> The Fall > by Kentavritsa > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Departure: 01 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The room is rather small, but that is fine by me. I'm not going to stick around. I'm standing on a high stool, the light is already out, as I kick the stool out from under me. There is a crack, and it is all over, quiet. There is a sound of a familiar voice, echoing. It is my daughter. “Where did you go? Why did you leave us?” she demands, quite insistently. The echo continues, for what seems to be a minute or it could be two. When the echo starts to die, another voice takes its place. My son's voice. “Of course, they did not understand? Or, they did not know what happened!” I ponder. Unless, of course; I am either imagining, or hearing things. Then again, I am already dead. I should be, after all. The echoing voices persist, only to be replaced by one voice after the other. My wife, my brother, my sister. My father, and finally my mother. Only my parents are dead. It is why I am here, in the first place. “Where are you? We miss you!” my children continue. The echoes slowly die down. Then silence inserts itself in a blinding flash. It is still dark, but now the silence is deafening. I expect a disconcerting discontinuity. A break between a reality I thought I knew and loved. The world I so abruptly escaped. A sharp border and a dull nothing. I am, but still not. Where am I? Or, am I at all? Is it even me? Who, or what am I? No voice, and no sound. A deafening sound of nothing, quiet. There is dark; and through it comes a light, brighter than light. There is light; and through it comes a darkness, darker than black. In the light, there are angels. In the dark, there are daemons. “Where are you coming from, where are you going?” “What are you fleeing, what are you seeking?” My mind is melting, I turn into a hum. What I was, is evaporating as I am changing. Who am I? What am I? I do not know, but I am about to know. There is no escape. There is an instant snap, as from a neck breaking. Everything is dark. So very dark, and cold. > Entry: 02 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- As I wake up, I am alone on the train to Celestia knows where. “Yes, Celestia knows where!” I ponder. Why should she not know, she always knows everything. Every pony knows that. Don't we? I am a white Unicorn filly, alone on the train. I have nothing. Shouldn't I at least have a name? Every pony does have a name. Apparently, I do have a destination. Thank Celestia for that fortune. While I don't know where I am, or where I am going; the Conductor does. A moment before the train starts to slow down, she enters and makes the announcement; “This is your stop, your mother is awaiting you!” “Thank you!” I respond. Since I have nothing, I gather myself and get up from the bed where I had just woken up. I do not want to miss my stop, so I hurry up; I manage to reach the door, just before the train stops. The door swings open, and I spill out. In my haste, I had failed to notice that I am the only pony to get of. There is a station, and the train does stop long enough for me to safely trot of the train and down to the pavement below. I guess I had arrived as empty-hoofed, as I had left. The station appears to be largely abandoned. A door swings open, and a white mare exits the building. Tentatively, I approach her, In the hopes that she had been waiting for me. A smile starts to spread on her face, as she hasten her steps towards me. “Pinkie Pie, is coming to town!” Apparently, it is something similar to April fools' day. Just more like Christmas. A pink face adorns the bright, cheerful poster. That has to be the face of Pinkie Pie herself. “Hi, and welcome home!” she exclaims jubilantly. “Hi!” I respond. “Call me Mum!” she exclaims. That could be awkward. “Yes, Mum. Of course!” I respond. She smiles brightly at me. I bravely flash my brightest grin back at her. If mum is happy, I am. Maybe I don't know better, but I have no reason not to be happy. Besides, she is all I have right now. “If you like, we could go to a Rarity Carousel?” she suggests. “Rarity's Carousel?” I echo, excitedly. Combining the word carousel, with the name Rarity had made me instantly excited. Not because I know what a carousel is, or who Rarity is. Who, and what are these anyway? I am a filly and I am new here. I am nude, because I have nothing. I had noticed, that some ponies are wearing clothes. I just did not react. “The Rarity Carousel!” mum exclaims. Of course. There it is, the carousel. As I look up, I merely gape in awe. “Right this way, my dear!” she exclaims. There is a petite chime calling, just as we enter the boutique. Such a delicate sound. I can see Ponequines dressed up, in the windows. There are also Ponequines delicate and pretty. The Ponequines are all wearing a halter with a delicate bit. Why? “This is the Rarity Carousel!” the mare called Rarity exclaims, in ladylike style. “How may I be of service?” a mare inquires, from further inside. “Matching vests and skirts, for daughter and me?” Mum responds. “We are both the same white, so matching clothes seems right!” I ponder. “Right this way, so that I can take all the required measurements!” she offers. This is why Mum brought me here, so I follow them in into the back.room. I can't for my life imagine why Mum would do anything that could possibly harm me, so I implicitly trust her blindly. Besides, why would the mare do anything bad. The mare managing the boutique produces a measuring-tape, with which she starts to take Mum's measurements. While the mare works, I am ogling and admiring a ponequine in the room. She is apparently wearing the halter, and a set of pony-boots too. While I don't know what these are, or what they are for; I still desire them, both for the looks and how they make me feel inside. “Is it so wrong, to feel hot and desired by wearing these?” I ponder. “Is the red right for me, as a filly?” I inquire. “Red will go quite well with your white coat of fur!” she responds. “I do have a set of boots, in your size. If you like the deep tone of the metallic bloody red!” she adds, just as she finishes taking measurements. “Yes, please!” I respond. I look around, for a moment. Then I find what I had been looking for. A set of glossy rubber-boots, just as she had promised. The Ponequine generously gives them up, for me without complaining. Incidentally, she also wears a matching halter. As I step into the boots, I feel them tighten up around my hooves, with a squeaking noise. A perfect fit. I am thrilled. Before any pony had the time to protest, I take of her halter and put it on. Just like the boots, the halter tightens up around my muzzle. Too late, I realize what it is. This halter eagerly squeezes my mouth shut, and effectively mutes me. While I could reach for my smooth, glossy and now tight rubber-halter; I am incapable of touching it, with either my hooves or my magic. The halter had been adjusted for the Ponequine it had been adorning, not for a living and breathing filly like me. “I should call you Squeak!” Mum muses. “Your boots come with a selection of optional shoes, if you care for these!” Rarity offers. Silver, chrome, copper, gold and cobalt? I can't make up my mind, I want all of them. Maybe, if I could have asked her? Apparently, I had already chosen the colour of my clothes. In effect, I had chosen the colour for my mother as well. Deep red, with black trim-accents. “Strange, how comfortable the halter feels!” I realize; “My halter!” I correct myself, in amusement. “I hope I can keep it!” I ponder; “Would be sad, if I can't have it now!” I add. “Since my little Squeak likes them; I take these boots with the selection of shoes, and the halter and bit!” Mum announces. “Of course!” Rarity agrees. “As a matter of fact; I would like a matching set for me too, if possible!” Mum adds. “Certainly!” the mare continues. “Thank you, Rare!” Mum exclaims. “Would you prefer the ponequine-setting for the halter, or an alternative setting?” she inquires, suggesting options available. “Could I have both settings; or is there any other setting you think I may enjoy?” Mum responds. “In your case, remote or Parental control may be of interest! I will just have to set it up, for you! I will also have to teach you how to manage the settings yourself!” she explains. I will just have to put yours on, before I set you up properly!” she continues. “Our personal Rarity, even if her name is not Rarity and she is not the genuine Rarity!” I ponder. Her horn starts to glow, in a bright, light blue, as mum picks up her halter and dons it with her unicorn grace. “Now you have to face one-another!” she instructs. “Eye-contact is critical!” she adds. Mum is facing me, gazing deeply into my eyes. As she faces me, I face her; as she is gazing into my eyes, I gaze into hers. I can not avert my gaze or look away, I do not want to. While I can still not speak or even part my lips in the least, my mum will be able to hear me while she keeps her halter on. At least, if it is in Parental Control mode. She will be able to put on or remove my halter at will, as she pleases. Why not, she is after all my mother. Rarity removes her halter and resets it for each desired setting in turn. Once she has finished adjusting my halter, she repeats the process with my mother's halter. From there, she explains how to change the settings of the individual halters, to the desired settings. My halter reverts to original Ponequine settings, while my Mum can hear me. “What is the range one can hear the other? Mum asks, for me. “I do not know, this has never been properly established. If you do learn, please let me be the first to know!” she responds. “While you can breathe and communicate, the halter must come of for you to eat!” she points out, most sternly. “Don't you forget that, Squeak!” I hear my mum, even if her lips are tight. “No, Mum; I will not!” I respond. “Curious, am I supposed to hear you too?” I add. “I don't know!” I hear; “But it certainly could prove convenient!” she adds. I close my eyes, turn my head and see her beside me to the right. “Could I..?” I inquire. “On the second floor, the balcony up front!” Rarity suggests, pointing out the way to the name-sake carousel. > The Ponequine Carousel: 3 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ”Thank you, Rarity!” I simply nod, before I go where she had told me to go for the carousel. Negotiating the flight of stairs up to the second floor proved easier than I had initially imagined. I could not say that these adorable boots were a hindrance, even with shoes on. “Clip, clop! Clip, Clop!” I hear my shoes, with each and every step. There is clearly no escaping the noises, my shoes make; as I continue, towards the indicated location. It is not just in my head, I am hearing the shoes hitting the floor. Of course I had chosen these shoes, and I had accepted the help putting them on. I can as well accept, what this means and what it makes me. I don't need to horse around, but I am a filly nonetheless. Now I am still going to enjoy myself. In an instant, there is a flash of images; memories, of who and what I had once been. Riding the carousel should be a blast. Just that I am a Pony now, riding the carousel-horse. Or, is that a Pony, too; just like me, which is strange. I still do want the offered ride, I can't just turn back now. Should I explain, what I had experienced? How does one even explain; what one can barely remember, or understand? I am a Pony, a little filly. It is all I am, and it is all I will ever be; though I expect to grow up to a mature Pony and mare one beautiful day, in the village of Ponyville. While I had been something other than a Horse, or Pony; I have little to no recollection of this time, knowing I could never go back to what I had been. I had effectively given up on that life, once and for all. I had found it, too hard for me to bear; swapping the life for the one I have now. Maybe this is a better life, than I could ever have had back then and there; because it certainly does feel better right now. I am free to enjoy this life, with a mare who cares about me and will be protecting me if need be. At least I think so, even if I could never know; before this is put to the test. “Clip, clop; clip, clop!” I hear, as I am finally approaching the carousel. The noises are knocking me out of the thought-pattern, right back to where I am. Thankfully. The image of a past memory, shattered, into dust; possibly never to return, ever again. As sweet as the original memory may have been; it is liable to be a hindrance in my life and recovery. “Why do these carousel horses look like Ponequines, just like the once in her boutique?” I ponder; “These does look nothing like a Carousel Hours, or a Pony for that matter!” I continue. Now I continue, slowly trotting up towards the first of the Carousel-Horses of the carousel before me. Of course, I have to step out in order to have my promised ride; but why should this stop me now, after I had been promised I could have the ride? At first, I had expected the same old and hard plastic feel to the surface; the why they always felt under your hands, only I have no hands to touch the surface of this carousel-horse with, The surface feels nothing like I had been expecting, and the fact that I have hooves in place of hands is not the cause of the dissonance. Not even the boots and shoes I had on, could be accounting for this. Or, could it? While my memory is vague, at best; just as my specific recollection is less than reliable, but this is not the hard surface of the carousel-horse I still cling to at this point. The memory is that, of a happier time; my childhood, before my path started to spiral out of my hands. Or is it hooves now? No, it was certainly hands; back then, I am sure of it. While I am a pony, now; which is making this feeling a bit awkward at first, but I think I can mount this carousel-horse the same way as I once had. Now a Ponequine, but I manage to mount her. “But of course, she is a mare!” I ponder; “Anything else seems to be unthinkable!” I consider, as I am getting up onto her back. The carousel is still silent, and unmoving. It is so much easier, to mount my carousel horse; when it is not in motion, and safer. Considering that I am on the second floor. There is one distinct difference, from the old carousel horse; this Ponequine feels warm, and her skin is more elastic, than I could recall. Should I freak out, or thank Celestia for this one change? I have no idea, so I stick with doing neither. In the end, I manage to place my rump onto the saddle; secured onto the back, of this Ponequine. That was easy, wasn't it? Now I am slipping my hind hooves into the stir-ups, right and left; before I am grabbing hold, onto the Ponequine herself. There is a strange, and unforeseen stirring in the mare I am holding on to. “Neigh!” she exclaims. I am momentarily taken aback, by the unexpected response; but this is after all a land of magic, very real. I gather my wits, and hold onto the Ponequine now under me. All the carousel-horses are white, with a deep purple mane and tail; this is after all Rarity's home, so what had I been expecting. Though the saddles are different colours, following the rainbow; all very fancy, stylish. On second thought, I notice they had all been given make-up, based on the premise of being Rarity. Well, why not? There is a chime, and the music is starting up; just as if this had been one of these old carousels, I barely remember anymore. The volume is picking up to the working standards, and the horse starts moving forwards. After a moment, the horse is trotting, then she gets into a steady gallop, I cling to her back and neck. “Okay, this is not the carousel I recall!” I realize; “But I guess, it is more exciting, this way!” I conclude. While I feel her body going up and down, in the traditional manner of a regular carousel horse; she is also moving like a real horse, or pony, as she is galloping round the home of Rarity's. From my position, on top of the horse; I can clearly see most of the village of Ponyville. It is now my home. After a while, as she had reached a fast-paced gallop, it is too exciting; I lose interest in the view, in place of holding onto the horse upon which I am sitting. While my position is good enough for a good view of most of the village, I am not high up enough for an unobstructed view; however, it is more than high enough, for it to be a pretty mean fall, if I were to fall off of this horse and fall to the ground. I guess that reflex had not quite let go of me, even if I had forgotten most else of who I had been before. Should I have been thankful, for this reflex; or should I resent it, for being flat wrong, in my new position? So much is different here, in the village of Ponyville in Equestria, than everything I had ever known, in my former life as a poor human. Most of what I knew, is now wrong. Let's just leave it at that; and move on, trying to grasp the life as a Pony, and enjoy this ride. In the end, all things come to an end; and so does this carousel ride, too. At least, I had had fun; while it lasted. The ride slows down, the horse slow down to a trot; before it all stop, just where I had started the ride. I climb off of my horse and step back into the house. I continue further in, and close the door behind me. Had this all been a dream? I can't shake the event out of my head; the ride had felt so real; even if it had been strange and close to impossible. Just the fact that a mare has a functional carousel on her house? People just do not have such things. A carousel is on a theme-park, that is where it belongs. Isn't it? Either way, I had enjoyed the ride and the gift for all it had been worth. I will treasure this memory, for as long as I can remember it. Even if it turns out to be a lucid fever-dream as I wake up and shiver in the morning? As I get down the flight of stairs, my mother is waiting for me. She is not impatient. Why should she be, she is after all my mother. On second thought, she does look positively excited. She had concluded the deal; the clothes she had bought for the two of us, hers and mine. Maybe she had enjoyed a glimpse of my joy and excitement; right there with me, and thus had the reason to be excited? Or, she is merely excited for me. She is doing her job, as my mother; seeing to my well-being, as a young foal, filly? I am not holding either against her. It is not my place. I am merely happy; for a mother who cares for me, and looks out for me. “That was quite the ride, wasn't it?” she inquires, as I am getting close to her side once more. “Yes, mum; it certainly way!” I respond; "Thank you, Rarity, for the ride; it was such an exciting thrill!” I add. Of course, I had to thank Rarity; if I had thanked her, before the ride or not. This is not an offer, I could have been expecting; she had not been obligated to offer me the ride, even if I had seen the carousel before I had entered the shop. “Such an adorable little filly, I sometimes wish my sister Sweetie Belle could have been a bit more like her!” Rarity ponders, with a sting of guilt; “You are quite welcome, my dear!” she responds. Of course, being the element of generosity; this had been natural to her, it is just the kind of mare Rarity is. No point in fighting it, and not when it is making her fellow ponies smile. “I think, I will have to be back soon; since we will need new clothes, every once in a while!” my mother exclaims. “Of course, my dear!” Rarity exclaims, smiling. “Welcome back!” Rarity points out, as we trot out of her boutique. “Thank you, Rarity!” my mother responds, and I chorus her just a moment after. The door slams shut, as we exit; but with a very lady-like little noise, not the monstrous boom one would commonly have been expecting. --- --- ---