Twilight in the Dreamlands

by RB_

Entry 11 (Part 1)

Day 13

I think this may be my last entry for a while, dearest journal. I am likely going to be very busy in the nights to come!

Allow me to explain.

I was heading over to Spike’s dream pillar, to attempt to communicate again. It became apparent that something was very wrong, however, as soon as I laid eyes on the structure. Much the same as with Sweetie Belle’s nightmare, the normally calm pillar had become turbulent and chaotic, dark clouds spiraling angrily into the sky. I almost turned back, traumatic memories flooding my mind with primal fears, but I could not. Spike was my assistant, my first friend, almost a brother to me. I could not abandon him!

Even with my newfound resolve, it took all of my willpower just to take the first few steps into the nightmare.

The dreamscape held within the nebulous pillar was familiar to me. It was the same cavern as Spike’s dream from two nights ago- or, rather, almost the same. Whereas the lair in that dream had been warm and welcoming, the air here was cold and damp, the walls of the cave overgrown with mosses and brambles. The enchanted stones which had once illuminated the chamber with a soft orange glow were now cracked and chipped, their light flickering and dying.

The sounds of crying reached my ears, and I allowed my gaze to drift towards the center of the twisted chamber.

Here, there lay a disturbed mirror of the heartwarming scene from before. The statues, once the invulnerable protectors of this realm, lay in pieces, now no more than lifeless chunks of rubble. Their remains circled not a hoard of gold and gemstones, but a mountain of slate slabs, and atop them, the sobbing form of my friend. Something lay upon his back, mirroring my position from before, but it was obscured by the dragon’s shaking form.

Without thinking, I approached the stone mound, motherly instincts I did not even now I had kicking in and telling me that I needed to hold him, needed to stroke his spines and tell him that everything was going to be all right.

As I grew closer, I noticed inscriptions on the slabs, but I paid them no mind as I climbed to the peak.

Planting myself directly in front of his massive snout, I reached out with my hoof, gently resting it against his jaw.

“Spike?” I whispered.

No response.

“Spike? Can you hear me?”

Nothing. He just sat there, literal rivers of tears spilling from his massive eyes.

“Spike! Spike, please! Please look at me!” Now I was crying, desperate to end his sadness. “Spike! Please, please, wake up!”

Hoofsteps.

On his back.

Blinking away tears, I looked up from the face of my dragon friend as the sounds grew closer, closer, until the figure I had seen earlier revealed itself to me.

It looked like a pony skeleton, but… distorted.

Its front legs came into view first. They were long, impossibly long. Its scapula jutted out at right angles from the thing’s spine. Its humerus and radial bones had fused into one, and they protruded upwards, where they connected to a massively elongated cannon bone which reached down to the ground. The thing had no hooves, its limbs ending in worn nubs of bone.

The thing’s skull appeared normal, until it rose up as if looking at the ceiling, revealing a single, slitted eye nestled within the creature’s mouth, staring at me through the bottom of its jaw.

The spine of the creature was also elongated, dragging behind it for at least two meters. After what felt like an eternity, the monster’s hind legs were pulled over Spike’s crest. They were tiny and deformed, the bones improperly bent and fused, clearly unusable by the creature.

And the monster just stood there, staring at me, as if it knew that its very presence would frighten me into submission.

It was right.

Author's Note:

For reference:
http://thinklikeahorse.org/images/072_Skeleton_of_a_horse.jpg