Half-Hour Horses

by HoofAndQuill

She Was Pinkie Pie [Slice of Life?]

(The Prompt: Seven years underground.)

Fun.

That was what she had wanted. Fun with her friends!

She was Pinkie Pie. She was all Pinkie Pie. Every one of her was Pinkie Pie, and that other pony wasn't.

It had been a long time. She remembered Ponyville, she remembered the bright sun and the warm grass, she remembered the other ponies with all their different colors, all the nice food and interesting buildings. She remembered everything.

There was no fun back in this water. Before she had left, before that other pony had awoken her, she didn't know what she was missing. It hadn't been as bad, then. But now, now she missed the fun. She missed Ponyville.

It had taken time, but after trying, after a long, long time of swimming up a waterfall, she had climbed out. She had been the first. She had come up out of the water and found herself in the cave. There were mushrooms that glowed, hanging vines, weird stone spikes and lots of sand to play with. She had spent a while, just having fun. After all, the cave had been blocked with a heavy stone. She couldn't leave.

There's only so much fun a pony can have alone. Even her. So she struggled to remember. At first it was blurry, but then the sun and grass and games and food all came back to her. Along with a short, simple rhyme.

Into her own reflection she stared, yearning for one whose reflection she shared, and solemnly sweared, not to be scared, at the prospect of being doubly mared.

Then, she was two. There were more fun things that two ponies could do than one. She both did them, she spent days just running and jumping and digging and eating mushrooms and generally playing. But she realized that the cave wasn't fun enough. It wasn't what she wanted. She wanted other ponies, not just more of her. But to leave, she needed more.

So she made more.

But the stone set into the exit of the cave was magically sealed and protected. She chipped a hundred hooves bashing at it, and broke a hundred teeth.

The cave was somehow less fun with this much of her. After a time, she found most of herself poking at the dirt with her hooves, and moping around quietly. But she noticed, when she poked some areas, that dents formed. If she poked there more, she could dig. The magic hadn't reached every part of the cave.

She began digging. When she got tired, other parts of her resumed the work. She farmed mushrooms, and all of her took her fair share. She built homes out of stone, she had a small Pinkieville. But it was only her, and she grew bored. So she continued digging.

Things slowly changed. She argued with herself. She fought with herself, and sometimes she lost part of herself. But she always came back together in the end. After all, where else could she go but onward? Her hooves pounded at the unprotected stone, and the unprotected dirt. She was tired of mushrooms, and tired of what passed for mushroom cupcakes. She was tired of living in stone houses and sleeping on stone beds. She was tired of pink.

She missed having fun.

Her hair was straight, part of it. The rest was poofy. Some of her had a short tail and some kept her tail long. The parts of her with hooves worn and cracked from digging would wait, while the rest of her would press onward. It was difficult, digging with hooves. After a while, she remembered tools. Digging became easier, and faster. More of her could dig at once.

There were no foals, of course, but there was always more of her waiting, if she needed more. She had Pinkieville, and then after a while, she had Canterpie. Canterpie needed towers, it needed spires and balconies. So she dug and she carved until she had those. Pinkieville farmed and Canterpie ruled. But it was all her, and the arguing was kept short.

One day, she had an ear pressed to the stone. She liked hearing the click of hooves and the taps of tools on the wall. This part of her did, anyway. That was when she heard it. Not just hooves and picks, but voices. Voices that were not hers. She called herself over and she listened with more ears. It took some work, there was a lot of noise with her all here. But there, there it was. Other voices. She had nearly forgotten what that was.

The construction of Pinkamenhattan was halted. She had direction, now. She remembered again, the warm sun and colors other than blue and pink. Hooves and picks and shovels all turned to a new purpose. Stone cracked and crumbled, dirt was moved, and the mines were reinforced. She knew what she needed, now. Time passed, less than she thought but more than she'd hoped. Careful carving and digging had left her with only a narrow passage. She didn't want to damage that other town, Ponyville.

She gathered herself together in Canterpie gardens. In the glow of the mushrooms and vines, she reminded herself of the plan. They didn't want her there, she remembered that. But she wanted to leave this cave now. Canterpie was beautiful, and Pinkieville was peaceful and pleasant, but she wanted more. There were thousands of her now, and she knew she could have more in minutes.

She marched en masse toward the small passageway, and she dug upwards through the cobblestone under the streets. The stones slowly fell away under hoof and shovel and pick. She found herself blinking in many eyes as rays of sunlight broke through, and she smiled despite her hurting head. As she widened the passage, she pressed herself forward, and broke out into Equestria again.

She was free, she was having fun, and she would never be caged again.

Comments

[PresentPerfect]

And that's how Equestria was unmade. :V