This 'story' is an experiment to see what people would like to read. Suggest any idea you'd like to see made into a story, provided it is not clop or too gory. Slice of Life ideas or one-shots are the optimum type of suggestion I&
For future reference, the character that is featured in the most recent story will be marked as the designated main character for all of the stories, seeing as there is no 'all' button available.
Hello reader! Welcome to my Anthology Project. This, as you've probably seen from the short description, is an experiment to see how much enjoyment community inspired ideas can bring back to the community. This also serves as my reward system for receiving followers from wonderful people like you, and for writing about the ideas that continue percolating in my head.
Now, I'd first like to lay down some basic ground rules: 1. No mature rated ideas will be accepted. (No clop, no gore, no exceptions) If you'd feel uncomfortable showing this idea to a perfect stranger, or your close family, don't expect me to write it. 2. Constant spamming or PMing your idea will not make me want to write it more. If, however, your idea is agreed on as being good by other people through comments or likes, I'd consider it if it doesn't break Rule 1. 3. This project will not be regularly updated, as I have another project or future ones that are much larger than this already in the works. You can take a look at my most current one here. 4. Any show character is suggestible for use. I won't be writing stories for your personal OCs, but I will write stories that contain OCs.
Now, as again stated in the Short Description, Slice of Life and one-shots are the best kind of suggestion you can make. A short Adventure or Comedy story is also good, as are Sad touchy-feely ones. Crossovers are iffy, as I don't wish to do an enormous amount of research for an idea you may suggest; make it a fairly well known franchise, and I'll take a look at it.
Now, between the two of us, we have an infinite amount of creativity and imagination! Let's see what kinds of stories we can create, shall we?
The Nightmare That Almost Was - Princess Luna, Nightmare Moon
On the moon’s surface, just before the beginning of a thousand years of imprisonment, stood the semi-conscious but divided mind of Princess Luna and Nightmare Moon. Deceived by her darkest side, who was born in a moment of great madness and emotional pain, the once pure Princess of the Night had almost unwittingly brought ruin on the whole world at the goading and planning of Nightmare Moon. The black alicorn had spun her webs laced with a false tragedy of her own existence, using the Princess’ compassion and desire for vengeance on the ones who had vilified her name and who had taken her best friend from her to orchestrate the permanent possession of their body. Impulse had trumped reason, darkness had overwhelmed light, and Nightmare Moon had almost won her battle with Princess Celestia, had it not been for the intervention of the Elements of Creation.
“Coward!” Nightmare Moon said as she struck the Princess with her right hoof, “We would have won had it not been for your stupid empathy; your disgusting sentimentality! Celestia would have been dead at our hooves had it not been for you!”
Princess fell to the grey dust and rocks beneath her, her consciousness still strong enough to simulate her perception of pain and balance. A bruise began to form on her cheek, but her mental avatar quickly removed it from her thoughts. She angrily looked up at her black colored doppelganger, “I desired vengeance, but not like that. Though she may have deserved to be embarrassed and ashamed, it needn’t have come to murder. It was the devils who murdered Orpheus who deserve to die!”
“It doesn’t matter what you think anymore, you stupid cur,” Nightmare Moon spat through her serrated teeth, “I’m in charge now! I kill who I want, take what I want, when I want it. There’s no ‘we’ anymore, don’t you understand? I. Don’t. Need you.” The black alicorn turned to look back at the earth as the light of the sun slowly began to shine on it once again, “Look at it; such a beautiful, little ball of rage, and prejudice, and suffering. It deserved to end if anything ever did; it needs to end, here and now.”
Princess Luna got up from where she had fallen, and began to run at her usurper, “Give me back my mind, damned spirit!”
Nightmare Moon whirled her head around just in time for the Princess to tackle her in the side, tossing the two of them end over end into a deep crater. She began stomping on the black alicorn’s face, trying to do everything in her power to end the mare’s life, but she had forgotten that neither of them was actually physical, so her blows would almost instantly heal, as Nightmare Moon failed to acknowledge her opponent’s wounding strikes as real. Her doppelganger, however, had no problem with harming her mental avatar, as she gouged at the Princess’ chest with her horn, leaving scarring wounds. She bit into the Princess’ neck, causing her to roar in pain. Princess Luna slammed her hooves down on the monster’s shoulders, forcing her darker half to release her grip around her neck. Nightmare Moon backed a few steps away.
Princess Luna made to run her down, but the black alicorn pointed at her with her hoof, “Look.”
Glancing down at her body, the Princess saw that all the wounds Nightmare Moon had been making were healing, just like they would on her material form, but they left ugly black scars and bruises on her azure coat of fur.
“I can only hurt you as much as you let me,” Nightmare Moon chuckled, before she leaned into the Princess’ face, “Your cowardice is showing.”
“Not cowardice,” the Princess spat silvery residue, which quickly evaporated, “Remorse.”
The dark alicorn scoffed, “What, guilt? How idealistically naive. That quality needs to die if you want to get anywhere with me!” Nightmare Moon turned her back on the Princess, hit her with her back legs, and shattered Princess Luna’s lower jaw.
Screaming in muffled pain, the Princess writhed on the lunar floor as her consciousness patched her up, but her regretfulness and indecisiveness only hampered her mental healing, just as Nightmare Moon had predicted. The black alicorn once again looked up to the Earth from her place at the bottom of the crater, “Though she may have limited my power by splitting me from my body, dear, sweet Celestia forgot that the mind is my natural province of power.” She spread her wings and flew a little above the surface of the moon, slowly casting her forehooves upward, “If I can’t destroy them quickly with a cold, dead sun, I can make them sleep, experiencing the worst of agonies imaginable, and nightmares beyond their feeble comprehension, until they die a slow death by starvation!”
There was a crackling sound from behind and below, and suddenly the monstrous alicorn felt a blade edge tap against her neck. Nightmare Moon smirked as she turned to see in full her brighter half’s futile attempt to stop her, except that she was not nearby; looking back down into the crater, Nightmare Moon’s eyes widened in shock and fear, as she saw that Princess Luna had her long, dark blue blade at her own neck. “What are you doing,” she asked quietly.
The Princess was still shuddering and hyperventilating from her imaginary wound, but her face was set like granite, and was as cold as death. The sword bit into her neck, drawing silvery energy from the wound. Nightmare Moon grunted as she realized that her own neck was oozing silver as well.
“Do you feel that, monster?” Princess Luna grunted, “You lied to me, just as you have for countless years. Our life force is one; I die, and then you join me.”
“You’re bluffing,” the shady alicorn replied harshly, as she gracefully landed back down in the crater center, “You won’t do it. Even if you foolishly decided to end your life, I have the power to live on.”
The Princess blinked, relaxing her grip slightly, before reasserting it firmly, “Perhaps, or you end up like an instinctual animal, unable to reason or further your own goals. Worse, you could become a vegetable, all but dead, imprisoned in an immortal body with no means of release. We cannot live apart from each other. Id cannot be rid of Ego, and Ego of Id.”
She edged her sword ever further to her neck, causing Nightmare Moon to gasp again.
“Submit,” she declared coldly, “Or we both die.”
The moon began its final approach back to its original station in the cosmos, and the celestial alignment that had provided the two avatars of the night an increase in power was ending.
Nightmare Moon’s form began to shimmer and fade, but her hateful gaze on the Princess was unbridled, “Very well. I yield; for now. When we awaken once again, I will find a way to circumvent this status quo, and I will hide you down in the darkest recesses of your own mind, so that you can never get out of the maze I make for you.”
“Try it, and I’ll slit our throats,” Princess Luna hissed to the disappearing shade.
Nightmare Moon’s eyes were the last thing to fade into oblivion, her sentence of one thousand years was begun.
Princess Luna sighed in relief, and she dissipated the sword at her neck; the threat to Equestria and the lands beyond was over. As she caught her breath, she looked back to the little blue planet that she had called home for all of her life. She wondered where Orpheus’ body had been laid to rest as she looked to the continent Equestria called home, and she visibly wilted; she may never be able to pay any form of last respects to her youngest but dearest of friends, to the bat pony she had loved as both a curious child, and as a handsome stallion.
There was one last thing she had to do, since it seemed she was granted some small allowance of freedom before her doom was complete. Her horn glowed, influencing the atmosphere back on the earth to make some of the stars appear especially bright for that night. Her power was fading fast; she did not notice her form begin to shrink, or her vaporous mane begin to lose its luster and hang limp. As her eyes became dark, the spell was completed. Sister. Tia, she thought to herself, if you can find it in your heart, please forgive me for what I’ve done, even if I don’t deserve it. Forgive me, and prepare for my demon’s return.
Princess Celestia, now Sol Invicta, watched over the first of her many followers and worshipers as they slept next to the lake that would one day lie below Canterlot. She was pleased to see that there was not a single pony that was having trouble sleeping that night. There were no tears, there was no panic, only dreams. From where she sat in vigil, she saw an unusual brightness coming from the night skies above. Turning her gaze heavenward, she saw that the stars appeared to be arranged in a pattern that created two words: Forgive me.
Luna, she thought to herself. Her eyes began to slowly fill with tears, she is not consumed by that foul Nightmare after all. She wept quietly, for fear that she would wake her herd.
Oh mother, silently prayed, Thank you for this blessing; my sister is not gone, only lost. Help me to make things right; to see her dream of equality and harmony accomplished.
She looked back to the stars, whose message was already fading from the sky, and she smiled through her tears, and help the both of us to be reunited once again, as sisters first, instead of co-ruling Princesses.
It was the height of the summer harvest, and Big Macintosh was out bucking apple trees. It was a simple way of life, living on an apple orchard. It was the only life Big Mac had ever known, and he was content in the regular cycles around the farm, big or small. Buck tree, hoist apple buckets onto back, sell at market, make some honest bits, and repeat. Summer harvest, fall cooking, winter eating, spring pruning. There was no greater satisfaction than consistency.
It was in the west orchard of Sweet Apple Acres when it happened. Big Mac had been going about his routine, when he heard a rumbling sound from the skies directly up above. The weather team had not scheduled any thunderstorms for today; in fact it was meant to be the sunniest and mildest of days possible. Slowly turning his head up, he looked just in time to see a large, seething lightning bolt strike him square in the forehead.
The light from the bolt striking the stallion left a temporary after image all across the local hills in the orchard. Applejack and Apple Bloom had not been too far off when they heard the blast of the thunder and saw the lightning, and they hurried to see what had happened near where Big Mac had been working.
“What the hay just happened?” Apple Bloom exclaimed to her sister as they crested a hill near the valley Big Mac had been working in.
“Ah dunno!” Applejack replied, “Ah’d almost say it was heat lightning, ‘cause there sure ain’t a cloud in sight! If this is Rainbow Dash pullin’ another prank-”
The two of them fell silent as they looked on the titanic stallion that knelt in front of them, in the exact epicenter of the lightning strike. Scorched grass was matted down all around him. A set of dark red wings obscured the stallion’s face from them.
“Hey you!” Applejack yelled in agitation at the stallion, stamping her hoof to the ground, “That’s mighty inconsiderate of you to nearly burn down our orchard! Why don’t’ya show yerself and explain what in tarnation you were tryin’ to pull, flyboy?”
“Applejack?” the stallion asked as he stood up; he looked to his younger sister, “Apple Bloom?”
The shock on the mare’s and the filly’s face was almost comical, as the giant stallion folded his wings back, exposing his sandy headed mane and large horn which now proudly protruded from his forehead. Big Mac’s yoke, which had been untouched by the lightning strike, groaned and snapped as he stood at his new height and full stature. His muscles, which had already been large before, had somehow become larger still, but were also elegantly toned and proportioned. Big Mac looked at himself as best as he could, bringing his wings around and examining them with startled eyes, and then looked up to his horn and felt it cautiously with his right hoof. With his usually eloquent mannerisms and loquaciousness, Big Mac finally commented, “Ah feel..weird.”
“Big Macintosh?” Applejack hesitantly stammered.
“You’re an alicorn!” Apple Bloom blurted in amazement.
Big Mac looked himself over again to confirm what he was seeing was actually real or not, before he finally looked at his littlest sister, and replied with equal parts surprise and confusion, “E-Eeyup!” By some newly acquired instinct, Big Mac spread his wings and flew a few dozen feet in the air, and looked at the ground below. The scorching of the grass around where he had been when the strange lightning had struck was darkened brown, but what was most interesting of all was the shape of the burned grass; it was that of Big Mac’s Cutie Mark.
“This is absolutely impossible!” Twilight Sparkle stammered as she ran from one section of the library to another, her magic grasping several books off the shelves. The three Apple siblings watched her go to and fro as they stood in the center of the library itself. Twilight feverishly skimmed several pages of history, anatomy, any book that could possibly mention a similar transformation to the one that had occurred to Big Mac. Spike, forever faithful assistant that he was, was running and jumping to make sure he could catch all the books that Twilight was throwing out of her telekinetic grip in her frustration when they did not provide her the information she desired. “Over a thousand years of documented history, and never once is there made mention of a seraphic transformation!”
She rushed over to Big Mac, and began prodding and poking him with her cursory spells. The poor farmer was embarrassed by the attention that was being provided him.
“No evidence of Transmutative spells,” Twilight murmured as she flicked his horn. Jabbing the joint behind his new wing bones, Big Mac’s wings flared up reactively as she gave a preliminary measurement to them with a handy tape measure, “No perception altering magic.”
“Ah was just mindin’ mah own business, buckin’ apple trees, when alluva sudden some lightning struck me, and now Ah’m like this!” Big Mac tried to explain again, but Twilight was having none of it.
“Nonono,” she said as she waved her hooves, “You have to have done something to have caused this! Ponies don’t just randomly gain rare and fantastic powers!” she scoffed as she turned back to her books, “That kind of thing only happens in fairy tales and science fiction novels.”
“And Silver Age Comics too!” Pinkie Pie blurted as she burst through the library entrance, “Love the new look, Big Mac!”
“Thanks, Ah guess.” Big Mac called back to the strange pink pony, who slammed the door on her own face after her loud interjection.
“Don’t you think maybe we should contact Princess Celestia about this?” Spike offered, “You know, since she is only a letter away.”
“It's too late for a letter,” the mare herself declared as she stepped through the balcony door, “I am already here.”
The four ponies and dragon bowed meekly to the Princess, but she beckoned for them to get off their hooves and feet. She approached Big Mac, who now stood almost a half head taller than she did, and she sternly analyzed him. The poor stallion was beginning to become extremely self-conscious with all the ponies who had been staring at him.
“I can’t be certain how,” the Princess finally declared, “but Big Macintosh is genuinely an alicorn now. How this came to be is rather intriguing, though.” She turned and began to make her way back to the balcony door. “If you’d like,” she spoke over her shoulder, “I’d be willing to offer you a position in the palace.”
“Whaat?!” everyone exclaimed at this proposal.
“Well, I have been needing an adviser of agriculture for some time now,” she explained, and she gestured to Big Mac, “and as an added bonus, you now look the part! What is you answer, Big Macintosh; would you like to become a Prince of Canterlot?”
“Now wait just a gal-darn minute!” Applejack took a couple steps forward, “We still need him around the farm! You can’t just take him from us in the middle of harvest time!”
“I’ll make sure that Sweet Apple Acres won’t miss its hardest worker,” Princess Celestia offered Applejack a smile, “I’ll see to it that that some very reputable stallions are hired to take up his share of the work,” she then turned to Big Mac and renewed her offer, “that is, if he is interested in taking on the position.”
Big Mac turned his signature wheat stalk over and over in his mouth, thinking over the proposal that would change his life forever. With much internal deliberation, he finally answered, “Eeyup!”
“And then the antelope cougar played with the ball of string all night long,” Big Mac said, then he finished, “That is, until Winona chased the poor thing away!”
Everypony at the large dining table laughed hysterically at the joke the large alicorn stallion had made; it took several minutes for them all to finally settle down from cackling or guffawing. The Canterlot Royal family, rather than being snobbish and uptight like most would believe them to be, was actually quite amiable, and had accepted Big Mac with open hooves. He had become quite popular as a confidant and wisepony; some of the Princesses had even sought his hoof for a courtship. He had respectfully declined their advances; although he was a newly christened Prince, he was a simple stallion at heart, and he was willing to wait for the right mare to come along.
After the evening meal was brought to a close, the financial minister Fancy Pants approached him.
“That was smashing good joke you told, Macintosh,” he gave into another quick laugh, “I’ll be thinking about that for days now!”
“Thank yah kindly, Fancy Pants.” he grinned, “Always a pleasure!”
“Listen,” the white unicorn began again, “I’ve received word that Princess Celestia would like a private audience with you, but before you go I wanted a quick word with you.”
“Shoot,” the red alicorn declared as he tussled his mane absentmindedly.
“A couple of the boys and I were planning on going for a trip down to Mustangia for a fortnight of rugged camping. There’s still room for you if you’re interested!”
“Ah’d be delighted to come!” Big Mac said as he began to make his way to Princess Celestia’s chambers.
Fancy Pants grinned in excitement, “Bully! We’ll be leaving in the morning, so don’t be late!”
“Eeyup!”
Arriving at the Sun Princess’ chambers, Big Mac was ushered inside by the guards, and the doors were closed behind him. Confused by the oddness of the situation, he was about to call out for the Princess when she showed herself. Her mane was especially vibrant and flowing this evening, and her regalia was missing. Her eyes seemed to pierce through Big Mac’s with an alluring, sultry quality that the country stallion had never seen, let alone imagined the Princess with.
“Big Macintosh,” she said in husky voice, “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
“Princess Celestia?” he asked in confusion.
“Yes?” she breathed as she sauntered closer to him.
“You’re naked,” he deduced with his brilliant mind.
She faked a gasp of disbelief, “So are you! Why, two ponies naked together in a room..” She drew her large sleeping pillow closer with her magic, and she gracefully fell into it. “..Anything could happen,” she finished with a playful giggle.
“Didya want ta see me about next month's projected profit margins?” Big Mac asked.
“Oh, I actually lied about that job of yours,” she waved her hoof like she was gesturing a bad plate of food away, and then she turned up the sauciness, “What I really wanted was you, my Big Red Apple.”
The gears in Big Mac’s mind began to click, and suddenly he gasped with realization, “Princess Celestia, are you trying to seduce me?!”
“That depends,” her horn lit up again, dragging him by his ceremonial silver yoke right next to her bed. As she leaned up, she arched her back seductively, and exhaled, “Is it working?”
“Princess Celestia!” A guard burst into the private chambers, seemingly unsurprised by the scene before him.
“WHAT?!” the Princess yelled in an equally surprising and unflattering voice, creating a vacuum of confusion that continued to consume Big Mac’s mind.
“The unthinkable has occurred,” the guard was able to exclaim, before a large, purple star cloud enveloped him.
“I HAVE RETURNED,” a voice declared, which was followed by maniacal laughter. Nightmare Moon stepped out of the purple mist, and she grinned, “Ha! It seemed I’ve caught you unawares!”
“Nightmare Moon!” Princess Celestia declared, as she unceremoniously stepped around her would-be suitor, whisking her bed out of sight, “How is this possible?”
“It doesn’t matter,” the black alicorn sneered, “for now all of Equestria will be covered in eternal night!”
“You won’t get away with this,” the Princess of the Sun retorted, “For your crimes against ponykind, and for killing my libido, I sentence you to another thousand years on the moon!”
“Fine!” the dark, imposing Mistress of the Night declared, “You’ve won!” She then pointed at Big Mac, “But I’m taking that hot stud with me!”
“What?” Big Mac asked flatly.
“You fiend!” Princess Celestia yelled, “You can’t have him! I was seducing him first!”
“Ah-ah-ah!” Nightmare Moon waved her hoof for emphasis, “You didn’t call ‘Dibs’! As such, I have every right to take him to the moon with me.”
Princess Celestia summoned her golden, magical sword from the ether, “Then the one who is to win a duel in single combat will be the one to properly seduce Big Macintosh!”
Nightmare Moon summoned her own dark sword, “To the death!”
“Ah didn’t agree ta any of this!” Big Macintosh said in panic.
With a mighty war cry, the two alicorn princesses rushed each other, swords ready to swing.
Suddenly, a brilliant blast of white light filled the chamber, knocking the two princesses to opposite sides of the room. From out of the light stepped a grey pelted earth pony mare. She turned her eyes to Big Mac, and he saw that one iris was colored blue, while the other was lavender. She wordlessly offered her hoof to him.
“Whoever ya’are,” he looked to both of the recovering female alicorns in turn, “get me the hell away from them!”
The strange mare smiled and nodded. Placing his hoof in hers, the two of them floated towards the light. Before they were both consumed by it, the mare said sweetly, “Big Macintosh, wake up.”
Big Mac’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and he was relieved to see that he was back within the dark confines of his own room at Sweet Apple Acres. Just to be on the safe side, he felt the top of his head and flexed his back muscles; no horn, and no wings. Fantastic.
He looked down to the doll that he had held in his forelegs as he had slept, and he snuggled her a little closer, “Thanks Smarty Pants.”
With his security doll at the ready, Big Mac drifted back to a fit but dreamless sleep, where he wasn’t accosted by unexpected transformations or wooing princesses.
A Pear-adoxical Situation - Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Pinkie Pie
The library was an island of tranquility in the otherwise chaotic bustle of Ponyville. The walls, doors, and windows had all been magically soundproofed by the building’s mistress, who used the acquired silence and peace to great effect in her many pursuits of research. Twilight Sparkle was in fact in the middle of a deep analysis of the ancient edict outlining the Elements of Harmony. Loyalty is a bond of trust that transcends wayward affection and temporary infatuation; it is a unique variety of love that commits to the sacrifice of fortune, skill, time, and even destiny. Like Generosity it is an exchange of the immaterial, trust in one’s own word and reputation, for the material services between two parties. It is also strongly tied to Honesty: if one’s reputation is found lacking in small actions of little importance, then how can any citizen expect different in the vital and physical issues of the world at large? A nation without trust cannot have loyalty. While sharing knowledge is the academic analogue for love, loyalty and its exchange is all sapient species’ expression of devotion. The appropriate way to instill this ethical mechanic follows as such: the-
BOOM BOOM BOOM!
A rapid succession of hoofbeats on the hard oak door of the library spooked Twilight and robbed her of trance of concentration. Irritated by this intrusion, she made her way from the upstairs study area, down the curved stair case cut into the tree’s interior wall, and to the front door itself. She stopped to clear her agitation from her face, tried to put her best smile on, and opened the door. Much to her surprise, Applejack was the one who currently stood on her doorstep, and she was quick to notice that the orange earth pony was trembling slightly.
“Applejack? What are you doing here?” Twilight asked out of evident care and concern for her friend, “Are you feeling alright? You look a little sick.”
“Twilight,” Applejack replied shakily, “There’s somethin’ mighty strange goin’ on back at the farm, and you need ta see it.”
Twilight could tell this was something that had to be genuinely upsetting her friend to an enormous degree if she would reach out for someone else’s assistance, an issue of pride Applejack still had trouble with. Twilight gulped a little, and she steeled herself for what she may see, “Alright then, let’s go.”
“When Ah saw this, Ah knew there had ta be some kinda magic involved or somethin’ “ Applejack said as she looked up. “I checked for paint first though, figuring it might be a prank er something, but the color’s natural; Ah cut it open and it goes all the way to the center.”
Twilight couldn’t understand what she was seeing; while it wasn't quite as earth shattering as she'd been expecting, it certainly was bizarre. Right in the middle of Sweet Apple Acres, sitting on a hill obscured from the Apple homestead, stood one solitary pear tree. The tree itself was rather nondescript as far as pear trees went, apart from its odd placement; the fruits of the tree were what the two ponies were having a problem comprehending. Each pear had a checkerboard pattern on its surface, the two colors in those patterns alternating between the three primary colors; green, red, and blue.
“What sort of hocus pocus is needed to fix this, ya reckon?” Applejack asked worriedly.
Twilight sized up the tree from its base to its highest branch; it stood about fifteen feet high. The ground around the stump was just as uniform as the dirt around the barren Zap Apple trees around it, so it hadn’t been moved recently. Next, her horn lit up, and she began a search for any loose magic trails that could potentially lead to a spell of origin and its caster.
“Hey gals!” a certain pink party pony cheerfully called out as she bounced up the hill and onto the scene.
“Howdy Pinkie,” Applejack said with a small release of tension that was made evident by her change in tone of voice.
“Hi Pinkie,” Twilight murmured as she continue scrying for any arcane power.
“Whatcha doing?” she asked as she looked up at the strangely colored pear tree, “Are you practicing more fruit transformation spells Twilight?”
“This wasn’t me,” Twilight grunted as she concentrated as hard as she could to find any magic but her own, to no avail. Ending her spell, she began to breathe deeply even as she explained the situation, “Applejack found this pear tree without ever having noticed it before. We thought it might have been a joke of some kind, but I’ve checked and there is nothing unnaturally magical going on at all!”
“You mean ta say that so far as you can tell,” Applejack looked up at the tree with renewed worry, “That this here pear tree is not only natural, but has been here this whole time?”
“Looks like it,” Twilight said with a small trace of defeat, which was almost immediately replaced by curiosity, “I’ve never seen a pear tree like this before; not even in the Full Folio of Foliage and Fruits! We may have just discovered a new genus of pear tree!”
“There’s one pony who’ll know where this tree came from,” Applejack nodded her head with determination, “An’ that’s Granny Smith; she’s bound ta have seen this tree planted here at some point.” With that said, Applejack galloped off in the direction of the Apple homestead.
“Hey Applejack, wait up!” Twilight yelled after the farmer as she descended down the hill past the dormant Zap Apple trees.
Pinkie Pie stared up at the tree, her face screwed up in concentration as she thought about the Checkerboard Pears. In no time at all, her face lit up as an idea sizzled through her peculiar head. Reaching up, she plucked one of the many fruits available, choosing a burgundy red and sky blue colored one, placed it carefully in her mouth, and bounced down the hill, heading northward to pay Fluttershy a visit.
“Off to the market?” Applejack exclaimed.
Apple Bloom nodded as she swept up some of the heavier dust bunnies around the kitchen, “Yeah. She said she needed to make an emergency run fer some brown sugar to make one of her apple pies.”
“Goldarnit,” Applejack huffed in frustration, “Seems everything’s set against us findin’ out what that blasted pear tree is really all about!”
“Oh, I have an idea,” Twilight declared as she sipped the last of few drips of a cup of apple juice with her magic, “There could be some evidence of this pear tree in your family photo album! You try finding it in there, and I’ll try and run a couple more tests on the tree itself to learn a little more about it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Applejack smiled. She then looked to her sister, “You wanna help me, Apple Bloom?”
“Sure!” The little filly exclaimed, throwing the broom into the corner as she followed Applejack, “Anything ta get outta doin’ chores!”
Applejack made her way upstairs to grab the latest rendition of the Apple photo album. Once she had acquired it, she and Apple Bloom laid down in the den on some of the softer sitting pillows.
“How come ya only brought one of’em?” Apple Bloom asked in confusion, “There’s more than a half dozen upstairs.”
“True,” Applejack smirked as she opened the visual family history library, “but the average pear tree only lives for about two decades. The planting would’ve had to’ve been sometime in recent history.”
“But you said yerself that we ain’t dealin’ with the average pear tree,” Apple Bloom remarked, “What if it’s older than we think it could be?”
Applejack snorted in frustration at her sister’s continuous rebuttals, “Just humor me and be useful; help me spot the odd tree out!”
Pinkie Pie knocked a unique rhythm on Fluttershy’s cottage door which would let the shy pony know it was her. This was a specific policy that the yellow Pegasus had instituted so that she could know who was at the door without having to risk meeting somepony that she would prefer not too, namely strangers.
“Oh Pinkie,” Fluttershy said warmly in her usual demure fashion, as she softly opened the door to her home, “It’s nice to see you! What can I do for you?”
“Hey Fluttershy,” Pinkie smiled around her unusual cargo, which she took out of her mouth with a free hoof, “I was wondering if I could have a quick chat with you and your roommate? Something funny is happening at Applejack’s that I’m sure will give him a tickle!”
“A tickle you say?” a male voice called out from further in the cottage, “Is my boredom at an end? Something funny would be an absolute relief to the tedium my life is currently offering me!”
“Oh dear,” Fluttershy said with a sigh and a concerned frown.
Twilight’s mind was at its wit’s end. She had tried everything; soil samples, examining the bark and the seeds of the tree. The enigma of this checkerboard pear tree would not yield to either her magical or her scientific inquiries. At the moment, she was currently laying down in front of the tree, offering it dirty looks and internal curses against it. The sun was beginning to set in the West, so she postulated that it was now around four o’clock in the afternoon.
“I’m guessin’ you didn’t have much luck either?” Applejack asked tiredly as she plopped down next the purple unicorn.
“Eeyup,” Twilight exhaled.
Applejack cracked a smile at her friend’s impersonation of her brother. As she looked up at the tree, a frustrated frown etched itself on her face, “We looked back forty-five years, and there’s no verifiable proof of this blasted tree ever being here!”
“I checked too,” Twilight’s own visage equally mirrored her friend’s agitation, “The tree has to be at least fifty years old, but I can’t really tell anything else about it or where it came from.” She sighed and shrugged in defeat, “Maybe this is one of those things in life we’re not supposed to think about too much.”
Applejack’s mouth fell open in surprise as she looked at Twilight, “You just said a very un-‘Twilight’ kinda thing right there, sugarcube.”
“Yeah,” Twilight smiled, “but what else can we do? This tree could very well be older than Granny Smith is; maybe anypony who could tell us anything about it isn’t around anymore.”
A shadow fell over their vision, and from overhead they heard a distinct voice, “Have no fear; Pinkie’s here!”
As the two ponies on the ground watched in amazement, the long serpentine body of the draconequus Discord descended onto the grassy hill. Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie disembarked from off of his back, and made their way over to Twilight and Applejack.
Discord’s mismatched eyes found their way to the checkerboard pear tree, and he grinned like a little child being offered sweets, “Oh my! Just look at this! It’s been ages since I’ve seen anything like you!”
“You know somethin’ about this pear tree?” Applejack asked sternly, as she still didn’t quite trust him even after several months of being ‘reformed’.
“Well of course,” Discord responded as he picked a green and blue pear and twirled the top end of it on one of his eagle talons, “You seriously didn’t see this and not automatically think of me, did you?”
“I knew it!” Twilight cried in victory, “That’s why I couldn’t find a magic trace! You changed this apple tree with your chaos magic to such a extent that it acted like it had always been a pear tree!”
“Not quite. In fact, not at all,” Discord replied as he slowly rotated his orientation of gravity, so that his feet faced the sky and his head the ground below, all while the pear he had been spinning continued doing so like nothing had changed, “You see, I created plants like this back during my early years; they’re just as much a part of the natural ecology of Equestria as any apple tree is, although they are much rarer than they used to be.”
“Discord,” Fluttershy asked with firmness in her voice, “Are they safe to eat?”
“Oh yes, perfectly so!” he smiled as he cut the pear he was spinning into five pieces, one for the each of them. He popped a piece into his mouth and smiled, “Fantastic blend of sweet and sour. You’d better eat them while they last; you never know when the next batch will come around! My Checkerboard Pear trees produce fruit anywhere between every three to thirteen years, and it’s random between each ripening.”
The girls received their slices and ate them, each getting a different reaction because of the differing ratios of sweet and sour between the slices.
“The fruit tastes super-duper fantastic,” Pinkie Pie shook her head at its sourness, “But that still doesn’t explain how this Checkerboard Pear tree got here.”
“Ah believe Ah can answer that,” Granny Smith said as she slowly made her way up the hill with Apple Bloom’s help. “This tale goes waaay back ta when I was a little filly like Apple Bloom here,” she motioned to her dutiful helper, who eased her down to the grass for a soft seat there. “You remember, Ah’m sure, ‘bout how I discovered the Zap Apples of the Everfree Forest? Well, it turns out that Zap Apples don’t grow on their own; after trying to do just that, plantin’ and tendin’um all for nothin’, Ah was stumped about what I was doin’ wrong. So I returned to the place deep in the dark forest where Ah’d found’em, and growin’ right in the middle of’em all was this strange pear tree you see right here,” she pointed up to the tree.
Twilight’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, “So what you’re saying Ms. Smith is that somehow Zap Apples and Checkboard Pears cross-pollinate with each other?”
The old mare nodded and smiled warmly, “That’s exactly what I’m sayin’ dearie, though ya have to do some really strange shenanigans to make sure the thing goes off without a hitch. Oh, and you can call me Granny; everypony else does, and I’ll be yer Granny too if you'll have me!”
“Welp,” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, cracking her forehooves as she stood up and stretched, “This mystery is solved! I win!”
“Whaddya mean ‘You win’?” Applejack asked in confusion.
“I solved the mystery first, so I win!”
“We weren’t trying to win anything,” Twilight shook her head at Pinkie’s antics.
“What that’s Twilight?” Pinkie said as she leaned over Twilight and began to moonwalk in place, “I can’t hear over the sound of my victory!”
“Ah uh uh,” Discord wagged a finger of his lion’s paw at Pinkie, “You can’t claim your victory unless you properly determine the moral of this whole escapade!”
Here Pinkie froze, and returned to all fours as she did everything she could to think of a bright moral lesson that could apply to everything that had happened.
“Sometimes, patience is a virtue when waiting fer valuable information?” Applejack guessed.
“Not everything needs a cause or a reason for happening?” Twilight tried.
“Draconequi are the solution to all of life’s problems!” Pinkie Pie blurted.
“Um, I pass,” Fluttershy quietly declared.
Granny Smith looked up at Discord and winked, “Harmony’s all well and wonderful, but sometimes a little craziness and chaos can be a good thing too.”
Discord grinned and pointed to the four Elements assembled before him, “Listen to your elder; she’s a mare after my own heart!”
“Now, Ah’m sure you young folks have all got somewhere to be,” Granny smiled once again, “But before you go, could I tempt you with some freshly made apple pie?”
There was no way any of them could possibly reject an Apple made apple pie, especially one made by Granny Smith, so they accepted her offer with hearty thanks, and made their way back to the homestead for some that delicious dessert.
“By any chance, Granny,” Discord asked, “Have you considered making a hybrid pear and Zap Apple pie? Or better yet, I could make a bush that grows whole pies; tin and all!”
“Ah like how you think,” Granny Smith chuckled, “you should help me in my kitchen some time!”
The following story may be too spooky for young children, and the individual rating for this dark tale has been changed to Teen. You've been suitably warned.
You there. Yes, you. I look into your eyes and I can see that you have a love of adventure and a natural curiosity, am I right? Well, if I am, there is something you must know; not every tale has a happy end. Oh, yes, we all love a story where the brave hero confronts the villain in his dark fortress, and with his righteous fury saves the girl of his dreams and all the good at heart live happily ever after. That is simply what they are though: stories. Make believe. It’s like a warm and cheery fire to distract you from the winter outside your home, which you use to escape the harsh winds and cold, predatory fingers of death. You think I’m just a dreary old stallion, who wouldn’t know the first thing about adventure? I went on an adventure once, and there were enough nightmares come from it that will last me until my death, when the worms take my body for their property, thank the stars. You don’t believe me? Sit down, and heed my life’s story, for it is your only warning.
It was when I was a young colt that our story begins. I hadn’t yet discovered my talent, and I yearned for any chance to remove the bareness of my flank. I’d heard of an expedition headed for the North, amid the frozen tundra. My heart yearned for adventure as yours does, and the crew was willing to have me, as my size could help me get into small places to find any potential artifacts. The head researcher was a great professor of archaeology, Sandy Trowel. He had made a recent discovery in Canterlot’s vast libraries, and that was the location of a tomb. It was not just any tomb, however. It was the tomb of one of the great kings of the Crystal Empire, from the time before Equestria was even formed. I had been exhilarated to have struck onto such a wonderful journey!
The trek to our destination was long, a full week’s journey past our northernmost border. To the north of the Red Wastes where the Buffalo nomads live, and to the West of the Griffon kingdoms, lay what we sought. It had seemed that some providential force had come to our aid before we had even asked for it: the entrance to the tomb was only partially buried by rocks and ice, and a recent avalanche had exposed the tomb itself to the open air.
Under normal circumstances if such a thing had occurred, Sandy Trowel would have been furious, as this act of nature would have exposed the tomb to potential contamination. Instead he was pleased. “Excavating the tomb should take less time than we had expected,” he said with a smile, “Besides, no moisture or creatures in this natural environment means that there’s less risk of damage to the site.”
We had set up camp immediately after our arrival, and our crew of one dozen mares and stallions lay down for the night. It was the winter months for this region, which meant that even though we started at nine in the morning the sky was still dark, and the moon was sitting on the southwestern horizon. By one in the afternoon when we had finished excavating the larger rubble around the doorway, the sun finally began to come up.
The doors were made of stormy grey colored crystals, which were themselves covered in ornate carvings of the proto-equine race. At the crest of the door was the shape of a crown with four jagged horns, and it was dark grey and obsidian colored.
“Incredible,” Sandy Trowel’s student breathed, “Professor, the carvings are exquisite! Have we stumbled onto the tomb of who I think we have?”
There was a twinkle in the archaeologist’s eye, “I think so, dear lass!”
“Whose grave is this?” the bat pony Hypnos, one of the hired muscle for both digging and protection, asked.
“This is the tomb of Umbra Rex,” Sandy Trowel said in a hushed tone, “but he was more commonly known as King Sombra, the last ruler of the Crystal Empire.”
Nearly the entire crew shuddered at the mentioned of the name, but I did not understand.
At dinner that night, Hypnos explained the camp’s newly acquired uneasiness, “Old King Sombra was as corrupt and sinful of a king as there ever was. He took that name when he ascended to power, so the stories say, because he wished to contact the malevolent powers beyond this world, so that he could attain the title of the Ruler of all Darkness. He drove the shining Crystal Empire to its breaking point by enslaving the herd, and he was eventually killed by his own subjects.” The bat pony ruffled his wings, and his ears began to nervously twitch, “The story goes on, saying that before he died he had prepared for his death, and that whatever happened to him, he would return. Once he was gone, the entire Crystal City was left abandoned, its citizens forced to die with their ruler by the evil forces he worshipped, and the Empire was no more.”
“Bah, hogwash!” Dusty Trowel said as he passed when heard what Hypnos was speaking, “You needn’t concern the lad with fanciful old tales made by superstitious ponies of yore! If you wish to know what the real King Sombra was like, come help me with the beginning of the inner chamber’s excavation tomorrow.”
I barely slept that night out of both fright at the tales I’d heard and the excitement of helping the head archaeologist directly with his work. The next morning, Dusty Trowel and I came to realize just how large the burial chambers of this menacing king would be. The antechamber that had led outside had a rocky staircase that descended further into the earth. The Professor was excited to no end, “We must be the first ones in almost a thousand years to have stepped hoof into these chambers!”
When I questioned him further about King Sombra, he sat me down and we each took a swig out of our canteens. “You’ll always be better off looking for the scientific and historical evidence rather than listening to old fairy tales. Umbra Rex was a very harsh king. That is undeniable. In this kind of place, with the constant blizzards and freezing temperatures, mercy does nopony any benefit. The choices are limited to what allows you to live, and what kills you. Perhaps Umbra Rex realized early on that only the strong survive, and he had to do his part to make sure his people could endure the rigors of sub-arctic life. Is there any merit to the stories of his magic? Perhaps. One thing I’ve learned from my studies is that only the living lie, while the dead always tell the truth.”
That night there was a freak blizzard that threatened to sweep our entire encampment out onto the frozen plains. Our Quartermaster decided that it would be in everyone’s best interests to move our shelter into the tomb’s antechamber, which the Professor protested against because of the potential contamination of the site. The other members of the team were loath to do it as well, but they saw no other choice with the severity of the weather outside.
The digging was easy from that point on, as the entirety of the tomb was intact and incredibly preserved. Despite the Professor’s occupational skepticism, I could not help but begin to feel as Hypnos had: this barrow made me uneasy like nothing ever had before. It was only three days later that we had made enough progress restoring the rest of the chambers below that we found our way to the centerpiece itself, the Sepulcher of King Sombra.
The chamber was closed up by two heavy iron doors, but they were eventually cast open by the stronger stallions on the team. In the center of the expansive room sat a large black as night sarcophagus in the shape of an elongated hexagon. On each side of the stony coffin was a message carved in relief. It was in some kind of written language only the linguist could understand, but after spending hours deciphering its words, this is what he translated:
All things bow to the power of fear. Peasants lie down as if dead before it, knights run from it and pretend to know it not, whole armies pause in respect of it, and even kings and queens kneel before it. All living things know fear, but so few understand its purpose. Fear is our guide and companion spirit. Even when all things leave us, whether sense or reason, chaos or madness, or even magic itself, only fear remains. Those few who have the mettle and capacity to master it, as I have, will know its great might. Armies, knights, and kings have all fallen before me. My name is spoken in trembling and whispers. I am now more than just the master of fear. I am become Fear; fettered by nothing, known by all.
Umbra Rex
“Well,” Dusty Trowel said with a smirk, “We know at least that he was a humble soul.” The Professor than got right to work on the studying of the sarcophagus, and with the help of the unicorns among us began to check for any booby traps.
Hypnos took me off to the side, and spoke to me in private. “Listen here, boy,” he said in a hush, “the Professor would never believe me, but now that we’re here in this chamber, I feel as if this were too easy. Finding the tomb half-unburied, the blizzard outside; I can’t help but think we’re being lured into some kind of net that’s silently pulling tight around us.” He then offered me a map and a compass, “Take these, and keep your saddle bags near you at all times.” The bat pony had been good to me all the expedition, and despite what others may think of their race, I hold them in the highest respect now because of the kindness of that stallion.
As I went up to the encampment from the burial chamber that night, my curiosity stopped me near an adjoining chamber which the rest of the crew had overlooked. Taking what few tools I had at my disposal, I began to investigate the room with my small pick and brush. There was one small gap between two bricks in the floor, something which was out of place compared to the uniformity of the rest of the tomb. I grew tired and decided to leave the investigation of this mystery for the next day.
The excitement of the Professor was palatable. Hypnos’ anxiety was equally obvious. The burial chamber was fully cataloged, save one place: the inside of the coffin itself. It took much of both the physical strength of the earth ponies and pegasi, and the mental exertion of the unicorns, but the black lid finally yielded as it was slowly lifted off and placed on the nearby dais.
“What a miracle, Professor,” the archaeology student gushed to her teacher, “Look at how well the body is preserved! The Cutie Mark is even intact! The embalming techniques back in the time of the Crystal Empire must have been incredibly advanced for their period.”
I almost didn’t dare to look, but my wish to have a fantastic story to tell the other children in my hometown goaded me on.
I peeked into the coffin.
The corpse was lying on its back with its forehooves held tightly across its chest, as if it was shivering from the cold just as we were. The Cutie Mark on his hip region was a picture of a sharp four pointed crown, which was itself adorned with chains. The body was covered by a ragged and faded robe that must have been blood red when it was worn in his life. The corpse itself was nothing but skin spread thinly over its bones. The places where its eyes, ears, and nose should have been were bare, and its face was totally desiccated.
“Those are the first organs to go during the decomposition process,” Sandy Trowel explained, “The eyes and anything with cartilage rots away within the first three years after burial. It is odd that he was buried in this position, since most species prefer burial with their stomachs to the floor.” As he thought, the Professor began to stroke his chin, “And another thing; if Umbra Rex was as despised as the historical and folklore accounts made him out to be, why did they take the time to bury him so well?”
The Professor let me go about my business, as the team would be leaving the dig site in a few days to return to Equestria to find more ponies to help bring back everything from the tomb to be further studied in Canterlot. I decided to finally satiate all of my curiosity by continuing the digging in the area I had discovered the day previous.
The gap that I find found remained exactly where it was, but now I was unsettled by its presence. Why would such a perfectly cobbled floor have this one gap? I began to dreadfully remove the bricks from the floor one at a time, and the sight that I saw relieved me, all that was beneath the brick was a dark brown paste.
Then my young brain began to realize something: the mortar should be crumbling from age, but it was damp like it was new. Then I saw the angular pieces of white sticking out of the paste. Unable to look away or act otherwise, I brushed away the muck with my tools.
It was a rib bone.
This was a tomb built on the dead itself, but if the Professor was right, the Crystal Empire fell over a thousand years ago, which meant this grave was fresh, dug sometime with the last few years.
The world suddenly lost all color but grey and black, as if all the color created by natural light had been sucked out of the air, out of my very eyes.
Then I heard the stillness of the sepulcher. There was no sound of the clink of hammers or picks, no rustling and jostling of the other team members. There was no sound of life of any kind, not even of my own breath.
Then there was a sound.
It was that of a rattling deep throat, followed by a heavy exhalation full of fluid, and it was directly behind me.
By Celestia I did not want to turn, but the fear inside of me commanded me to turn, and so I did.
What I saw once I looked was Fear itself. It stood on heavy hooves shod in the darkest of irons. Its legs were wiry, or rather there was next to no muscle beneath the dark grey skin that held it together. Its rib cage was lying just beneath the skin surrounding its chest, and within that robe draped chest I could see a dark green and paled purple light.
All these things struck no terror in me at all compared to its face.
The necromancer king’s face, for it was indeed the corpse of Sombra animated by a perverted mockery of life, oozed a bile-like substance from its mouth, the ichor dripping slowing from his gapping toothless maw. The wisps of dark hair that I had seen on the corpse not but a few hours ago were now full locks of jet black.
The eyes! Merciful Celestia, those hellish eyes! No viscous balls of liquid sat within the sockets on his face. Twin fogs of dark purple smoke trailed from empty holes, and sitting inside those two dark voids pierced out twin points of green light. No predator of nature, no demon in Tartarus itself could match the lifeless, hungry eyes that my young self gazed up into.
His dark horn was lit up with the same sort of power that I had glimpsed in his chest cavity, and I felt my life begin to leave me, and darkness take me.
Suddenly, the sensation stopped as a figure shoved the sorcerer king’s eyes away from mine.
“Run you damn fool,” Hypnos screamed to me as he struggled against the lich, “Run for your life!”
I galloped out of the room, jumping over the bodies of other members of the team, knowing that everypony else was dead.
I burst out of the tomb’s entrance, and saw that the blizzard had subsided. The moon was rising on the horizon to start another early and long night. I ran out and away from the gorge where the tomb sat, and I made it up onto the now calm but icy plains above.
A madness came over me, and I turned to look over my shoulder.
A dense black fog was racing towards me over the unforgiving ice, and from out of it jumped the sorcerer king, barreling down on me to take my life.
His eyes stopped me stone dead.
I screamed, cowered, and wished for my mother.
Suddenly, there was a bright flashing light: a beautiful melding of gold and silver.
I looked up to see the dark tyrant standing but six feet away from me, his progress stopped by a gigantic dome of light. No shadow of his passed through it; he could not even touch it!
As I looked at him anew, I realized that King Sombra was now different. His body was now more covered in muscle, his chest was full, and I realized that he had sharp incisors and a pair of cat-like pupils. My heart sank to an even deeper abyss, and I vomited.
The necromancer’s craving for eternal life knew no measure of mercy or decency. To prolong his unlife, I realized, he had lured other historians and scholars to his tomb. Whether they sought knowledge, wisdom, or power, it didn’t matter: he would harvest their life force and their organs to maintain his own body and existence for years to come. I ran once again, and the lich watched me until I could no longer see him. The shield that kept him away from me, whether it was placed by the denizens of the Crystal Empire or someone else, contained his evil unmeasured from plaguing the world at large. He could afford to wait as long as he needed too though, when luring others to come to him past the protective barrier; he had the patience of death itself.
I almost died on the way back to Equestria. At first when I returned, no one believed my tale. They thought me to be a foolish but imaginative weaver of dark tales. Soon, though, the state realized that Dusty Trowel and his team had gone missing, and as the months continued by with no sign or word from anypony else but me, the more people came to realize that what I was saying was the truth.
You are now the latest recipient of my story. Heed my warnings; not all stories end in happiness. Some long untrodden paths should be forgotten. Most of all, be very careful of what you dig up: you have no idea what unintended evils you may unleash, and no amount of innocence, strength, or courage may be enough to save you.