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Prologue1,099 words
Growing insanity1,407 words

Growing insanity

Time sat idly on his throne, staring at the Hourglass. He had been watching over it since the world first began, waiting for it to empty so he could fulfill his duty. The sand continued flowing in a steady stream into the lower half of the glass. He continued staring. Hours, days, months, years passed of staring. He never once took his eyes off the hourglass. Not since he formed the blood pact with Celestia and Luna. Ding....Dong...Ding Time snapped out of his trance, noticing it was time. The top of the Hourglass was nearly empty, The Great of Few would soon gather, to determine the end times. He would need to prepare it, ready the apocalypse. Celestia, the one who moved the sun... She was the first target... It was part of the agreement at the blood pact. In return for her powers, Time would be able to reclaim his power in the end, and anymore that she gathered from the sun over the years. Time got up off of his throne. He looked into a pool of water, which showed Celestia sleeping peacefully. Time extended his arm, releasing a supernatural leach from his sleeve. It slithered through to Celestia, and worked it's way to her heart, where it would slowly take from her Godly blood pool. The other Gods would soon notice, and prepare to gather in the chamber. If the judgement did not pass, all would be undone, but not even Time could predict what the other gods would say....

*********

Typewrite sat peacefully at her home writing a new novel when she got a knock at her door. Typewrite was a star author, she always seemed to know how to fascinate her readers with her romantic/dramas and the occasional historical fiction. She was renowned for her stunning beauty. She had a bright white coat, a flowing magenta mane, and bright yellow eyes.

Typewrite released her novel and and quill from her magic. I wonder who that could be, she thought to herself. She got up from her chair and began to walk to the door. As she opened the door she found a grey, yellowed eyed, Pegasus standing at the door.

"I've got a letter for you." The Pegasus said in a strange tone.

(A.N: If your wondering, the courier is a descendant of Derpy.)

"Thank you." Typewrite replied in a pleasant tone.

As Typewrite walked back into her home she got an ominous feeling, but she simply ignored it. She sat back down, proceed to open the letter, and then read it aloud to herself:

Dear Typewrite,

I am indeed glad to hear that you will soon be ready to publish your newest creation.
However, I am going to be in Canterlot for the next few months. My mother is sick
and I will be accompanying her, and helping her get back on her hooves. Since she is
Princess Luna's assistant, she will be in the royal palace hospital. This does not
mean I cannot help you publish your book. When you arrive at the palace,
tell the guards "It is Time" and they will take you to me.

Sincerely, Fine Print

Typewrite looked at the last part of the letter in confusion. The word 'Time' seemed to stick out for some reason. Not to mention, "It is Time" is an odd pass phrase to begin with. She also wasn't sure when she would be finished with her book. Her rough estimate was about five days time. Fine Print did say she would be there for months though, but that was odd as well... What sickness lasts for months? The feather flu? No no no, that was cured a while ago... Oh well, what does it matter anyways... I'm just worrying myself. Typewrite thought.

*********

Celestia was resting peacefully resting after one of her only good days. The conference went great, the Griffon ambassador agreed to all construction of rail road tracks to increase trade, and a new foreign policy that benefited the ponies. Celestia grinned in her sleep at the remembrance of this. But while she reminisced the day gone by, she was having quite a strange dream. She was dreaming of an hour glass, which was rather large. As she dreamt, over her point of view of the hour glass came a shadow of a strange, unrecognizable, figure. The figure seemed to reach out and at that moment all went black. There was a loud 'HISSSSSSssssss' like that of a distorted cat, suddenly, just for a split second, she saw what seemed to be a leach. Then there was a pain in her chest, and she awoke. She was baffled by what had just went through her head. On one side of her mind she wanted to know what she had just dreamed of, on the other, she was scared to know.

*********

Typewrite barely got three hours of sleep that night. She couldn't get those three words out of her head, no matter how much she tried. It is Time, it is Time, it is Time. It just kept repeating in her mind. "Why wont it just go away," she tiredly groaned. "Please just leave me alone." She wasn't just asking now, she was begging. The words were becoming louder every time it repeated in her head. Then it all seemed to stop.

"Oh thank Celes-"

She was then cut off by another voice in her head that was a whisper but booming at the same time. Speak for me... It seemed to say several more times but Typewrite only heard it once. She was so tired and confused she didn't know what to think of it all. Now in the sudden eerie silence, she could could barely keep her eyes open, much less think. So in the now quiet of the night, hoping it was all a very bad dream, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

*********

Ponyville, Equestria, four days before the apocalypse.

Typewrite awoke the next morning with a thudding headache and no recollection of the night before. She pressed her right hoof against her head and let out a loud, tired groan. To her, it seemed to be years before she tossed the covers aside and slowly twisted and leaned up to a sitting position. With some effort, she was soon able to push herself off the bed where she stood on her back hooves for a moment and then fell onto all fours. For a couple seconds she stood, motionless, dazed in confusion of what happened the night prior. After a few slow moments of silence, her thoughts where interrupted by a tapping at her window.

It was a crow.

Typewrite had always been a very superstitious pony, engorging herself with books on legend and symbols in nature and she particularly liked reading of darker symbols. Seeing this she remembered one of her favorites. The crow was a symbol of death.

Not wanting a bad omen looming over the rest of the day, she snapped out of her daze, rushed over to the window, and shooed it away. Feeling the slightest bit better, she began to trot down the stairs and into the kitchen. Grrrrrr. "Well," Typewrite said in her almost normal voice, "Guess I'm hungry."

Typewrite opened the refrigerator to see all she had was a leftover apple slice sandwich. She started to levitate the sandwich out of the refrigerator but couldn't. She out a sigh and picked up the sandwich as her migraine returned.

Typewrite lied down on her couch, grabbed her book the table to her left, and began to write once more. She was writing something different this time. She had no idea where she got the inspiration, but she wrote anyway. Her story was of plague. Her plague struck without warning, no symptoms, no change in appearance, no cure.pars

After she had gotten in three more chapters, and finished her sandwich, she decided it was time to head out to town. As per her normal routine, she went into her bathroom, showered, got out, dried her mane, and spent a full hour making it perfect. She then proceeded to trot back down stairs, checking her mane and tail one last time, open the door, and started for Ponyville.

Author's Note:

This took forever to write but I have good reasons! *cough cough* I'm lazy. *cough cough* I will be faster next time, I promise.

Editor's Note:
The amount of errors in this chapter...
To IllWillPress...