Soon I'm Going to Wake Up

by shortskirtsandexplosions

Appendices

Lyra Heartstrings walked the winding path through the Ponyville Park. She was alone.

A warm summer sun hung in the sky. Cicadas buzzed from the tree branches overshadowing Lyra's trot. As she rounded a bend, she came upon a hilltop. Several foals were playing in the gently sloping grass. A few of the local youngsters had discovered an empty cardboard box that they had fashioned into a makeshift sled. They rode the thing bumpily down the hill, rolled out under a cascade of giggles, then frantically dragged the container back up to the top in order to repeat the whole process. They had the entire afternoon to enjoy this beautiful repetition. Either they would run out of time or the cardboard would rip apart, but they expected neither. Their laughter carried them on—faster and with greater earnest.

Lyra eyed the children for a moment, watching them set themselves on the top of the hill before sliding back down. She reached an empty bench and she paused there. Breathing. Absorbing.

There was a flutter of wings overhead. She looked up to see a single crow dotting the bright blue sky. It wove its way towards the distant treeline where it made a permanent black spot against the horizon, seemingly never vanishing no matter how long Lyra watched.

"Trouble sleeping?"

Lyra turned around to face the bench.

Bon Bon looked up with a smile. She sat on folded hooves. An open book lay before her.

"How did you know?" Lyra asked, smiling back.

A wink. "B.F.F.s, remember?" Bon Bon hummed. She wore her mane like a photograph. "You wanna share?"

Lyra sighed. "It's not much worth sharing."

"It brought you out of your bunk, didn't it?"

Lyra nodded at that. Lazily, she let her limbs go limp. She fell until she was slumped against the bench's backrest. It was like a feather landing. "Just a nightmare I had."

"That's odd," Bon Bon hummed, turning a page.

"It's only odd because I don't have many of them these days," Lyra said. She looked at the book Bon Bon was reading. None of the words made any sense. "That's part of growing old. Real life is too scary for your subconscious to make scarier stuff."

"You still wanna share?"

Lyra chuckled. The children laughed in cadence. She looked off to see them getting back in the box and sliding uphill. "I was on a steamship on the ocean."

"Start from the beginning," Bon Bon said.

Lyra gulped. Dark shadows darted overhead. She looked up to see another pair of crows flying towards the horizon. "There... was a war. A Great War," she said. "Equestria versus the griffons... and other non-ponies." She slowly shook her head. "Can't remember how it all started. So many details... so many angry words... so much madness."

"But you found yourself on a steamship."

"And we were being evacuated... y'know? Because the war had gotten so bad. Half of the Equestrian countryside was on fire. But that wasn't the half of it." Lyra took a deep breath. She watched the foals gliding up and down the hill. Tree branches split the sleepy sunset into wayward beams. "The Royal Sisters had discovered that the griffons had invented this weapon. Something... unimaginably horrible. An alchemic concoction. Ancient magic. Pure death. In my dream, there wasn't a name for it. So we just called it The End."

"You're right," Bon Bon said. "Your subconscious isn't very creative."

Lyra smiled in spite of this. "Well, we were all packed onto this Steamship to get away from the mainland... because we figured that that was where The End was going to hit. Suddenly, there were these squadrons of armored pegasi flying overhead. As fate would have it, a massive battle between ponies and griffons was happening over the very sea where we were sailing on."

"Funny how the last thing you ever want follows you in a dream."

"I know, right?" Lyra watched another flock of crows skimming overhead. "Anyways, we watched as our winged brothers and sisters engaged the griffons in battle. And it was pretty scary at first. But—eventually—our army completely and totally thrashed theirs, y'know? And... and we all cheered. Every pony on the boat. Laughing and sobbing and dancing. Because we showed them! Damn those evil pony-hating griffons. They got what was coming to them! And for the briefest moment, despite the blood and the pain and the loss of home and life, there was hope."

Bon Bon's slowness to answer was the only eerie thing. "And then what?"

Lyra clenched her teeth. "The End." Foals laughed, their voices carried like soft chimes over the windblown trees. "I knew it the very moment it landed. And it didn't exactly land on us. That's the cruel part."

"Oh?"

"No, it landed several hundred miles out in the ocean. And the reason I knew this is because the whole horizon became water." Lyra's pupils shrank as her ears folded. "A horrible... terrible deluge—a solid wall of impenetrable death rose for miles and miles in the sky... instantly propelled into the atmosphere by the mother of all magical weapons. And... and there was no sound. No crying. No sobbing. Not a single one of us on the boat had the energy to even breathe. But we all knew it was coming. The seconds broke off like glaciers, with the unbelievably high wall of water rushing towards us... perfectly ninety degrees to the placid waves below. And I didn't mourn and I didn't rage. All I could think to myself—in a bittersweet mental whisper—was 'They did it. They actually did it. This is The End. This and nothing else is all that will ever be. And I am now facing it.'"

Bon Bon nodded.

"And so..." Lyra looked over at her friend in the cool shadow of evening. "...I woke up.

"You seem awfully calm about it."

"Hmmmm..." Lyra nodded, her muzzle curving ever so slightly. "Because I can be."

Bon Bon turned another page. The ink was everywhere, spreading. "Then what do you still wish to tell me?"

"Something I've wanted to say for a while," Lyra said. "But... I never did. Because it's awfully grim."

A chuckle escaped Bon Bon's lips. The hair from the photograph overshadowed her eyes. "Is that so?"

"Yeah..." Lyra chuckled, rubbing the back of her head. "And you know how annoyed you get when I wax psuedo-philosophic."

"Yes, and?"

Silence. The leaves had stopped rustling. The sun hung distant on the horizon, cold and peering.

"The equine mind is an incredible thing," Lyra muttered. "The ability to retrace memory... to recall thoughts that were abandoned for years." A breath. "That kind of power... the sheer magnitude it takes for neurons to fire and activate brain patterns by command—both lucid and autonomic—is unlike anything else in the recorded universe." She swallowed. "I-I never read many scientific journals on the process, but I always got the feeling that... that what one experiences in a dream takes only seconds to happen in reality. Milliseconds, even. Like... you ever wake up from a dream that felt like it took place over the course of several months... but in fact it really only happened during a five minute nap?"

"I'm guessing you have."

"More often than I'd want to admit."

"Heh..."

"So... I got to thinking to myself..." Lyra gazed across the shadows of the park. "...if the brain doesn't entirely die when a pony's body does... then what's to stop the mind from dreaming afterwards? And just how many subconscious lifetimes might we live—neurons firing and brain cells gradually dying—in those few fleeting seconds that the spark remains?"

"Are you talking about an afterlife?"

"That's the grim part," Lyra said. She tried to chuckle, but her breath had left her. "Considering all of the hopes we cling to... all of the anxieties that plague us... all of the sorrows and fears that run our lives through charcoal black mazes every day..." She blinked. "How can we expect anything but hell from our beleaguered little minds when we actually give up the ghost?"

"Or perhaps the universe will cut us a break. Give us all our private little heavens."

"Nah..." Lyra chortled at that. She listened to the foals' squeals drifting slowly away on sheets of ice. "I don't believe in heaven."

"Why not?"

"It's not heaven if it can't end. And... besides..." She rubbed her cheek. The first of many tears. "Best that heaven doesn't exist at all. The flames will burn that much colder."

"You say that like you've been a bad pony."

"Have I?" Lyra's eyes darted back and forth, watching the crows as they blotted out the sky. The pinprick light of the sun flickered, struggling to stay intact. "I've followed the rules. I found a dance and I stuck to it. Every day and every night. Never trying to change... because changing means thinking and thinking means having to care. It's so much easier just to blend... to never have to answer for anything. At least if I was 'bad,' it would count for something. Evil makes change happen... and that's the first step in passion. But doing nothing? That's the slowest road you can take. I understand now why it's so tempting. It carries with it the illusion of savoring things, when all you're actually doing is gliding on by with gravity."

"What have you been missing?"

"Nothing," Lyra replied. "Everything." Another tear. It felt just like the first—in that it didn't feel like anything at all. The ink had spread across the empty bench, and Lyra floated—like a derelict underwater. "The sun. The feel of wet earth on a hot summer day. The smell of a friend's breath as she hugs you. The tiny dots that fill up the shadows of an old photograph. Orange juice." She listened to the foals' screams as they vanished in the blackness. There were too many crows now; she couldn't count them apart. Like jibberish across the pages of a book with no beginning or end. "You get into the rhythm of being... of avoiding. What's more... you let the world and all of its friends and enemies slide down the same cold chute along with you. You get used to the momentum... the emptiness... the lukewarm lurch of time. And it's just as numb being alive as being asleep. Pretty soon, you can't even tell your dreams apart from your awakenings. They're all memories, anyway. And our souls are all just... the helpless appendices to something that should have been... but never could quite be."

"What do I want to do now?"

Lyra sniffed. "I want..." She clenched her teeth. The tears were flowing, making the next part difficult. "I want to watch the sun set," she mewled. "I want to f-feel its warmth. I want to be with... I want to imagine that I'm with ponies... lots of ponies..." She rubbed her face again, but she couldn't see her own fetlock in the faint glow that remained. The sun was a tiny candle at the end of a long pinhole. "...that we're together and happy and we have nothing to hate each other about or fight over..."

"...or miss or regret or fear..."

"...or hope..."

Lyra gazed. It was all she was now. Even in that great thick darkness, the light receded. It grew infinitesimally smaller by the epoch, but somehow a part of her—a part of her forever divided into worldess halves—was aware of it... of how swiftly it was forever drawing away.

There were no questions. There were no answers.

Burning—at least—would have been merciful.

Comments

[Super Trampoline]

[IceKitsune]

The musings of a dying Lyra? Or perhaps a dream? Quite the sad little story either way.

[silvadel]

Thumbs up -- I will say I hate the very idea of oblivion. It has that feeling of a /0 in an equation.

[abronie]

Oh boy. Time to get hit by the feels train.

She was alone.

Not gonna lie, I'm already feeling tears.

[ponygrad]

This is not why I stopped reading r/worldnews today.

However, for being full of abstract purple prose, this story is abosolutley gripping.

And it's just as numb being alive as being asleep. Pretty soon, you can't even tell your dreams apart from your awakenings. They're all memories, anyway. And our souls are all just... the helpless appendices to something that should have been... but never could quite be."

It's very haunting how bon bon doesn't say anything in the end. It reinforces the melding of nightmare and reality without beating it over your head. I can see myself re reading this one many times.

[zaponator]

Really good stuff. Interesting and dark.

[MidnightReflection]

Why is it always Lyra?

I have to say I was expecting the twist to be a real bomb detonating during her conversation with Bon Bon but instead it already happened and we just caught a glimpse of the last few moments...

[Sypher]

Those last few paragraphs are chilling to the bone.

[DrEggnog]

"I don't believe in heaven."

"Why not?"

"It's not heaven if it can't end. And... besides..." She rubbed her cheek. The first of many tears. "Best that heaven doesn't exist at all. The flames will burn that much colder."

This was the bit that hit home for me.

[Papa Dragon]

This is like looking into my own head.
The parts I try to avoid.

Melancholy just comes bubbling up the further along one reads.

It's gloriously depressing man! I love it.

[Vaguely Demented]

Reminders of the ever encroaching presence of the void...fun.

[isha85]

Pretty cool existential nightmare, but has SFA to do with ponies.

[Grevere]

Thanks for the
image.spreadshirtmedia.com/image-server/v1/compositions/1012746816/views/1,width=300,height=300,backgroundColor=E8E8E8,version=1473664654/crippling-dread-premium-men-s-t-shirt.jpg

[Doctor Disco]

The light grows smaller at the end of the tunnel
Just as my thoughts recede into my minds bushel
The pain is unbeareable, veins are on fire
Destined to disappear by wish of the soul

In this cold the sound resonates
Best described by the migraine of veils
Held back with the waves of rain
The music stains
Death and disdain is not my way

~Doctor Disco~

[Jake The Army Guy]

"It's not heaven if it can't end.

That... makes no sense. The very definition of Heaven is endless contentment, no worries or troubles. eternal good. By it's own concept, it isn't Heaven if it can end.

And... besides..." She rubbed her cheek. The first of many tears. "Best that heaven doesn't exist at all. The flames will burn that much colder."

You assume the mainstream evangelical Christian view of the afterlife, the divisive idea of "us vs. them," Where all the good people(us) go to heaven and all the bad people (them) go to Hell. I'd just like to point out that Jews have no concept of Hell, because it isn't in the Torah/Old Testament. Not sure about Islam. And the concept of Annihilationism and/or Universal Redemption goes back to the old days of the Christian Church. I can point you to numerous articles on the idea,

Bah, this is too nihilistic and grim. Lighten up, Lyra. Be like this you:

derpicdn.net/img/2014/10/14/743094/medium.gif

[Dark Shade 75]

8354843

She isn't saying that a christian Heaven must end, she's saying that for her, the perfect heaven would.

And for the sake of a story, the author can assume any belief system for a character. How was he going to explain Lyra's beliefs without going into a religious rant, which would take away from the purpose of this story?

[Jake The Army Guy]

8355033

I never said he should change it. I was merely stating my opinion on the questions raised by the story.

[Dark Shade 75]

8355039
You were stating as fact, not opinion. I replied with that in mind.

[Jake The Army Guy]

8355047

I stated as fact that there are opposing viewpoints, yes. I never once said mine is wholly right.

[Leftover of Saikano]

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil…

[Dark Shade 75]

8355060

I believe you misunderstand me. I'm not saying you were stating the christian belief as fact, merely that the issues with the story you listed were stated as facts.

For example, you defined heaven. You stated what it could, and could not be. That is not your assumption to make, regardless of the fact that you completely missed the story's point there. Like I said, the author was describing Lyra's perfect heaven, not any Christian-based one as you seem to have assumed.

[CrystalWaters]

You must love Subnormality, or if you don't know of it, dang, you should get around to checking it out.

[Lamplighter]

God dammit Skirts, this is why I can't put down your stuff. You have to be up there with the top writers on this site, and you do it while writing more then all the others put together.

[NorrisThePony]

4 minute warning?

I'm glad these great stories are coming out at the same time as my seasonal Radiohead obsession.

[Ponky]

Cicadas and tsunamis?
This was written by a Floridian, for sure.

[isha85]

What's funny, though, is that you can't actually explain WHY you downvoted my comment.

[Mcstuffins]

Why does the green one always have to experience all the existential terror stuff!

[Devantejah]

8355898
It's not easy being green, you know.

[Merula]

Was reading this while listening to this:

Trust me, it makes it a hell of a lot more chillier

"So... I got to thinking to myself..." Lyra gazed across the shadows of the park. "...if the brain doesn't entirely die when a pony's body does... then what's to stop the mind from dreaming afterwards? And just how many subconscious lifetimes might we live—neurons firing and brain cells gradually dying—in those few fleeting seconds that the spark remains?"

"Are you talking about an afterlife?"

"That's the grim part," Lyra said. She tried to chuckle, but her breath had left her. "Considering all of the hopes we cling to... all of the anxieties that plague us... all of the sorrows and fears that run our lives through charcoal black mazes every day..." She blinked. "How can we expect anything but hell from our beleaguered little minds when we actually give up the ghost?"

"Or perhaps the universe will cut us a break. Give us all our private little heavens."

"Nah..." Lyra chortled at that. She listened to the foals' squeals drifting slowly away on sheets of ice. "I don't believe in heaven."

"Why not?"

"It's not heaven if it can't end. And... besides..." She rubbed her cheek. The first of many tears. "Best that heaven doesn't exist at all. The flames will burn that much colder."

That last part. That last damned part gave me fucking chills down my spine

[isha85]

8354490

Because she has zero canonical personality, so the author can just have whatever happen to her and it's of no consequence.

[Ryuyu]

Skirts are you okay

[Neoarcad]

And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings.
Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair."

Nothing beside remains.

[Piecemeal Pony]

Me too, Skirts...

Me too...

[Mr Extra]

I really like it. Got a lot of Dr. Who's "I don't want to go" vibe off it.

But... Grrr. Makes me want to work on my 'End of Equestria' fic.

[Giltor]

8354843

The very definition of Heaven is endless contentment, no worries or troubles. eternal good.

Everything that lasts eternity becomes torture at some point.

[arancaytar]

I didn't know what I expected from a Dark-tagged Skirts story about Lyra, but this? Damn.

[EnderHooves]

Wow, that was, actually scary. I mean, its nothing new to me, but to look at it like this, wow. I think I need to lay off the existential dread for a while and remember what it feels like to be alive.

[Vicente Morales]

This was really good

The most scary things are not monsters or other imaginary creatures, the real terrifying things are the things that can happen in real life like war, come across a killer, Alzheimer's, etc. or like in this case in this story, Lyra is doubtful about whether she's died and all of this happening around her is nothing more than the last vestiges of neuronal activity left in her brain after she died, and since is something similar to a dream, she can't tell them apart and the worst of all is that this have been happening for weeks, months, even years?? Not even she knows

How much longer it will last?? That's the question and that's was so horribly terrifying about the whole thing

I like it a lot

[The Hissing Fool]

Not that I needed another reason for you to be my go-to author on this site, but I'll take it.

[Imaginedom]

Good story bro I liked it xD

[Prince Polaris]

"That's the grim part," Lyra said. She tried to chuckle, but her breath had left her. "Considering all of the hopes we cling to... all of the anxieties that plague us... all of the sorrows and fears that run our lives through charcoal black mazes every day..." She blinked. "How can we expect anything but hell from our beleaguered little minds when we actually give up the ghost?"

I can't come up with a joke to even approach expressing how thoroughly terrified I am of this exact concept