The Pinkie Pie Massacre

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This is all my fault.

Rainbow Dash carries me in her arms, dropping me on the cold, hard floor.

This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have used the mirror pool to clone myself. Now I’m in the library with all thirty-nine of them. The stage has the curtain deployed. I hear feet walk out onto it, but I don’t look. A voice reaches me, anyway. It’s Twilight Sparkle saying, “Pinkies, you've been brought here to take a test.”

They chorus back, “Awww!”

They crane their necks. I do not. I can hear Twilight as she struts about the stage. “Don't worry, it's a simple test, about as simple as they come, and whoever passes gets to stay.” Gets to stay? This demands my full attention! My duplicates grasp this too. Twilight calls, “Curtain, please. The test... will be watching paint dry!” What? Really? No way! That’s like the most boringest boring thing ever! And the prize is getting to stay with my friends. I swallow. And if I fail, I’ll have to leave Ponyville forever. Forever… I look up to see Twilight with her wand all glowy, standing in front of a big board sorta like a billboard, only smaller, covered in wet, blue paint. She raises it in the air. “On your mark, get set, go!”

Spike squeals, “Ooh, this is so exciting!”

Silence, the really silent kind. Nobody moves. There’s Spike, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight watching up front, Spike munching popcorn, and all the me’s staring at the blue wall. So we’re literally watching paint dry. Nothing happens. I wish my Pinkie Sense would tell me something, so maybe I could know what’s coming, but nothing. My nose itches, but I can’t scratch it. My leg’s in a weird position, but I can’t move it. I’m stuck here. It isn’t really too long, but it feels like forever.

Hours pass with nothing happening. My itch in my nose is gone, but it’s migrated all over me. My neck is super stiff; I wish I could move it. The ache in my leg has gone from annoying to really painful. I don’t let them see; I can’t let them see. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I can’t give up, not on my friends, not on myself. I trace patterns in the blue paint to prevent myself from moving. That one looks like Canterlot. One looks like the Cake twins. One looks like one of Trixie’s things. Hey, that part seems to be oozing less that that other one; maybe it’s drying faster. I stare closely. Wow, Pinkie Pie, you’re actually finding fun in watching paint dry. Fun… That’s what these clones chant. Why did I make them in the first place? It was silly, but now it’s serious, so deadly serious.

I feel the stares from the stage. I still the twitch in my cheek. Wait, twitch? That’s Pinkie Sense! It means… something bad is about to happen. I feel my heart start pounding away in my chest like Applejack’s cow stampede.

Spike eats the last of his popcorn and moans, “Okay, maybe not that exciting.” Hey, Spike, did you know that paint doesn’t dry all together? It’s like a really colorful spilled drink; it gets dry slowly, but some parts are gonna be dry first, y’know. And then it looks different as it gets dry; wet paint looks really shiny, but it gets less shiny when it gets dry. I mean, why can’t we keep the shine on dry paint; I think that’d be super pretty.

Twilight paces the stage. She motions to Rainbow Dash to open a window, because it’s getting hot and stuffy in here, sorta like how I’d imagine a library would be, only this library really is like that, well not all the time, but it is right now. Dashie opens the window. A cool breeze, sweet as creamy creamy frosting comes in and dries the sweat off my forehead.

I hear my voice. One of the other me’s must’ve looked at the window, and chirps, “Oh, hey, look at the birdie!” Too late, she suddenly stops. Twilight’s wand gets bright and a beam of light flies from it, right over my head. “OOF! Hey, that tickles!” Twilight looks confused. She raises her wand again and casts the spell again, but I only hear tickled laughter. I’d smile, but I don’t want to go.

Twilight looks down at her wand. “What the…” she says. All eyes are on her. She looks around for a moment, really tense. Then she says, “Spike, go take my laundry to the cleeaners.” She instructs him without meeting his eyes. He leaves, not walking, but running. A knot forms in my stomach. I remember my twinge of Pinkie Sense saying something bad was about to happen. She turns to Dashie and says, “Rainbow Dash, time for plan b.” Plan b? What’s that?

Rainbow salutes and replies, “Got it.” She steps behind the stage. What’s she doing? Just half a minute later, she’s back with two cases. One’s long. One’s short. What’s in there? I’ve never seen anything like those. They look like the safe deposit boxes the Cakes use for their business. I see the writing on it. What’s CZ? What’s H&K?

Rainbow Dash holds the box and presents it to Twilight Sparkle. Twilight opens the latches and opens the box. She looks at what’s in there, glancing between the box and us, like she’s counting how many of us there are against something. She asks Rainbow, “Rainbow Dash, there’s enough for all of them, right?” What are they talking about?

“Eh yeah,” responds Dashie,” CZ-75’s got sixteen nine millimeter shots in the mag.”

“One spare and one loaded makes for for thirty-two hollow point nine by nineteen milimeter rounds. Aren’t there any more?”

Rainbow nods. “One in the pipe, too.”

“So thirty three… Applejack, you got yours?”

“I sure do,” shouts back AJ from behind us. “I got Zecora to lend me her AK-47. The door’s covered.” What?

“With Rainbow’s HK33 holding forty and yours thirty, that’s ninety-three. Okay, so I’m going down there to get them one at a time. Rainbow Dash, stay on the stage and do an insurance shot for every Pinkie I hit. Apple Jack, get any runners.” Twilight smirks grimly and takes something out. My blood freezes. I see my other clones go white.

She has a gun!

We freeze I don’t know if it’s a joke or what, but nobody wants to find out. Rainbow kneels down and retrieves the thing from her case. Please, Celestia, let it not be another gun. Unfortunately, she draws out a long, black thing with a curved rectangle sticking out the bottom. She gets a big, wooden box from backstage and stands atop it, pointing her gun at us. The Pinkie next to me begins trembling. Then she shouts, “Don’t nobody move! Move and I’ll blast you."

“The test is still going on, Pinkies. And now, because the spells to send you back didn’t work, we’re taking it up a level.” Why? This can’t be happening! Twilight, Rainbow, and Applejack can’t be lining us up for slaughter!

She walks right past us and to what must be the first clone. I recognize my voice pleading, “Please, no!” BANG! Thud. Screams. Rainbow raises her assault rifle and fires. This is happening. Oh my Celestia! This is real! Terror, real terror jumps on me. I don’t want to die here! On the left behind me: BANG! Bang! On the right behind me. BANG! I hear somebody trying to hide her pain on the left, dragging herself away. It’s all quiet again. I hope she makes it okay, but I can’t look.

After a long five seconds, I hear Applejack say, “The one on your left’s still movin’, Twi. Hit ‘er again.” I hear Twilight walk over to the wounded Pinkie, who’s squealing nonono, but then I see Dashie take aim an fire. BANG! The woman goes silent.

I hear retching, like somebody’s about to puke, but it’s cut off with a gunshot. Four, they’ve killed four clones! Thank Celestia it wasn’t me. I smell blood and something sulfurous, kinda like the smell after Spike does his thing with the fire breath. Poor kid, I hope he doesn’t see this.

I hear sniffling. I hear footsteps approach. “No! Please!”

“Hold still!”

Suddenly, a clatter of footsteps rises from the crowd. The other Pinkie by me gets up with them, panicked, desperately trying to make it to the door. Maybe they’ll be enough to get by Applejack. I want to look, but I don’t want to see it. Horrible images flash across my mind. Rainbow’s 33 sings. BANG! Her struggle – her life is lost, but what about Applejack’s 47?” In the very middle of the very front row, I can only wait for the shooting and then hear the screaming. I close my eyes, digging my nails into my knees. First, noise. Shoes squeak and clatter on the laminated wood floor. Then, chattering gunfire, louder than thunder. PARARAPARAPRAP! Bullets whiz over my head. Now I know why they made us all sit. Rainbow follows it up by raising her HK33 and squeezing off six shots. Six, that’s… I can’t think; my ears are ringing. I feel like I’m going to burst from fright. I can’t even flinch or cover my ears. I can’t look away from the blue paint or they’ll kill me!

“That’s a quarter of em’, Twi!”

Did she say a quarter? So I’ve made it halfway to being half done, but I don’t know how much more I can take. If they start getting closer to me, I might not be able to handle it. I imagine feeling the cold steel of the CZ-75 pressed up against the back of my head. And then… no…

We stare dead ahead. I let go of my knees. They sting and I feel something wet and sticky. I’m bleeding. It’s silence ringing in our ears. Twilight stalks around behind us. Crump. I hear her step closer for the first time. No. I grip my knees but don’t claw in. It’s becoming too much; I can’t stay still. It’s driving me crazy. I gotta move; have to do something, even if it’s just twirling my hair in between my fingers. Or maybe crack my knuckles? Chew my fingernails? I’ve never been so scared. My hearts’ beating like a rabbit, and it only gets harder and faster with every single heavy step Twilight takes towards me.

She stops just behind me. A scuffle – a Pinkie’s voice cries out alarm as Twilight grunts and pulls her out of the group. With a crunch, someone hits the floor. A high-pitched scream of pain starts. BANG! It stops.

Bang. I see her, out of the corner of my eye, I see Twilight getting closer. She’s got blood on her. One of my clones turns her head just a bit to look at her. There’s a blur of motion at Twilight brings her gun to the Pinkie’s forehead and pulls the trigger. I feel something land in my hair. Please let it just be muzzle blast. I concentrate with all my heart on the drying paint. It looks sorta like something semi-solid semi-liquid, like a wet jelly or jello. Mmm, those are good. I see something new and red in front of me. It takes me but a second to realize what it is. I feel sick. I can never eat jelly again.

Twilight steps around the front. She looks wrong. Her eyes are dead and empty like a shark’s. She stops right in front of my, blocking my view. She stares us down, trying to get us to meet her eyes, to break out focus. Her gaze passes over me. She’s looking directly at me. I can feel Rainbow’s stare, her HK33 aimed right at my head, ready to pull the trigger. And Applejack’s definitely ready to blow me away. I can almost feel her bullet entering my brain. What do I do? Dear Celestia, what do I do? I can’t crack; I’ll die. If I run, I’ll die. If I fight, I’ll die. Someone, anyone, help. I don’t wanna die! Please, let it be somebody else. Please, let something distract her; get her and her gun away from me. I feel the urge to do anything but be completely still. I’ll scream, I’ll jump, I’ll cry, but I can’t make myself sit still.

“Uh,” I hear my voice. It’s small, weak, terrified. Twilight stares at me, trying to figure out who made that noise. I want to shot that it wasn’t me, but then it really would be me, so then I would be killed. Slowly, Twilight raises her pistol and points it at me. No… No no nonono. She extends it forwards. I see it shaking in her hands. It see her clasping, white knuckles. I see her finger squeezing the trigger tighter and tighter. I force myself to watch. I don’t even breathe. Another whimper. She looks at me. BANG BANG! Another fliches. Twilight executes her.

A clone’s voice asks, “What happened?” Twilight bolts away, thundering away from us. I hear the frightened scream of the Pinkie clone as Twilight presses her handgun to her forehead. A single shot explodes from back there, dissolving into sobs of pure suffering, until and a single shot issues from Rainbow Dash’s rifle. I hear her rolling on the ground, gurgling, struggling to speak, but there’s no hope. Twilight fires. Silence again.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Twilight shoots five times, and Rainbow follows it up with a volley of five rounds. I hear the shouts of horror and the bodies move to protect themselves in the onslaught. There’s something coming from the back, but a blast from Applejack’s AK-47 cuts it off cold. Rainbow Dash did not neglect to give each one its own insurance shot.

“Rainbow Dash, how many is that?”

“That makes twenty-one, Twilight.” We’re only about halfway done? No, it’s gotta be more than that; I can’t take another twenty.”

“I’m empty,” Twilight calls as something slides and then clatters on the floor. The noise startles a clone behind me.

“Ow!” Another clone cries, “Don’t kick me.”

“S-“ BANG! BANG! BANG! Rainbow kills them all. The kicked one slumps forward, landing between me and the Pinkie on my right. I feel the hot blood pool on the floor. It seems though my socks and wets my bare legs. I feel something sticky and heavy brush my back, a hoarse whisper accompanying it. “Why…?” Through my shirt, I can feel its touch -- that’s an arm. The thing turns heavy and falls, fingers trailing through my shirt, seeking out somebody to hold. I feel it relax. The stirring stops. I feel her die as she reached out to me in her final moments. The blood starts feeling colder and stickier, like a red mockery of the blue paint.

Twenty-four are dead of the original forty. And only one can be left alive. Seventeen more must die. These aren’t just copies made by magic; they’re real people! I just felt one die. Twilight, Rainbow, Applejack, please, stop! You aren’t just dispelling illusions; you’re murdering real people who think and feel like you do! This isn’t like unmasking a Changeling! We’re all the real Pinkie Pie! Just stop!

Twilight announces, “Good to go, girls,” as she finishes her reload. Now it’s down to just us survivors. Fifteen more deaths to go. Fifteen more murders to be committed. Fifteen more living bodies to be destroyed.

I’ve made it this far. I can’t die now. I can’t give up now that I’ve made it most of the way. I don’t want to die. I mean, I know that I’m going to die someday, but I don’t want to die today, like here, like this, scared, in pain, shot by my best friends.

Why does this have to happen? Why did I have to play with the mirror pool? This is all my fault. I’m responsible for forcing my friends to turn into killers. I’m the one responsible for all this killing.

I choke back the tears and brace myself for the horrific concluding phase. I stare again at the drying paint. A long time passes with nothing happening. It’s boring again. The blood on my legs has dried, some of it turning a horrible brown color. The stench of blood and shooting is suffocating. It’s hot. I’m dry and thirsty. My throat itches and scratches, but I suppress the urge to cough. Nothing happens for a long time. I watch the paint dry to the point where it looks like it’s completely stuck on, just like the blood staining my body. I see the bright light of midday turn into the golden light of afternoon. The threat hangs over us all. The pressure slowly mounts. I can feel the urge to move growing, becoming unbearable. Sweat collects on my body and on my face. If I try to wipe it off, I will be killed. It is oppressive. They are always watching. It is agony. Eventually, out of the torturous monotony, a sound comes from behind us.

Tap-tap-tap-tap. We stay still, either too frightened or dazed to react. I know that sound; it’s AJ tapping her foot against the wall, keeping time while passing the time with a beat in her head. Tap-tap-t-tap-ta-ta-tat-tap. It comes again. My stomach twists into knots.

“Oooh, what’s that beat?” Chirps another Pinkie. I hear bodies move to look, followed almost immediately by the sound of Twilight’s strides hitting the floor. Bang! Rainbow Dash fired that! Twilight fires her CZ-75 BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! The four I hear react to the beat are shot. The loud cracks of Rainbow Dash’s HK33 make my ears ring again, and each blast sends a spike of pain through my head. We can’t take much more before cracking; we’re all on the edge.

Rainbow yawns. She says, “That’s twenty-nine, Twilight.”

Twilight gets on the stage and addressed us, “Pinkies, you’re almost at the end; only ten more of you will be shot before we know which one of you is the real Pinkie Pie. Any questions?”

One raises her hand. “Oooh, me!” Rainbow moves her rifle. I tense for the noise and pain. Bang! Rainbow Dash destroys her with a single shot. I hear her body hit the floor. BANG! I hear Applejacks’ AK-47 erupt.

“That’s thirty down. Just in case ya’ll’re thinkin’ about trying to get out, I’m right here.”

I hear the Pinkie on the floor; she’s still alive! I hear her pleading, “Aaah! I can’t move! Somebody, help me, please! AAAAHHHH! I’m dying, can’t you see!? I don’t wanna die, mama! I don’t wanna die! AJ, Twiley, Dashie, please, don’t kill me. I’m your friend, Pinkie Pie – it’s me!” I want to cry. I want to hold her and tell her that everything’s going to be alright, but I can’t; she knows that nobody can help her now as the blood spills from the bullet hole in her body and her life slips away. I can’t help her; I’ll be killed, but if I don’t help her, and I live, her dying cries in agony will haunt me forever. Tears well up in my eyes. Dear Celestia, just make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop! Why are they letting them suffer like this? Just shoot them already!

I hear something. Rainbow Dash aims and fires. A blood-curdling shriek rips through my soul. I can’t look away from the blue board. I can’t even acknowledge that I hear them. She falls, but doesn’t go silent. I hear her moans of pain as she gets up again, coughing up blood. Her footsteps are irregular, staggered. She goes over to the other dying Pinkie. With great difficulty, she whispers, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“How bad is it?”

“It’s not too bad. You’re gonna be just fine. You just need a nap and you’ll be all better.”

“I feel cold and sleepy. Would you please hold me?”

“Okie dokie lokie.” She cries softly, “Good night.”

BANG! Twilight’s handgun fires. I hear a body hit the floor. Tears roll down my face. I can’t give up – I can’t quit -- die now.

Rainbow Dash gives her bullet to the most recent victims and Twilight Sparkle starts to patrol again, going the opposite of the direction she was going last time, going counterclockwise this time. I hear someone crying quietly. Bang! Bang! That person goes quiet forever.

I have never been more miserable or terrified. Now it’s just us last six. Thirty-four of us are dead. Five more to go. I’m going to break. This is driving me insane. It’s painful just to look at that blue board. My heart races as I hear Twilight’s footsteps approaching. I feel the terror in me again, dreading feeling the cold metal of her pistol against the back of my head. I don’t want to die. My hand shakes. I dig my nails into my knee again to make it stop.

Thunk thunk thunk thunk. Twilight’s shoes plod along the floor. She steps carefully around the dead lying everywhere. It’s just us last ones left now. We all huddle together in the very front. The woman on my right has eyes as big as saucers, and she’s so scare that she’s lost all color in her face. Please, keep it together… Twilight circles us like a wolf. The stench is overpowering. The wretched smell of death meets my nose. I hear one behind me puke. Twlight is on her in an instant. “No!” BANG! Bang!

It’s too much for another Pinkie. I hear her face clap into her hands as she starts sobbing uncontrollably. Twilight’s footsteps stop right behind her. I grit my teeth. Bang! Bang! Blood and bits spray over us. The one right behind me gags. She lurches onto her hands an knees, vomiting. Twilight kills her with no mercy. Rainbow Dash sends a bullet right by my face so close I can feel the heat. The new stench of vomit adds to my misery.

But At last, it’s the last of us. Only myself and one other survive. Twilight stands behind us. I see her shadow passing the gun between us, waiting for one of us to make a mistake. Somebody has to die. I wish it wasn’t true, but it’s either me or her. First one to break loses.

She’s just as much Pinkie Pie as I am; I could sacrifice myself and they’d never know the difference. I know that she’s just as terrified and traumatized as I am. I know that I will never be the same. Then I think of it, and I see the howling abyss in my mind. Just the feeling of steel against the back of my head, a blow, and then what? Nothing? Forever and ever?

Is the last thing I see the floor as everything fades to black? Is it going to hurt? Are they going to make it quick, or are they going to let me die slowly? No. No. No. No. Don’t let it end this way! It can’t end this way! My concentration is slipping. I stare harder at the blue board, desperately trying to contain myself. My heart is breaking. All this death and shooting and screaming is too much, but I can’t give up; I don’t want to die!

I feel the CZ-75 right behind my head. My heart’s beating like a rabbit. To my horror, the hot muzzle makes contact. My hair singes. My scalp feels like it’s burning. On my right, I catch the eye of my last clone. I can’t take it anymore! Almighty God, enough, enough!” I feel the pistol against the back of my head. I go perfectly still like a statue, not even daring to breathe. I want to run, but I’ll die for sure if I run. I want to say something, but my throat’s so dry. I want to fight for my life, but I’m about to collapse. Pure existential terror fills me. I hear the trigger click as Twilight puts pressure on it. NO! This can’t be happening! I’m the real Pinkie Pie! She pulls back, but I just know that she’s holding the muzzle just hairs from my head; she’s going to kill me! She exhales. God, please - BANG!

I fall forwards.

I wake up drenched in sweat. I’m in my bed with some woman I picked up. Usually, sharing my bed stops the nightmares, but not tonight. The flashbacks – the panic, it’s just as bad as that day years ago when my best friend put a gun to my head. It is nearly impossible, but I force my breathing to slow, thus calming my body but not my mind. I put my feet on the cold floor and walk over to the window. It’s a full moon in the sky. The nightmare still rages in my mind, just like it does every single night; not a day goes by when I don’t remember it, get dragged back there in a flashback or in my nightmares. The massacre… the clones… the nightmares… all that death… carnage… it’s all my fault. I cry. If only I hadn’t been so stupid, then none of it would have happened. I’m still Pinkie Pie, but not even I can really get over what happened. I survived, but that’s the worst part. Now I have to live with it – live with myself, every single day for the rest of my life.