Midnight Specter writes for the Thirty-Minute Ponies tumblr blog.
In which I write for the prompts of the Thirty-Minute Ponies blog, and also upload some other scraps and short stories. As you can expect, being written in half an hour means most of this stuff is pretty raw. Still, hopefully you'll get some kicks out of them every now and then. Some may be sad, some comedic, others dark or shippy - it depends on the prompt, really. Each story will be tagged for genre when it gets uploaded.
Prompt 1: 'Hush' - Write a RainbowPie story in which one (or both) of the characters does not utter a single word of dialogue for the entire story.
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Not to Be
“Twilight, seriously! What are we doing out here?”
Twilight Sparkle didn't slow down, didn't even turn her head as she answered, “It's... a surprise.”
Rainbow Dash seethed, but kept her mouth shut as she plodded along behind the unicorn. They'd been walking for ages, and without knowing where they were going she couldn't even fly ahead. Not that flying was particularly useful in the Everfree Forest; the thick brush and low, overhanging branches made it difficult to manoeuvre, so it was pretty much pointless.
She seethed, but that didn't stop her from hoping, for Twilight's sake, that she'd been dragged out here for a good reason. Twilight might be a bit stupid sometimes, but she wasn't an idiot; the Everfree Forest was no place to be when night fell, and night was falling pretty darn quickly. Any minute now, the orange sky would fade to grey, and the Everfree would fade to black.
Not that she was scared or anything. Being scared of the dark was for wimps and little crybaby fillies. Nor was she scared of any manticore, cockatrice or Celestia knew what other beast out of Tartarus came her way. But there was a difference between being scared and being practical. She'd learned that the hard way.
“Twilight, whatever this is had better show up in about the next thirty seconds, because I'm not staying around much longer than that.”
With a smirk, Twilight came to a stop and set her horn aglow, lighting up what Rainbow now realised was a small clearing which looked eerily artificial. The trees were far too evenly spaced, and there seemed to be some sort of pattern on the ground. Not only that; she now realised that for the past few minutes, she'd not heard a single sound past the beating of their hooves. No birds, no critters, no enraged, hellish monsters. It was just... silent.
“Rainbow Dash, do you remember many Old Mares' Tales?”
“One or two. What's that got to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with anything.” She took a breathe and walked to the centre of the clearing. “I read a story not long ago. It was sad, really; it was all about a pair of lovers who it seemed everything was just perfect for... but one day, they had a fight. The next day, one of them died. The one who lived cried for days, wishing she could make things right between them again – and then one day, she met a zebra who claimed to have a special power: he could bring back the dead, for just a single moment.”
Twilight began to harp on about how this clearing was essentially a fault-line of magical essence, somehow linking this world with the afterlife, and so much more magical jazz, but Rainbow Dash's mind kept replaying a few choice words. “He could bring back the dead, for just a single moment.”
A tiny light spread through her heart, but was it too good to be true? “Twilight, why are we here?”
“You saw it yourself when Nightmare Moon came back, Dash; some Old Mares' Tales aren't just fiction. Zecora and I found this place – whoever that zebra was, he-”
“Twilight. Why are we here?”
This time, Twilight answered not with words, but with actions. She lit her horn ablaze, pouring magic into a spell both complex and simple at the same time, sending eldritch violet light shimmering through the glade, and finally touched her horn to the centre of the design on the forest floor. Suddenly the light spread, expanding like a web over the ground, until the glyph was fully alight with the magic of life itself.
And Rainbow knew why everything had been silent around this place. The world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the miracle that was Pinkie Pie to come back for that one, special, heartwrenching moment.
The sound of laughter danced on the wind, and from within the light stepped a shining, bright pink mare, her smile gifting the world one last time with its presence. She bounced forward, her face alight with joy, while from her eyes shone acceptance and love. No words were said, yet somehow Rainbow could feel everything that might have been. Pinkie didn't blame her for what had happened, and she forgave her for what had been said; she loved her Dashie, and she didn't mind waiting a little bit longer if it meant they could be together again. But it was definitely nice to see each other.
And suddenly, as quickly as they had been reunited, they were torn apart; beginning with her hooves and spreading upwards, Pinkie began to fade. Rainbow Dash cried – she stepped forward, reaching out towards the dissipating phantasm in a last-ditch attempt to just touch her one last time, to lean forward that little bit more and steal just one more kiss...
But it was not to be. Radiating warmth and gladness, Pinkie disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a giggle and a lonely, crying pegasus.
All the lights went out, and a hush swept out over the auditorium. The audience waited, with wide eyes and pent breath, for exactly the same thing I did; for the curtains to open and expose me to the world.
Would I succeed? Would I fail? I took a deep breath to steady myself, but it did nothing to ease my trembling hooves and treacherous thoughts – and yet, I still felt an odd sense of optimism. So much of my life rested upon the outcome of this performance, but I could somehow feel it; I would do just fine. Regardless, I checked myself over once more, straightening my tie and tugging on my cuffs a little.
The quiet hiss of the curtains drawing back was all the warning I had; the stage lights came on, illuminating me at the forefront of the stage, sitting before a large, black piano. Suddenly, I had the complete and undivided attention of a lot of ponies, and my heartbeat rose even higher.
I set my hooves against the ivory keys, and remembered something my teacher had once said. “Your audience won’t be there to see you; they’re there to hear you. The music is yours, and they’ll give you all the time you need to weave it.”
Taking a final, deep breath, I began.
The song I played was one I knew well; not only had hours of practice cemented its soft, lilting melody, but it was in fact the first song I ever wrote – it was a simple piece, dedicated to my mother. I remembered the first time I played it – even now, it still felt as though her loving eyes were watching over me as I played, not for one pony, but for a thousand.
Each keystroke trilled like birdsong; each note I played meant something, and resonated joyfully, dancing in the air for just a moment before it melted into the wide, sweeping theme. The music was like a conduit for my emotions, molding the carefree memories of my childhood into an audible, beautiful form.
And then, a change. A body, broken and lifeless; a child crying loudly over it. My grandfather comforting me, even as he himself wept. The days that came afterward, wandering around aimlessly as though my life had lost all purpose.
And finally, the day when I once again laid eyes on that tall, grand piano.
I couldn’t see the music sheets through the tears in my eyes, but nor did I need to; I knew it all by heart. So I shut my eyes and played by feel, and let the song wash over me; I played until the song reached its climax, and I played on through its bittersweet dénouement, until at last I played the final note, and let it sing its lonely song.
All was silent as, with my hooves free, I wiped my eyes and stood. Walking with unsure steps to the edge of the stage, I took a deep, long bow, then righted myself once more. From the darkness beyond, I heard a single clop. Then another, and still one more – then the entire auditorium filled with the sound of ovation.
A tear rolled slowly down her face. Another followed it, and another, but Gilda raised no claw to wipe them away. She held her regal poise, looking into the distance, awaiting the sun’s slow rise. And when it at last shone its light upon the world… she would sing.
She wanted to look away, to gaze instead at the one lying beside her, lifeless… yet serene, happy. But she would not break millenia-old griffon customs for mere discomfort. She would not dishonour the one she loved so easily.
At last, the bright orb of the sky began to edge over the surface, reminding her of Fluttershy’s love of the dawn and all its wonders. Oh, how Fluttershy would sing, so full of life and joy… and now she would be sung over, as she was returned to the earth.
As she imagined laying the beautiful pegasus in the dirt and covering her again, Gilda shook and had to swallow back a gasp of pain. She would never love again; not for griffon traditions, but because there was simply no other like Fluttershy. No other being in Equestria - pony, griffon, or anything else - would she ever love as she had that beautiful, beautiful…
She praised all the gods that the sun had wholly risen when she broke down, falling to her side and covering her beak with both claws. She curled up beside Fluttershy’s body and sobbed - reached out to brush her pink mane out of her eyes, as she had done so often in the years before… only this time, her eyes weren’t full of kindness, gleaming with love for everything there was. This time, they were closed, never to open again.
She cried for a long time. And finally, as the sun shone brightly upon them, her cries turned into something else. Slowly, a melody began to form, and wracked less and less by her mourning, it began to grow. As she sang, Gilda thought of her life with Fluttershy; memories, glad and sad, melded together in perfect harmony and presented themselves to her. Their love had transcended mere words, and so, wordlessly, she sang of everything they were, everything they had been together.
Gilda sang of her frustration at finding that a little yellow pegasus was destined to be the love of her life; she sang of her joy in finding that she didn’t care. She sang of everything she grew to love about Fluttershy, and she sang of how proud she was, to have shared everything with her.
At last, singing of the long wait ahead of her, until they could meet again, Gilda lowered Fluttershy’s body into the open grave awaiting her, returning her to the earth which she had loved so much.
And though she would soon stop singing, she knew that the song was a part of her now, and would be until she breathed her last.
