The Shape of Things to Come
"Tell me what her dreams are made of?"
Cadance asks me this queerly worded question one afternoon, whilst we are alone with Flurry Heart in the Crystal Castle's nursery. She strokes her daughter's mane tenderly, her face drawn from one lost night after another. Yet her smile is not dulled by her fatigue. It shines – she shines – with the youthful exuberance of a young mare, in love with her young family. I've seen that same look on the face of every newborn mother who has called on me with that question.
...If I make that sound like a common occurrence, it is because I mean to; it happens with surprising regularity. Young mothers will seek me out at the castle, or spot me in Canterlot proper on those rare occasions where I venture into town alone. Despite my best efforts at rehabilitating my image, my bearing is apparently intimidating, so they approach me with unnecessary caution, and against the entreaties of their milquetoast husbands or lovers.
Bold as they are, it usually takes them one or two tries to say what they have come to say. Still, they always do, in the end. Clutching their babes to their barrels, they pluck up their courage, and ask me what dreams fill their colts' and fillies' slumber.
They all want the same answer. They expect the same answer. The truth is, I couldn't tell them what their baby, specifically, dreams of, because I've learned not to investigate the dreams of babies. Mares and stallions dream of wants, needs, lusts and fears. Their dreams are shaped by their experiences in the waking world. Babies, though? They dream of shapes, and of colors, and of sounds. Their minds are blank canvases, unspoiled by the material world; they lack context for anything more complex than what their senses immediately perceive. Babies are uncomplicated. Their dreams are no less so; they've no need for me
Of course, no mother wants to hear that. Every mother want to hear the same thing: that their baby dreams of their mother's smile. So, I tell them that they want to hear, and they leave, pleased by my lie.
My sister's niece is no different. Despite my misgivings upon first meeting her, I've grown fond of this earnest young alicorn. She bears the weight of her crown well, and enjoys the adoration of her subjects. I find such qualities admirable; to an extent, I even envy them. Yet between you and me, she, too, is uncomplicated. Predictable. By no means is this a criticism; I don't imply that she has the wit of an infant. Merely, there is a gulf between us that can never be bridged. For she is Love, as I am the Night, and I understand her better than she could hope to understand me.
So, when she asks me to tell her what her daughter's dreams are made of, I know what she expects of me. It is no different from any of the other innumerable times I have been asked this tired question.
Except, in this instance, my canned response is not a lie.
I've never spoken of this to anypony – not Cadance, not even my sister. But once, on the occasion of her birth, during a rare spell where she remained still long enough to sleep, I slipped inside of Flurry's dreams. It was equal parts boredom and curiosity – a whim I chose to act upon. I wanted to know what the first natural-born alicorn since time immemorial dreamed of. I don't recall what I expected; only that I wished to see something more than the abstract trivialities that fill all infants' dreams.
Indeed, Flurry Heart dreams of more than shapes and colors and sounds.
On that cold morning in the heart of the Empire, Flurry Heart dreamed of the end – of icy winds and decrepit ruins; of an expanse of ash and salt and sand stretching into the horizon, where a six-pointed star and a blazing sun shriveled in the cold, blue light of a sickly crescent moon.
All along that desolate landscape, I glimpsed the bleached bones of Equestria. Sprawling cities and humble townships alike, from all corners of the realm, converged and rotted alongside one another. The skyscrapers of Manehattan sagged against the thatched roofs of Ponyville; the golden spires of Canterlot thrust their tips through the cloudy manses of Las Pegasus. Fort Baltimare's crumbling ramparts encircled skeletal trees that had once been Appleoosa's groves. And like the crude needlework of a mad surgeon, train tracks ran through the castle that my sister and I once called home.
Amid that haphazard scene of horror, a tower cut from crystal caught the dying light and drew my eye. Upon its balcony sat Flurry Heart, strikingly beautiful in marehood's bloom. A pony curled at Flurry's hooves: a sallow bag of brittle pink skin, stretched taut across sharp bones and clad in rusted regalia. Attended by flies, a swarm of flies, it wore an eternal grin of rotten teeth.
Flurry's face was expressionless as she stroked what remained of her mother's mane, gazing across the picked-over carcass of Equestria.
"Auntie Luna?"
Cadance's gentle prompting jars me from my memory. She's still waiting on her answer. I tell her what she wants to hear.
"Why, she dreams of her mother's smile, of course."
Cadance grins. Her teeth are pearly white. A shiver catches me, then, and I fluff my wings for warmth.
I look away from my sister's niece, and toward her offspring. This slumbering miracle who burbles into the saliva-soaked fabric of a cloth snail whilst filling a canvas with dreams of the end. I wonder at her, at whence that vision came. I wonder what else she sees in sleep, what else is sealed away within her mind.
I curse myself for my curiosity, that selfsame drive that made me visit her dreams in the first place.
And, at the same time, I wonder if I'll ever have the courage to look again.
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This is a really well crafted story, each paragraph smoothly moving onto the next. Right through to the twisted spires of Equestria's End, Flurry sitting on the bones of yet-to-come.
...Damn.
That's really all I can say.
I knew it! Furry is pony Antichrist!
Proof that overpowered baby characters herald the death of any cartoon universe.
A wonderfully disturbing kiloword that also packs in some fantastic Luna characterization. The little details like Cadence being "my sister's niece" really shine through. Thank you for a lot of story in a little package.
Ok, someone's been watching too much DWK.
*looks at nephew smashing ice cubes with a 2x4*
Flurry will be fine.
Flurry Heart: What, still here? , give me that thing your Dark Soul...for my ladies painting.
Luna:...my what?
You chose a damned fine DaS DLC to rip, for the record. I can dig Flurry as the Usurper of (the) Flame (of friendship?).
9391010
Its use here is literal.
I do not see how this would cause offense.
--Spade
9391010
This isn't quite as good as that random comment I got about fan girl rainbow dash being an offensive stereotype, but it's still pretty memorable.
9390026
Someone finally commented on that!!!
The question Luna should be asking is: Is this a nightmare to Flurry? Because if it's not, the implications are... unsettling to say the least.
Really enjoyed the story. The prose has a simple eloquence to it: there's no long flowery descriptions because the story doesn't need it. It uses nothing more or less than the exact amount of words needed to make its statement in an impactful way; something all fiction should strive for.
Very short, but no longer than it should be. Definitely has some Lovecraft overtones. Thumbs up!
9391010
Overly sensitive much? Or are you just trying to pick a fight? Words have meanings that have nothing to do with gay people, and if they are used correctly and in context are only offensive if you choose to go out of your way to take them like that.
9391010
It’s been a vaguely offensive term since the 1980’s that was later reclaimed by the people it was aimed against. Throughout that time it has survived in its original meaning, it’s even used in what is arguably the best known Robert Frost poem. Unless you were personally offended by its usage I don’t think it’s something to be concerned over.
9391791
9391874
For the record, I've always headcanoned Luna as freely using archaic or uncommon words, language whose meaning has changed over time.
She probably describes herself as "gay" when she's in a good mood, failing to understand why the ponies around her snicker.
9392290
Most likely, She does laps into Shakespeare's English at times, it sounds like she still has some catching up to do. A thousand years in the moon is a long time, and many people feel that while 8 seasons have rolled past for the fandom in the pony realm it's been closer to three years (though I haven't been able to confirm that to be canon yet), so yeah, I'd expect some amusing choices of words. Also, does any pony quite have the courage to take her aside and go "Princess, you keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."?
9391874
While I definitely disagree about the context in this story, and as someone in the community, I could only roll my eyes at this. Using it in the story's context means nothing related to being LGBT+ and there is no problem with the author using it in this sense. But I did want to mention while it is reclaimed, not everyone in the community is comfortable with using it, just like the n-word. It's the same sense: some people identify as queer, but you shouldn't label someone else as queer unless they specifically want to be (especially if you're not LGBT+ yourself.)
Just wanted to clear that up. Again, in the context of the story? Queerly being used is fine. It's an old world and using it in the sense it did shouldn't be a big issue as the context is dramatically different.
Other than that, I found this story to be a nice little dark story. A bit short (standing at the minimum word length, in fact, which is rater amusing to me) and I wish that more was done with it, but I also appreciate it being open-ended and making us wonder about the little filly that causes chaos wherever she goes! I do wonder what would happen if Luna talked to anyone else about what Flurry has seen. Well-written too.
9392391
Oh of course. I merely mentioned that to point out how muddy the waters are surrounding that term.
Flurry is destined to destroy.
9391370
I only said this because many others have said negative things when I used the word myself, and I didnt want such a good story to get dislikes for something a simple as what could be considered by some a slur.
This story is really good. Like, it kind of made me jealous, because I want to be able to write like this. It reminded me of Harlan Ellison with the excellently crafted surreal imagery. Was it pared down some to be exactly 1,000 words as some kind of constraint or requirement?
Anyway, I tried to write surreal dream stuff and it turned out... okayish, I guess. Nowhere near this good. So yeah, I really can't say enough positive things about this story.
...whoa.
That… took a sudden and steep dark turn.
Flurry Heart is Eldritch Abomination confirmed?
P.S. Love the way you wrote the first person perspective.
Oh, the Ringed City? I've only reached the Drag Heap.
9393089 Actually, it's the opposite. The original version of this story was about seven hundred words in length; it was written for the Writeoff Association, which has a word limit of 750 for short fiction. In order to get it submitted to FiMfiction, which has a minimum length of 1k, I had to expand it by about three hundred words.
So, some of the descriptions and paragraphs are a bit fluffier than they were previously.
Flurry Heart: They were so happy an alicorn was born, they had little thought as to the future such an omen might portend.
I mean, this is the infant that nearly managed to obliterate the entire Empire just by getting cranky. Armageddomare, she may well become.
Small typo
between you and me
I didn't authorise this.
9395105
Yet you added it to the list of stories that are partially your fault. You've already claimed responsibility. Confess your sins.
9395114
I never said it wasn't my fault. I said I didn't authorise this. You are not permitted to post your stories without me signing off on them first. It prevents me from inserting Doctor Whooves and questionable lines about Twilight and her brother.
9395118 I couldn't find a good place to squeeze in the incest.
The red hood has come to eat us, it has come to eat our dark souls!
9395149
Hence why you need me.
never question that demon child they call Flurry Heart
Brrrr. The teeth, man.
THE TEETH
I enjoyed ^^
9946062 A reading! :D Did you participate, or are you just posting it here?
9946682
Posting cause he be too shy/hope one day favor be returned if I’m in the dark by karma
Well that was fascinatingly dark. Premonition? A very strange filly? Poor Luna, who takes care of her nightmares?
I like that this is just a little one-shot, leaving it open and strange.
Intriguing. While thankfully, at least to our knowledge, this has not become cannon, it does raise so many questions.
Oh I see. Uh. Well well written
Damn. I love Luna's voice in this. Although I know it's just a prompt, I find that it feels... strangely complete, unlike a lot of prompts that I've read. Like, I love the open-endedness in this. Is Flurry really seeing the end? Is it really a nightmare for her... or a good dream? Or is she not having premonitions at all? Not having the answer somehow makes it better. Great work.
10538908 nah, Flurry just really loves Dark Souls 3.
(thank you, pleasant gay individual
)
See, she is the alicorn of the End Times! (Hallowed be the Dark One's name!)
This makes me think of stories where a dream reader reads the dream of someone else who can also dream of the future and sees that the dreamer is destined to destroy the world and then the dream readers try to manipulate them into not fulfilling their destiny of destroying the world as was prophesied and only succeeding in marking the dreamers that can see the future spiteful and set on destroying the world. Then what stops them is they meet someone who’s genuinely kind to them and knows they’re supposed to destroy the world but treats them fairly, not to manipulate them but out of actual benevolence and ends up having that person change and not destroy the world in the end because of it.
This is nice