Marble by the Roadside

by Glen Gorewood

The Statuary Stop

*thump clip clop thump bump clip clop *

As the carriage continues down the back road shown by the Travelers Stone, Rarity stares out the window at the passing scenery of grass intermittently broken by animal trails and trees. It seems very strange to her that such an area would have such a relatively well maintained road. Grasses neatly trimmed back from it as if some pony had been actively trying to keep it clear. But that would be silly after all this way isn't on any maps, and surely there couldn't be anyone living back here. And if there was how could they survive such rugged conditions so far from civilization. Such an idea was absurd, still the area had it's charms.

Placing Pearl Song's box in a save place between the left door and her portfolio, the white coated unicorns light blue aura picks up her sketchpad and a pencil. Staring out the window at the surrounding region has sparked her creative mind, and she begins to draw. Sketching the region itself as it goes by, the pencil moving so quickly one would swear the images appeared by magic. Lost in her work, Rarity doesn't spot the same silver grey form that has been behind the carriage for the past few miles. It moves too and fro now, jumping or more floating over the road every so often seeming to gain more energy the further in they go.

As the day moves on towards afternoon the prairie gives way to a region more sparsely covered in vegetation. Silver Trails breathing has become slightly ragged. All the dust in the air was not what she had expected. The sun is beating down on her coat, causing sweating under her required uniform that is leeching away what little precious water she has retained. By now if the main road hadn't washed out they would have found a watering hole so she could re-hydrate. But it seems out here no such thing exists.

Her passenger is in far better shape. But as the carriage pony she knows that without water, and soon, neither of them will be in good straits for long. Silver Trails had considered stopping, but stopping in an unknown area would be folly. Not to mention there had to be someone out here, this road was too relatively well maintained for there not to be. It had been giving her the creeps for some time, how perfectly edged the dirt coated cobblestone is. And as they have moved further along the road into this more arid region that hasn't changed. An involuntary shiver runs up the dapple grey mares spine, if someone is out there she can't see them but they can see her.

It disturbs her more since she knows of the stories of those who have been lost on Lost Wanderer's Roads. Paths and trails leading to nowhere from which no pony has ever returned. Those who have are often mad, or so terrified they refuse to take anything but the main road ever again. As one who lives to travel the roads and trails of Equestria, the concept of being driven to fear them is something that Silver Trails finds more terrifying than anything else.

Glancing up she notices the boulders from the distance moving closer, how odd they seem to be shaped like houses. The closer the carriage gets, the more they seem to take on such a form. One almost looks like a sign of some sort. Turning around she calls back to her passenger. "Miss Rarity, could you take look up ahead from where you are? It looks like those boulders may be a town."

The dust and some dried plants drift across the cobblestones, riding a barely existent wind that does the travelers no good. The sun seems to have seared itself into one place in the sky, Celestia must not be in a good mood for such a thing to occur. The thought goes through Silver Trails mind for a few moments before a refined voice shouts back to her.

"Dear I think you may be right!" Rarity calls to the carriage mare, her eyes focused on the boulders that in fact seem to be homes of some sort. Squinting she makes out the outline of a sign, worn by age. Scraps of paint have peeled off it's wooden surface to the point no words can be made out, merely one circle with a C attached to it. Shaking her head she smiles, her own lips slightly parched by the dry air. "I do think it would be best if we go towards it darling, you are looking a bit parched and so am I. And that simply won't do."

Silver Trails nods and keeps moving towards the sign, focused on it and the slowly growing buildings that line a small section of the right side of the road. This must be where those maintaining the road are from, it all makes sense now. Breathing a short sigh of relief the mare thanks the Wanderers of the Roads for not having lead her down a road of the lost. Focusing her movements she moves towards her goal, muscles bringing the carriage ever closer as her large hooves clip and clack on the cobblestones. With each step spurts of dust lift up and around her fetlocks, drifting lazily away on that invisible wind.

In the carriage Rarity leans back, drawing the scenery by instinct instead of focus. Something about this area feels familiar and yet it can't be. Her ears fill with the laughter of her parents, the sound of a carriage or cart and the giggles of a filly. Somehow she feels she knows this region. But that's impossible after all her parents never took her with on long trips. And they would never take their beloved filly down a byway such as this. As the sign and buildings get closer, her mind can't shake this nagging feeling that she knows where she is. Fighting of apprehension not befitting a lady she glances out the window again. To her shock the buildings are much closer than before. That can't be right though, the carriage hasn't been moving that fast.

Now that she can see them better she realizes there are only three buildings and a sign. One is an ancient house, more like a hovel built into the ground out of mud and bricks with a wooden roof. Two stories with a paint job of dark grey and what looks like must have at one point been yellow trim, it is now well worn by age. Any more damage to it would likely push it to the point of dilapidation, cracked window frames are shoddily patched back together in places. Barely connected shutters move lazily in a wind, or maybe just due to wear.
The porch, if you can call an awning covering a block of wood a porch; is home to a weathered empty rocking chair. An elderly mare sits in it, wearing clothes that Rarity swears are centuries out of fashion. The dark grey bonnet on her head looks to be from the colonial era of equestria, the mare herself wouldn't look out of place there.

As Rarity begins to glance at the yawning doorway the mare suddenly lifts her head, staring right at the purple maned white unicorn. Her eyes seem empty yet filled with age, glazed over by time they hold Rarity in their grasp refusing to release her. The ancient mare smiles, revealing gums with only a few teeth, and leathery lips to whom age has not been kind. Unnerved Rarity shudders, as another feeling of familiarity hits her.

"Father, why is that old lady staring at us?"
"Oh my precious gem, she is only appreciating how lovely we are. Especially you my treasure."
"Darlings come look at this, isn't it amazing to find something so artistic way out here."

Before Rarity's eyes she sees the phantoms of three Unicorns, moving past the old house towards the next building. She can't make out their colors or coats, but they are definitely a family with a small filly in tow. As they move beyond her line of sight still in the ancient mare's grasp, the old crone relents. With a single blink she frees Rarity, who quickly moves her head to search for the family only to find them gone. As if they had been nothing more than dust no trace of them remains.

But as her eyes move further she sees something that takes her breath away. Right in front of the carriage is an ancient old half barn, paint worn away by the wind so it looks a few shades off of grey brown dust. Roof shining in the sunlight with perfectly maintained wooden shingles, held together by old heavy nails no doubt. One side has been propped up to create an awning like one would see in the Canterlot grand market. Ornate decorations and siding cover the barn itself, symbols of grasses and stones and one unmistakeable one above a trough. Two wavy lines with a droplet beneath indicate water for the travel weary, and there is even enough space to park the carriage.

Beaneath the awning and in front of the building, scattered all across the lawn and up to the road are statues. An ancient sign creaks on hinges above the open barn door. With a symbol of two circles merged together above ancient hand painted words, in a style long lost to Equestria. The words old and peeling still read "The Statuary Stop", and the cool shade of the barn invites travelers to stop by and rest thier weary hooves.

Glancing back to the porch she sees the ancient mare rocking slowly in her chair, eyes down and seemingly asleep. Breathing a sigh of relief she reaches out her magic and carefully picks up Pearl Song's box. Holding it close she freezes, it could just be her nerves but for a second she could of swore she heard a song from the box. Listening closer she hears nothing but the sounds of the carriage slowing in the dusty parking area in front of the trough.

"Miss Rarity" A voice calls from outside, that of Silver Trails. "We are going to be stopping for a bit to rest, if you want you can look around and stretch your legs. I'll come and get find you when we are going to leave."
A shuffling from outside and the sound of a harness being removed indicate that the earth pony mare is serious. After all if they had kept going Silver Trails isn't sure how long she would have lasted. Besides drinking her fill she intends to make sure the emergency canteens are topped off. Of course a quick rest is in order too, preferably until the mid day sun moves further on in the sky.

In the carriage proper Rarity carefully puts on her saddlebags and places her sketchpad, pencil, and Pearl Song in her box into them. After all if they are stopping here she may as well get a look around. And for some reason she can't place it feels like she needs her old friend right now. That she has to bring her with.

Opening the door and stepping into the ground she gasps, what an artistic dream they have wandered into. Despite that dreary house next door the lawn of The Statuary Stop is littered with the most stunningly realistic statues she has ever seen. Well except for Pearl Song that is. Walking forward her eyes grow wider as she perfectly sculpted visions of humans, dryads, nyads, fawns, fairies ponies, flutter ponies, full sized sea ponies, and more all across the lawn. Their bodies posed as if captured in time, one pair a seapony and a fawn gaze at each other as if sharing one last loving look for all time.

Moving closer Rarity appreciates the talent to create such a thing even more, every scale is sculpted perfectly from solid marble. Blue marble no less, and the seapony's mouth is open as if in song as is her partners. His horns ridged as legends say, and his cloven hooves posed as if he was going to sweep her off her fins. Both have their for limbs outstretched, grasping in longing for one another forever beyond the other lovers reach.

Her eyes sweeping the lawn as she walks past the two lovers she spots another piece, a human of legend kneeling in front of a pony her hand holding his chin. Eyes filled with sorrow and love, both stare at one another with tears cascading down their cheeks. The earth pony has his right hoof on her left knee, mouth open in a pleading expression as a sad smile graces the human female's lips. Both of their manes are flying in a wind frozen with them, billowing in the same direction.

Over there is a dragon curled in rest, next to a hydra that is holding it gently like a child. There is a Dryad caressing a proud centaur, while another pouts behind them. A Nyad coaxes a Manticore to rest, another of a Manticore alone roaring in rage at all who challenge it. A Chimera facing off against a unicorn in wild west garb, multiple baby pegasus run across the lawn some seemingly in mid flight chasing giggling unicorn children.

One young earth pony foal covered in a ratty blanket has a look of absolute hopelessness on it's face. The expression so perfectly rendered Rarity feels affected as well causing her to shake her head before moving on. Heading past more statues of ponies and other creatures in a multitude of poses and dressed in styles from different eras, she finally reaches the barn door.
Walking through the open gateway and into the cool air of the barn she gives off a soft sigh of relief. The difference between the outside and inside temperatures is obvious, as the little sweat she had begun to shed cools off into a glistening sheen on her coat.

At the counter stands a grizzled old unicorn in an artists smock that must date back to the dawn of Equestria itself. Peering through gold spectacles that don't fit his visage he looks at her. With a granite grey coat and pure white mane and tail, he looks the very image of some ancient master of art down to his icy yellow eyes. Behind him are all sort of odds and ends, from different times and eras indicating he must be an eccentric artist at the very least. Covering the wall on one side is a worn calendar, so coated in dust you can't see the date at all. On the counter is tiny gold bell and a sign that says "ring when ready". He smiles down at her, his eyes twinkling in a way that one does when welcoming someone back.

"Welcome young miss, do take a look around. You wont find anything like the passionate works of art we have here anywhere else in the world." He says with a voice that sounds like a young serenading stallion instead of that of a wizened old artist.

With a smile Rarity opens her mouth to say "Why thank you darling, I will be sure to appreciate each and every one of them. From one artist to another, I know how hard the business can be." She feels odd, as if she has heard these words before. But they feel right, under the ancient wooden roof in a barn in the middle of nowhere filled with statues. It's as if no other words would do.
Gazing about she admires the ancient barn itself, wood so old it is almost fossilized with grains making images of their own surround her. The statues are placed in an almost gallery like fashion within it and in the awning area. Beyond that they continue along an ancient barnyard fence, fairies and sea serpents, great beasts and snakes perch and crawl up the posts and upon the wooden cross bars.

An aura of timelessness surrounds this place, and with a shake of her head to clear some dust from her eyes Rarity sees she is not alone. Others move up and down the gallery rows, admiring the works of sculpture clothed in garb as varied as the works themselves. One couple has a child, they must be who she saw earlier. They are clothed in old styles from the Reinehseance era; they must be on their way to an acting debut of some sort. Walking over to where they are standing in their garish clothing she gasps. In front of her is the most realistic life size depiction of a royal carriage and pulling pony she has ever seen.

It's hooves are perfectly shaped and it is posed as if cantering forward on a great mission. Left leg lifted in a proud fashion as it's jaw is open in a proud challenge. The stallion is coated in armor from head to hooves even a croupier, with some long lost royal standard emblazoned upon it. Even the armor is ornately decorated. Perfectly layered upon the statue of the grand charger as if it was truly a separate thing not part of one stunning artwork. The carriage is a masterpiece in and of itself, every single flourish and decoration seeming real enough to touch. It is carved out of solid green marble to contrast the white marble charger. Inside in hues of purple, blue, and cream are two passengers their appearance hidden by the shadow of the ornate carriage.

Turning to the mare nearest her, who has a purple coat with a cream mane Rarity comments in pure awe. "It is as if the artist captured this moment in time, frozen forever. It seems so real, don't you think?"

The mare moves her head, keeping her face shadowed by her massive hat. "Yes, tis almost as if it twas real." A sweet voice like a springtime stream comes forth from her, tinged by an accent Rarity can't place. A hoof beckons to the white unicorn and Rarity unable to resist, moves closer to the mare who brings her muzzle down to the white unicorn's ear.
Her breath eerily cold like a winter river whispers in her ear. "All of the arts here twer real once, or so twould seem. Mayhaps tis but the musings of mine own mind, but twould it be so hard to believe. For to craft such works would take either a master of many lifetimes, or the hand of a god."

Her words strike shivers down Rarity's spine familiar yet not, with a voice more like a conspiratorial whisper she responds. "Yes, they all seem so real. So alive, yet familiar.." She had noticed this upon seeing the place but the more she stays the more it strikes her. This beautiful gallery seem to be like somewhere she has been before. She can't place it but everything here, minus a few pieces, a part of her mind sees shadows over them. As if something is trying to barge it's way to the surface of her psyche.

The garishly dressed mare touches her shoulder with a hoof that is cold as stone, and whispers to the white and purple maned unicorn. "Don't little one, try thine best to appreciate the artwork here. But after thy would do best to leave, before the sun falls across the horizon, before the mind recalls time. Buy something maybe, but do not linger."
Removing her hoof from rarity she returns to her prior pose, staring at the carriage as if some great mystery lies within.

Rarity releases a breath she didn't know she had held, and moves along away from the mare whose voice lingers in familiar tones in her mind.
Moving down the aisles of artwork she sees more ponies and creatures, each staring at a different work longingly. Walking past perfect replicas of dancer, sword fighters, cowponies, guards, peasants, fairy ponies in ponds. Past timberwolves and a pony with timber wolf characteristics, she comes to another piece that strikes her as odd.

Nobody stands before it but she recognizes something in it all the same. It is a perfect replica of two stallions that look eerily like princess Luna and Celestia. Minus their obvious male features their manes and bodies are perfect matches for the Alicorn sisters, even the stone they are cut from is the same. For the one with a cutie mark of a Flaming sun on a horizon line, a perfectly day yellowish white pearled marble. For the one with a cutie mark of a half moon on the horizon, with an owl flying across the moon a pearled midnight blue and black. Both stand regally but with a look of shock or courage on their faces, and for the one of night maybe a tear by his eye.

Rarity shivers and moves on, feeling as if the marble Alicorns are following her with their eyes pleading for aid. Their ethereal manes frozen in a invisible gale, crying out for aid that will never come. She can almost hear them calling to her.

"That's because they are shoo bee."

A soft singing voice echoes in her head and she freezes. Her perfectly styled tail stands stiff, and she glances around seeing nobody else nearby. Not a single pony could have said anything, even the artist is too busy going through a sketchbook to even glance at her. Shaking her head Rarity whispers "It must of been in my head, oh I need a spa visit so badly to calm these nerves when I get home."

"A visit to the spa sounds nice, but I'm not in your head bee doo." The voice echoes again, this time accompanied by a sound of scales rubbing against fine satin in her bag.

Rarity walks forward stiffly unable to cope with what is going on, she glances at more statues. There are more Alicorns, Pegasus warriors in flight, a pair of regal noble Unicorns, a rather odd group of fellows by some mushrooms. There a series of giant tortoises, and a massive fanged cat with spikes running down it's back. Stopping in front of a series of statues by the far right fence nearest the farthest building she now believes is a re purposed church turned studio, Rarity sighs. This all feels so familiar so why? "Why can't I place this..all of this?" she whispers to herself.

"Because if you did you'd be stuck." The voice again in her head, she grips the ground with her hooves trying to remember, the voice sounds so familiar. But why is it saying she shouldn't remember, why did that mare say that too.

Staring out at the artists workshop she feels something, a twinge in her senses. It is not a feeling of awe or joy but something darker. A dread fills the pit of her stomach the more she stares at it, and before her eyes it distorts and twists shimmering in and out.

Almost as if it is a living thing the church shifts from a re-purposed semi derelict building to a massive monstrosity of architecture. Great kilns are visible on the edges, open steel doors like maws filled with fire. The building itself is rotting yet alive lit by flashes of silver, red, black, and grey accompanied by thuds and sounds of smashing bodies slamming to the ground. A smell of burning flesh and cooking clay mix together into a unbearable stench that clogs her nostrils. And before her eyes she sees what looks like a massive vat of wet, soggy clay tipping onto an unfortunate shade of grey frozen in a pose of fear and desperation. The sky is filled with a burning angry sun permanently frozen on the horizon, appearing to bleed into the landscape itself over it's shadow on the ground the moon. The landscape is no longer picturesque but frozen and dead, not by ice but in place as if nothing exists but everything does. Things fill her vision, beasts and buildings beyond pony understanding. And as one massive monstrosity moves over the road she sees the icon, two circles merged at the edge side by side. Things no filly should see fill her vision.

On instinct Rarity looks away, barely maintaining her composure and trying not to vomit. Breathing softly but deeply she glances up and sees the vision gone. The workshop is merely a re purposed church and the sun is still above her yet closer to the horizon than before.
The scenery is normal and insects buzz in the sparse vegetation beyond the fence and barn. Behind her the sound of a page flipping and the scratching of a pen is heard. And the sounds of hoof steps shifting and moving re assure her that she is alright, a bit nervous but perfectly fine.

She moves away from the fence, avoiding looking at the church workshop and moves along through the gallery rows of the statuary stop.
Something by the far right side near the trough draws her near. Trotting herself past statues of Draconequi and gorgons facing some cowardly gargoyles and draconic looking dogs as she goes.

Skidding to a halt she feels her jaw drop at something familiar, that she knows she has seen before. In a perfectly carved pond of sheer crystal, is a sea pony mare of pure sapphire colored marble partially out of the water with her tail fin spread above the surface. Her mouth open in song as she glances lovingly and longingly down at the little seapony babies posed in the water and on the rocks around her. Carved from many different colors of marble, each has an expression unique to them and is posed with their mouth open in song. Four under the water, three in the reeds, one in her arms and two on the water edge. No, Rarity's eye for detail notices a spot where another once sat. In a cluster of clam shells is an obviously empty spot where something once sat. By the shadow worn into the marble by time it is obvious there was once a third seapony, sitting among the pearl white clam shells.

Rarity feels her heart catch, then beat faster as she realizes who once sat there. A adorable realistic young seapony, sitting in a clam shell and made of purest off white pearl marble mouth open on joyous song. One that she currently holds in her saddlebags. One she has had for most of her life.

"Pearl Song..this is.." Rarity can barely speak as her eyes fill with tears and her heart beats faster with fear.

"This is my family Rares, shoo bee doo. We were here so long be doo. When you came I could feel it something told me bee do boo, something like a kinship be doo. You chose me be doo, and I went free be doo, as free as I can be doo. Now you must choose another and flee bee doo."

Rarity caught her breath, the fear from before escalating as she could swear she heard hoof steps getting closer and whispers behind her. The eyes of the Alicorn felt as if they were burning into her again almost as if it was closer.
"Why must I flee Pearl Song?" Her voice came out as a tiny little squeak of a whisper, not like a lady but a terrified filly.

"If you do not flee Rarity, you will be like me. This cannot be doo bee doo." The joyous sing song voice had a sorrowful note to it, almost fearful.

Rarity took a deep breathe and looked once more at the seapony family. Her eyes casting over each one till she came to one perched alone on what looked like an ancient tiny chest. Made of a pearled marble of blue and white that contrasted with the brownish marble of the chest itself, using her magic she picked the little one up. It's expression one of dreaming and reverie, mouth open in song. As she released it from it's place in the family of seaponies, she swore she heard a sorrowful and happy sigh of a weary mother.

Pulling it close to her and backing away, she turned and moved swiftly to the counter not looking anywhere but straight ahead. Around her she could hear and almost feel the other statues shifting and moving, the eyes of the Alicorn burned into her flank as she passed it. The sounds were so loud in the sudden quiet of the barn gallery, when she finally got the counter she almost smacked the bell before remembering her manners.
Reaching out with her hoof she gave the bell a light ring. "Ring a ding ding ring".

The artist at the counter put down his book and glanced at her, spying the seapony baby in her hands he says.
"Ahh a good choice, perfect for a young artist such as yourself. You know if you listen real closely you might hear it giving you inspiration."
He chuckled in a way that seemed more malicious than joyful, his tail hitting the calendar as he moved to the register causing dust to fall like curtains from it.

"Well young lady that will be fifteen bits, I'd hurry if I were you I think your ride is waiting outside. You don't want to be late do you?" He smiles, his lips curling a bit too far up as Rarity reached into her saddlebags to get the bits.

Placing them on the counter she smiled back, trying as hard as she can not to let her fear show. "Why thank you, your art is so outstanding and truly seems to be alive. I couldn't leave without taking one home with me." Her eyes dart quickly to the calendar and widen slightly before darting back to the stallion counting her bits.

"I'm sorry but I never got your name Darling, as a fellow artist I would like to know whose work I have at home. It is only proper courtesy." Rarity says with as much poise as she can muster despite her fear, as she puts the new seapony statue in her saddlebag.

The stallion put the bits away before reaching behind the counter, removing a stone object and a card. With a smile more disturbing than the last for Rarity could of sworn his teeth were not that large before he says. "My name, my young and talented lady, is Terminus Langoliesier. I am an artist whose medium is stone, as of late I favor marble but you know us artists." His smile gets wider as his hooves seem to grow in the suns moving light.
"We are always looking for new things to try, isn't that right Miss Rarity."
With his magic, an aura of grey and red with blue tinges, he hands rarity the card and the stone leaning back behind the counter with a grin on his face and a light in his yellow eyes.

Quickly, almost to quickly Rarity puts the card and stone in her saddlebags before saying "Thank you, I hope to see you again."
The Stallions smile grows larger and his body seems to grow more, shadows moving out in the awning yard enhance a growing sense of dread and an unknown source of terror. "I wouldn't worry about that." The voice still serenades her ears but with the sound of a thing far beyond her understanding. Somewhere with in she hears what sounds like a buzzing noise, similar to thousands of those new automated saws used by Canterlot tree trimmers.

As quickly as she can without panicking she trots out the barn door, past the statues on the lawn before jumping into the carriage and locking the door. Removing her saddlebags with great haste and holding them to her chest she shouts "Silver Trails, We must go".
Her ears suddenly pick up a voice echoing and distorting through the air as it solidifies into a recognizable tone one of a dapple grey earth pony.

"Mi..ii..Miss Rarity?" Silver Trails shouts in surprise "I didn't see you get in dear, are you ready to leave now? It's been a few hours, and I'll need to travel all night to get you to Manehatten in time."

Rarity still in shock stares at the sun inching towards the horizon "Yes Silver Trails, I'm ready to leave, right now would be best Darling." Her hooves unconsciously clench the seat in fear, her heart pounding as two voices now echo in her head.

"You have to hurry, they'll be awake soon." Pearl Songs voice is full of fear and dread, her normally joyful tune distressed into a song of despair.

"Yes hurry now, we don't have much time." The new voice is definitely male, and sounds of one in panic as if the one chance at something thought lost forever is about to disappear into dust.

A fear felt by not just him but Rarity as well, something is coming she knows it because she's been here before.
"Oh Celestia, I've been here before..." She let's out a gasp, at the same time the carriage jerks into motion.

The carriage backs up and away from The Statuary Shop, as Silver Trails turns onto the road and takes off at a fast clip. She has never heard a pony with such pure fear in her voice before, and for some reason she too senses something is wrong. As they pass the last building, an old church turned work shop, she can swear she hears screaming and sees shapes pounding at the window. Stories of old flit through her mind as she picks up the pace. Hurrying past the last thing to this place, that massive peeling sign. Closer now she can read bits of it through the peeling paint as the gallops past, the carriage behind her built for this barely affected besides a whistling sound in the cabin.

"Wel o Wigh T" Flashes past her vision as she passes it and continues beyond, her unicorn passenger in the carriage crying into her saddlebags as memories of before and what she has avoided yet again come crashing down on her like a tidal wave.
Behind them follows a shape of silver, amorphous and fluid it guards their rear as they flee down the byway shown by the fragment of the Travelers Stone. And as Silver Trails hooves move the carriage far beyond the sight of the barn, house, and church it begins to shift and fade twisting as the last part of the suns journey to the horizon grows to an end.

Later

Down this cobblestone road a dapple grey earth pony with a silver mane slows her pace, the carriage behind her silent as if a solemn power has descended on them. Eyes forward she lets loose ragged breaths as the full weight of having escaped something hits her full force. Ready to collapse on the spot from exhaustion and stress, she sees a glint of silver ahead further down the road.

"Wanderers of the Roads, protect us as we finish our journey on this road and beyond." The mare whispers as she follows the silver light forward. Even as it keeps the same distance from her with each step, she carries on towards it and away from whatever it is that was behind her.

As the carriage moves onward following the silver light Rarity sits in the carriage cabin, curled around her saddlebags lost in memories new and old. With a terrified and sorrowful whisper she says "I've been there before..my family has been there before..we came from..oh no no."

Author's Note:

Ahem so yes that would be why the Travelers Stone fragment was broken off.

Next up what exactly does Rarity remember? And how will it affect the ending?
I hope somebody gets the references, though some are obscure.

This story was partially to get my creative thoughts going again to finish the others.

I welcome theories on exactly what just happened, where the story goes is set but still I like theories.
Feel free to build off this story, just reference it.

If you down vote tell me why.

Also please comment on if the story should end here, or if I should publish the third chapter. The third chapter is more of a prequel that only links to this chapter with an extra end portion. However it also has loads of lore and explains more about The Statuary Stop and Terminus Langoliesier. Not to mention what exactly those creepy silver grey things following Rarity and the carriage are, and the worst part about the statues.

One to the first person to get the obvious reference in the story.

Comments

[Glen Gorewood]

7587105
Why thank you, I am glad you enjoyed this little tale of mine so far.

Glen Gorewood

[Chaosreverent]

Well, this went from normal creepy to downright eldritch. As for the third chapter , on the one hand there is something to be said about keeping the horror behind a vale and leaving the worst to the imagination of the readers. on the other hand things can also be said about tearing away the vale and showing the true depth of the danger. Personaly, I am vary curious and you did give us the perfect segue way into the rabbit hole with Rarity's memory, to the point that it would seem like an abrupt ending if you don't publish it. So go for it.

[Glen Gorewood]

7587458
Why thank you, I was going for Steven King'esk but eldritch works as well. The final chapter still needs fleshing out and editing, after reading through it again I realized it may need tweaks yet. Some piece just don't feel right.

I'm glad you are interested in seeing where this is going, a hint is hidden in the name of The Statuary Stops proprietor as to how far down the rabbit hole this may go. The last half is an anagram, but please hide it in spoilers when you decipher it.
There may be a prequel in the works, slowly shifting and twisting it's way into the story from far before and beyond the horizon.

Glen Gorewood

[Chaosreverent]

'7587502

The proprietors name? I know "Terminus" means end and "Langoliesier" is derived from "The Langoliers" (which I watched as a kid). You also mention an anagram, do you mean Langoliesier? The closest I get is that you can rearrange some of the letters into "erase" (I'm not vary good at anagrams an probably wont even try to solve it).

As to my theories of what is going on considering the guys name and the male Celestia and Luna statues, the statues are unfortunates from cast off timelines that got caught by something that dwells between, maybe? It seems to imply time shenanigans.

[Glen Gorewood]

7587537
You might want to spoiler out the bit about what the two parts of the name mean.
To all future readers here there be spoilers.

As for your answer KM the DM wellit is very close concerning the prequel, in which the Alicorn and Draconequi statues will be explained though both do play a role in the third chapter.

This all hints at the larger picture in the stories lore, especially when you find out how statues are made in chapter three.

Edited by Author for excessive spoilers.

[BlueColton]

Hey.

Here’s what I think so far.

I understand the frustration of putting so much into a story only to have it seemingly completely ignored. I’d much prefer reviews to likes (though both are nice) and I honestly don’t understand why more readers aren’t taking the time to let you know what they think, critically or otherwise. Perhaps it’s in the delivery. Your use of rhetoric. Maybe the title or image doesn’t quite catch the eye. I can’t tell you what the issue is, but I can tell you what I think.

At the beginning, I got the sense that you were trying some world building. I’ve always enjoyed folklore. The sense of scenery was nicely done as well. The serene landscape, the swaying of the grass, you have a nice tact for setting. Perhaps the long paragraphs might have turned away potential readers. Reading this on a phone, such as I did, can be quite taxing on the eyes. Not all readers enjoy disseminating long lines of information detailing the interior of the cottage or Silver Trails’ harness. Many tend to favor dialogue over exposition.

I find that Rarity is the most difficult pony to write for. Her sophistication, terminology, and insider's knowledge of all things fashion (which I know NOTHING about) have me generally avoiding her. And while I absolutely love her singing voice and find her one of the funnies ponies on the show, I just can't relate to her that well. Choosing her as your protagonist was a real challenge. Unless you're a real Rarity fan, there's no little attachment to her well-being in this story. I don't want bad things to happen to her, but it wouldn't be as traumatizing as if, say, Flutters or Twilight were to suddenly find themselves in a hellish predicament. That's just me thought.

As for the concept itself, I find myself really drawn to “lost on the road” genre. I prefer riding shotgun on long journeys and just watching the road go by. I often find myself wondering “what if we went down a different road? What if we turned left instead of right? What’s down that path? What if we go through the trees?” Imagine the adventures that could be had? Though sometimes straying too far off the path can lead to disaster. Exploring an otherworldly locale is always exciting...and terrifying.

I really would like to see how this ends if you haven't decided on ending it already. As I said, I think it's your emphasis on so much description that might really turn off a lot of your readers. I think this story would have had more of an impact if it were told through a first POV. If Rarity is describing everything she sees in an inner monologue, then it would make sense to have long paragraphs. The segment where she details each and every statue in the barn was well-done, if a bit excessive at times.

My two cents. Keep writing.

[Glen Gorewood]

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Thank you for the review Blue Colton,
likes are good but reviews are better I agree, though both are twice as nice.

Sadly I'm afflicted with "Old school fantasy, horror, and science fiction" syndrome. I love creating settings and places, and having characters interact with them more in a ways that dialogue can't portray alone. If I could get away with it and still have people read my work, I would describe every contour of that barn and every other object in intensive detail. Every single one, down to micro organisms.
I do use dialogue but I find internal dialogue to be just as important. I also like to mix writing styles, often using two (or ore) forms of writing in harmony over one boring singular one.

Thank you for your two cents, the next chapter still needs tweaks yet, but It'll be out tomorrow.
As for keeping on writing, I couldn't stop if I wanted to.

Glen Gorewood