• Published 1st Mar 2013
  • 1,371 Views, 12 Comments

Falling - PinkiePie35



Time can only heal so much.

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3
 12
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One Final Visit

Finally, I somehow muster the strength to pull myself out of bed. The floorboards creek when my hooves touch them, and my bones crack as I stretch. While trying to steady myself on all fours, I hear a loud pop, followed by intense pain in my back. I wail and sink to the ground as the unforgiving agony immobilizes my further movement.

For a moment, as I lay there on the floor, I simply think. I think about the times when getting up in the mornings was easy and arguably the best part of the day. Now it remains the most strenuous and painful task regarding the start of my mornings.

I attempt to slam my spine into its correct position with my wrinkly and weak hooves. At first, I succeed only in furthering the torture as my striking misses its target and irritates my back. My body screams in protest as I feel thousands of nerves yell out in pain and misery. At last, with one final swing at my hind, I hear my spine crick back into place, and the pain begins to subside.

I wipe a few tears from under my eyes and sniffle, and slowly manage to stand back up beside my bed. Pulling the covers up over my bed to make it, I glance out the window that shone the light that had so suddenly awoken me from my slumber. Through all that has changed and been made different, Celestia's sun has not. Each and every morning, as I feel myself drifting farther and farther away from what I might call my "old self," the sun remains bright and orange, ever shining and relentless. I always try act like that sun; I try to continue to burn onward with perseverance and spirit, but it seems harder to do as time progresses.

Especially without something, or rather, somepony, to burn onward for.

After staring for a few moments in a sleepy headed daze, caught by the mesmerizing glow of sunshine in my eyes, my attention returns from the sunlit morning sky back to my bed. I pull the blanket over the bottom covers, which have already been tightly placed over the mattress with its edges neatly tucked under the sides of the bed. I grab my pillows, fluff them to decency, and lay them at the top of the bed.

I slowly begin to lumber over to my mirror to tidy myself before heading downstairs; my unfortunate predicament I experienced this morning has left me feeling like a mess.

As I get closer and closer to the mirror, my old eyes begin to allow me to see the reflection that I fear the most every single time I look into it.

The glass reflects all of my aged details with utter precision. My once bright violet mane has darkened to a dull and somber blue; the once candy colored strip of pink in the center of my mane has faded to gray. My forehead is covered in wrinkles, and the skin beneath my eyes sag with crinkles and ripples of stress and pain. Even my very coat, originally a beautiful shade of lavender, has succumbed to the effects of old age and withered to a deathly light purple. My horn has also been overcast with the same pale shade of violet as my coat; however, it still retains its distinctive cone shape.

And then I notice my eyes.

These are unaffected; somehow, through all of the events that have come and passed, through the unavoidable factor of age, my eyes remain their original tone of amethyst. Of course, the powerful and energetic spark that once shone in them has been battered and dimmed over the years, but they remain otherwise immune to the effects of growing old which my body has been so harshly experiencing recently.

I break my stare with the mirror at last, filled with the painful thoughts of times when the skin on my face never drooped and my horn actually could harness the power of the arcane arts. The thought of such lack of vigor and energy fills me with sweet memories of the ponies I cared about most, my friends...

...In fact, it reminds me of the one pony that had the most energy and life out of the whole bunch of us.

I can still visualize her in my mind if I think about her; her pink breezy mane and coat, her optimistic smile, her loving personality, and her bright blue eyes, filled with such compassionate joy. She must have enjoyed life the most out of us six. She loved life endlessly, to the point where it became extremely difficult in her final years for her to finally let go and accept that one day, life ends even for the most spirited of ponies...

I shake my head of the thoughts of the pink party pony. It's too difficult to recall the happy times we shared with her, at least without triggering the memories of any sad times in the process. In any case, I'm not looking to start my day with depressing thought processes like these. If I dwell on what age has taken away from me, I'll hardly stand a chance in lasting against what I have planned to do today.

I have to be strong today for when I make the visit today.

I canter over to my wardrobe, throw a warm sweater over my head, place my glasses over my eyes, and begin my way downstairs.

I slowly make my descent down the staircase, cautious not to trip and fall. Even with my glasses, my eyes still fail me in creating images of true detail. As a result, I keep my vision focused directly on my hooves as they each make contact with the squeaky wooden floorboards, being very careful not to create another accident like the previous one this morning. At last, after what seem like a miracle of effort, I arrive at the bottom floor.

The library has aged with me and has only become less runic than I. Its once new books are now old and outdated, and the bindings on the cover of the books have faded as to make some of the titles on the binding itself illegible. No longer able to use my magic to levitate them and my body to fragile to physically move them, many books remain unsorted and stacked askew.

This is something that truly picks at nerves in my body. As disorganization is a pet peeve of mine, being able to do quite literally nothing to fix it has pushed my sanity to its limits.

A teasing and cruel thought always follows; I've got it, I'll just call Spike to lend a hand! He'll be able to help me sort these books out! But while my heart desires to call out for Spike's assistance, my mind knows there will be no answer.

I shake my thoughts from Spike, desperately trying to avoid having an emotional breakdown. I can't even remember how many years it's been since he left. Forcing my mind to change the subject, I walk over to one of the old books, pull out a crown with a familiar looking pink star on top, and place it in my saddlebag. I decide to skip breakfast altogether, but I otherwise have all that I need for the day. I push open my front door, exit my library, and begin my journey to my destination.

As I walk the streets of Ponyville, I sigh to myself. Though many ponies still reside here, the town is not as full of life as it once was. Few remember at all that this was the town that housed the bearers of the Elements of Harmony most of their lives, save Rainbow Dash, who lived in Cloudsdale. Though I know it's not right, I can't help but avoid going into town as often as possible, for many objects and landmarks serve as painful reminders of my friends that are no longer.

Continuing forward, I pass by Sugarcube Corner. Mr. and Mrs. Cake passed the bakery down to their children, Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake, before they passed. They are in their mid sixties now. I cringe to myself as once again my mind is flooded with mournful thoughts of my lost pink friend. I remember how much she loved to cook up all kinds of sweets. As the sweet aroma of baked goods fill my nostrils, bittersweet memories of the pony are brought to mind.

I trudge onward and pass Sweet Apple Acres. Ah, Applejack. The one who you'd have thought was so physically in-shape that she would never move on one day. The farm is now run by Applebloom, as Big Macintosh, AJ, and Granny Smith are no longer there to manage it themselves. I credit her for taking on the responsibilities of an entire farm all by herself; Applebloom has only her two children, who now live in Manehatten and Fillydelphia and only visit once a year for the Apple Family reunion. The barn is still to this day well kept and spruced often. This comes as no surprise, because, after all, Applebloom has such a profound talent in renovation and construction. She has a cutie mark to prove it. Still, even while knowing the farm and fields are in good hands, it pains me to no longer be able to hear the upbeat southern slur of my best friend who had run Sweet Apple Acres since I knew her.

Farther down the road and off to the distance, I can see the clearing to the Everfree Forest. Its trees stand as tall large as they were when I first arrived here. To the side of the clearing rests what used to be Fluttershy's cottage. I remember the time when I first met her, when she used her sweet and tender voice to make beautiful music with songbirds. I long to hear those peaceful tunes again.

Before she left the world, Fluttershy requested her cottage be used as a shelter for lost or hurt animals found in Ponyville. Many of the residents were ecstatic about it at first, but now only one mare, a friend of one of Fluttershy's relatives, takes care of the place and the few animals that remain in its custody. I do not know her personally, but I've heard she's at least decently suited for the job.

Walking for a few minutes more, I arrive at last at the Carousel Boutique. Rarity's younger sister, Sweetie Belle, took over the boutique after her career as a singer. By the time Rarity passed away, Sweetie's musical career was over anyway, so she took it upon herself to not let the place rot and whither away. However, Sweetie had and still has no talent with clothing and designing. As a result, she decided to turn it into a floral shop. She now specializes in and distributes several types of flowers.

But I have my eyes set upon a certain bouquet of roses.

I enter the small shop, and take in the sweet floral scent of Marigolds, Lilacs, Tulips, and several other floral delicacies. The bell hanging on the door rings, and Sweetie Belle, standing over the counter, greets me.

"Oh, Twilight! How are you? I haven't seen you in a while now!"

She comes out from around the counter and embraces me and a hug of proportions that I have not felt in what seems like ages. She has aged as well; her face contains wrinkles almost similar to mine, and her mane is now straight and wispy instead of fluffed in the style which she wore her mane in as a filly.

"Oh dear, I've been alright lately, how about you?" I say.

Wow. In all honesty hearing my raspy old voice spooks me slightly. I haven't heard it in quite a while, as I rarely even visit or talk to anypony anymore.

"Not too bad, I guess. Things at the shop have been going well as of lately. I have your special roses that you ordered."

My ears perk up at this. For the first time in a while, I feel a childish smile of excitement creep onto my face. I start again.

"Oh, how wonderful, Sweetie. Be a dear and fetch them for me now, please?"

"Of course, Twilight."

As she retreats into a back room behind some curtains to fetch my flowers, I'm left to my own observant devices. I look around the inside of the boutique a bit. The interior is no longer strung with its old decor of fashion materials, manikins, and dresses. It now contains several different plants and flowers hanging on shelves and resting on the floor, flowers of varying color and scent.

The panes of the window have been painted an earthly red, and the floor has been redone from Rarity's previous carpet floor with a marble tile ground. At last Sweetie returns with seven roses bunched into a neat paper wrapping at the base.

"Here you are, Twilight. Magically altered, just as you asked."

I smile when the roses reach my hooves. They sparkle and glitter in the light, each one a certain hue of the seven colors of the rainbow. They are, as I told Sweetie to prepare them, altered into the seven colors of the rainbow and magically preserved to last for several decades. Sweetie is not too much younger than I; how she is able to still harness the power of magic as I am unable to is a fact that baffles me, especially a spell as straining as preserving and changing the shade of an entire bouquet of roses. Nevertheless, I am no less grateful to her for creating these for me.

I reach clumsily into my saddlebag for my purse, but Sweetie reaches a hoof over the counter and places it on my shoulder. I look up at her, a sweet smile on her face.

"Don't worry, Twilight. Normally, I'd charge a hoof and a leg for anypony else for roses so deeply altered... but for you, hon, it's on the house."

I smile back at her. It's beautiful to see that even though Rarity is no longer here, her generosity lives on partially through her very own little sister.

I begin to speak.

"Sweetie... are you sure? These are very expensive roses, and I-"

However, she cuts me off.

"Twi, I said it's on the house. Really, no problem," she says.

"Thanks, honey. But can I ask you for one more favor?"

"Sure, anything for you, Twilight," She says.

I gulp, take a deep breath, and speak.

"Sweetie, do you think you could do the spell on me that allows me to walk onto clouds? You know, the one I used to do so you, Applebloom, and Scootaloo could go up to cloudsdale?"

She thinks for a moment, and then her face lights up at remembering the spell and all the times I performed it for her and her friends. Scootaloo always liked to visit her idol, Rainbow Dash, and as such, I often performed that spell in order for her friends to tag along as well.

"Oh! That one! Sure, not a problem," Sweetie Belle chirps.

Her horn lights up, surrounded by an aura of aquatic blue, and a beam shoots from the tip. A warm glow envelops me for a few moments, and at last my entire form feels lighter.

"There you go, Twi! All set."

She comes around the counter once more and takes me into a final hug.

"Goodbye, Twilight. It was good to see you again."

"Goodbye, Sweetie. Good to see you too."

Finally, after letting go, I wave goodbye to her as I exit the boutique and continue my journey, the radiant flowers now neatly tucked and protected in my saddlebag. Sweetie Belle didn't ask why I needed the roses, nor did she ask why I'd wanted her to perform that spell. Though, she's not a dumb pony; I wouldn't be surprised if she put two and two together.

After a few more minutes of slowly cantering onward, I arrive at a large purple blimp. The ropes connecting the carriage to the blimp are a bright yellow, and the basket itself is lightly brown. A young colt stands beside it. I open my mouth to speak to him.

"Excuse me, sir. One trip to Cloudsdale, please," I say.

"Surely, ma'am."

*****

At last, I'm here. The place I've been waiting to arrive at all day long.

Cloudsdale Cemetery.

I walk as quickly as my quirky hooves will carry me through the graveyard. Even in daytime, walking through a field of lost friends, mothers, fathers, co-workers, and some children is saddening and embittering to even the happiest of souls. Besides, I have not time for such mourning. I have a mare to meet.

I finally come to one headstone that lies out from the rest. Upon its face lay a symbol that I have not seen in person in a long while: An icy white cloud, with a red, yellow, and blue bolt of fierce lightning jetting out from its bottom. The headstone reads: "Here lies: Rainbow Dash, beloved friend, family member, soul mate, and bearer of Harmonic Loyalty. May the Loyalty to others she taught live on in us all forever."

Underneath the small and now slightly eroded writing is a date:

"982-1008 C.R."

I sigh to myself with sadness, but as my eyes continue downwards below the date, my eyes light up and a slow smile makes its way onto my old and cracked face.

Stuck to the bottom of the gravestone is her necklace, the same one she received when we all discovered the power of friendship and found out that we represented the Elements. With age it has rusted and is now covered with dirt. I slowly bend down, careful not to hurt myself, blow off some dust, and stand back up.

"Oh, Rainbow... it's been too long."

I turn around once, to make sure no one else is present nearby.

I begin to speak with what appears to be an inanimate headstone.

But, on the inside, I know that it is truly far from inanimate. I know that somehow, wherever she is right now, she can hear me.

"Hey, Dashie... how have you been lately?"

The sound of a pin falling can be heard at this level of silence.

"I've been alright myself. I'm sorry I haven't visited you in a while. How are the friends doing? Are they enjoying Celestia's peace? How about you? Are you happy?"

I prepare to ask an important question as tears begin to well in my ducts.

"Do you miss me... as much as I miss you...?"

I sigh and sit beside the grave, leaning my head against its side. I know I can only sit on a hard surface like the ground for so long before my hip starts to give out, but I do it anyway against my better knowledge.

A selfish part of me longs to revert back to my previous form, the Alicorn. When the rest of my friends grew into old age, I knew the inevitable was coming. Applejack was the first to go by natural causes. I swallowed the pain, cried with the friends that remained, promised myself I'd make it through. But then they all started to move on, Fluttershy, then Rarity... and finally, the deciding heartbreaker.

Pinkie Pie.

Seeing her go broke my heart beyond recognition. She was the last root to the seed of who will always be my friends. Even in old age, she was cheerful, delightful, positive... happy.

It was that moment that I decided I couldn't ever go on without them. I talked to the Princess and told her awfully I was feeling. She told me things would get better, but they didn't. Each day brought another level of depression, another layer of sadness and grief. The pain became all too unbearable, and I pleaded to Celestia, begging for the ultimate solution.

I wanted to become normal again.

I begged her that if there were any way for me to revert to my old self, the Unicorn Twilight Sparkle, not the Immortal Princess, left to watch her friends pass away and become left alone, that she grant me that final privilege. She told me that there was no way to do such a thing, but I knew inside that if there existed magic to transform a petty Unicorn into an Alicorn, there certainly existed magic to do the reverse.

I pleaded and begged for what seemed like eternities before she finally saw haw grief-stricken I was. She began to believe herself that I could not continue to live with the amount of sadness I bore. She broke, and confessed that she could in fact turn me back to the old me. She told me that once the deed was done, the aging I had done while an Alicorn would take place immediately on my body. I would essentially turn from an ageless Alicorn into an elderly version of myself that matched the number of years I had done living, the years as an Alicorn included. She also stressed to me that it was an irreversible act. A pony could only be molded into an Alicorn once; once she or he had resigned that title and transformed back into his or her previous body, there was no going back.

I considered and pondered for a short while, but I knew inside that there was no other way to go on. I had to do it.

Though remorseful, she understood. She transformed me back, and herself and her sister retook the role of Equestria's leaders. I know not if the citizens of Equestria thought me a coward, a weakling, whatever it may be- but I know I could not continue in the direction I was headed in.

And so here I am now, alone, deathly old, sitting by the gravestone of the friend of mine I was most fond of.

Even leaning against this cold, ancient gravestone, still and lifeless, allows me to cling on to what little I have left of her. So there I remain, not moving as my mind floods with the one thing about her that will never leave me: our memories shared together.

I recall our first anniversary together, when I prepared her a bouquet of roses not much different from the ones that lay in my saddlebag beside me. The two of us spent that night on the edge of Ponyville Lake, watching as small disturbances hit the lake and created a glistening series of ripples that sparkled as the moonlight rained down upon the breezy and cool summer night sky. As I sit here with my eyes closed, a light breeze wafting past my mane and ears, I can still call upon the beauty of that night and visualize myself resting my head gently and comfortably into her shoulder.

I remember the time when she first told me she loved me. I remember the hot feeling on my face as my cheeks turned from violet to peach. I can still recollect how ridiculously speechless I was, wanted to tell her the truth but unable to speak from shock. As her head depressingly sunk, thinking I felt otherwise, she turned around and began to walk away. I giggle as I remember how I nearly tackled her to the ground as I ran to catch her and embrace her, tears of joy running down my face like a river. Her tenderness when she realized I loved her back, in is still fresh in my mind.

I sigh a second time. Even in old age, Unicorns have higher mental capacity than Earth ponies or Pegasi, and as such they have the ability to recall memories with more precise detail than the other species.

Both a blessing and a curse.

Then arrives the memory that I fear most. I attempt to push it away, desperately try to ignore it, but it forces itself deep into my thought process and I am forced to remember.

The memory of when I lost her.

The tears begin rolling down my face and my expression contorts in sadness and emotional distress. I close my eyes tight and remember the very last time I saw her the way I truly remember her.