Written Off

by Sharp Spark

Closing Time

The red herrings leap asleep upstream of consciousness, cherry-silver scales gleamily dreaming in the crystal waters. But Moss only flounders around--there's a splash in the depths to keep head in air, e'er towards a shore that he banked on being in breach. Disregard his daring, he needs those herring for his darling, regarding the porpoise for which he was spent.

Dry land! To stand in sand that clung to coat no longer afloat, Moss tosses aside the river. Pushes past the ghast, a skeleton in fleshly disguise. Those eyes. He's never seen a dead stallion still alive and falling, but is this fellingon a skellow or a shadow? She said to beware and wary he is, aworry of the fields he strides, the stream arising behind to see the moon in bloom and—

it's too dangerous. i should have done this myself

--I can do it-- he promises without blemishes, pushes on to his goal but the sleeper slips somber. Wonder why? Tender memories or fearful fantasies, Moss misses the door but adores the missus mysterious. Serious or delirious, the fields feel fallow, shallower than the water but wetter than the wisdom he wants.

you're losing yourself. come back while you still can

Moss cannot retreat a inch in changing niche to herd the figment fragments. Itching edges that puzzle into form, he trained for this in months amidst the shadows and slippery spirals of entanglement dangerously devoid of sense, fracturing fractals of fragmentary psychosis, flowing unflinchingly—

focus. remember what you've learned

Moon.

Field.

Skeleton.

Stream.

Moss moves in tune with the mood of the mind, but the mystery remains. He is lost or the fish misplaced his keys. Isn't that always the ways? Skellington concurs. But are they concealed afield or seem astream? Bone's help is none, and hesitates is lost, self as much as stealth will allow. But if the keys are lost and he's are lost then together they found a new song, strong and long and—

in front of you

Moss almost misses it again.

He has the keys. He ribs the jack for his empty stomach and lone bone gone is the skeleton key, of course. Such a sucker, remora's remorse for fairly failing to understand when this is foal's play for one with his goals. If only the fool was a foal, then this confusion would be conducing delusion. Instead a melange de trois of claws to give pause, leopard spotted but no door in sight.

Hello herring. Laughter brines from Moss's mouth. South to water, fish in fashion fulfills. Stand on the land, and salmon surround, but Moss lunges, plunges in the piscine stream. His key fits fittingly in the clique of lox, outfoxed. To open, a totem of things found in sea not ground, hoping to fall through them all. He's there, the big D.

...

A room of gloom.

The chaos swirls contained outside the circle.

Moss is on familiar ground, and in the center the certain sleeper he seeks.

--Discord-- he says --it's time to wake up--

Author's Note:

Final Ranking: 24/57

Okay, this one takes a lot of explaining probably.

A long time ago, there was a writeoff. And some people in the writeoff thought it would be funny to write reviews for a story that didn't exist. And then, later, to delete these reviews and pretend they hadn't ever happened either. This joke came at the expense of one participant, and it ended up being less funny and more hurt-feeling-causing than I think the initial joke intended. (I blame The Mysterious Mare Do Well). The story in question though was called Closing Time. And this Closing Time that I have written is based on years-old memories of reviews that no longer exist for a fic that never existed.

As for the actual story itself... The meaning is pretty opaque, but it's about a dreamwalker working with Princess Luna to go into the mind of Discord and wake him up, but who struggles to hold to his mission and overcome the chaos within. It's written in a manner meant to evoke the disconnected weirdness of a real dream, not like the carefully constructed puzzleboxes of Inception or whatever. In real dreams things make no sense but always feel like they make total sense. If you're feeling ambitious, read it again and see if you can see the outline of that plot, now that you know what you're looking for. (And maybe you'll appreciate the one very punny joke that I'm proud of)