Sadly Sings Destiny
SADLY SINGS DESTINY
There have been so many tales told about me that I’ve lost track of them all. Every creature in this world has their own beliefs on whom I am, what I look like, how I act. From a kind, benevolent guide to a cruel, sadistic reaper I have been personified by all, but none has guessed at the truth.
Many claim to have seen me and the realm that comes beyond. A mighty griffon warrior once spun a yarn so convincing and heroic that it has achieved the status of legend among the winged tribe. In his story I dragged him kicking and screaming from midst of a great battle to my lair, Niflheim, in jealously over his many mythic deeds so I could torture him forever. Of course he, being the hero, challenged me to a game of riddles for his soul, which he won. Being the personification of evil I cheated, refused to let him go, and was soundly defeated when he battled his way past me and out of my dark clutches.
Even now I have to give a grim laugh every time I hear this story, or any of the countless thousands like it. How eager mortals are to escape my touch, how desperate to believe I am so easily overcome. I wish it were so, wish I could offer some sort of chance to my victims to regain what they’d lost, but the relentless truth of the years has long since beaten out any notions of escape, for them and for me. In the end the stories are nothing more than that.
Stories.
Stories which never speak of me as reluctant, and so very tired; a slave bound by masters he knows not to a duty he doesn’t understand why he was created for. I’d say I was as much a victim as those I touch, but that would be untrue; I’ve always done my duty wilfully though it tears me apart inside. In the end I’m not sure what to call myself, except tired.
I often wonder when it will all become too much for me. Will I one day just give up? Will I be broken before I fulfill my purpose?
These are the thoughts that torment me when I lie in bed before working up the courage to face the day, during travel in between jobs, and at the end of the day before the silken sheets carry my mind off into oblivion. It is a question I can never find an answer to, and so I simply satisfy myself by saying...
Not today.
The wind whips at my face as I soar through the morning breeze above the city of Manehattan. Even at my height the metropolis stretches out into the horizon beyond my considerable sight. The sun has just risen and as I descend through the dense layer of smog hovering above the city, it tinges the haze an orange-red color that drenches the buildings below in a bloody light.
Descending into the city I fly low over the towering structures beneath, and gaze at what the ponies below have wrought. Buildings of glass, brick, and stone dominate the skyline of what was once little more than a hamlet by the sea. The city, growing ever outward and upward, calls me to it more and more, and every time I answer it seems new buildings have sprouted out of nothingness. The accomplishments of the ponies below seem to stand in defiance of me, and yet their production does little more than add fuel to the flames as the population increases. Nowhere is this fact more evident than at my destination, which is growing closer every second.
Before me is a large building, shorter than those surrounding it but much wider than all, emblazoned with a glowing red “H.” My target is in a room on ground level, and so I descend to complete my job.
She walks into the hospital and closes her eyes, a smile on her lips; breathing in the antiseptic air only causes the grin to grow wider. This is where she belongs.
The newly graduated nurse opens her eyes after a few seconds of savouring the familiar hospital smell and then trots down the hallway to the locker room. She hangs up the saddle bags she had been carrying and removes from them her white nurses hat and stethoscope. She places the hat atop her head and the stethoscope around her neck. In a tiny mirror attached to the locker door she checks herself over to make sure she is looking her best, she wants to make a good impression on her first day. Her stark white coat is spotless and smooth; her dusty rose hair is tied in a professional bun with not a strand out of place. Most importantly her cutie mark, a red cross with four hearts at each indent, is clean and prominently displayed on each flank. Seeing all was as it should be the white earth pony winked at herself with her sky blue eyes. She had waited for this day all her life, waited for the chance to prove herself and make a difference. She was going to make sure she looked damn fine while doing that.
“Redheart!” A sudden, shrill cry from a matronly pony at the door to the locker room breaks the nurse out of her reverie. “We’re not paying you to stand there and gawk over yourself! We have patients, so move your flank!”
A crimson blush adorns the white face of Nurse Redheart as she quickly closes her locker. She quietly apologizes to her senior and slips past the older, grey mare. Even as she makes her way down the hallway she can still feel the disapproving stare from the older nurse’s steely eyes; so much for a good first impression.
The emergency room is busy, it always is. In every hospital across Equestria ponies sit in rooms like this one, large or small, and wait; some worriedly clasp aching parts of their bodies, some flick through the out of date magazines on the tables, most impatiently stare at the clock above the receptionist and wonder if this hour they’ll be seen. For most ponies this barrier to the hospital is torture, for Nurse Redheart it is heaven. This is ground zero, this is where every patient comes first, both great and small, ill or not, all but the most serious cases pass through the sliding double doors which sit below the glowing sign, “ER.”
All her life Redheart had known that she’d wanted to go into medicine, like her father before her. However she had decided not to follow in his hoof steps and become a doctor, instead she had chosen to be a nurse so she could really get to know her patients. She loved her father, but he had a severe persona around him at all times, like most of his colleagues she had met. The air of authority and seriousness he had picked up in medical school created a barrier between him and his patients; even between him and his daughter. Doctors were the few, the proud, the elite; simple ponies cowed before their knowledge and shied away from their cold, uncaring hooves. And that was why there were nurses, to act as aids to the doctors as well as their emissaries. Nurses were able to help medically and provide emotional support to patients as well; that was why little foal Redheart had chosen the path she had.
That is why grown up Nurse Redheart now stands behind the receptionist, stomach doing summersaults, as the name of her very first patient is called.
“Number Cruncher, please come to the receptionist’s desk.” The crackly voice over the loud speaker declares. A chestnut unicorn with a vermillion mane steps up to the counter. From her position behind the receptionist Nurse Redheart can clearly see the calculator cutie mark on his flank. After taking a deep breath and clearing her throat the earth pony speaks.
“Hello, my name is Nurse Redheart, please follow me to examination room two and we’ll get you sorted out in no time.” She smiles sweetly, trying to ease any nervousness, but for which of them she is not sure.
“Finally, I’ve been here for hours! Let’s get this over with.” The impatient pony grumbles while frowning. The white pony continues smiling however it feels somewhat forced now. She had hoped her first patient would be easy to get along with to help ease her into her new role, but life was not always so kind, and so she only turns around and leads him to the examination room.
The bright lights of the hospital are the first thing to greet me as I enter the emergency room. Sterile white walls reflect the fluorescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling which hum a monotonous tone. I hate hospitals. Their austere aura only ever reinforces the notion that what I do is just business, a sentiment I’ve always struggled against.
I pass through the still sliding double doors; they do not sense my entrance. All around the room ponies sit, shift, talk, cough, cry, groan; the noise of life fills the room and threatens to overwhelm my sensitive ears; a cacophonous noise that rallies against my presence and seeks to expunge me, but my job is not yet done, not yet begun. I slip unnoticed through the crowd, past the front desk, and into the hallway.
A dozen doors line the hall but I am drawn to only one. I approach and my heart begins to beat a staccato into my chest. Anything could be behind the door, from an elderly colt coughing out his last wheezing breath to a young foal whose life I must cruelly cut short. For several minutes I stand still, rooted in place. How many times have I been here before, unwilling to go through a door? How can I still be so afraid of a thin barrier of wood after all the years I’ve faced? Then again, I’ve never found anything behind closed doors besides death and despair, usually of my own creation.
The time is drawing near and I cannot miss it. With a sigh I close my eyes and step through. When I open my eyes again I am met with a sight I was not prepared for.
A brown unicorn is sitting on an examination bed while a nurse looks him over, occasionally asking questions about how he’s been feeling lately, the amount of rest he’s been getting, if he has any allergies. To my milky eyes the patient looks perfectly healthy, and yet I can feel his time drawing nearer and nearer. The air is becoming charged as my fur bristles in anticipation, and yet the unicorn sits, somewhat annoyed, but otherwise fine. My shock comes from many years of experience in hospitals; usually those whom I take are emaciated, and pale, with one hoof already in the grave, or bloody and screaming. The fact that my target looks to be fine fills me with dread. This will not be peaceful for him, he will not die well. I close my eyes once more and wait.
A small groan escapes the white pony as she goes over the information in her mind again and again. Nothing makes sense. Nurse Redheart has spent four years training to become a nurse, has studied countless thousands of hours for exams and has graduated with honours; and yet her very first official patient has her stumped. She has looked the patient over several times, has asked him the standard questions and even some not so standard, but nothing about him seems to add up.
From the few curt responses she has coaxed out of the impatient accountant she has deduced little. While working late at the banking firm he is employed at he had begun to feel a pain in his right hind leg. After several more hours what had started out as a small ache had grown into a sharp pain. Eventually he had decided to visit the hospital after it interrupted his concentration too much, and he had sat in the waiting room ever since.
Embarrassment and frustration mix equally as she runs through countless scenarios in her head, rejecting each as soon as it comes to her. After a few minutes of silently stewing Number Cruncher decides to speak.
“What’s the matter, huh? I haven’t got all day and I’ve wasted enough time in the reception as it is!”
Sweat begins to trickle down her face as the tension in the room begins to grow. She knows she has to diffuse the situation somehow.
“Please be patient sir, I-I can do this.” The stutter slips out unintentionally, but the unicorn catches it none the less.
“Can you? Because I’m starting to doubt that!” His voice is becoming raised.
“Please sir, bear with me I’m new here but I can assure you I’m qualified-“ Her now noticeably trembling voice is cut off by an angry hoof stomp.
“What? First I wait three hours to be seen and now I’m saddled with a trainee? That’s it. Either you get me a REAL doctor, or I’m leaving!”
“Sir, if you just give me a chance I can-“
“No! That’s it, I’ve had it! I don’t know why I even came here in the first place!” Standing up Number Cruncher begins to walk to the door when suddenly his path is blocked by the nurse.
“Don’t go, I’ll get the doctor!” Redheart pleads. As much as it pains her to admit defeat and though it may reflect poorly on her service record, what is most important to her is the wellbeing of her patients, even the difficult ones.
“That’s better.” The accountant haughtily snaps and returns to his seat on the bed. Head hanging in shame Nurse Redheart exits the room to fetch the on call physician.
The door opens again as the nurse, now accompanied by a blue colt wearing a lab coat, steps into the room.
I open my eyes at the sound. The doctor goes through the examination almost beat for beat as his counterpart standing embarrassed behind him did earlier, albeit much quicker and with less attempts at small talk. After a few more minutes he presents his diagnosis.
“You’ve been sitting on your rump all night and you’ve developed a cramp. Nothing serious, just walk around for a half hour or so, and make sure to take breaks ever hour you’re sitting down by walking a few minutes. Nurse, please show him out, I have other patients to see.”
Number Cruncher thanks the doctor and slides off the bed, but as the doctor turns to leave Redheart calls him back.
“Wait, doctor that can’t be all there is!” She cowers back as he turns his eyes on her and glares.
“What are you talking about; he just got a cramp and over reacted by coming here. Now please stop wasting my time.”
Again he turns to leave but Redheart will not let this matter rest. Her gut tells her something is wrong, there is something they’ve both missed.
“That doesn’t make sense though! If it were just a cramp the pain would have gone away when he walked over here. I think we should run more tests, we should do some blood work at least.” She insists, confidence growing as both her conviction and anger rise.
“Blood tests? Are you joking me? We have at least a hundred sick ponies in the lobby waiting to be seen and you want to do a blood test on a man with a cramp? He’s been sitting for hours at work and in the waiting room, which explains his pain.”
As the two argue, their volume becoming louder and louder, only I notice the unicorn’s face begin to slip form annoyance to pain. In mere seconds the once healthy pony begins to break out in a cold sweat and sway heavily on his hooves. Anticipation wells again in my chest, stronger than ever as the clock ticks on towards my time.
“Y-you know, I th-th-think she may be ri-” The unicorn tries to side with the nurse, but his legs fail him and he collapses onto the floor. Both medical professionals cease their arguing and rush to his aid. Number Cruncher begins to shake uncontrollably and moans of pain escape his lips. Both look on confused, but knowing they must do something. After a second the doctor comes up with a plan.
“Nurse, he’s going into shock. Inject him with 50cc’s of norepinephrine and monitor his condition, I’ll get a stretcher and crash cart just in case!” Without staying for confirmation of his order the doctor rushes out of the room. The nurse, after searching in a cabinet close by, grabs the materials she needs and injects the patient. His shaking stops, but from the look on his face it is evident the pain has not. Until the doctor comes back there is nothing Redheart can do to help, so she does the only thing she can think of.
“Hey hey, stay with me. We’re going to make you better; you just need to keep calm.” I can tell the words ring as hollow to the nurse as they do to me, but the writhing unicorn begins squirming in pain less as he focuses on the words. Redheart sees she is having an effect and searches for more to distract him with.
“What’s your favourite color?” It seems an odd question to ask, but the accountant doesn’t mind.
“Ch-chartreuse.” Despite the situation I can see the nurse smile slightly.
“Chartreuse? Is that a color, or did you just sneeze?” The brown pony wheezes lightly in a cheap imitation of a laugh and his lips curl slightly upward in a pathetic smile.
“It’s a y-yellow green. It’s t-the color of my w-wife’s mane.” He stammers out this sentence as his breathing becomes more laboured.
“Do you two have any children?” Redheart asks in an attempt to keep his mind on happier things.
“N-not yet.” A haggard cough rushes out of his mouth and the nurse pony begins to massage his chest; this seems to help a little. “W-we’ve been tr-trying though. Cross your h-hooves.” Another weak smile appears on his face, but leaves just as quickly as his coughing returns.
“Well don’t you worry; you’ll see your wife as soon as we fix you up.” The intensity of the coughing increases and the nurses last few comforting words are barely heard.
I watch this exchange from the side of the room desperately wishing the nurse’s words could be true, but I know that the colt’s remaining time is down to seconds now.
Suddenly Number Cruncher begins to shake again, even more violently than before. Redheart rushes over to the norepinephrine and grabs it, readying it for another injection when suddenly she freezes, the gears in her head lock into place as the truth hits her like a train.
“Oh Celestia no.” She whispers to herself as she drops the norepinephrine on the floor. Rushing back to the medicine cabinet she frantically roots around for the bottle that will save her patient’s life. The accountant continues to writhe on the floor as the pain in his heart pushes past unbearable and into incomprehensible.
Finally she finds what she is looking for, an anticoagulant called warfarin, and quickly draws it into a needle and injects it.
Unfortunately it’s already too late. It was too late from the moment the accountant had sat down to work at his desk the day before. It was too late when the unicorn had walked into the Emergency Waiting Room and sat down. It was too late the moment Number Cruncher’s name came up on my list.
With a sigh I step forward, past the nurse, and towards the dying pony. With my hoof hovering over his chest I can feel what’s killing him, causing his heart to stop pumping and his lungs to burn from lack of oxygen. His thrashing has now subsided to a few weak shakes. It’s time.
Before I can lower my hoof however I hear a whispered plea from beside me.
“Please be ok.”
I look over at the nurse, her hat is crooked, her coat sweaty, and strands of hair stick out of her once perfectly neat bun.
And tears are streaming down her eyes.
My heart is moved to the point of breaking. I want for nothing more than to grant her wish, but I cannot. I want nothing more than to comfort her, but I cannot. I want nothing more than to thank her for fighting me with everything she has and staying with my victim until the end, but I cannot.
I quickly turn my head away as the door bursts open and a team of doctors pushing both a stretcher and a crash cart rushes in. No more time for hesitation, I put my hoof down and touch the brown unicorn’s chest. The heart which struggled to push the blood through its host’s body finally stops beating and Number Cruncher moves no more.
For the next four minutes the doctor’s work on the rapidly cooling body of the accountant, but Death has done his work, and no one cheats Death.
Even after the doctors have given up Nurse Redheart grabs the paddles and continues what they have abandoned. After five more minutes she finally has to be pulled off the corpse of her very first patient as she hysterically rails against them, begging them to let her keep trying.
But the deed is done. Death has done his work and left, along with the soul of the former accountant.
I stand in the never ending field once again. Off in the distance stand the only two landmarks on this infinite plane, the ivory gate keeping alicorn, and the gate itself. The towering black obsidian monolith that I can never look at without feeling like it is looking back at me.
Beside me my victim stirs. As I look down on his slowly awakening form I feel the familiar pangs of guilt stab at me, not just because I took this one’s life, but because I didn’t let him say to the world I had stolen from him. In my cowardice I pulled his still slumbering soul to the other side. I just could not stand to watch the tear stained nurse desperately give her all to bringing this colt back from my clutches any longer.
Finally Number Cruncher awakens fully and sits bolt upright.
“Where am I? How did I get...in a field?” He begins to take in his surroundings and his head swivels from left to right. Finally his gaze comes to me, and he freezes in fear. “Wh-who are you?”
How many hundred thousand times have I heard that asked? It’s always the first question thrown at me, yet it’s always the hardest to answer.
“I am Death.” I state simply, all emotion gone from my voice.
“WHAT?” He shouts, incredulous. The implication of my answer crashes around in his head. “NO NO NO NO NO! You can’t be! I’m still young and healthy! Why am I here?”
“Because you died.” I respond, not looking him in the eye, as I stare straight ahead. I can hear him begin to hyperventilate.
“But that’s impossible! How did I die?” His voice is coloured with desperation and fear.
“You developed a blood clot in your leg sitting down for too long. It became dislodged and floated through your bloodstream until it became stuck in your heart, blocking circulation.” My answer is uncharacteristically long, I usually refrain from the bare minimum contact with those I take, but after I had ripped him away from his world without any chance to bid it farewell, I feel I owe him answers.
“NO, YOU’RE WRONG! I just had a cramp, the doctor said so!” His pleading stabs at me, but I can do nothing to help assuage his pain. “I can’t die yet; I have a wife who needs me! That’s why I was working late, I need to support her! You can’t make me abandon her!”
I continue to stare straight ahead and remain silent.
“Fine, I see how it is. Then I challenge you!” This surprises me, and I turn to face him for the first time. He is up on all fours and glaring at me, his mouth a thin line of grim resolve.
“Challenge me to what?” I ask, still trying to remain emotionless even as I puzzle over his words.
“To a duel of course! I challenge you to a duel for my soul! Pick whatever game you wish.” He snarls at me, believing me to be feigning ignorance. A new pang of pity touches my heart for this confused pony.
“I am sorry, but that is not how this works. You are dead. There is no coming back.” The resolve seeps from his face, but he tries to keep up his facade.
“You-you’re just trying to trick me, but I won’t fall for it. I’ve heard all the stories, you’re just testing my resolve, but I’ve challenged you, so let’s begin this contest!” His voice quavers slightly as a part of him considers the truth of my word, but his mind ignores it. I am running out of things to say to convince him.
“I am sorry, but you have been misled. No one has ever escaped from me; especially not once I have taken their soul.” The determination completely drains from his face and defeat sets in.
“But how can that be? There are so many stories about ponies defeating you! One of them has to be true! IT CAN’T END LIKE THIS!!!” He screams, wailing against the cruelness of fate.
In the distance I can see the gate keeper coming towards us. His shimmering ivory coat and golden spun mane shine like a beacon as he moves ever closer. No doubt he has left his post to soothe the hysterical pony.
I cannot linger anymore. I put one shrivelled hoof on the shoulder of the now bawling colt. My touch revolts him and he feebly tries to shuffle away, but I keep it there.
“I truly am sorry.” My voice is low and soft, far from assuring, but truthfully apologetic. I can only pray he believes me, but I will never find out. The field, the accountant, the gate keeper, and the gate all dissolve away as I land back in the mortal realm.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The ever present question creeps back into my mind as I sit, hunched over on the roof of the hospital I left not minutes ago. Is this it? Can I really muster the strength to move on, to ruin yet another life? Is this where it ends? I sit there for several minutes as the sun fully rises over the horizon, its blinding light causing me to turn away. Finally I find the answer I am looking for. I take a deep breath, and pull out my list. It may not be the answer I want, but it is the only one I have.
Not today.
Her very first day, her very first patient, dead. And what had they done to her? Stripped her of her rank and sent her home in shame? No, they had given her a commendation.
She had puked after the ceremony. Nurse Redheart did not deserve any praise, she was a failure.
Not that anypony blamed her though. Everyone had applauded her quick thinking and persistence, both against her stubborn superior who hadn’t listened to her and against the life threatening blood clot. In fact the one they all blamed, the one who had been dishonourably discharged, had been the doctor. After failing to listen to his subordinate and take a patient’s case seriously he had then prescribed a medicine without knowing what the patient was suffering from, and in so doing had only sped up his demise. Had he not acted so foalishly then Redheart might have been able to save Number Cruncher with her brilliant deduction.
Or so they all said.
And so she had worked for several months in Manehattan General, doing an exemplary job, and even earning a promotion; but she could not continue to work there knowing she had climbed the ranks on the back of a dead colt. The though sickened her to the point that every day had become an unending struggle to put one hoof in front of the other.
And then finally she had quit. She had given no notice, she had just handed in her resignation letter and left, forever.
But it wasn’t the end, no, it couldn’t end there after all the work she had done.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The train rattled along the track which caused Redheart to stir from her fitful sleep. With bleary eyes she looked out the window to see trees rapidly speeding past and mountains towering above the speeding metal carriage. She had long since left the hazy confines of the Manehattan skyscrapers. All that was behind her now; she was going to begin anew.
It had taken a long time to accept what she had done, and forgive herself, but she had. She had reconciled that losing patients was a fact of the profession she had chosen; she couldn’t let it break her. However that didn’t mean she didn’t want a fresh start, to move somewhere where she wouldn’t receive false praise. Most importantly however she wanted to move somewhere she would make a difference, would be needed. Some rural town without many medical personal would be perfect, somewhere where the need was greatest.
She looked down at the ticket nestled between her hooves and smiled. She had nearly broken, nearly given up on her dream, but she had pulled through. Maybe someday she would lose a patient and be unable to cope, but that was in the future, she would not give up now.
Not today.
Today, she was headed to her new home.
Ponyville.
########################################################
Author’s Notes: Once again, thanks for reading! I’m pretty dang happy with this chapter and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed tormenting the life of yet another cute, innocent pony! As always if you see a mistake feel free to point it out. I’m not a bio major or med student so I’m not sure how accurate the medical stuff is, but I did do research, tell me if it was deficient.
Please comment on what you like, or didn’t and what you want to see in future. I always love to get your input!
If you haven’t seen this story how has a new cover art done by lunablue17. Go check out his page, read his story, and give him a hug! He deserves it for his freakin' awesome work. Also, because he did that and won my contest, his OC will be featured in an upcoming chapter, so look for that in the upcoming weeks!
Also I have a new story I’ve started called "Pot of Gold". Like Derpy? Read it! That is, if it's ok with you.
That’s all from me!
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This was an excellent addition to this series. You portrayed Redheart well and Death is his same morose/remorseful self. Having Death confirm his finality was a good move, would be silly to think that you can simply live again by beating Death at cards/chess/riddles etc.
But in all seriousness, this was a great chapter and I love that you decided with me that there should be some sort of interaction between death and the victim. I would love to see more of those in the future.
Good day, fair sir.
le gasp
so thats how it is eah...
294529 294901
Thank you both for the compliments, i hope future installments are also to your liking.
294918
For shame! How could you misspell "eh?" As a Canadian I find this highly offensive!
How can Death remains so compassionate while he has never lived? Off course, he can see the final moments of somepony, but how does he know the value of life? Another question: what happens when multiple ponies die at the same time? Would they go together or do they have an individual Death?
I guess we will might figure out, or not.
2954
I'm not sure what to make of that, you misspelled 'eh' and you are a Canadian, this should be something of a contradiction, eh?
Overall this was a very nice chapter the dialog with Death was pretty nice. I would like to down vote you for making me wait, but I will allow this one to slip but just this one.
Can't wait for the next one, or Pot of Gold I am very excited to read more of that.
S.S. DitzyDash is preparing to set sail
296090
Sometimes its' best to use you imagination so the author doesn't have to write another whole story, just to tie up some loose ends.
But I think it is a good question as well I have always pondered it but never asked.
she is waiting the doctors time.
and norepinephrine makes him stop shacking.
dont sweat it, im a proofreader. its what i do.
296090
Um, because...LOOK A MONKEY!
But in all seriousness he may not have lived himself but over the eons he's seen snippets from other's lives (not just those of his victims) and has come to long for what they have and hates taking it away. Also in cases of simultaneous deaths, wibly wobbly timey wimey. He gets doctor whooves to help him in those situations. (I'll make a proper explanation later)
296457
Thanks mang for pointing that out, I'm not infallible. I'll make the changes post haste!
295439 im canadian too lol...:P ok ok sorry if you are offended
296258>>296499
I JUST MISSED THAT MONKEY, anyway, the Doc + Death = Epic fic
Uhm, yes I guess, I like mysteries. I like this fic so good, cause it raises these questions. Don't try to answer to much questions, Ravenwood. Leave those mysteries there. and remember:
i.imgur.com/RYURA.png]
I actually wanted to add: "Nothing is just a dream, especially not here", but I was too lazy to find that image. So have this life lesson from Dream.
298274
Hope for the best but expect the worst
I think this chapter was even more emotional then the first chapter
So THAT'S how Redheart ended up in Ponyville hospital. I usually wondered how she got there in the first place. I do love the story though, reading how she kept trying to save the pony was very emotional. Looking for many more chapters like this to come.
298274
Many you missed out, that monkey was AMAZING. Also are those quotes from "Sandman?" I just bought the first issue, havent had time to read. Hope it will inspire me.
303302
I would hope so since ur chap will be among them.
303647
It was a quote from the Sandman, now it is a quote from the Sandpony. I'm doing some crossovering with the Sandman.
Over here and here.
To be honest, the first one I linked is better, but more confusing. The second one, is more of a feel happy story.
"...But it is not this day!"
I could hear this line in Aragorn's voice every time a character said "not today..."
308110
"By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you STAND! Ponies of Equestria!"
So I read the first chapter a month or two ago on Fanfiction.net, And after reading so many comments about other stories that made a big impact on the fandom, I was surprised to not hear more about this story, so I looked it up here, thinking this was where I'd seen it. I cried through it again, and left the comment I should have left, and then saw the link to another chapter. All of them brought tears to my eyes. Nothing brings sadness quite like the slow realization of a passed loved one. I work in a hospital (As support staff, so thankfully not ever in Redheart's shoes), and see the initial reactions. The disbelief, dawning realization, the crushing grief. Those less effected work through the stages faster, so you see a begrudging acceptance begin to blossom from the mourners. It's always tragic, always unexpected, and heart-wrenching. You capture this feeling well, and express it from a more intriguing side.
As I said, every chapter brought tears to my eyes, so thank you for this wonderful, moving story.
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I'm glad to know my story affected you so deeply. It always makes me feel like I've done my job when a reader gets that sort of reaction.
Also, this story is on fanficiton.net? I have only ever posted it on here on fimfiction and deviant art, so whoever posted it is not me. Could you send me a link to the story in PM? I don't want someone else plagiarizing.
375127 I agree with both your statements