A Cartoonist in Equestria

by Autismo555

Chapter 1: I Wish Upon a Star (Re-Re-Edited)

A roar of laughing jeers and mocking giggling echoed through the school hallway. Ten-year-old Harold DeMatt laid on the floor with his face in the tiles, hiding his faint sobs of despair. His sky blue backpack was unzipped and its contents spilt all over the floor. Three students towering over Harold looked down on him, each with a wicked sneer on his face. A sneer that significantly meant they were enjoying the pleasure of seeing Harold squirm and cry.

The three students beating the poor lad were the local bullies. The lead bully of the pack was the “high and mighty” Drake Singer, a messy brown-haired ruffian with a scar running through his right eyelid. Following by his side were two lackeys, Al Keith and Roger Hayes. Now, Al Keith was someone that people would call a slow-thinking golem, a balding hulk-like figure with the I.Q of 60 and muscles ripped all over his body as if he was high on steroids. His anger matched his persona as well. Roger Hayes was a skinny guy with long curly hair, making him look like a walking mop. His hair covered his right eye, his left eye bloodshot and baggy with fatigue. To that end, he earned the nickname, "Red-Eyed Mophead," mostly "Mophead," due to his appearance. What he lacked in figure he made up for in lightweight wrestling.

But then, there was their leader, Drake Singer. He was a little shorter that Roger was, only about an inch. He had messy brown hair and a scar on his right eyelid which he got during a fight in the streets. He was known for being calm, cool and collective, though only when he didn't participate in a fight. Whenever Drake was landed a hard blow or the first to draw blood, his calm demeanor would be swapped with someone dangerous, a fierce force to be reckoned with. All three of the bullies were in the 6th grade remedial class, all stricken with poverty and homelessness. Their only needs of therapy was the use of violence and taunting, Harold unfortunately being the maitre'd for their mashing.

On this particular day, Drake showed an example of his mashing.

“That’s a real bad dent you’ve put in your locker, Harold. Here, why don’t we try fixing that?”

It was the third Tuesday of the month, or what the bullies called, Locker Day. It was a day when the bullies marched down through the hallways, stuffing any unfortunate soul who happened to be near their locker when they passed through. Their victim was mostly poor Harold, whose slow and steady pace made him an easy target. Drake opened Harold’s locker door and had Roger and Al shove him in the cramped storage, headfirst. Drake peered down into the locker and watched as Harold sobbed and struggled to reposition himself in a more comfortable position.

“You can fix the indent better now, can’t you Harold?” Al and Roger laughed at the cruel antics their leader inflicted on Harold as Drake continued to mock him, festering his torment further. “As a matter of fact, Harold, why don’t you stay in here to ‘chill’ for the rest of the day? I’m sure somebody won't mind you being stuck in here. In fact, I won't mind anyone who would have the guts to let you out of here.” Drake threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh, the crowd joining in on the mocking laughter.

“I mind.”

The strict voice caused the laughter to cease almost immediately.

Everyone in the halls turned and saw a fifteen-year-old girl gaze at the three bullies with her piercing glower. She had long blonde hair, bright blue eyes like sapphires and a face carved from angels that looked just as beautiful even when she was in an angry mood. The girl walked to the three bullies vigorously with the crowd of gathering students nervously backing away from her path. Everyone knew that Lana had a red belt in martial arts, the third highest ranking in that class and they backed away for fear of her wrath if they tried to mess with her or her little brother. The bullies, however, fearlessly kept their ground as Drake combed his messy hair with his fingers.

“Well hello, Lana. Fancy seeing you here around these parts.” Drake said while he slammed the door, trapping Harold inside. Metallic pounds and desperate screams were heard from the inside of the locker, making Lana's anger boil only by slightly. “Don’t you have a geography class you have to be at right now?”

“I have a free period to study, Drake, but you coming on to me is not the reason I’m here,” Lana said in a stern voice whilst pointing to the small metal storage. “You're going to let my brother of his locker right now and walk away. If you do that, then there won't be any need for another fight.”

Drake shook his head. “No can do, beautiful. You know me and the boys, it’s Locker Day. We just take whoever’s in the hallways alone and stuff ‘em in their lockers. It’s a sort of tradition,” he said nonchalantly, combing his hair with his hand. "You know what they say, you can't really break tradition."

“I don’t care if it’s some crappy international holiday. Just let my brother go and no one has to get hurt.”

Drake feigned fear with a mocking “ooh” sound. “Ooh, I’m so scared. Whatcha gonna do, Princess? Run home to your parents and tell them about our bad behavior and get us expelled? Try as you may, sweetheart, no one’s gonna listen to any kid of some greedy arrogant douchebag and some animal killing witch who just made ten species of endangered animals extinct.”

Princess. Sweetheart. Two of the many little words that would bring the Bruce Lee out of Lana. And it was at this moment that the fighter side of Lana would make an example of the three rich kids. Now, Harold could barely see what was happening through the sloping tops outside of the claustrophobic locker, but he heard enough to know what went on. First he heard his sister’s footsteps run down towards the lead bully and then heard a KRAAK! It was then followed by a high-pitched male screaming. Harold started snickering, for he knew what happened outside.

Lana had kicked Drake in the nuts.

Harold heard the tumblers of the locker unlock and saw his locker door open to reveal his older sister reaching out for his hand. It was a good thing that he entrusted her with his locker combinations for emergencies such as this. Harold firmly gripped her hand and felt himself gently pulled out of his steel cage. He looked over to see the “high and mighty” Drake Singer rolling on the ground in pain, screaming like a little girl while his hands covered his broken groin. Everyone in the halls stood near the walls like a statue, their eyes widened and their mouths open to create a gawking face.

Drake’s two flunkies gave both Lana and Harold a mean, murderous look. Harold whimpered under the stares of his tormentors and hid behind Lana, the latter laying a reassuring hand on his head. He could only watch Lana from the sidelines as she stood her ground against the forces of Al and Roger.

“What the hell did you do to him, DeMatt!?” asked the obviously brain-dead Al.

“Oh, you’re paying for breaking our boy’s balls right now, you damn wench!!” Roger growled.

Lana sighed disapprovingly. She turned and shot the two bullies a scowl, a stare that was powerful enough to make ten tough men cower with fear. Al and Roger were immediately drawn back from the stare, a sure warning that the two bullies that Lana would do worse to them than just a simple nut shot to Drake's family jewels. Al and Roger stood still for a moment, shuddering and whimpering masculinely. Then they quickly picked up Drake by the legs and started running down the hall, dragging their leader’s head on the ground behind them.

“If we ever see the either one of you anywhere in these halls again, you’re dead meat!” the two bullies shouted back as they turned around the corner of a nearby hall, out of sight. The spectators hanging around the walls all gave both Harold and Lana a cold stare before they quickly vacated the hallway, paying no more mind to the spawn of the world's most hated people. When the last student turned around and left the halls, Lana turned around and wiped the dust off of Harold's uniform and fixing his messed up hair.

“Are you alright, Harold?” Lana asked.

“I am now,” Harold said, smiling. “Thanks, big sis.”

"You're welcome, little brother. I'm just glad I got to you before they did any more damage to you." Lana quickly gathered up Harold’s school supplies from the floor and stuffed them back into his backpack. She kissed him on the forehead and patted him on the shoulder. "You'd better hurry up to your next class now, Harold. Your teacher is going to flip out if you're only a minute late again."

Harold smiled back, but his face quickly melted into melancholy as he felt something bother him. In all the years he spent in school, the students and the teachers had bullied him and beaten him senseless, but he never got to ask why they did what they did to him. Harold turned his gaze away to the tiled floors and rubbed his arms nervously as mustered up the courage to ask the question he so desired to ask his sister.

"Lana? Why do people hate us?"

Lana deeply breathed through her nose. She knew Harold would ask the question she feared, but it had to come out sooner or later. She knelt down on one knee and placed both hands on his shoulders, looking squarely in his eyes. "Well, Harold, it's because of our parents, remember? Our father took control of everyone's lives by taking away their wealth, their homes and their hopes while our mother made most of the planet's endangered animals extinct so she would make clothing and perfumes from them. It's because of this that the people came to resent the name of the DeMatt. They only see us as evil and wicked as they would see our parents and we can't change that now."

Harold lowered his head in shame, but he was lifted back up by the chin with Lana's hand. "Oh, but what do they all know? We're nothing like mother and father, right?" Lana asked. "After all, after with what they both put us through, we both agree that we'll never be as wicked as they are now. Right?"

"Right," Harold nodded, but still feeling distraught with shame and gloominess. "But Lana, how can we convince everyone that we're nothing like mom and dad? Everyone hates us and they won't even listen to a word I say. Nobody else besides Reginald wants to see--"

Lana raised her index finger to Harold's lip, gently shushing the boy and smiled. “Don't worry, Harold. There are plenty of people in this world who would want to listen to you. Just because we were born under a bad family doesn't mean we are bad people. If you need anything, just absolutely anything at all, then I am always right here with you..."

“Right here with you...”

“Right here with...”

“Right here...”

“Right...”

******************************************************************************

15-year-old Harold woke up with a small gasp. He sat up from the grassy field that he laid upon, his backpack used as his head pillow. The bright sun hung overhead the highway. A gentle breeze swayed through the fields with the grass and Harold’s greasy hair flowing with the tame winds. The sound of passing cars echoed through the open road, making it the perfect day to travel down the road. Sure, it seemed like a perfect day for Harold to ride his bicycle down to wherever the road took him. Though, to be honest, none of the days that he lived through had ever defined it as “a perfect day.” There may have been a silver lining, yes, but the rest of his days were nothing but gray and cloudy.

Today was day four since Harold’s lone pilgrimage out onto the open road. Day four of escaping the pain, captivity and the hate that was wrongly forced upon him. Day four of finally being free of the mundane tortures of school, homework and beatings. Day four of venturing to fulfill his promise to Lana. More importantly, it was day four of finding a new way to help bless the fifteen years of his life with a second chance.

In all that time, Harold never washed himself since there was no pond nor rain to shower the dirt off. He wore the same clothing everyday: a light gray T-shirt with the upper half and the sleeves red, a pair of polyester pants with a soft interior, dirty socks and a pair of white sneakers with grey front tips. The backside of each article of clothing were stained with dirt, probably from Harold lying on the ground every night.

Around his neck was his most prized possession: a round, circular, gold locket with an engraving of a rose with a star on top etched on the front. It was clean as a whistle, in mint condition and a memorabilia to Lana.

His weighing backpack was light blue and loaded with the necessary survival items for going out alone in the world, including bug spray and a flashlight. On the night before he started his journey, Harold emptied his school supplies out and stuffed in one loaf of bread, a block of cheese, three glass jars of peaches, six bottles of water, a can of dried apricots, a sketchbook and a Ziploc bag full of different assortments of pencils and erasers. He had $142.67 worth of stolen money from his parent’s safes stashed in the front pocket, plus DVDs of classic movies that brought him fond memories of him and Lana together. The latter and the survival items were all presented to him, thanks in part to his head butler, Reginald.

The bicycle that Harold rode down the highway was white with a black leather seat and gears that shifted up to nine. The tires were a little flat thanks to Harold riding it nonstop all day for the past three days. The only times that Harold allowed himself off the bike was for eating meals, resting, bathroom breaks and hiding from the law. After all, he did run away from home. Home. Harold hated the very thought of home. In fact, he hated those thoughts so much, that it was the only thing on his mind while he aimlessly rode his bike down the main highway out of New York.

It was on this day, one month ago that Lana had passed away when a yellow-and-black Camaro, the black stripes running along the front of the hood, struck her when she tried to save Harold from getting hit himself. She passed away moments later, but not before handing down her locket, originally a Christmas present from Harold back to him. Lana had smiled gracefully, even when she drew her final breath. Drake Singer was there and so were Al and Roger, along with a crowd of witnesses who saw the unfolding scene themselves.

During the following month, Harold slumped into a deep depression. His big sister, one of the only few people he loved and loved him back, was gone forever. There was no way of seeing her again, except only in his dreams and memories. The New York City Police Department found the car, but couldn't find out who drove it. Harold lost his faith in humanity that day. He decided if the people of New York were beyond saving, despite how much Lana tried and helped them, there was exactly no point in helping them anymore. To that end, Harold took his bike, a load of cash like chicken feed to his estranged parents, his possessions and rode off into the night.

Ever since then, Harold was fuming murmurs and mutterings about the people who tormented him, humiliated him, hurt him even. Most of these murmurings were pointed towards his parents and the private school he was forced to attend. Today, in the late afternoon, Harold's complaining reached day four as he expunged his hatred from his system, all of which dripped with the sweat running down from his head. He wasn't fond of this much exercise he had in four days, but what better way was there to let his repressed anger and hatred out than pedaling his bike and moaning his loathing out?

“Mom, dad, I hope the both of you are proud of yourselves,” Harold murmured as he pushed his gears to five. “You two really made me sick to my stomach. First you made people suffer by taking away their money and homes, then you took pleasure in watching them squirm. And then you had the gall of saying my dreams and my promise to Lana would amount to nothing but a pile of ash and dust.” The day seemed to have quickly reverted into the late afternoon as he continued to pollute the air with thoughts of disgust at his home in New York City.

“Thinking back, I’m glad I ran away from you two posers. No one would miss me back at home. In fact, nobody would even notice that I was gone for this long.” Harold sighed. “Nobody would want to find me. I’m just the son of some corporate sleazeball with a B to C- grade average. Even if you two did went out looking for me, I would've been already long gone before you or your three bloodhounds would. You ritzy, self-centered, putzes.”

Harold humphed at the thought of his school. “The school wouldn’t miss me either. Drake and the other two can find someone to beat up in their prison cells for all I care. The teachers can just give my desk up to the firewood pile. Who cares? I'm never gonna go to a school like that ever again. Scratch that, I don't ever want to go to another school again.”

Then, one more thing ran through Harold’s thoughts as he rode along the road, the sun setting on the horizon. “Reginald, you hated mom and dad just as much as I did. You wanted me to fulfill Lana’s promise and you helped to see me off from that place. You even packed some of the necessary stuff I needed to survive in the wilderness... so why didn't you come with me? Why?"

A sharp pain in Harold’s belly interrupted his thoughts. It felt like a stomachache, but it was more of a wasting stomach feeling. The pain meant only one thing: “Guess it’s time to eat.”

Harold pulled over to the field next to the road, stepped off the bike and put the kickstand down. He sat himself against a nearby rock and took out his “dinner.” He unzipped his backpack to reveal what food he had left: half a loaf bread, a small block of cheese, a jar and half of peaches, two and a half-full bottles of water and several dried apricots. Harold made a cheese sandwich with peaches on the side and the half-full bottle of water to drink. He took his iPod out of pocket with about 32% of battery life left. He put the song to “Aerith’s Theme,” took a bite out of his sandwich and sat there quietly, observing the tranquil night sky above him, with the moonlight shining with serenity.

“The night sky sure is beautiful tonight,” Harold thought to himself. “Lana, I wish you were here to see the sky with me. We always loved watching the night sky together.” Harold pictured a strong image of him and Lana sitting on the roof of their mansion home in the sea of stellar lights. They sat close with their heads leaning on each other as a comet sailed through the majestic atmosphere.

Harold bit down on his sandwich hard as tears of sadness started to leak out of his eyes.

“I remember all of the times you used to stand up for me whenever Drake Singer and his two flunkies gave me a rough time.” Harold wearily chuckled at the image of Locker Day at school when Lana nailed Drake Singer in the family jewels. Everyone around the scene were taken aback, with their mouths gaping open in shock.

“Lana, before you died, you told me to not get angry in your name. I even promised you I would reach out for my dream and make that one thing in my life I never made. But... you had to give your life up... because of me...” One final image of Harold with Lana ran through his head. Harold was in the middle of a crosswalk, holding his dying sister across his lap while she held up her locket to him. Red streaks of blood flowed down her face, mixing with the downpour as they washed into the drains.

“It’s not... it’s not... fair.” Harold could briefly see an image of Lana’s smiling face in the heavens before it disappeared. With his sadness breaking out of the bottle, Harold threw his head and screamed.

“IT’S JUST NOT FAIR!” Harold bellowed towards the night. “GOD!! HOW COULD YOU TAKE MY SISTER AWAY LIKE THAT!? WHY DID I HAVE TO SUFFER A MONTH OF PAIN AND SADNESS BECAUSE YOU TOOK HER BEFORE SHE COULD DO SOMETHING RIGHT FOR THIS SICK COUNTRY!? IS THIS A PART OF YOUR SICK PLAN!? IS YOUR PLAN FOR ME TO SUFFER FOR LIFE UNTIL I DIE!? WHY WAS I THE ONE WHO HAD TO SUFFER FOR MY FAMILY!! WHY!?! WHY!?!”

Harold clutched his locket at his chest before he yelled up to another spirit in the heavens. “LANA! YOU TOLD ME THERE WAS ONE THING I NEVER MADE IN MY LIFE, BUT THEN YOU DIED BEFORE YOU COULD EVEN TELL ME!! WELL, WHAT WAS IT, LANA!? WHAT WAS IT THING I'VE NEVER MADE BEFORE!?” He gripped and he gripped until his hand was bruised from holding his sister’s locket. He held his bruised hand as he bawled out to the sky in tragic pain, his throat becoming hoarse with every scream aimed to at the night sky.

“LANA!! YOU ONCE TOLD ME IF I EVER FELT ALONE, I SHOULD LOOK UP TO THE SKY AND BELIEVE THAT YOU’RE HERE BESIDE ME!! WELL, LOOK AT ME LANA! I’M LOOKING UP AT THE SKY RIGHT NOW!! IT’S YOUR TURN, SO SHOW ME!! SHOW ME THAT YOU CAN HEAR ME RIGHT NOW, LANA! SHOW ME A SIGN!!” Harold started trembling before he broke down in tears and sobbed with his face buried in his hands. His fingers dug into his forehead as he choked on his breaths, his salty tears flowing down to the corners of his mouth and onto his tongue.

Then, as if the pleas of a heartbroken teenager’s were being answered, something strange started to happen. The once nightly gentle spring breeze quickly turned into strong gusts and gales. Black clouds rapidly moved in, shrouding the serene moonlight and the glowing stars into darkness.

Harold uncovered his face from his bruised palms and took notice of the wind and the sudden darkness. The wind seemed to be moving towards the direction opposite of the clouds' movement. Harold worriedly looked behind him to see what was attracting those close, a regrettable decision he made in his life. What he saw next shrank the runaway’s pupils to pinprick size. In exactly one mile away from where Harold settled down, a giant dusty spiral formed, attracting dust, dirt and dark clouds. The pavement was shredded like paper before they became the unwilling part of the tornado's wrath.

It was moving towards Harold.

It was moving fast.

“Aw, crap!” Without a moment of hesitation, Harold quickly gathered up his food, kicked the kickstand up off his bike and rode off away from the tornado as quick as a flash. Fire burned in his legs as Harold poured almost all of his energy into pedaling his bike, but his efforts were all in vain. Clouds of dust and grass from the highway flew into Harold’s eyes, scratching his vision and slowing him down greatly. Pavement from the highway started to crack and rise towards the spiral. The tornado’s suction power was so potent, it could suck up any unfortunate object or person within one-hundred yards away, including Harold and his bike. Harold felt himself lifted up by an invisible force, his bike flipped upside-down and its owner hanging onto its handlebars and was launched backwards into the dark spiral of doom, welcoming its victims into its vortex.

“LANA! LAAAAANNNNNAAAAA!”

His screams for help was drowned by both the volume of the storm as he was forcefully sucked into the storm. His fingers, so tightly latched onto the handlebars had snapped off, leaving Harold screaming like the kid he was, flying around the cyclone and whipped around the center. The sudden spinning action of the winds beat Harold worse than the beatings he undeservingly received at school. His backpack was ripped open by the extreme gale force and all of its contents were scattered among the swirling dust. His bike was crunched was the sudden breakneck whiplash while it moved closer into the eye of the storm. Harold held on to every little fiber of life he had left for him, but all too soon, his consciousness began to fade. He couldn't speak, see anything or even think straight. All of his senses were numbed and slowly meeting their way to death's door.

“No. I can’t die.... not like this... not now..." Harold thought to himself. "If I die now, I can never fulfill my promise to my sister.” Harold's vision faded into pure darkness, the dust and the flying rubble helping to shroud what little light was left to glow. His consciousness were ripped asunder, falling like broken glass and shattering into oblivion. Harold's eye leaked a single tear; he deemed himself as a pathetic failure. With his death, he would never find peace for he couldn't fulfill his promise to Lana. With his last breath, Harold looked up to the center of the storm, seeing his world fade away with the sucking winds.

Harold’s vision began to fade away into black, along with his consciousness. All the swirling dust and the rubble around became all but misty and dark. A tear started to form in his eye. He felt himself a failure, unable to finally fulfill his promise to Lana while he clung to his last moments in the mortal world. With his last breath, Harold looked up to center of the tornado, watching the wrathful cyclone as it sent him to Heaven to his sister's warm embrace.

“Lana, if you’re out there... is it possible that you could... you could give your brother another chance? Please?”

The tear dropped.

Then everything went black.

Harold floated in the abyss of eternal darkness, the one-way barrier between the mortal world and the spiritual world. Time had no meaning; everything seemed to flow on for what felt like an eternity. Reality had no absolute meaning in the dark void. It was only an empty blackness where Harold's sorrowful soul was drifting aimlessly, waiting until he would find himself before the gates of Heaven or the gates of Hell. For his sins of wanting wrath and living under his sister's shadow, Harold would probably kept in the dismal plane of Limbo, never moving on until he did what he promised to do on the mortal world.

Suddenly, from beyond the nonexistent darkness, a feminine voice called out to him. The voice was soft, gentle and calm. More importantly, the voice sounded familiar... a very familiar voice.

“Harold... Harold...”

Harold slowly opened his eyes, seeing the never-ending darkness stretching on to infinity. Then a beacon of light shone beyond the void, rays of bright, merciful illumination shining the darkness away. Harold looked at the center of the light and saw a silhouette of a person, her figure thin and slender without too much fat on her body, all wrapped in a dress of white woven silk. Her blonde hair reached down to the middle of her back, her sapphire blue eyes sparkling in her shaded figure. As the figure got closer, Harold could clearly see her face, a beautiful smiling visage carved in by the angels. Harold gasped lightly, for he knew that smile anywhere; the same calming smile that helped to calm even the most disturbed creature.

“Lana... is that you? Is this all real? Am I... really dead?” Harold felt a fear well up inside of his chest, a familiar fester growing with his worries and insecurities. A hot tear leaked from his eye, rolling down to his cheek. The ethereal girl reached over to Harold and caught the tear with her finger and traced up his cheek, the touch like a kiss of sunlight warming his cold, frigid skin. When the ear and its trail of moisture was wiped from Harold's face, the girl looked at him and smiled.

"Yes, Harold, it's me," Lana said gently, her voice as calming as her grin. "It's alright, little brother, I'm here." Lana reached over and slowly pulled Harold to her by his back, wrapping him in the most gentle and the most warm embrace he ever received. Harold felt himself become powerless in Lana's loving hug and every defense to hold his tears back lowered themselves. Then, he began to cry, burying his face his sister's chest. Lana stroked his hair and cooed in his ear, pulling him in tighter in her embrace.

“Lana... I’m sorry. I’m afraid that I couldn’t fulfill your promise.”

Lana pulled Harold from her hug and looked him in the eyes, wiping his tears forming in the corners of his eyes. She shook her and smiled, partially calming Harold of his sadness. "No, Harold. It's not your time to die yet, little brother," Lana assured her scared brother. "What you are feeling is a deep sleep. You will wake up from this sleep, but when you do, you must find out what it was you haven't made in your life."

Harold inhaled shakily from his sobs. He felt a new worry come across him, as he heard his beloved sister's tone become serious and direct. "But... but Lana, I don't even know what I haven't made before. Even if I did know what I've made, why is it so important? What was it that I've never made before?"

“You will find out in the near future, little brother. Everything that you've asked me will be revealed in due time” Lana gently pulled Harold into her arms for another embrace, whispering in his ear. “I have to go now, Harold. You're about to wake up, and I cannot keep you stuck in Limbo forever."

Lana pulled herself from Harold's grip and slowly retracted into the light. Harold reached his arm out, but was too late; Lana was beyond his reaching distance, not wanting her to go back into the light. "Lana, wait! You still haven't told me what it was!! What was it that I've never made!? Please, tell me! Tell me!"

"I'm afraid I can't, Harold. That is something that you are going to have to find out for yourself." A saddened smile spread across her lips once more, a crystalline tear forming in her eyes as she disappeared into the light. Then the light expanded outwards towards Harold, eliminating every darkness that wrapped him inside of its cooling hold as Harold shielded his arm against the intense illumination. "Goodbye, little brother."

“Lana. Lana, wait!”

Then everything went white.

Then the white reverted into black.

First there was silence, a gentle and tranquil sound of nothingness that helped put anybody to a peaceful slumber.

Within minutes of the silence, the gentle sounds of a gentle spring breeze were heard, slowly starting off as a dull roar, then building into the breezes rustling through the treetops. A beautiful duet of singing songbirds sung their precious tunes before it was replaced by the rhythmic flapping of wings. The sunlight's golden rays gave warmth and comfort for the body sprawled out in the grass, relaxing the soreness in his muscles. The bed on which he laid upon helped alleviate the pain on the back of his body, giving off a pleasant fragrance that drifted off with the winds.

That's when it hit him.

Flowers. Harold was lying down in a bed of flowers, the texture of the petals helping to lower the pain in his arm muscles.

Harold laid in the flower bed, motionless and too tired to open his eyes. He let the sunshine help him slowly regain his strength, just enough strength so he would open his eyes. In minutes that seemed to last for hours, Harold felt his pain drain from his system, until at last he fluttered his eyes open to a squint. The sea of bright blue loomed over Harold's exhausted body, the sunlight slowly shining in his eyes. Harold squinted his eyes, trying to prevent the strain of the sun's glare from doing any damage to his eyesight, but managed to adjust to the brightness. As he looked up to the endless sky, his mind began to rework its primary functions, a single question running through the depths of his brain.

“Where am I?”

==================================================================

“It was yet another beautiful night, Luna. Tell me, were you and your Lunar Guards successful in catching the thief last night?”

In the mysterious land, where the sun shone true and the grass was healthy and green, there was a tall mountain. Along the face of the mountain was a majestic city, built to watch over everything that happened in these fair lands. The majestic city, known to locals as Canterlot, contained a large castle. The castle walls were gleaming white and the tops of the towers were decorated with fancy patterns of yellow, gold and black hues. In one of the halls was a dining hall with a table as long as a school bus. Sitting at the opposite ends of the table were two of the land’s most regal and royal ponies, eating their breakfast, sipping tea and discussing the events of the previous night.

The ponies sitting on opposite ends of the table weren’t just any mere ponies. Both of these ponies had horns and wings. Such ponies with both horns and wings in creature mythology were referred to as alicorns. They both wore regalia over their bodies, crowns perched on the top of their heads, horseshoes placed in their hooves and necklaces worn around their delicate swan-like necks. In this strange land, the two sister ponies held the title as Princesses of Equestria, each governing the daytime and the nighttime.

The tallest alicorn sitting on one end of the table was colored an ivory white with a mane flowing with an invisible wind. The four colors that flowed with the mane ranged from pink, light green, indigo and turquoise, giving off tiny white sparkles. Her crown, necklace and horseshoes were pure gold, the first two accessories she wore had a purple diamond etched in the front. Her flank depicted an image of the yellow sun with orange flares rising from the center. To her subjects, this alicorn was Princess Celestia, wise immortal ruler of Equestria and Princess of the Day.

The shorter alicorn was colored a navy blue, her mane like the night sky flowing with the unseen wind also. Her regalia was pure ebony black and her necklace depicted a white waxing crescent moon, although her shoes were made a lighter blue. Her flank had what looked like a giant black ink blot, the image within depicting a similar crescent moon. This alicorn was named Princess Luna, the alicorn formerly known as Nightmare Moon, younger sister of Celestia and Princess of the Night.

Luna sipped the tea prepared by her servants, the cup encased in a navy blue glow just like horn was. After drinking the tea, Luna delicately placed the cup on the saucer, the glow surrounding her horn and cup disappearing. "Unfortunately, sister, the thief had managed to elude our best elite of Lunar Guards yet again," Luna informed. "The thief had managed to outrun and outwit even the best of my guards. He is both cunning and fast but we still underestimated him."

“That’s not all surprising” Celestia said nonchalantly. She lifted her teacup to her lips, her horn wrapping it up in a golden aura and daintily sipped the drink. “There had been times in the past when thieves and robbers would somehow evade our Guards with just the bat of an eye. Have you resorted to using her magic on him, my sister?"

"I have, Celestia," Luna replied. "But this thief has an extraordinary set of abilities. For one, the thief was completely immune to my magic and he is only an Earth pony. To make matters stranger enough, he runs at a speed that rivals the speed of the Element of Loyalty. Do we have to send her and the Wonderbolts in to catch him?"

"No, Luna. There is no need to send the Wonderbolts in unless I decide how big of a threat he is to our kind." Celestia stifled a giggle, using her magic to keep her teacup floating in midair. She rubbed her chin with her hoof and pondered the situation. "Although, I will have to send Twilight Sparkle a note telling her to be cautious about this 'Blurry Burglar'. We mustn't let a clearly experienced thief rob every noble of their valuables dry."

Celestia's lips was only inches away from making contact with the rim of her teacup...

TING!

Suddenly, both of the alicorns felt a powerful jolt in the magic force, powerful enough to make them gasp in fright. Celestia's magic was abruptly halted and her teacup fell to the red rug, shattering into a million pieces. As the tea stain settled into the fabric of the rug, Celestia and Luna found themselves petrified in their chairs, a minute of fearful dead silence passing them like an omen of ill will. Luna turned to her older sister, the fear clearly etched onto her face. “Sister, you've felt it too, haven’t you?”

“I’m afraid so, Luna. This sensation is a feeling like no other," Celestia said, scared emotionlessly. "I have not felt this feeling since...”

Luna gasped from realization and covered her mouth, hot fearful tears springing from her eyes. The Princess of the Night sobbed quietly while Celestia remained motionlessly in her seat. Her eyes were as big as her teacup saucers, staring out into the dark recesses of space. Celestia regrettably closed her eyes, a dark image in her mind she thought she would forget for 1,000 years.

Celestia could see it now. She saw an ancient village in the earlier days of Equestria in ruins, the buildings all set ablaze in raging fires and dark eroding smoke. A giant shadowy figure stood in the midst of the burning village, staring at her with gold piercing eyes. The monstrous creature had the top half of a hulking muscular gorilla, curvy pointed horns protruding from the sides of its head. A silver ring hung from its nostrils and its eyes burned with the dark fires of hell. The bottom half of the monster was that of a stallion, leaving death and destruction wherever it went. From the monster's neck was a burlap sack, pulsing with dark purple light like a disembodied beating heart.

The monster turned his head, showing its glowing yellow eyes. One brief look from the demon's eyes was enough to send Celestia into a world of fear and sorrow. She felt herself shudder and frozen as the monster took the pulsing bag and opened up the drawstrings, releasing a torrent of darkness towards her...

“CELESTIA!”

Celestia was snapped from her nightmare by the sound of Luna's yelling, gasping loudly even. She whipped her head around and found herself in the dining hall where she previously was before she fell into that scared trance. Celestia gasped and looked to Luna at the opposite end of the table, seeing Luna's face wrung with concern and sadness. "Dearest sister, are you feeling alight?" Luna asked shakily.

Celestia huffed with her breaths, but she eventually recoiled from her dark vision. Clearing her throat, Celestia reluctantly looked of to Luna, trying to mask her fears behind stoicism. "I'm okay, Luna. Really, I am," the Princess of the Sun said, lifting herself off of her seat to look out the glass windows. "But I fear that is more than I would say for the wellbeing for my subjects. A dark feeling like can only mean one thing, Luna; He is going to return and bring Equestria into everlasting darkness."

Luna quickly jumped off of her seat and cantered towards Celestia, tears dampening her navy blue fur and hugged her tight. "What do we do, sister? You know as well as I do we can't stop His return, no matter how much we can try!" Luna sobbed, burying her face into her sister's chest fur. "We cannot let Equestria fall like He nearly did all those years ago! We've already lost too many good ponies because of him!"

"And we won't, Luna. Not this time." Celestia brought a hoof around Luna's nape and pulled her in for a hug, her wing carefully stroking her back. “Luna, I need you to be strong and listen to me. You must assemble the guards. Tell them to do a watch around Canterlot, 24-7. If the guards see or hear anything suspicious, then they must not hesitate to subdue and question. I’ll inform Twilight Sparkle of the situation and tell her to bring her friends. The Elements of Harmony must know of Equestria’s Forbidden History if they are to know what they are up against.”

Celestia wiped the tear from Luna’s face and lifted her chin with her hoof. “Do you understand, Luna?” she asked.

Luna took a deep inhale, breathed out of her mouth and looked up to Celestia's eyes. “I understand, sister.” With those three little words said, Luna quickly galloped out of the dining hall with two of the Royal Guards quickly following her. Celestia’s horn glowed which brought a scroll with a quill pen out of nowhere. With a few quick dips of the pen, she began to write a letter on the scroll and dictated what she had to write on the paper.

“My former faithful student, Princess Twilight. You and your friends must come to Canterlot as soon as possible...”

Author's Note:

Please note: The YouTube links are for the music in Harold's iPod.

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[The Watcher 509]

I think I know what that is