leather cover. Twilight took the peculiar book in her hands, flipping through its well-worn pages before placing it on the return cart at the end of the aisle; the title intrigued her, but “History in an Era of Discord” would have to be a book she’d return to another day. 

She checked the numerous bookshelves lined the walls around the reading area, but there was still no sign of her guide. As she made her way to the front, she found a periodicals section that was little more than a stack of old hand-printed newsletters on otherwise-regular bookshelves. The newspapers themselves were years out of date, but news section was devoid of life. Nearby was the head librarian’s desk, a large, proud, oaken piece of local craftsmanship that was now little more than storage space for napkins and spider webs. The rear wall stood directly behind the head librarian’s desk, but a large white sheet covered nearly the entirety of the wall as though to cover up some interior damage. The bookworm’s heart ached at the library’s dismal state, so much knowledge that had been left to waste. Twilight made a mental note to herself: if she ever got the chance to come back, she’d give this place the attention it deserved. 

A heavy rumbling could be heard coming from the street, one that shook the ground and made the ceiling creak ever so slightly. Staring out the reading room windows, Twilight could see large trucks plowing down the street, their eight wheels moving at a near-reckless speed in order to get to their destination. In spite of their speed, she could clearly see each truck’s contents: numerous people, each being ferried as far from here as possible. Upon seeing that, Twilight knew she couldn’t afford to waste any more time. 

She began to make her way to the front of the library, bypassing the bookshelves and going straight down the middle. It would be a shame to leave it all behind, but Twilight couldn’t risk being left behind. She didn’t expect to hear from her phantom friend any time soon. But as she came to the entryway she had once rushed into, a sparkle made her pause for a most crucial moment.

It was something in the center of the wall beside the entrance, an ornate design that was being hidden by the dark interior. On the ground was a large white sheet, similar to the one that hung along the rear wall, but this one was lovingly rolled into a bowl at the foot of the wall. Drawings, flowers, and even small gems were arranged delicately, almost lovingly, on the cloth dish. Candles littered the ground around the cloth, their melted wax smoothing over the cracks in the floorboards. The air smelled heavy with wisps of smoke and floral incense.  

The nearby window had its heavy cloth curtain closed, but Twilight could have sworn to have seen a glint of light reflecting from the darkened surface. The studious student stepped towards the nearby window and began to draw the curtain. As the curtain pulled back, the grey light outside gradually revealed more and more of the painting on the wall. When the entire curtain was open, letting the daylight flood in, Twilight gasped at what she saw.

It was a work of art whose beauty was only matched by its meaning. Painted on the wall in the center of the room was figure of a woman, pale, slender, and distinctly feminine. Her features were made to be perfect, drawing upon a mythic idealization of beauty. Countless hours must have been spent on the fineness of her details, from the silken texture of her silvery dress to the flowing waves of her pastel hair. She holds her arms above her head in proud poise, and her face illustrates strength and peace in equal measure.

Between her hands, a painted sun. Behind her back, rays of light formed as open wings. Atop her upturned head, a golden crown. And across her feet, a painted banner with a declaration: “Our Princess, Celestia”.

Her silvery gaze stayed on Twilight, the imposing stare of her slate-grey eyes seeming to pierce right through her. Twilight’s blood turned to ice as her familiar voice echoed in her ear, but the heavenly aura that emanated through the room put her mind at ease. Through this painted proxy she stood before her protégé, whom couldn’t help but notice how slender, pale, and flawless her painted hands were.

Countless questions battered Twilight as she stared at the painting, each observation prompting yet more questions in her mind. Caught in a trace, she didn’t notice the person standing beside her. “I heard the artist who painted all this was arrested. I knew he had his brushes with the law. But personally, I think he was framed.”

Twilight’s heart jumped at the sound of shrill voice beside her. But her nerves calmed as she saw the curly-haired woman standing beside her, staring at the same painted figure on the wall. “I- I don’t understand. What is this supposed to mean?”

“Well, a frame is the wooden thing you put around a painting to make it fancy. But a frame could also refer to-“

“No, no, no, I get the joke. I’m referring to this,” Twilight said, outstretching her arm towards the display in front of her. “The candles, the painting, ‘Princess Celestia’?  What is all this?”

“You’ve never heard of the princesses?”

“No. I’m… As you noticed earlier, I’m new around here.”

“Oh, silly. It doesn’t matter if you’re new or not. Everyone in the world must have heard about the princesses! As the story goes, after the world had fallen apart, she and her sister restored order to the world. They’ve fought evil time and time again using their magical powers, and managed to win every time. Even when her own sister turned on her, Princess Celestia has always protected humanity from danger. Many people believe she’s still watching over us, and they leave these offerings to her for good luck.”

Twilight turned to ask, “And these stories… you believe they’re real?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders. “The stories must have come from somewhere, right? Everyone believes in something, no matter how silly it may sound. But a lot of people think they’re just fairy tales, just something to tell the kids at bedtime. And days like today,” she said with an exasperated sign, “well, maybe it’s better to admit that you’re alone in the world, rather than wait to be saved by someone who’ll never come.”

Silence fell over the two as the weight of the message filled the air. There was so much that she wanted to say, but there was nothing worth saying that would have helped. Instead, Twilight chose to say nothing, letting the dismal truth hang heavy in her heart.

The pink-haired woman eventually spoke up, “Well, real or not, it’s all ancient history now. But we’ll be history too if we don’t leave soon. And I don’t think we’ll be getting a painting on the wall either. So come on, let's get going!”

With a gentle pat on the back, Twilight knew it was time to get moving. Her guide pulled a well-travelled rucksack over her shoulder, grunting as the straps tightened around her shoulders. As burdensome as the pack appeared to be, Twilight felt just as burdened by the unanswered questions that lingered in her mind. But as the two of them made their way to the door, all she could do was stare at the day-lit painting, holding onto the golden pin on her jacket lapel more tightly than ever.

Time had only served to make the grey day only more miserable. As she stepped back outside , the skies had grown darker and the breeze blew colder in the time that had passed. The guide was the last one out, and there was a sudden jolt of sound that seemed to echo through the street as she shut the front door. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she reached into her pocket, retrieving a set of keys to lock up for the final time. After knocking on the wood three times for good luck, the woman turned and stepped besides Twilight.

“Say, I never got your name. We can’t be backpacking buddies if we don’t know each other’s name now, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess you’re right. You can call me Twilight. I… hope that name’s not too weird or anything.” 

“Around these parts? Ha! Not at all.” The woman pulled on as playful of a grin as she could. ”Pinkie Pie, at your service. My friends just call me Pinkie, though, so you can too.“