I was writing a story when it all happened.
The world ended.
First the meteors came, and they ruined everything. There was only rubble and what used to be a tree-house and corpses and not much because I stopped looking. I closed my eyes and waited a very long time and eventually the meteors went away.
The Grave-Wraiths didn't go away.
And what is that? Words are just symbols we use for meaning something. Look at the word; it means something that was dead and came back. Everypony came back from the dead, and that was that, except for us who were still alive, and here we are anyway.
I'm in the woods right now as I'm writing this.
My left hoof is covered in blood. We lost Dash last night.
Dash was a pegasus who... she was a pegasus. You all know Rainbow Dash.
I didn't know her very well, I mean. What can you really know about somepony? She was a friend, yes, and she flew fast, and was blue... Cyan? I hate colors so much now, they're only vestiges of a world where we had different words for this flower and that flower. Now there are no flowers. My mouth collects a lot of spit, and I spit, onto the forest ground, which is charred, like a pinecone steak someone left on the grill to turn to ash in the shape of a spiral.
Ash. Everything burned, but you already knew that.
You already knew that I, Twilight Sparkle, tried to fix everything all by myself. Without listening to anypony. I didn't write Celestia. Luna was sleeping, since she's always sleeping. I tried to fix everything.
You know how that turned out.
I don't want to talk about problems--we have enough of those. am enough of those. "And what is a problem, Twilight Sparkle?", ponies used to say.
I don't even spit on their graves, because the ash is everywhere, and it catches in your teeth and mouth when you try to speak, to expectorate, to even imagine fresh air again. I made filters, because I knew how, and I gave them to a few ponies around me before they decided I was a target for pilfery. I killed three of them after they broke my hind left foreleg--it's mostly mended now.
Mostly.
Ponies used to not die much--or, when they did, the whole occasion was a bit of an affair. So-and-so with white-mane and age-lines on their face would be surrounded by ponies that loved and cared about them, and Celestia would usually be there too, or Luna in her stead (or Cadance or Twilight when the going was really rough) to usher the pony's soul on to the next world. And what, exactly, was the next world?
Twilight felt a small scraping of appendages against her left hoof and looked down to find one of the beetles--the ones that had changed since the occurrence. Their mandibles were hungrier now, and she brushed the beetle away, earning herself a small nip that began to bleed almost instantly. Traces of green lined the wound.
Poison. Antidote. Problem, apply solution.
What was the solution for an entire world that needed restarting? Suicide was always an option.
It was until the afterlife started throwing me back up. Thru portals, graves, and once thru a still alive mother pony who was giving birth. Placenta was everywhere. I think she got stretched apart. Bit of an unpleasantness.
What now? Write her story until the world ended again. Her story... what was the story in general?
The story was meteors. And Twilight Sparkle looking up 'anti-meteor' spell in an old book. And trying it after practicing it three times. And succeeding.
And then everything changed.
Meteors were rocks of hope that fell from the sky--they were puns, they were distinct from comet ice-balls. What was a meteor? A meeting between the heavens and earth. And Twilight had suppressed it all. And now there was no sun. And no Celestia.
There was no anything but death.
That was a bit of a trick--everypony had stuck around for a bit. Then their limbs. Pinkie Pie's face had fallen off mid surprise, and when she hadn't been able to put it back on like usual, Twilight could feel the real concern underneath. But what could she do about it?
She lost her horn. That was the hardest part--learning how to reattach it without magic. How clumsy were hooves? You mashed them against the typewriter and occasionally got a coherent sentence. Twilight Sparkle had done a lot of practice.
There was no one in the forest but Twilight. And that was a lie--there were a hundred ponies who wanted to dine on whatever flesh was closest. Luckily, Twilight was made mostly of water. She would tell that to anypony who came and tried to eat her. She hoped this would work.
"You know, Twilight, a good story needs conflict," Rainbow Dash said.
"The conflict is internal," Twilight explained. "The bleakness of the atmosphere is meant to communicate--"
"Yeah, she's sad, I get it. She's also a blatant self-insert. Isn't that against the rules?"
Twilight glared, and Rainbow giggled.
"Alright, alright. Do you want me to read more?"
Do you want me to read more? Do you want me to read? Do you want me too? Do you want me? Do you want? Do you? Do? Do what?
Not that. Never that. Twilight burned herself with a lighter fifteen times in the darkness of her mind.
The clock on the wall said three o' clock. Meaningless numbers, time, telling us how something could be somewhere and somewhen at the same time. Quantum karmic displation, Twilight thot to herself, death. Joy. Hope. What if? Hmm.
"Maybe we could do dinner first?"
Spike hopped up from his chair, already in 'feed me' mode.
"Absolutely!" he shouted.
Twilight was
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Pretty sure the link is broken
Encore!
I have no idea what just happened.
I'm remarkably unsure of where this was going the entire time, yet I felt that there was some purpose to the madness. Could be wrong, though.
Sorry, but all I get from reading this is a minor headache.
Bruh
This story reminds me of someone who just finished Atlas Shrugged.
7412012
I was thinking Finnegan's Wake.
Maybe if they had a kid.
7411796
It's not. Just click between the space of the check mark and the period
Had diarrhea for on and off or six days this week. Am afraid of going to bathroom now. Think it's gone though. Anyho, this story made me reflect on my mental state during that this/that time. If I was ever writing this/that story, it would be like darf's story. Except I
can'twon't write and darf's "the best story in equestria" would still be much, much better.Don't know what fresh hell you're in but make sure you reach into death's asshole and pull it's guts outs. Make them work for it.
Donald Trump wrote the title.
That's a fun method of story telling.
I can dig it.
There was definitely something to this, some underlying genius, I just can't quite figure it out.
7413761 it's a word-for-word copy of Cather in the Rye. that's probably what it was.
I've been sitting here for about five minutes trying to think of some conversation to open up about this story. It's very difficult.
I'm trying to approach post-post-modernism on its own terms, but it kind of seems to be saying that there's no such thing as storytelling — that we're basically just speaking veiled personal experiences at each other, in which case we'd have a closer approach to the truth by stripping away the veils, making fiction worthless.
If that is PPM's assertion (which I'm not even sure is the case), I dispute it; but my argument is the power of fiction as displayed by non-PPM fiction, and based on what I know of your literary opinions I don't expect that to be persuasive.
Argh idk. I am reduced to flailing here. I wish post-post-modernism came with Cliff's Notes.
7414013 it sort of does. go check out Steve Roggenbuck. watch every single one of his videos (especially "Internet Poetry Manifesto") and you'll kind of get it. i think.
7415211
I despise Roggenbuck and his ilk.
Bizarro is much better, more honest in being fucked for fucked's sake, and was here first. I also thought this had more of a bizzaro vibe (except the wraiths would be friendly, just accidentally killing everyone, but they come back to life anyway, so it is okay). Also less meta, but I have sacrificed any right to complain about meta.
The world needs more of this anyway. Carry on carrying on.
7422134 get rid of your daddy issues, Fiddles. they're not helping anyone. even the ponies.
you guys realize this story is actually illegal, right? it's against the site rules for metafiction. but metafiction is every fanfiction, it's impossible to write a fanfic without writing metafiction. people have just gotten really good at disguising it. well, the jig is up. i'm calling myself out. i broke the fimfiction law. areeeest meeeee, pleaeeaaase!~~~ :3
It was pretty good, but when are we gonna get a sequel? :B
Really though, I felt...things, through it, as scenes and ideas and concepts floated by and then disappeared to be replaced by something else less or more baffling as things progressed. Did I enjoy it? Yes, I did. I couldn't tell you about any single part, but I did like it.