In Remembrance

by Ponyess

Episode: 1

Author's Note:

Diana's POV

Yesterday was my fifteen birthday, and it had been a blast. The balloons, the streamers, the cake and the games. All the things Mum had told me a party could not work without. She had managed to produce everything for the party, wherever she got it from and whomever made it all happen, but it was just right for me.

It isn’t the gifts I had been given, as much as I may love some of them. It is in the friends who had been there and the fun we had had. It is what it all comes down to, the fun and the laughing you had or did with your friends.

Although I had been given a few books I will price above all else. If I can bake a Muffin or cake, but I will love and treasure the book as a memento of who and what I am. Will I ever throw a party? I still will love and treasure the book written by her, on the subject.

Naturally, I had to wake up, bright and early, remembering the entire party, second by second as if I had still been there. It had been a blast well worth remembering, a memento as it were.

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I lie quietly, just looking at the fading image of the dream of the final moment of the night. I don’t really have to try to remember it, I know I can’t forget an instant of it. As the last of the image faded away, I open my eyes and fold the quilt to the side before I slide my feet out of bed and down to the floor.

As I sit up, a thought hit me. What if I was to try to replicate the move? If I have a balloon on my flank to, could I pull it off and inflate mine, just as she did?

I raise to my feet and look around; everything is where it should be, where my memories dictated they should be, I am utterly certain of it. The sliding door is at the foot end of the bed, opposing the window with the bright pink curtains and a small desk crafted out of white beach wood, a comfortable, modern office chair behind it.

On the final wall I have my wardrobe, opposing the bed. I have all my clothes in there. The shot to the wash bin in the basement is also there. I don’t have enough clothes to fill the wardrobe so I have my books lined up in the wardrobe too. I don’t have all that much room for them in my small room anyway.

Naturally, the wallpapers are pink with balloons, streamers and little Ponies on them. The balloons are blue and yellow, while the streamers are in all the colours of the rainbow.

I had managed to convince them to cover the door with the wallpaper as well, they had to cut the paper in order to liberate the door, but that is no problem. At least the entire wall is now covered with the wallpaper, only the furniture and the window obscure a small space of the motif.

The one thing that stands out in my room right now is an enlarged, framed photo of Pinkie Pie. It is a poster size image, much the way I could have had a signed photo of any Idol or loved relative. I had been told it was taken as she visited my mother, months before I was born, which would be the only time it could have been taken.

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I stand with my hands on my hips as I watch the photo. Just moving my right hand to the flank as I pulled the blue balloon off of my thigh. Astonished and momentarily dumbfounded I just stare at the electric metallic blue signature balloon as it shimmer in the morning light for a good long minute.

“Ooooh!” I moaned, as it sank in and I finally realized I had actually pulled the trick and the balloon off.

A moment later I tentatively blow the balloon up. I stop as the balloon has grown to about a foot in diameter, before I tie it together and let go of it, only to see it leisurely floating up towards the ceiling where it just stopped, before sliding to a spot, roughly over my pillow where it lies now.

“Okay, what just happened?” I pondered for a moment.

“I guess I passed that test since I could pull the balloon off of my flank and blow it up!” I continued.

“That was fun, but I need breakfast right about now!” I finally concluded as I walked to the door.

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I walk to the door of my wardrobe and open the door, looking into the small room where my clothes are hanging, or lying neatly folded, awaiting the instant I choose to pull them out since I need them. Now I allow my panties to fall to the floor and kick them up and grab them in my right hand in a fluid motion, before I drop them into the wash-bin. Pulling out a pair of fresh panties and step into them, tentatively tugging them into place before I pull out a bright pink skirt, almost identical to the Mare who originally gave me not only the books, but the joy and life I am now living, stepping into it, merely giving it a tentative tug, before I pick a matching top, holding it up over my head, feeling it slide along my arms, before I tug it into place.

Taking a few steps to the door, pushing the door to the side and walk out into the small hall between the bed rooms on the second floor, closing the door behind me. I pass the doors on my way to the flight of stairs and then walking down to the ground level and into the hall. From here I continue into the kitchen, rummaging the fridge, pulling out the desired food items, before walking to the table and slap the food down before my seat and sit down.

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First I pour up Cider from the pitcher, before I pull place it on the table and pick up the glass, slowly sipping the fizzy liquid for a long moment, just enjoying the taste and texture of the cider I just poured myself.

As I set the glass down onto the table, I had empties it. Now I slip my left hand down to the rim of my skirt, lifting it just enough to see the mark I had discovered, only to notice that I still did have a balloon where it should be, both on the right and the left side. Just the one balloon on one side of the cubical box.

For a moment I pondered the consequences and effects of what had happened and what I had done, just before I dressed up and went down to have my breakfast. I had to explore this further.

I then picked up a delicious looking red apple and threw it into the air and caught it in my mouth, chewing it vigorously before swallowing the last of the juicy mass the apple had turned into. From there I continued by picking a Muffin and pulling the paper of from under it and slipping it into my mouth, chewing it leisurely, enjoying every last bite of it.

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Comments

[thisistheusernameichose]

.....tell you what. I'll give it a like and a fav, with the promise that I won't have to wait a year for the next chapter.

[Synthetic Soul]

I was kind of confused. Is Pinkie her mother, because you said Pinkie visited her mother?

[Ponyess]

5440629 I plan to have a new chapter available before the end of January, but no earlier than the seventh.

5443602 If you go by the definition that the Mother is the one to give birt, her mother is the Human woman she lives with. Pinkie Pie left months before the girl was born.