• Published 24th Feb 2014
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View - ThunderChaserCreate



A creature watches the daily goings on of Ponyville from a small hole far above.

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The only color I know the name of is black. It is the only color they ever talk about here. And I know black. I know it well.

Black can be close, too close, smothering and hot. But black can also be unattainable: far and cold and sucking. I know because there's a tunnel at the back of my room. It goes down into the ground really really far, but it is barely big enough to fit your nose into, let alone your whole body.

That's how I watched it. There was this other hole in the wall. It was really small, but I could see one building through it. The bottom was the color of the flying animals with the heads that go all the way around. The top was the color of spring leaves. The top sometimes moved around. I don't know why it did that.

That's where she lived, I think. If I tried really hard, I could see her leaving and walking all the way home. I had to look down so hard my eyes hurt, but it was okay. I liked watching her. She was very pretty.

She was the color of flowers. Not the ones with the pokey parts, the little ones with the heart-shaped leaves. But kind of less black than those. Her mane was the halfway between night sky color and day sky color. It had these bright stripes of heart-leaf flower and pokey-parts flower. It was really pretty.

Her eyes were cloud colored. Most of them were. But the rest was dark. I liked the cloudy part the most.

She talked a lot.

She cried a lot.

She liked to read things aloud to me and the boxes.

That was the only other thing in my room with me. There were three and two of them. I don't know how many that is together. I don't think the visiting pony has ever used that number.

They were weird. They were not made of the same stuff as the rest of my room. When I touched the rest of my room, it was cold and hard and smooth. When I hit it, it made a noise that was really close and not very loud.

When I touched the boxes, they were not cold or hot. They were rough and sometimes pokey. They were hard, too. When I hit them, they made a sound that was loud and far away.

I did not like the boxes. I liked the walls better. They felt different and nice when I touched them. I sometimes put my cheek on it and listened really hard. I can sometimes hear other ponies when I do this. They all cry a lot. They say funny things, like 'if you can hear me,' or 'if you're out there.'

Why would you talk to somepony if you do not know where they are?

The visiting pony comes every day. She brings stuff with her most days, and she puts them outside. It is usually flowers. Sometimes, she brings special things like gems and apples and balloons. She always gives a name and a little story with these. I can never hear the name. She says them very quietly. I think she's afraid of saying the names.

One day, she didn't come.

The boxes made little noises.

Maybe they always made little noises, and I just couldn't hear them.

Then she didn't come the day after that.

The boxes got louder.

I got really scared.

I never liked those boxes.

Somepony different came the day after that. They were the color of the pokey flowers. They sang a song.

She said she was sorry 'she' couldn't come. I think she was talking about the visiting pony. The pokey flower pony said that 'she' had somewhere else to be. She wouldn't be back for a long time.

The pokey flower pony left.

She came back the next day. This time, she brought somepony else. He was cloud colored. He said that 'she' was having a very hard time. He said that he was looking after 'her,' but that it was still really hard. He said that there were problems in the kingdom because the Princesses were dead.

I did not understand.

He cried a lot.

He said that 'she' was the only one left to rule. He said that he was scared for his sister. He said that if I could help I really had to because she was slipping away.

He was really quiet for a while. He just looked at the outside of my room.

Then he looked right at me. He yelled something at the pokey flower pony.

I think he threw up.

Those ponies did not come back.

The boxes are too loud to bear.

I can hear all the little voices yelling at me.

They say that I am the only one who can help.

I do not understand.

The top of the house isn't spring-leaf anymore. It is flying animal color, too, just like the bottom of the house.

The hole is getting bigger. The one in the ground. It keeps pulling me closer. Sometimes I hear voices from there, too. I do not like the hole anymore. It scares me.

One day, the hole got too big. On that day, the voices stopped.

I was happy that the voices stopped. I never liked the voices.

But now the hole was so big that I could only stand pressed up against the wall.

I lost my balance.

The voices never came back.

The ponies never came back.

I cannot get out of the hole.

I cannot even move.

I cannot watch the ponies anymore.

The hole gets smaller every day.

Once, some dirt landed on my eye.

I could not feel it.

The quiet scares me.

I need to leave.

The hole is very small now. Only as big as it was before. I can look up at the ceiling, but I can't see anything else.

It is black. Very black. A new kind of black. A close, but cold black.

I do not like it.

I do not like anything anymore.

One day, the black stopped. There was a loud noise, then lots of not-black, then lots of voices above me. They carried something over my hole.

It was another box. This one was bigger than the others, but the same odd shape. It was made of the same stuff as the walls.

The voices grunted a lot and complained a lot and cursed. They cursed a lot. I do not like cursing. It makes happy sentences sound angry.

They put the box down at the back.

They said that that box was the smallest one. They had four more to bring in.

I watched as the ponies brought in the next four boxes. They were all very large, and they had to be stood up against the wall to even fit.

But they said that this was the best place for them to be.

One of the voices was a girl. She said that she wanted her mother and godmothers in here, too.

They brought in three more boxes. They were the same as the first three and two. They were made of the nasty stuff.

Then the black came back. The voices were gone for a while.

Then the hole opened up again.

I climbed out. I liked being out of the hole.

The new boxes were all at the back. One had a mark on it. It had six points. If I squinted hard, it was pokey flower colored.

The next one had a mark, too. I squinted real hard. It was a sky colored heart.

The next had a weird shape on it I had never seen before. It was the same color as the visiting pony's mane.

The next box had a round shape with lots of squiggly lines coming out. It was lemon colored.

The last had a circle on it, too, but with a circle-shaped piece missing. It was cloud colored.

The three new nasty ones were blank.

I do not know what I thought of the new boxes.

I went back to the hole in the wall.

The building was gone. I do not know where it went. That scared me.

The voices were not there. The visiting pony did not come. Not for a long time.

I waited three and three and three and three and three days, but nopony came. The voices did not make any noise.

Then, one day, I heard a voice.

It was not like the voices were before. It was not like when the ponies came to visit. It did not yell or scold. It did not cry. It just started talking.

"There is a little hole in my room," it said. "I can sometimes see a little shape moving around. It is not very tall. I wish it would stay still. I want to know what it is."

I stopped moving. I had been pacing about, waiting for the visiting pony to come back.

"The shape stopped. He is the color of me. The color of the heart-leaf flowers, but with less black. He is very small."

She was quiet.

"I like him."

I liked that voice. It was very familiar...

"I like him, too," said another voice. "He has something on his head, something tall and kind of pointy. It is emerald colored. I always liked emeralds..."

"He has these little feet that do not look like mine," said a high-pitched voice. "I like his feet. They are funny."

"Sometimes the dust makes him cough. A little flame comes out of his mouth. I cannot do that. I wonder why..." said a quiet voice.

"He's got shiny skin," another voice threw in. "Like an apple."

"He does not have wings like me. I think he should. He would like them."

"He's really cool!" shouted the three new nasty boxes. "We remember that..."

"He hath a name. I cannot quite remember..." stated the voice of a more mature female.

"It is Spike." This voice was soothing and flowing.

All the voices were quiet.

The black was going away.

"Go to sleep, Spike..." said the flowing voice. "We'll be there when you wake up."

The hole opened up.

I crawled out.

There were three and three boxes.

I do not like the boxes.

The make me have nightmares.

But I never remember the nightmares.

So I guess it is okay.