What followed after my hatching were some of the most frustrating days, then weeks, then months, then finally years of my new life. I was clothed and bathed like an infant because I was one. I was fed and burped like an infant because I was one. I was changed and held, to the best of ponies' abilities, like an infant because I was one. From an independent woman to a helpless babe; my mind has a hard time imagining anything that could be as damaging to an adult psyche as that...
... Well except for my inevitable second go through puberty, of course. That goes without saying. The jury is still out on whether or not I'll survive that little slice of hell Tartarus as I did with infancy. Mentally I’m still hardwired towards being attracted to human anatomy and human anatomy only; I don’t know how I’ll react if I suddenly start finding other dragons or ponies sexy visually pleasing. My guess is ‘poorly’.
Moving on; from my baby years through most of my toddlerhood I was the responsibility of many a nursemaid and many a doctor. Dusk was far too young at the time to care for me himself, after all. The little colt would visit me often in my room in Canterlot Castle, to make sure I wasn't lonely, but it wasn't until years later when he was on the crust of becoming a teenager that the two of us got assigned to watch over one another. By then I was able to speak and understand his language better and actually control my body, but it took me years to regain a sense of normalcy.
It took me years to simply come to grips with what I even was.
I still vividly remember the first time I ever saw myself in the mirror, and how the reflection caused me to feel such pure dejection in both my mind and soul.
In place of a large dark-skinned woman with reddish hair, I instead saw a small purple lizard with green spines. The baby fat was a poor substitute for the generous curves I once possessed, and my eyes were a completely different shade of green, but these two features were the only aspects that had stayed the sameish between my transition from one form and the next. Everything else was so strange and new, and it frightened me greatly.
Instead of hands, I had claws. I had a tail where I once had none. Purple scales covered my body where once I was bare. And, as the damnable teething was quick to remind me, I was growing fangs where once I had the teeth of an omnivore.
Plus I could breathe green dragonfire.
I still feel absolutely awful for the nursemaid who accidentally taught me this little fact one day while he was burping me. The shock of it caused me to become a crying wreck and it was his job to comfort me, even though I had just lit his tail ablaze. I must remember to do something nice for mister Lunardanseur the next chance I have.
I cried a lot in those early days, though not all of the tears were for the constant attention an infant needs. In the beginning, I cried about my situation; being helpless and unable to communicate or even understand what everyonepony around me was saying. I was convinced for the longest time that they were responsible for what I had become, for "stealing" my body and my family.
I even lashed out at Dusk on a few occasions, scratching him or "accidentally" setting him on fire. I regret acting as such now, like a brat. He was one of the few who was showing me love and I initially rejected him. I don’t think I can be truly blamed though; whenever he laughed at words I could not translate, I always saw it as him mocking me. This couldn’t be further from the truth, but I had no way of knowing.
This hatred I had for him and everypony else in those days didn’t go to waste. I used that hate, that ever glowing fire, to spur me forward in my growth. I resigned myself to learning how to stand again so that I could face those who had imprisoned me; I would learn how to walk again so that I could one day run. I would learn how to use my claws so that I could take back control of my life with them; I would learn how to speak again so that I could once again have a voice.
I would learn how to control my fire and my tail so that I could fight back if need be.
As many would attest, I was an abnormally driven baby in the beginning. I learned things and gained control of my body faster than most foals ever could. “Well, that’s because she’s a dragon,” was what most said to rationalize away my odd quirks, unknowingly adding fuel to my inner blaze with their garbled words. Every time I was cooed at, every time they stomped their hooves in cheer for my meager accomplishments, I misinterpreted it as mocking laughter. I would growl back at them, only for it to come out as infantile babble. It was a constant reminder that I had a long way to go.
This lasted for almost a year, until I was ten months of age; it was then that something happened that quickly changed my attitude.
One night I had a nightmare, and then I had it again the next night and even the night after that. I would suddenly find myself wide awake in my crib, staring up at the mobile overhead; trying to piece together why my heart was racing and why I was sweating. It was the same nightmare every evening, I knew that much at least. Every night I would be able to retain more and more details about it but I was never able to see the big picture.
When I finally did see said big picture, I about gave up on life altogether.
These dreams of mine, these nightmares, were nothing of the sort; they were memories. Memories that had not returned to me all those months ago on the day I was reborn. I thought I had them all, that I knew it all, but one hole had unknowingly alluded me. One hole that I had subconsciously tried to hide from myself, fearing what the knowledge would bring.
These hidden memories were the final moments of my old life, and they contained the knowledge of how I died.
It was a dark and stormy night. I feel like I’m failing as an author for even writing these words down. I was traveling home from grocery shopping, operating a vehicle the likes of which unseen in this world. To describe it would be to say that it was a self-propelled carriage, un-needing of the aid of a pony to pull it. It can move anywhere from the pace of a normal carriage to the speed of a well-exercised pegasus. It was quite a powerful contraption. One can only imagine that great care is needed to properly handle such a "beast"; even the slightest of wrong inputs can result in horrific consequences.
Just look at me, for example.
It had blindsided me, the second metallic carriage; its operator, a young teen clearly intoxicated, uncaring of those around him. His vehicle overtook my own, struck me at an angle with such reckless speed...
And then the next thing I knew I found myself waking up again inside of my infantile crib, the thing being what I once saw as my prison until that point. As I laid there in my forced cocoon of blankets, on the verge of real tears, I finally understood what had happened to me. I finally saw the writing on the wall for what it was, and the severity of what it all meant.
Reincarnation. I had died and been reincarnated. This new life of mine wasn’t temporary it was permanent. I wasn’t going to magically wake up again as an adult, I would need to work towards that goal yet again. I wasn’t a damsel in distress, working to be rescued and returned to her family.
I was dead.
I was dead and never going to see them again.
I was never going to see my children or husband or friends ever again. We would never be reunited in an afterlife, doomed forever to be drifters through a reality larger than we could even begin to comprehend.
And I was an infant; a babe forced to remember all and gaze upon the sheer horror such knowledge wrought.
Alone.
Forever.
Of course I cried. That night I cried harder than ever before. My tears were real as I mourned in earnest. I wanted to die at the moment; I wanted to die in spirit or mind, simply so I wouldn’t have to endure the soul-crushing pain of the truth any longer.
The only thing that caused me to stop, even if it was for a second, was when an unfamiliar pair of hooves picked me up and cradled me softly. I was so used to my usual nursemaid’s hooves at that point that a younger pair of them being wrapped around my body startled me. When I opened my stinging, tear-stained dragon eyes for the pony, I was taken by surprise when it turned out to be none other than a pajama-clad Dusk Shine.
The young colt had just finished his late-night studying at the time, under the Prince’s guidance, and was about to sleep in his new guest room when he overheard my wails of sorrow. The kindhearted youth didn’t need to second guess himself as he changed his path and headed straight for my room. Now cradled in his forelegs, I could clearly see the look of concern on his face as he stared down at me.
His eyes were soft and full of innocence, yet I could see the clear signs of a thinking individual behind them. This was the first time I had ever saw him like that; as a mature pony instead of a spoiled child. It was at that point, as I choked up in his embrace, that I came to realize that this young unicorn wasn’t mocking me or taking pride in my pain; he actually cared about me.
In the big scary world I was now a part of, I saw one person who truly cared about me.
Call it Stockholm syndrome, call it the ramblings of a desperate woman; I couldn’t care less. All I knew at that moment was that I was an orphaned child, with no family to speak of. Trapped in a world that I was only starting to realize seemed vaguely famil-... completely foreig-... that I was only starting to realize seemed vaguely familiar to me. I was all of these things, I knew, but one person seemingly cared. One single person.
I felt that was more than enough for now.
Neither Dusk nor I got a wink of sleep that night as I kept us both up with my endless mournful wails.
very good chapter,
can't wait for moar
This is very powerful stuff and an interesting premise. I can recognize the influence of Dreaming of Sunshine as you alluded to before, but that is a good thing when done well like it is here. Off the top of my head the only reincarnation stories in MLP fandom are... Shining's Log? There are so many HiE stories, but reincarnation isn't touched for the most part. The closest that stuff comes is being ponified HiE in the form of foals. Of that, probably the closest one I can think of to this genre is A Three Foal Wish, in the sense that they *could* have been reincarnated and only just remembered their human lives instead of been ponified, because they have a full set of memories of their foal years (and an extended family too). The contrast is part of the (little) drama, especially since their foal memories have them acting with their personalities so they couldn't just write it off as a body swap or simply being transformed. Still it's a comedy (and a very GOOD comedy at that) and not the full introspective domain of Dreaming of Sunshine style reincarnation.
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Huh, I did not actually know about Shining's Log before now. Seems like it's been around for awhile too... I hope I'm not stepping on anyone's toes here with this little writing distraction of mine
Thank you for your kind words! Glad to hear you liked it
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I'll see you again next week then!
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Actually if you are talking about a character reincarnated as Spike theme, I do recall it having been done before in Soul of a Dragon, which is a Harry Potter crossover. I didn't like the story though, and it is almost nothing like yours so I wouldn't worry about it. I'd much rather read your version.
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Oh, alrighty then! That's good to hear. No reason at all that there can't be two stories of a similar premise or something, I just wanted to make sure I wasn't accidentally taking the fun away from someone or something silly like that.
Great content for the story. This will fill nicely the bridge between spike and twilight. Very great chapter for the beginning few. Hope to see more chapters from you and happy holidays.
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Happy Holidays to you as well! See you again later this week
Well, you've definitely opened up a different venue from which to view the odd relationship between Spike and Twilight, of at least one that I can say with certainty I've never seen before. Though the story does lose my interest at times (like with Barbara going over her theories about the multiverse, though I'll admit that maybe I just hated the way that BioShock Infinite handled the concept that it forever damaged the way I view that trope), and the constant inclusions of strike-through gets
agonizingly arduoustedious at times, but through it all you've got a solid foundation from which to view this alternate perspective, and that's crucial to a good story.Applying Rule 63 and then making Barbara a reincarnated, devout parent sacrilegiously torn from everything she held dear, then given nigh but an older Dusk Shine to project those maternal instincts towards is a rather clever way to inversely approach the mother-son relationship that people have observed between Twilight and Spike. I'm really interested to see where this goes (and how the inevitable exchange, when Dusk learns who Barb really is and when she finds out that he knows, will play out...) The one line: "Please, Dusk. I
love you like a sonI care for you too much to hurt you like this" summarizes the tension so well that it pretty much covers the entirety of what I've read thus far.Oh, and the part where the young Barbara realizes what her 'nightmares' meant was as poignant as it was crushing. To burden someone with the terrible understanding that they're alone, living an alien life, and will never be reunited with everyone they ever cared about, especially when that person's cognition is addled by being only ten months old, was thoroughly depressing... and that's why I loved it so much.
You know what the premise of this story makes me think of? The song 'Exiled in Flesh' by Polish death metal band, Decapitated.
Seriously, read the lyrics; it's uncanny how thematically relevant they are.
Ponies and death metal... we need more of this.
- Christian 'Banished to Mortality' Harisay
You do a good job of using strike through to give us a good understanding of the character's mentality and as a lampshade in certain spots ;)
Dang it, my eyes are actually moistening.
... This is great, so far.
this seems to be a continuous minor grammatical error for you, you use word "apart" which means to separate instead your intended 'a part'
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*Fixed*
Yeah, I've been told that I make these kinds of mistakes a lot. Slowly I'm learning, just like I'm slowly learning how to fix my tensing issues as well. Thanks for pointing it out! I'll try to fix things up when I next have the opportunity!
THEODORE WILL REMEMBER THAT
And it runs off the power of explosions!
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I sooooo regret not describing it that way! Could have had a whole bit about how all human ingenuity usually involves vaporizing a few eggs before attempting to flip-off the sun... *Sighs dreamily*
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We at the Dahl corporation would like to announce that explosion propelled vehicles are COMPLETELY BADASS!
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That is the TORGUE CORPERATION
Ya know, it's 4:35 am and I should be sleep...
But this story is just tooo goood.