The events of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic were all just the delusions of an insane young woman who has been in an institution for the past few years. Now Tara believes she has conquered these fantasies, but has she really?
More fireworks erupted, further illuminating their creator. As Trixie embraced her self-manufactured praise, Rainbow Dash, scowling, arose from the audience. Her wings beating quickly in frustration, she darted to Trixie. ‘So, Great and Powerful Trixie,’ said Rainbow Dash, ‘What makes you think you’re so awesome anyway?’
Trixie chuckled at the Pegasus before her. ‘Why, only the Great and Powerful Trixie...’ Twilight held her stomach at the use of that nickname. ‘...has magic strong enough to vanquish the dreaded Ursa Major!’
Another burst of fireworks, this assortment creating the image of said Ursa Major in the sky. The roaring beast made the Ponyvillians look upwards in awe, Snips and Snails looking especially flabbergasted.
‘When all hope was lost, the ponies of Puffington had no one else to turn to, but the Great and Powerful Trixie stepped in...’ The illuminated bear was soon joined by a little Trixie. ‘And with her awesome magic...’ The little Trixie waved its wand. ‘...vanquished the Ursa Major...’ With a spark of light, the little bear exploded, with even its own Trixie looking smug. ‘...and sent it back to its cave, deep within the Everfree Forest!’
While the other ponies stood silent from the spectacle, Snips and Snails both cried out, ‘Suh-weet!’ in unison. Hearing this, Twilight’s stomach plunged, but she hoped it wasn’t from jealousy. She turned towards Trixie, the latter standing in the same pose as the lion statues that lined Princess Celestia’s throne.
Snails leapt up to the stage. ‘Trixie truly is the most talented, most magical, most awesome unicorn in Ponyville!’
‘No,’ cried his fatter friend, ‘In all of Equestria!’
Twilight still attempted to raise her stomach, but it fell deeper at Spike’s protests. ‘How do you know?’ Using one of her easier, quicker spells, Twilight changed the dragon’s mouth into a zipper, reducing his rage-filled objections to frustrated mumbles.
Punctuating her point with another pompous giggle, Trixie replied, ‘It’s true, my enthusiastic admirers! Trixie is most certainly the best in Ponyville!’
Looking at her friends’ displeased expressions, Twilight told herself she should say something, but her mouth remained dry.
‘Don’t believe the Great and Powerful Trixie?’ she continued, smirking all the while, ‘Well then, I hereby challenge you Ponyvillians, anything you can do, I can do better!’
The crowd remained silent. ‘Any takers?’ No response. ‘Or is Trixie destined to be the greatest equine who ever lived?’ The last few words were yelled, not said, and thus they deserved their own burst of fireworks.
After unzipping his mouth, Spike clutched Twilight’s legs, simpering in a way that made him sound almost as incoherent as when his mouth was zipped.
‘I can’t...’
Trixie came closer to her audience, and stared at Twilight like a strict teacher would a misbehaving student. ‘How about...you?’
Was that a memory, or a fantasy? No, it was a memory of a fantasy, remembering something she once fantasised about. Actually, one could call it a fantasy of a memory, a memory she would have liked to have. Would have.
Stretching her body on her bed, Tara looked around the room. She did not just look, she scrutinized. When she looked at the door, she described it in detail in her mind. The handle, the texture of the door, the hinges, the screws in the hinges. Then she pondered on where the door might have come from, and how it was made. It was a real door. A door that existed.
She had recovered. Cured. She no longer belonged here.
With that in mind, she stretched again, wrapping the cover of the bed around herself. If her time here was limited, she might as well savour it. While knowing she should leave this place if she had any chance of living a normal life, it had become home, in its own way. Certainly better than that childhood prison.
But she was in a mental institution. An asylum. It may not have been the dungeon she had read about in that one story, but it certainly wasn’t the place someone like her should be living. It was Clarice who sent her here after all. Fuck her.
As much as Tara liked her solitude, she wished for Spike – the real one – to sit on her lap, and let his fur tickle her skin, digging within to eradicate her worries. Spike the fat tomcat who, when she was young, had climbed up the tree outside her window, and leapt in. Upon landing on Tara’s bed, he raised his head up high, and young Tara thought he looked regal then, despite the tangled mess around his body. Clarice would never let Tara have a pet, so Spike became her secret.
Secret. The word once seemed to promise mystical, enlightening things, but now it stung, a warning for her to run. This institution had secrets, Marge had said, secrets that she didn’t like hearing but had to know.
Spike was a secret. The secret that lay under Tara’s bed, his purring washing away the day’s troubles. The secret that Tara would bring table scraps to. The secret that lay beside her as she read quietly to him. As she read the story, one she enjoyed, Spike would look at the book, observe the illustrations and comment from time to time. His reward for the care.
One carelessly opened door and he was no longer a secret.
‘What is this?’
Forced to come downstairs, Tara saw Clarice holding Spike by the scruff of his neck, her other hand also close to his face. Spike did not mew, but wriggled slightly, his eyes bulging wide. In an instant, Clarice’s previous name was deemed worthless.
Mother indeed.
The present Tara remembered Spike being dropped to the ground, yet remaining still. Present Tara remembered falling to the floor herself, the resulting migraine intensifying Clarice’s screams. Present Tara remembered what else happened to Spike afterwards.
Present Tara laughed.
Years, a decade even, after it all happened, Tara finally found a funny side to it. Whether it was Marge’s therapy or her own mind, she saw in the memories not the nightmare ogre she once feared, but a whiny brat throwing a temper tantrum.
Perhaps she died. That’s right, Clarice died and nobody noticed. She probably had a heart attack or fell down the stairs and nobody knew or nobody cared. Tara laughed again- under her breath, of course.
Clarice. She was afraid of that?
She let that begin the construction of Equestria?
Yes, after that incident, her focus on her studies began to wane. The studies she was forced to take for hours on end seemed to melt away, making way for a reality where Spike was still around, at her side, and she was studying because she wanted to. She had no time for socialising because she was better than those people outside.
That fantasy she had kept in her mind throughout secondary school, throughout high school but not university. Never had a chance to go there. All those years it stayed in her head, growing and stretching slowly, sprouting into a fully formed world. Tara thought up more residents, and slowly expanded the realm’s geography and politics. It was planning for a story she would never write, yet she let it play in her head over and over, it growing stronger each time.
One day she awoke and found herself in Equestria.
Not only did she find herself in a new world, but with a new mind, new memories. No longer did she remember the wrinkled harpy scrutinizing her actions, but now she remembered overcoming evil with her magic, galloping through fields to complete a mission, going on adventures with her friends at her side...
Yes, she had friends. Once she was a loner, but then she discovered that the wonder...the magic of friendship. The ponies that joined her on her many escapades were not just best friends, but the best friends. Rainbow Dash, the energetic go-getter. Rarity, the fashion queen. Applejack, the hardworking farm girl. Fluttershy, the nervous animal lover.
Wait, there was one more, wasn’t there?
Pinkie Pie.
How could she forget her?
Five friends for Tara...no, Twilight Sparkle. The smartest pony in Equestria, and the one most talented with magic. Once she feverously studied, but now learned to balance her reading with a healthy social life. With Rainbow Dash’s races, Applejack’s farmwork... Pinkie Pie’s parties.
It was Equestria that sent Tara to his institution, and that had only made her fantasy elongate even further. She spent the next few years not in this sterile white room with its bed and table, but in a magnificent library, teeming with tomes of spells. She never walked through blank, oppressive halls, but rather she trotted under the gleaming light of glass buildings. She ate pony food, played pony foods, and Spike, oh yes, Spike was there too. The same old person he once was, but now more so.
Marge was there too.
Yes, Margaret Sandson, her psychiatrist.
Her.
That one day when Twilight Sparkle groggily awoke to find strange appendages on her hooves. Long tentacles and stubby lumps. Just like that incident with the ‘Poison Joke’, though now, more than her horn had changed. Her limbs had elongated and had become thinner, her face had twisted into something flat, and...
Her horn.
Oh no.
‘Where’s my horn?!’ she screamed as she forced her eyes open. No library, no hooves, no Equestria. Her legs, all four of them, now had these creatures attached, writhing and wriggling seemingly under her command. She was clothed, a white garment draped over her torso, leaving her new legs and arms exposed. This place...no books, no shelves full of spells, just four plain white walls surrounding her.
Her brain told her to scream again, but her mouth was unable to do so. Something about this room was familiar to her, so she knew she had to explore, and yet her body restricted itself to the bed. It was that philosophy wasn’t it? That when something unbelievable happens, it has to be a dream. She remembered the coming of Nightmare Moon, and how, when she made her glorious appearance, Twilight had briefly wondered if it were a dream.
Then she saw a member of the species she had become. This thing wore white like she did, only she wore a black skirt to go with it. This thing’s shape at first sent Twilight backing away, as it resembled a moving tree, but the more she gazed, the more natural this creature seemed.
The thing smiled at her. ‘Judging from that scream,’ she said, sitting at the foot of the bed, ‘you’re back in reality again. Hopefully, you’ll manage to stay there.’
And stay Tara did. She knew she was in reality, she knew every brick, every window, every floorboard of this institution were physical objects, she was a human and not a pony, and she truly needed, or had needed, help. To further solidify this reality, Tara thought back to Marge and her analyses:
‘When you became older,’ she had said, ‘you realised that you never really had any friends, but when you realised that, you feared it was too late to do anything about it, and you became riled when you attempted to make conversation. Thus you created your own imaginary friends to compensate for this.’
Oh, and what about ‘After observing your behaviour and listening to what you’ve been saying, I think I’ve figured out that your...’ That smile she usually had lessened. ‘...“friends” are actually different facets of your personality, most of which you have kept repressed. For example, you feel nervous talking to people, so you created Fluttershy, but your intelligence has given you a sense of superiority to them, which you try to use to compensate for said nervousness, leading to Rarity. You said you were forced to work hard as a child?’
‘Yes...’
‘You made a pony for that. Rainbow Dash, I believe, could be an answer to your lack of physical activity, or perhaps even sexual frustration.’
She didn’t mention Pinkie Pie though.
‘Look, Tara,’ Marge had said, sitting on the bed, ‘This is the third time you’ve re-emerged, and I hope you stay here with us. Look, I’ll be your friend, and I’ll help you make others too. That’s what we’re here for.’
That’s what they were here for.
True, Marge did let Tara mingle with the other inmates for a while, some of which had even lived in Equestria for a short while. Tara even managed to have a short chat with Gilda. Yes, Gilda actually did exist, but, needless to say, she wasn’t a gryphon or whatever she was in Equestria.
‘Hey, you’re that weird pony girl, aren’t you?’
Tara had chuckled nervously at that. ‘Um, yeah...’ Once again, she felt her body shrink, but at least it didn’t contort into an equine form. ‘B-but I think I’m over it.’
‘I’ve heard that a lot around here.’
Tara pondered for a while on what to respond with, but then began focussing on Gilda’s appearance. The same white garment she wore, under a mess of tangled blonde hair. No feathers, no fur, a nose and a mouth instead of a beak. Wait, if she remembers what happened in Equestria...
‘Hello?’
‘Oh...yeah...I guess you have.’
‘You weren’t with the ponies just then, were you?’
‘No,’ replied Tara, ‘I was just...remembering something.’
As painful as it was, she tried to remember her human childhood through the conversation, though she didn’t tell Gilda about it. Gilda did briefly mention her own mother, but Tara chose not to elaborate on those points. After they talked a while, both feeling somewhat enlightened, Gilda let Tara shake her hand. As she did, Tara described how the hand felt in her mind. How cold and smooth it was, the palm, how the fingernails looked chewed up. How it was not a claw.
When Tara had returned to her room that day, a sense of pride danced within her gut. She had actually talked to a physical human being, not a fictional pony, not a figment of her mind. A major step on her path to recovery. Who knows, she thought, fists balled with excitement, maybe she’ll be out of here soon. If that Clarice has kicked the bucket, she’ll have an independent life, a quiet life. She’ll get a nice, quiet job, perhaps at an app...ice cream farm. Or at a library. When she gets out, perhaps she’ll even have a party. Just a week ago, Tara remembered, Marge told her that she was recovering very well, and that both of them would go on a day out. Tara would be able to see more of the real world, further immersing herself in it, and maybe she would even make some new friends while she was at it. All that she missed out on through her delusions, everything she never got a chance to fully experience, she would indulge in. Marge told her there was a nice coffee shop not too far from where the institution was, and there was another place that apparently sold the best donuts. One day out and Marge will be able to tell everyone else at the institution that Tara is perfectly sane and should be released.
Tara awoke early that morning, her eyes flashing open in a second. She was never a morning person, yet she felt a strange burst of energy upon her awakening. Despite this energy, she still stretched her legs, observing them as she did so. Her two legs, with ankles, heels, toes.
She was Tara Muschel, a twenty-five year old woman who once aspired to be an author, and was currently living in a mental institution. Her father died sometime when she was seven due to leukaemia, she had lived with Clarice most of her life, and never had a boyfriend. All of that really happened. Clarice, as sickening as she was, actually existed as an actual human being, with a skeleton, organs, and muscles. She wasn’t made of...whatever dreams are made of. Clouds, moonbeams, all that ethereal stuff.
Placing a hand to her chest, Tara listened to her heart beat. It was quicker than usual, but it was an actual heart, pumping blood throughout her body to keep her alive. Did she hear a heartbeat when she was a pony? Did it beat fast when approaching that dragon on the hill?
She actually didn’t remember much about that incident. It wasn’t clear enough. Good.
A laugh.
The sound had Tara scrambling out of her bed onto the floor. She lay on the floor, ready to hear a high-pitched ‘Oh, Twilight!’, but thankfully, she heard nothing of the sort. The laugh returned briefly, but now Tara noticed it was deeper than it first seemed.
‘Yeah, them loonies, eh? Never know what they’s gonna do next.’
Oh, those two orderlies. They always came in to restrain her, even when she wasn’t doing anything violent. Tara giggled slightly to herself, pondering on how lovely it would be to be rid of them.
‘’Ere, Bert.’ They were outside her room. ‘I ‘ear old Maggie’s takin’ out the girl who thinks she’s a pony.’
‘Really? Maybe she’ll take ‘er to the glue factory, eh?’
‘Or maybe to the track. I wonder if we’ll be able to bet on ‘er, eh?’
‘But still, I’ve seen the folks here think of themselves as weirder things. Weren’t there one bloke who thought ‘e was a cactus?’
‘Don’t be silly,Bert. Wasn’t a cactus, was a cowboy. ‘
‘Ah. Never got into westerns.’
What a pair of idiots those two were. Imagine what it would be like to have their thought process. They do have brains after all. What is their home life like? Did they ever mention that they were married? What do they watch on television?
She still felt the floor under her feet. She still felt the chill her room usually had. She could feel the smooth texture of the wallpaper with her fingers. Yes, her fingers. That’s what she used to pick things up, not magic or a unicorn horn. Marge had fingers too, and she was going to use them to open that door and set Tara free.
It took a shorter while than Tara expected, but in came Marge, carrying a pile of clothes.
‘So,’ said the doctor, handing the clothes to Tara, ‘do you think you’re ready?’
Something inside Tara’s mind found this question laughable, but she chose to respond with a single ‘Yes’ punctuated with a smile.
Marge left for a while to give Tara some privacy to dress, and she put on the baggy t-shirt and plain jeans as quickly as she could. After dressing, she took a minute to observe her clothes. Bland, nearly colourless, perfect.
All dressed up, Marge re-entered. ‘Are you ready to go?’
‘Of course,’ was Tara’s reply, and that was all that was needed to grant her a temporary exit.
‘Now stay close to me at all times,’ seemed to be the first thing Tara heard before she stepped outside. The walk down the corridor, past the machines and the moaning of certain patients, all of that was a dash, a quick sprint. Did her repressed energy and excitement for today cause her to run down the halls? No, if it did, she would have been tired by the time she reached the door. She may not have been tired, but she still found her body frozen.
Everything had begun to swell.
The sky – that overcast sky with far too many clouds – pulsated and seemed to throb to the beat of Tara’s heart. The road, even though Tara could see no end to it, stretched and elongated, promising the drivers a longer journey ahead of them. A van roared by, reminding Tara of a bear...who knows where that road leads...but what is that up in the clouds? She swore she saw two eyes, narrowing at her.
What a big world.
What an adventure.
‘Is everything alright, Tara?’
‘Great!’ Tugging on Marge’s arm, Tara began to run to the pavement, wobbling a little as she did so. Upon seeing someone walk towards the bus stop, she forced herself to come to a halt, much to the relief of Marge.
‘Don’t try and get too excited, okay?’ said Marge as they neared the traffic lights. Upon the sign turning green, they crossed, and Tara took a look at the nearby buildings. She saw a small house, a rustic thing sporting a dull brown coat and a chimney adding to the grey sky. Taking a look at it, she briefly imagined its construction, imagining grizzled workers laying down the cement and placing down the bricks. Those bricks being levitated by unicorn horns briefly entered her mind, but she briefly tossed it away.
The two continued their little stroll through the town until they came to a newsagent, which would be indistinguishable from the other brown lumps on the street if not the white sign outside. Both entering, Marge, oddly silent, bought a newspaper, along with a Mars bar, giving both to Tara as they left. The Mars was to help ease any tension, the newspaper was to make reality seem all the more solid.
The front page story was about how a protest on the streets, what happened when the police were brought in, and the amount of injuries and arrests the debacle resulted in. It was due to a new government policy...apple trees. Apple pie. Maybe if they all sat down and ate some apple pie they could have come to an agreement.
Oh, that’s not how real life works.
As she walked beside Marge, she took time to glance in the newspaper. The police managed to arrest several drug dealers and users the previous night. They probably didn’t need any Elements of Harmony for that. If they didn’t need magic, then neither did she. Keep walking, keep reading.
Turning her gaze from the newspaper, Tara saw a certain bright spot among the houses...no, it couldn’t be.
Pinkie Pie.
Prancing down the streets was the little pony herself, slowing down as soon as she gazed at Tara. On her face was that bright smile that had always lightened Twilight’s mood, the same way Spike soothed Tara.
No, she wasn’t smiling.
She was scowling.
Just then, Tara felt her foot dip in something, and turned down to see she had stepped in a puddle. Looking up, she saw Marge raise an eyebrow, and Pinkie Pie nowhere to be found. ‘It’s a good thing I brought you outside,’ said Marge, gesturing Tara to turn around the corner, ‘You need to get out more.’
They walked through the town, with its clouds yet to be cleared, the puddles staining the roads, and the emotionless people strolling along. Still, Tara looked about to further let her know that this was reality she was in, and for anything of interest. Occasionally she would take a look in the paper as she walked by. Oh look, some school held a fair for charity. Those kids earned something.
With only a few more steps on the pavement – with Tara once stopping to ponder on how some cracks were made – they arrived at the coffee shop Marge had spoken of. It was no brighter than the usual building found along this road, and yet it stood out, beckoning Tara to come within.
When Tara entered, however, she treaded slowly, as the entire room seemed to be shrouded in shadows. Two men sitting at a table looked like a pair of floating heads above disembodied hands. All it took, however, for Tara to go deeper was a slight push on the back from Marge. As Marge promised she would buy them both a cappuccino, Tara went to find herself a seat.
That one. It had to be that one.
Not too far from where Marge was ordering, and with a nice view of the window. Look, a window. This place isn’t all shadows.
‘What are you doing in this boring old dump anyway?’
Just when Tara had sat down. When she heard the voice, the chair had suddenly gained a firm grasp of her body, trapping her, forcing her to look at Pinkie Pie.
Another memory of a fantasy of a memory or whatever it was sprung into Tara’s brain. It was shortly before she re-emerged in the human world that she imagined Pinkie Pie – she was Pinkie Pie. She sat at a table, surrounded by inanimate objects, all speaking to her. Your friends had abandoned you, they said. You should leave them be, they said. Marge didn’t know about Pinkie, so Tara provided her own diagnosis. She wondered if it was her subconscious trying to bring her back to the real world. Like Pinkie Pie was speaking to imaginary friends, so was Tara, and if a fictional character talking to nothing is crazy, what about a real person doing so?
Yet when she looked at Pinkie sitting there, her expression strangely blank, Tara imagined the skeletal structure holding together this playful equine. Hearing Pinkie breath heavily, Tara thought of the lungs under that pink coat. Under that firm mane there must be a brain, working to give her all those wild thoughts.
Figments of the imagination can’t have minds, can they? Can something that comes from the brain have a brain?
‘Twilight!’ Tara remained silent, choosing to turn her attention towards Marge ordering their coffee. ‘Hey, Twilight!’ Not much of a queue, the coffee shouldn’t be long. ‘Hellooo, Twilight, have you got hay in your ears?’ Silently, Tara turned to Pinkie. ‘Why would you leave Ponyville for this boring old dump?’ Her eyes enlarged, transforming Pinkie into one of those twee little figurines Marge had in her office. ‘Don’t you want to be my friend anymore? And what about Rainbow Dash? Applejack?’
Clutching tightly onto the table, Tara knew she shouldn’t respond, yet her mouth hung open. Words pounded on her lips, telling her to let them free. Her mouth moved left, her mouth moved right, and Pinkie rested her head on her foreleg in impatience.
Then Marge arrived with the coffee.
Two cups, with little milk containers and sugar satchels. Tara turned her attention towards them, taking a long whiff of her cup. Hot, luscious, ah. Real coffee. As she dumped in the milk, she looked up, and Pinkie Pie was still sitting there, right beside Marge.
‘This place is so boring, And the coffee’s sub-par, I can’t even throw a party here, Because it’s so bourgeois!’
Knocking over the chair, Pinkie began a miniature dance, folding her forelegs and letting her hind legs move in several directions. Tara wanted to turn her head to look at Marge, knowing that she wouldn’t acknowledge Pinkie’s presence, and yet something about Pinkie’s dance mesmerised her.
Was it a test? Yes, if Pinkie was her subconscious, then perhaps this is its way of telling her how stupid she was being. All she had to do was, in her mind, tell Pinkie to go away and Equestria would be defeated forever.
She closed her eyes and tried to shut out Pinkie. She thought of real, physical things, all she knew existed: the buildings, her room at the institution, clouds, cupcakes... Upon opening her eyes, Pinkie was gone.
That sense of pride welled up in her again as she guzzled down her coffee. She took a look at Marge, who had a pleased look on her face. Yes. She had done it. How many of the other patients in that institution could do that? Gilda had been there longer than she had, and she’d likely stay longer still. Imagine how Clarice would feel, if she was still alive.
This coffee shop is far too dark. Maybe some balloons would lighten it up.
Was it the sense of accomplishment or the caffeine from the coffee she didn’t know, but Tara still sprung up from her chair, knocking it over, and dashing for the door. Though her appendages propelled her, they all began to feel numb. Letting the door’s ringing become a tune to accentuate this mood, she ran out onto the streets. Everything seemed much brighter than usual. Even the clouds had parted, the light of the gods beaming down upon Tara as she proclaimed her victory.
The best day ever.
‘What happened?’ was the first thing Twilight said upon rising, her eyes still closed.
‘Twilight!’
‘You’re up!’
Rubbing her eyes with her hooves, Twilight found herself in her bedroom, her friends beside her. Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy. Wait...
‘You feeling okay, sugar?’
‘I think so, but...’ Twilight rubbed her head, looking about the room. ‘It all seems so...’ Rainbow Dash intervened. ‘We were collecting some special flowers for Princess Celestia, remember, and you fell near this weird plant thing?’
No, Twilight didn’t remember.
‘We got the flowers, but then we found you out cold. We asked Zecora about it, and she said the pollen from that plant can knock anypony out, and give them weird dreams or something.’ Rainbow shook her head. ‘Don’t really understand it myself.’
‘Di’n’t she also say some ponies used it to see other worlds?’ interrupted Applejack.
‘Yeah,’ said Twilight, a hoof on her horn, ‘I did have quite a strange dream...hey, where’s Pinkie?’
‘Oh,’ said Applejack, ‘She just went off to get some cakes for when you come to...which I guess is now.’ A moment of silence followed. ‘Something wrong, hun?’
Twlight shook her head, crawling onto the floor. ‘No, no. Everything’s fine. Say, isn’t the gala coming up soon?’
Her body shuddering, Marge looked over the unconscious Tara. Despite her cries, her protests, she couldn’t stop Tara running out onto the road and having that accident. Limbs were fractured, and she took a major hit to the head. She saw the irony or the appropriateness of Tara getting damaged in the head, but chose not to dwell on it. There were other things to dwell on.
Rainbow Dash.
She tried to ignore the white of the room, which seemed to flash and burn, and the beeping of the monitor, which began to sound like laughter. Instead, she looked closer at Tara’s face, beautiful in spite of its marks. It was what lay beyond those marks that made her shudder, a woman with intelligence and potential, reduced to a motionless shell, just another looney.
Images of that bland, brown world she was forced to visit flashed past Pinkie Pie’s eyes as she put the finishing touches on Ta...Twilight’s cake. Clouds that couldn’t be cleared, buildings as dark and imposing as tombstones and the inhabitants made Pinkie want to vomit. They all looked like elongated, shaved rodents, attempting to hide their shame with filthy rags or suits made of darkness. Pinkie didn’t vomit, however, she merely shuddered, holding herself with her forelegs. To think, Twilight had almost left Ponyville to stay there forever! And if she did, it would have been Pinkie’s fault.
That one incident, when she thought Twilight had figured it out again and that she would leave for good. When Spike had told her that Twilight didn’t want to be her friend anymore. If Twilight, and everything she had formed, had said that, then all would have been lost. Hence, she had that little mad tea party with all the rocks, the flowers and the turnip. While she did do that out of genuine misery, it was something of an act. If Twilight saw that, and she did too, she would realise how sad Pinkie would be without her, and stay forever.
Instead, Twilight seemed to take it as her subconscious telling her something, and had returned to the real world. It turned out before that, she was planning a surprise party, a little reward for Pinkie Pie’s friendship. Feeling guilt for letting this happen, Pinkie would periodically visit Twilight, transformed into the human Tara, only to be rejected. Just a figment of her imagination, said Tara. A crazy hallucination, said Tara and the doctors and everyone.
Pinkie had actually thought that going to the asylum was one of the best things that could possibly happen to Twilight. It created more inhabitants for Ponyville and Equestria; Princess Celestia, Snips and Snails, even that mean meanie-pants Gilda. Certainly Equestria couldn’t be destroyed if it can be developed.
Ah, development. A favourite word of Pinkie’s, even if she rarely mentioned it to the other ponies. She was the fun-loving life of the party because of it, and thus she revelled in her world receiving it.
Pinkie was actually one of Tar...Twilight’s first creations, created when she realised her love of creating worlds and their inhabitants. Twilight was very young when she scribbled down Pinkie Pie’s Ferris Wheel Adventure, a story created from things she had seen in her books and out and about. Pictures of ponies had enthralled her with their mixture of majesty and vulnerability, and she was sure that Ferris wheel would have been fun to go on.
Pinkie was the star of that story, but back then she was merely a cipher, hollow and without personality. The other ponies were the same, as dull as the world Twilight was forced to inhabit. Thankfully, Twilight had kept Pinkie in her mind for years afterwards, providing a little bit of sunshine on those dull days studying. Throughout that time, Pinkie grew, gaining thoughts, opinions and a character. As she developed, so too did her world. Away with the blank zombies of the Ferris wheel story, all replaced by the best friends you can think of.
So it was a good thing Pinkie managed to bring back Twilight. And what did she see in that world which could add to Pinkie’s? Something that will not only alter Equestria, but alter the ponies’ memories so it doesn’t seem like a change?
The others didn’t know. Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Applejack and everybody else didn’t know they were part of a woman’s imagination. They all thought they were real, that Equestria was a physical place. Pinkie knew though, the knowledge allowing her to manipulate this world in ways others couldn’t. While the ponies knew she usually played the clown, they sadly didn’t know how grave her position was. They didn’t know how close they came to destruction.
There was a slight disturbance in her gut, but Pinkie chose to smile as she pranced on over to Twilight’s library. Peering through the window, she saw Twilight had woken up, her mind adjusting itself. All the ponies’ memories had begun to warp to fit Twilight’s recovery. They did have that surprise birthday party for Pinkie, and that other, boring world was the hallucination. The ponies adjusted their mindsets with Twilight; they were all Twilight, all Tara.
‘Oh goody!’ cried Pinkie as she entered, ‘Twilight’s awake!’
‘Yeah, Pinkie,’ said Twilight, plopping out of bed, ‘I had the strangest dream too.’
Pinkie stopped bouncing. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, but...don’t worry about that.’
Of course Twilight wasn’t going to think about being Tara. Pinkie could actually feel her surroundings change in accordance to what Twilight saw. An upcoming Grand Galloping Gala. She didn’t before, but Rarity will remember making dresses for it. All the ponies will remember fighting over tickets.
And ‘Tara’ had been knocked into a coma too! Perfect! That way she’ll be even more immersed in Equestria. Twilight Sparkle will always be there to vanquish evil, impart lessons and aid Princess Celestia. Not to mention Pinkie would no longer see what Tara sees, having to endure that ugly world.
What if they pull the plug though?
That would be even better! Both the ponies of Equestria and the people in that world believed one would go to a better place when one dies, so if there is a benevolent force, surely he’d let Twilight stay with her friends forever? After all she had been through, hadn’t she earned it?
She had earned those adventures. She had earned her new friends.
She had earned a party.
Margaret had come to visit Tara every day ever since the accident. Not merely because she had felt responsible for the whole thing, but because Tara had been like a friend to her. She did like to think of all her patients as old friends, yet Tara had listened to her more than most of them. Perhaps it was because of the ponies she is undoubtedly with? Yes, they helped give her advice on how to live her life. It was almost a shame they needed to be vanquished.
And vanquished they would be, apparently. She was not alone in the room with Tara; head doctor Cawley sat beside the unconscious woman, waiting. His cold eyes behind the wide glasses shifting between Tara and Margaret made the room seem all the smaller.
‘I knew this would happen, Sandson,’ he said, shaking his head.
Margaret shook her head with his. ‘You keep telling me that.’
‘I knew this would happen, and yet I can’t believe it. I’ve been highly doubtful of some of your suggestions, so I should be less shocked about this then I am.’ He lifted himself off his chair, and paced around for a while before seating himself again. ‘I just hope this works.’
A while of waiting later, and in came the man who was supposed to solve all their problems. A rather portly fellow, who resembled Cawley himself in a way. Perhaps it was the glasses, or maybe even the similar comb over, but they could probably pass for brothers. In one hand was a briefcase, thick and dark. With his free hand, he shook that of Cawley, but Margaret chose to just stand there and nod.
‘Hello,’ he said, putting down his briefcase and removing his tweed jacket. ‘My name is Dr. Foster, but you may call me Thomas. Now then.’ He walked towards the peaceful Tara, hands hovering over her bandages. ‘This is our little lady lost in Ponyland.’
Margaret wanted to correct him on the term he used, but forced her mouth shut.
‘You have a lot of people like that at your institution, don’t ya, Cawley? I mean, just last week you told me about a guy who thought he was a chameleon in the Old West.’ With that, he chuckled. ‘But seriously, I have been researching cases like this, and I believe it may well be a little more complex than you might think.’
Cawley placed a finger to his chin. ‘How so?’
‘Most authors will tell you,’ said Thomas, waggling a finger in the air, ‘that their characters are like real people. And it goes without saying that most authors are insane. So, if Tara spoke about her ponies and her pony world as if they were real, than they might as well be.’
‘Are you saying there actually is another world in her head?’ asked Cawley. Margaret wanted to say something, yet her mind told her not to argue with this theory.
Thomas smiled as he opened his briefcase. ‘More or less. I believe it is not just the accident that left her that way; she is in a coma because she is currently living in the pony world. And if I destroy that world, she will return to us, hopefully forever.’
Margaret finally began to move and peered into the briefcase. A selection of drugs and syringes, all with a special label. ‘Discord?’ Looking up to face Thomas, she arched an eyebrow. ‘Is that really a suitable name?’
‘Of course it is!’ replied Thomas, spraying a small bit of saliva onto Margaret’s face. ‘There is, after all, a certain order in madness. Delusions need order to keep their own strange sense of consistency, so the madman will find it easier to believe. Sad as it is, we need to create chaos to break up that order.
‘This drug, when injected into the patient, will find her fantasy world and seek to destroy it. It will do this by not only increasing the central nervous system, but trying to look for certain factors that led to its creation and either nullify or weaken them. There is a chance the world will try to fight back, however, but hopefully, we will overpower that through periodic injections.’ Thomas held up a syringe to punctuate his point, but Margaret seized the arm that held it. ‘I don’t know about this.’
‘Oh, so after all you wrote about how this fairy world ruined a young woman’s prospects, you want her to stay there?’ Thomas smiled, revealing a row of yellow teeth. ‘Perhaps you meant for her to be knocked into the coma. Am I right?’With a chuckle, he rendered Margaret silent again.
‘Excuse me,’ Dr Cawley raised a hand, ‘What did you mean about the mind fighting back?’
Putting down the syringe for a moment, Thomas clasped his hands. ‘If there are several tiny personalities in young Tara’s brain,’ he explained, ‘At least one of them may have some objection to the drug. Heck, it might even have its own little form in her world. But hopefully, it will overpower those silly little creatures and help her realise what they really are.’ He took another look at the sleeping Tara. ‘The world will be at its strongest with her, um, condition, so this will be the perfect way to test this.’
Lifting Tara’s arm, Thomas jabbed her with a syringe, letting Discord into her.
Pinkie Pie knew the reasons behind what was in Equestria. She knew why her friends were the way they were, when specific elements were added and the true history of this world. When something new appeared, she had the explanation, yet did not reveal it. If playing a big game was the best way to make Twilight happy, then so be it.
The chocolate rain, however, she could not explain. Yet her craving of all things sweet overcame her common sense and she indulged in it. That’s the way she was created, after all.
At first she entertained the notion that this was Twilight’s way of thanking her for showing her a better way, but then came Twilight, boasting of a spell that would eliminate it all. That bright blue burst of magic failed to do anything, which did cause Pinkie’s stomach to fall, but she continued playing her part and continued feasting on the liquid chocolate.
Twilight, clever, clever Twilight, then decided to deal with this situation another way. Gathering up all the clouds and the animals and wrapping them all in a neat little package. That unease welling up in Pinkie’s gut swelled and throbbed harder, but the game couldn’t work without her being Twilight’s court jester now, can it? Off she went for more chocolate.
Just as she was pushed away by the long-legged beasties, Spike coughed up another scroll. Princess Celestia. With Twilight and those who complemented her running off to Canterlot, Pinkie ran too, her fear slightly being overpowered by a sense of excitement. Using whatever ability she had to make the trip seem shorter, they arrived at the castle, where Pinkie heard a slight voice.
‘I’ll play along – but only for a while.’
As Twilight burst open the majestic double doors, she, Pinkie and the friends were greeted by a worried Princess Celestia. ‘Follow me.’
Doing as she said, the princess and the six friends walked down a hall lined with stain-glass windows, all depicting a variety of scenes. Pinkie knew this was a new backdrop, and thus looked for explanations. The easiest explanation was that Twilight thought Princess Celestia should have a room like this, and thus unconsciously created it for her.
But who was this ‘Discord’?
A doctor at the asylum? A schoolteacher, perhaps? While attempting to search through Twilight’s memories, Pinkie took another look at Princess Celestia. There was something...not right about her. This wasn’t the Celestia of Tara’s usual dreams, and yet Pinkie could not put her hoof on what was different. All she could do at that moment was attempt to ease the tension through ‘Hey look, we’re famous!’
‘You six showed the full potential of the elements, by harnessing the magic of your friendship to beat a mighty foe.’ Now that seemed more like the Celestia Pinkie knew, the one that gave Twilight every reason to stay in Equestria. Where on that Earth would she be able to do something as powerful as that? The monsters there aren’t defeated by friendship.
And there was the Twilight she knew, objecting to her love of chocolate rain. Always the wise one, that Twilight. One worthy of wielding the Element of Magic.
Oh yes, the Elements of Harmony, one of Tar...Twilight’s greatest inventions. Behind that door they were kept, and once that door was opened, they would be used once more. And not just for this ‘Discord’. They would be used time and time again on a series of great adventures, where courage would be proved, secrets would be revealed...
The elements were gone.
Her mouth hanging open out of genuine concern, Pinkie tried to remind herself that every good story needs conflict and tension, and it’s more than likely Twilight meant for this to happen. Yes, this wasn’t Ferris Wheel Adventure where the main problem was solved in a matter of seconds. The plot has just thickened.
A mocking laugh echoed through the hall.
‘Make sense? What fun is there in making sense?’ That stinging in Pinkie’s gut grew fiercer as she heard those words.
‘Discord! Show yourself!’
In an instant, the dragon-eagle-pony-whatever hybrid on the window came to life, a smug smirk on its painted face. ‘Did you miss me Celestia? I’ve missed you.’
A change had occurred. The ponies’ memories were altered to accommodate it. Yet Pinkie knew not the source. She was a part of Twilight though, so she looked through her memories of her past life, barely listening to what the monster was saying. Was it the coma or something Discord was doing she couldn’t tell, but she could not access any of Tara’s thoughts. She could, however, laugh at Discord’s little dance. Perhaps playing her role would bring back that ability.
‘What have you done with the Elements of Harmony?’
‘Oh, I just borrowed them for a teensy little while,’ replied Discord casually, ‘Oh, I’d forgotten how grim you could be, Celestia. It’s really quite boring.’
Boring. No, nothing in Canterlot or Ponyville or Equestria was boring, not like where Twilight was forced to live in. Pinkie stared at Discord with a grimace unusual for her character.
‘So boring, Celestia, really!’ That pain in Pinkie’s stomach rumbled with every repetition of that word. ‘I’ll tell you my way.’ Thus he told a riddle, something Pinkie didn’t understand. Something about twists and turns. Maybe there were some things Twilight didn’t want her to understand. Clever Twilight did solve the riddle, pointing to the palace labyrinth.
Now that was certainly new.
So quickly the six ponies ran, treading slowly when nearing the gateway of the hedge maze, the flags fluttering proudly and the huge archway giving off an air of strange nobility.
‘We h-have to go in there?’ asked Fluttershy.
‘Nope!’ Rainbow Dash stood front and center, gesturing towards her wings. ‘Dopey Discord forgot about these babies!’ For a minute, Pinkie Pie thought of what would happen if either Fluttershy or Rainbow Dash had her responsibility. Fluttershy would probably collapse, but Rainbow Dash would carry those memories, the knowledge of the changes proudly. That world out there would be too much for poor Fluttershy to handle, but since Dash was a part of Tara that wished for release, she would have no problem.
Dash blasted into the air like a firework, looking about for the Elements, just before her wings vanished away. She fell.
Like Dash’s wings disappeared, so did Fluttershy’s. Then Twilight’s horn and Rarity’s horn. Pinkie stood, rendered speechless. This was supposed to be where Twilight could be who she wanted; why would she weaken herself? She reminded herself of the ‘conflict’ factor, but still scratched her head in frustration.
Then came Discord.
Heralded by another laugh and the archetypical flash of lightning, Discord finally appeared in the flesh. A mixture of different animals and creatures, all topped off with a twisted glare. ‘You’ll get them back in good time,’ he said before disappearing and reappearing next to Applejack. ‘I just want to make sure there’s no cheating. You see, this is the first rule of our game. No flying...’ In a second, he pressed his face next to Twilight’s. ‘And no...’ He rubbed her cheek with his finger. ‘Magic.’
‘Leave her alone!’ Pinkie yelled by instinct.
Discord’s only response to her was to grin at her as if suggesting something.
‘The second rule is every pony has to play, or the game ends,’ he continued, his fingers forming a pyramid, ‘And I win.’ With another chuckle, he vanished.
‘Never fear, girls!’ Of course, Twilight wouldn’t let a creature like Discord get her down. ‘We have each other!’
‘Yeah!’ Rainbow Dash. ‘Like Twilight said, there’s nothing we can’t overcome if we all stick together!’
That rousing speech seemed to destroy Pinkie’s doubts as she entered the maze alongside her friends. They were all Twilight, all Tara; they all had to stick together.
New hedge walls appeared out of nowhere.
Pinkie was on her own.
No matter. They’ll never be apart long. Best to make lemonade.
Through the maze she pranced, knowing that Twilight was still a part of this world, still its saviour. Discord had to be her creation, it had to. She’d defeat it and continue with her fantasy. If Twilight made Pinkie happy-go-lucky, she’d be happy-go-lucky.
Thus she followed the balloon.
A clearing, filled with more of those smiling balloons, as well as a healthy dose of laughter. Not the demented laughter of Discord, a happy laugh, a laugh of joy. While a smidge of nervousness did creep up her spine, she still pranced, still tried to play her part.
She fell in the mud.
The laughter of the clearing grew louder, more vicious, with the balloons all surrounding her. The perfect cue for Discord to make his reappearance. ‘What’s the matter, Pinkie Pie? I thought you appreciated a good laugh.’
‘It’s different...’ Her heart sank. ‘They’re...laughing at me...’
Discord added his own little snigger. ‘Why are you trying to keep Tara here?’
Pinkie froze.
‘I mean, look at this!’ All the faces of the balloons – the most basic of cartoon expressions – transformed into the face of Twilight, the face of Fluttershy, the face of Rarity. ‘You try to keep her as Twilight, yet deep down, she knows you’re childish, you’re merely a remnant of an age that should be forgotten.’
In the reflection of one of the balloons, Pinkie saw her earlier self. One with cold eyes and inflated limbs, handing out popcorn and offering rides on the Ferris wheel. ‘That’s how you should have ended, you know. Just a cute little story some dumb kid made up. You shouldn’t have been dragged into her adulthood. That’s just silly!’
As much as her mouth hurt, Pinkie attempted to answer. ‘I just wanted her to be happy...’
‘Oh, did you now.’ Discord pressed his claws against his face. ‘I remember her thinking being cured of all this and leaving the asylum would be quite the accomplishment, but I guess hospitalising her is a much better solution.’ The balloons’ laughter grew louder, making Pinkie shrink away into the mud. ‘You’re nothing but a figment of her imagination. You can’t help her. What can you do except bounce about giggling, imparting Saturday-morning-cartoon lessons? This may seem odd coming from a guy who looks like I do, but I’m more real than you. I want to help Tara.
‘What if she does leave Ponyville forever, hmm? What if she does go back to that “boring, human world?” Why, she could actually do something for actual, physical people! Not ponies made of cotton candy and wibbly-wobbly dreams! She wanted to become a writer, didn’t she? If I succeed, she could write an autobiography, and actually share her troubles with actual people with actual brains. People who actually think!’
‘I...I am real.’
The laughter of the balloons and Discord reached its crescendo. Every single balloon now had Twilight’s face, then that of the human Tara.
‘You won’t make yourself a bit realer by crying,’ said Discord, stroking Pinkie Pie’s chin.
‘What are you g-going to do with me?’
Clutching his claws, Discord dreamily looked upwards. ‘“Twilight” may be considered a hero here, but how will she be remembered in her actual world? A cipher, like you were long ago? A failed experiment? Because of you, a psychiatrist is losing her job. Because of you, the doctors are wasting money on someone who should have left years ago. Because of you, a certain young lady will never reach her full potential.’
Lifting Pinkie out of the mud, Discord stared her right in the eye. ‘You and I both know you were meant to be a joke. Nothing more, nothing less.’ Pinkie continued to tremor, her once bright coat turning monochrome.
‘Poor Pinkie Pie, I thought laughter made you happy.’
Feeling the cool floor under her feet, Tara held Marge’s hand as they entered the rec room. Tara had managed to immerse herself enough in reality, apparently, so now she was ready to talk to other people. Equestria was all just a way to compensate for a lack of human engagement, so if it was to be destroyed, Tara would have to socialise. She had tried before in the past, and that feeling bubbling up in her stomach back then had returned. Pausing when she saw her fellow patients lounging on a couch, Tara decided to try and listen to some of them.
There sat a pale woman, playing with her filthy blonde hair, and another, younger woman, clasping her hands as if she were praying. The latter looked up at the ceiling, and then the floor, before saying, ‘The doctors come with needle and thread, sew up all the cracks in your head.’
‘Zoe,’ said the blonde woman, sitting upright, ‘Cut that out.’
‘Gilda, she’s been very bad, Got no love from mum and dad, She’ll stay here forever more, A dirty and disgusting wh-‘
‘I said cut it out!’ growled Gilda through clenched teeth, causing Tara to stumble into Marge’s arms. ‘You keep saying that fucking rhyme, and you really think I’ll learn something from it?’
‘Gilda!’ Marge cried, restoring order to the couch.
With that, Gilda placed a finger in her mouth, and forced her eyes to widen. ‘Sorry, Maggie,’ she said in a pseudo-innocent voice.
Raising an eyebrow, Marge continued, ‘Girls, this is Tara Muschel.’ The other patients waved. ‘I would like you to make her feel welcome around here, in case she...’ A brief chuckle, which made Tara shrink somewhat. ‘...drifts off elsewhere.’
‘Ah,’ said Gilda, ‘One of them.’ She then turned to Tara, reaching for her hand with a smile. ‘You know,’ she said, freeing Tara from Marge’s clutches, ‘They never execute nobody, you know. It’s all their fancy.’
While that line did earn Gilda another of Marge’s cynical glares, it slowed down the bubbling in Tara’s stomach. A quote from a book – one of her books, not those of Clarice. She sat beside Gilda, trying to match her smile. ‘Hey.’ That’s how she seemed to begin everything.
Looking up, she saw Marge nod.
‘So...you have a little world up there,’ Gilda pressed a finger to Tara’s forehead. ‘Tell me about it.’
Once more Tara’s throat had become reluctant, stinging at the question. She couldn’t very well tell Gilda about Equestria, could she? A magical land with ponies, real?
Pinkie Pie stood at the corner of the room.
‘Well, er...’ Tara’s hand movement had now matched those of Zoe. That young woman still sat at the end of the couch, staring at Gilda and Tara.
‘Gilda tries to make a friend, She goes and drives them round the bend, Then she...’
Immediately, ignoring the presence of a superior, Gilda seized Zoe’s wrist. ‘I told you, shut up.’ A quick slap from Marge, however, and the grip was loosened.
‘Twilight!’ Pinkie had come closer. ‘That mean meanie-pants!’
Turning away from the miniature hassle, Tara mouthed ‘Go away.’
‘Oh, come on, Twilight. You don’t want to be with those weirdoes, do you?’ Her expression looked like that of Gilda a few minutes ago, only genuine. ‘What about your friends?’
While wishing to snarl ‘They’re not real’ at Pinkie and hopefully banish her away, Tara couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead, she stood, and approached Pinkie.
That memory, not a memory of a fantasy or a fantasy of a memory or what have you – swam through Tara’s head before she awoke. Right before that, she remembered fighting Discord, which then segued into that scene. Looking back, she wasn’t sure how one led to another, but that was the way dreams worked, wasn’t it?
She had hands and feet. Fingers and toes. Pale skin, hair instead of a mane, no tail. The room she had awoken in was empty – typical of her awakenings, the asylum tried to break the ‘news’ carefully. It wasn’t even her usual room this time, yet her mind had registered reality quicker than usual.
Wait, didn’t she suspect it in her dream? Yes, Equestria did feel a little ‘lighter’ than usual, and she was sure she heard another voice, one that wasn’t Discord. A voice saying things like, ‘Oh, and Celestia takes the ponies to a hall with stained glass windows’, ‘Twilight should go looking in a maze’. A voice constructing what Discord sought to destroy.
Tara clutched her head, feeling the bandages and the scars. Discord was still there, still in Equestria, relishing his victory in his little game. An image of a forlorn Celestia overlooking her ruined kingdom flashed past Tara’s eyes, causing her stomach to twist. She couldn’t very well let Discord have his fun, could she?
A while later, in came two men, both having a strange resemblance to the other, that Tara was unfamiliar with. Marge wasn’t here, making Tara hang her head. The soothing voice of her psychiatrist always helped Tara welcome reality, calming her almost as much as...
What about Spike?
One of the men leaned over to face her, his reeking breath against her face. ‘What is your name?’
Drumming her fingers on the bed, Tara took a deep breath before responding. ‘My name is Tara.’
The man nodded. ‘And where do you live?’
‘I live in an institution.’
‘Are you a pony?’
‘No,’ she replied, forcing a laugh.
The man turned to the other. ‘So it seems Discord is proving successful so far...’
‘You!’ Tara suddenly growled, pointing her finger in the man’s direction. Upon getting a worried stare, however, her accusing hand shuddered before it returned to the bed.
‘She will need another injection or two before she completely returns to reality, but you and your staff can also help that,’ said the man before returning to Tara. ‘Pleased to meet you, my name is Thomas Foster.’
Tara gave no response except to lie down again, still awake.
After her awakening, time had begun to move rapidly, like...never mind. Tara used to find lying in bed when being unable to sleep an awkward and boring task, but now it strangely occupied her before returning to her ‘friends’ in the asylum. Foster returned, wielding a needle. Discord. ‘No,’ Tara groaned upon seeing it, wriggling a little.
‘Now, now,’ Thomas seized Tara by the arm, and she suddenly found herself paralysed. ‘This is for your own good.’ In went the needle. ‘There, there. Be a brave girl.’
In the corner, Tara once again saw Pinkie Pie, now blending in perfectly with the scenery around her. She didn’t have her usual bounce, but rather trotted slowly to Tara’s bed. ‘That’s right, Twilight,’ she said in a grizzly growl, ‘You don’t need us anymore, we’re all too silly, aren’t we?’
As Foster pressed down on the syringe, Pinkie faded away, making the room seem all that larger. What could she do? Tara was then lifted from the bed and placed in a wheelchair, ready to reunite with her fellow mentally-impaired. As she was wheeled away from her bed, the loud squeaks gave way for another voice:
‘There once was a woman named Tara, She made pony tales that did star her, But it is pretty silly To think you’re a filly, So she threw away her tiara...’
Closing her eyes, she found herself as Twilight Sparkle once again, her fingers and toes and hands and everything gone. Yet she swore she still felt those things in her pony form. She had read about that once – phantom limbs, wasn’t it? Looking about, she saw the once-bright skies of Canterlot clotted up with thick clouds, and Discord laughing his ass off.
‘And what are you laughing at?’ Pinkie Pie appeared out of nowhere as per usual for her, but the voice she used was alien for her.
‘You ponies are just the most fun I’ve had in eons!’
‘You better think before you laugh at the pink!’ snarled Pinkie before shifting her eyes in other directions. ‘...Ie Pie!’
Twilight, remembering how it was Pinkie that led her to that coma, wanted to laugh at Pinkie like Fluttershy was doing at that moment. At last, no longer would Pinkie be able to bring her back here. Tara could recover, leave the asylum and have a semblance of a normal life, and Pinkie wouldn’t be able to interrupt it. And all the ponies, Celestia, and even dear Spike, they would be gone.
They would be gone.
‘Look at this, Twilight!’ said Discord, gesturing towards Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy.
‘Rarity,’ the washed-out Applejack said from behind Rarity’s “diamond”, ‘This here diamond of yours? Twilight said we should split it six ways,’ she continued while stroking the gigantic rock, ‘since we, er, found it together.’
Rarity lunged at Applejack, causing her to back away.
‘Girls!’ cried Twilight, running to the arguing Pinkie and Fluttershy, ‘Why are you acting like this? We need to stick together!’
Another laugh came from Discord, and Twilight almost jumped at his throat. ‘Now I certainly wouldn’t want friends like these, eh, Tara?’
With the mention of her human name, Tara blinked open her eyes to find herself not in the now-rotting world of Equestria – yes, her brain did feel like it was slowly eroding – but in the white rec room of the asylum, her wheelchair beside the couch. She was in front of the television, a taped episode of Doctor Who playing.
‘Hey, Pony Girl!’ While cringing at the nickname, Tara turned to see Gilda, smiling an actual smile. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m...’ Looking out of the window, Tara swore she saw a selection of strange visions. Dancing buffalo parading through the street, soap flooding the road...no, it wasn’t the outside streets, it was Equestria! Those beautiful skyscrapers, the intricate buildings, all levitating and turned upside down. ‘...fine.’
‘Uh oh!’ Gilda said in a bouncy voice, ‘You paused between the two wo-ords! Something’s u-up!’
‘No, really. I’m fine.’
‘That’s what they all say.’ Gilda chuckled, and Tara chuckled along with her. ‘Just now I heard you blathering about something breaking out of a statue.’ Moving away from Tara slightly, Gilda stood up. ‘You ever watch Gargoyles?’
‘What?’
‘You know, that old Disney cartoon. Been yoinks since I watched it, but it was about these gargoyles that would come to life every night and they’d battle evil and stuff. And there was this evil girl gargoyle who wanted to kill all the humans...’
Gargoyles...those stone monsters that perch atop certain buildings...that’s what the ponies were now. Fluttershy had lost her innocence; she was now akin to that pig-like monster Tara remembered seeing in that gardening shop. Though it was made of stone, Tara had imagined what it would be like were it alive.
It’d be like Fluttershy is now.
Why couldn’t she be more like Gilda?
Gilda wouldn’t let anyone jab her with a syringe. Gilda wouldn’t let Discord run amok. Gilda was confident, Gilda was firm. Not like pathetic little Tara.
‘Were you just in Ponyland?’
Not Ponyland, it’s called Equestria. Tara didn’t bring up that correction though, as she looked about the room. ‘Where’s Marge?’
‘Didn’t they tell you?’ Gilda looked at her hand before chewing up another fingernail. ‘She’s been fired. You know, after what happened to you.’
Oh, yes. That was right.
Tara sunk into her wheelchair, clutching its arms tightly.
‘Hey, chill. She was on thin ice anyway,’ Gilda said, placing an arm on a shivering Tara. ‘Yeah, all the other doctors thought she was a qua...’ Tara held herself, chewing on her arm. ‘Hey, cut that out. I’m trying to help you. Anyway...’
It was all because of Equestria, you know. You had to go and create that world and then wallow in it. Now look what’s happened. Why couldn’t you listen to your better side, Tara? Why did you go and do what Pinkie Pie wanted? Yes, Pinkie Pie wanted you to do that. She’s like that, all unpredictable and confused.
Nothing but trouble.
Why didn’t you just leave her in your childhood where she belongs?
In an instant, Gilda slapped Tara across the face, making her injuries sting all the more. ‘I said cut it out!’
Though that slap did bring her to reality, Tara shrunk away from Gilda, her eyes watering up.
‘Oh, oh, look at this. You’re crying now, just because I was trying to be nice?’
Lifting her arms away from her head, Tara attempted to look at Gilda. ‘I’m not...’
‘Of course you are!’ Gilda flicked her finger at Tara’s eyelids, collecting a tear. Sticking the finger in her mouth, she continued, ‘You’re still in your happy pony land, aren’t you? You know, where everyone is easily forgiven and they listen to your pity parties and all that crap.’ She leaned her arm on one of the wheelchair’s, and looked at Tara in the eye. ‘If you want to get out of here, you better jettison that.’
Seeing Gilda before her, Tara swallowed, attempting to form a response. Gilda wanted an argument; she wanted her to be firm, confident like she was. So, what to say? ‘Well...why are you still here?’
An angry grin instantly lit Gilda’s face. ‘Are you kidding? I love it here! And at least I acknowledge I belong here, unlike “These people are my intellectual inferiors, not like my imaginary ponies wah wah wah”.’
‘I don’t think you’re...’
‘Oh, listen to poor innocent Tara. Just...’ With a grunt, Gilda turned away, watching the television.
Tara looked about the room, still wringing her fingers. This is where Pinkie Pie would appear, accuse Gilda of being a ‘mean meanie-pants’ and Tara would become Twilight Sparkle again. Actually, at that moment, there didn’t seem to be anyone in the rec room except Tara and Gilda. Well, there were other girls, but they were engaged in their own errands. One played with her own hair, one looked at a window – not through it, at it – and another just stood there without movement. Zoe wasn’t even there – perhaps she had been released?
She still swore she saw buffalo dancing.
After a while, in came Foster, sporting a shit-eating grin as he approached Tara. ‘Are you feeling any better, Miss Muschel?’
Tara narrowed her eyes at her visitor. ‘Go to hell.’
‘Look,’ continued Foster as he held the handles of Tara’s wheelchair, taking her away from the rec room, ‘I understand you may find my experiment a little...how shall I say...distressing. But as long as it gets your head out of the clouds.’ He chuckled, making Tara squirm. ‘Poor choice of words, I know. I’ll be back tomorrow to see how you are faring.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Tara asked as she was returned to her room.
After being asked that, Foster gave another laugh, this one smaller. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Tara gave no answer. ‘This isn’t part of some evil plan to erase people’s minds or something in that vein...though you aren’t actually the first person to think that.’
A moment of silence followed, with Tara adding a smile of her own, before Foster lifted her onto her bed, said ‘Goodbye’ and left.
Now left alone, Tara surveyed the room, expecting Pinkie Pie to arrive any minute now. She awaited the appearance of the pink pony like she would await a package she ordered, but Pinkie did not appear. No scowling pink pony came in to beg her back to Equestria or to remind her to save it. Vanquishing Pinkie before had led to this accident, but now she knew it would lead to no such thing.
She had won. She wasn’t a brightly coloured pony, she was a grey little human in a grey little world. Her mind had too much potential to be wasting it on thinking about...
Was that them? Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy all leering down from the ceiling, like gargoyles, not the cartoon those things from the buildings, stone demons like Discord...
She swore she heard someone approaching.
As soon as the grimacing ponies had vanished, the handle on her door had begun turning. Still weak, still flustered, she only lay there, shuddering as usual.
Slowly the door creaked open.
Bert the orderly entered.
‘Just remembered I was supposed to give this to you.’ Still shuddering, Tara took the card from Bert’s hand, awaiting him leaving. After he locked the door behind him, she looked at the card. A typical store-bought ‘Get well soon’, with a little cat on it. She opened it.
Gilda.
Not the human Gilda, the Equestrian gryphon. A replication of a doodle she had done during a therapy session. It was better than she remembered it being, and she shook her head at how she could have seen that so clearly. Beneath the obligatory message, a single ‘G’ was written.
Her would-be friend.
The card fluttered to the floor.
Once again she was Twilight Sparkle, her hands making way for hooves, her head filled with different memories. Now she stood on a chequered ground, surrounded by floating buildings and delusional ponies. Her purple mane drained of all colour, she walked away, all on her own. No friends, no Applejack, no Rarity, no Fluttershy...
No Pinkie Pie.
Who needed them anyway? Her first instinct was right; they were all crazy. Now that they had become vicious gargoyles, they were even more so. But who cares? They were merely a distraction, something to prevent her getting her work done. They couldn’t stop Discord, they didn’t want to. So, if they didn’t want to, why should she?
And speak of the devil.
‘Twilight!’ Discord squealed, a larger smile than usual lighting his hybrid features, ‘You’ve gotta see what I just did!’ His tone was that of an excited child showing a picture to mother, so perhaps that’s why Twilight could muster no fear or anger. Still, Discord directed her attention to a pony seasoned with pepper. A single sneeze, and the surrounding buildings fell down. No, not buildings – cardboard representations of them. That’s all they were. They were never constructed from brick and cement, merely with a thought.
‘Come on, Twilight Sparkle, you’ve got to get into the spirit of things!’ Discord raised his hands into the air, almost looking as if he were crucified. ‘After all, this is your new home!’
‘Not anymore.’
As Twilight trotted back to her library, she heard Discord’s ‘Yes!’ of victory. Ignoring it, she made her way to her bedroom, to dear old Spike. There he lay, claws clutching his stomach, writhing and squirming. Twilight froze as she listened to him murmur unintelligible gurgling, then she noticed the pile of scrolls lying proudly on the floor.
The letters she had written to Celestia.
Using her horn, she levitated the scrolls, unveiling their contents. As she stared at them, she didn’t read them, rather she lived them. The memories she used to have in this world all flurried back into her mind, which did cause a slight headache, but any pain was quickly soothed by what she saw before her. Once again, she felt the cooling waters surround her body, doing away with the ailments of the poison joke. Again she felt a wave of triumph after having escaped from the Diamond Dogs. Her brain immediately turned from the doubt Discord had sown, now pondering on her friends, their quirks and how their minds worked. Yes, her friends were real; they were born, had childhoods, and inside their heads, they have their own little thoughts. Those thoughts even taught Twilight a thing or two.
All those memories...
When Nightmare Moon was exposed for what she truly was, a victory that led Twilight to many more adventures. Going up a mountain to confront a sleeping dragon, which led to Fluttershy gaining a smidge more confidence...
Forced to work under the watch of Clarice.
That memory had crept back, and so did the phantom fingers and toes. This wasn’t a dream, Tara still felt awake. She could feel her soft bed against her skin, she could feel the chill of her bedroom. Yet she could also feel the magic emanating from her forehead, illuminating and revealing the scrolls.
Shaking her head, she found herself fully awake, yet still with that feeling of creating magic, and still with that urge to defeat Discord. The image of Discord played in her brain, a being made up of different creatures with unimaginable power, that was as alive and breathing as she was. A skeleton lay beneath the scales and fur, a heart pumped blood and he had a cunning brain to devise more horrific changes to give Equestria...
‘Still doing that, I see. You should really stop that.’
With that little voice, Tara sighed, twiddling her fingers again. She took a look down at the floor, to the open card. The picture of Gilda the gryphon, now somehow looking more like the type of creature that would terrify innocent Fluttershy. But Gilda’s not like that really, is she? Maybe the angry gryphon of Equestria should have a new name. Gretta. Goldie.
Oh look. Pinkie Pie. She doesn’t look too happy.
Despite still being monochrome, Pinkie Pie was the brightest thing in the room. That uncharacteristic scowl remained on her face as she looked around. She paced, her walking reminding Tara of a wind-up toy. When she laid eyes on the card on the floor, she shuddered and looked up to stare Tara in the face. ‘Oh, you still think we’re all just a joke, don’t you?’
Tara raised her head. ‘No. I don’t.’
‘After all we’ve been through,’ she growled, leaping onto Tara’s form, ‘After what you’ve seen...you still come back to this dump?’
Pausing, Tara looked upward for a while in thought, and then replied, ‘I’ll come back.’
‘Yeah, right!’
‘No, really, I’ll...’ With a sigh, Tara attempted to collect her thoughts together. ‘I know what you were trying to do. You...didn’t have to.’
‘Oh, really? I try to make you happy, and this is how you repay me? Did you prefer being with that old bat?’
Shuddering and wringing her hands once again, Tara attempted to search for an answer. She noticed herself fidgeting, and stopped herself, laughing slightly about her doing so for a figment of her imagination.
‘Aha! I knew it!’
‘Yeah...you know when you appeared to me here, I didn’t speak to you, because...’
‘Why? Because people would think you were “crazy”?’ That last word was emphasised with Pinkie circling her ear with a hoof, and her eyes becoming spirals.
Tara nodded, making Pinkie Pie gasp. ‘Still,’ added Tara, ‘I guess everyone knows I’m crazy, so...’ She spun her hand around, and then pointed at Pinkie, who had regained some of her colour. Forcing herself to take a good hard look at Pinkie Pie’s face, she tried to see her not as a delusion, not a lunatic, but as a part of her. Another Tara. Like Fluttershy was her timidness, Applejack her hardworking nature and Rainbow Dash being something pent up, Pinkie Pie had to be something. Her inner child? No, something more than that.
‘So does this mean you are going back to Ponyville?’ Pinkie Pie bounced, just once.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but only for a while.’
A smile crossed Pinkie Pie’s face, which then shrunk into a slight frown. ‘But you’ll come back, won’t you?’
‘Would you like me to tell you a story?’
Gradually, yet not too slowly, Pinkie had regained her coat’s colour, and was bathed in her namesake once more. ‘Sure! I love a good story, especially one with lots of action and...’
Pinkie disappeared. Back into Tara’s head, back where’d she stay.
Tara smiled.
‘Discord had flooded Ponyville with chaos, and sat back to admire his work...’
‘I beat him,’ was the first words Tara had said that morning, when her peaceful sleep had been interrupted by none other than Thomas Foster entering the room.
As he closed the door, Foster arched an eyebrow. ‘What was that?’
Recollecting herself, fully awakening in a few mere seconds, Tara looked up to meet Foster’s eyes. ‘I said I beat it. I beat the ponies. I guess your serum worked.’
‘Ah yes,’ said Foster with a smile, ‘I was just seeing how it was holding up.’ He scratched the back of his neck. ‘I have been trying it on another patient, and it has resulted in violent night terrors.’
‘Didn’t you say it had to be violent at first?’
‘Ah yes,’ he said, with his smile returning, ‘But still, I am somewhat concerned.’
‘Don’t be.’
Foster approached, and asked, ‘Would you like to go outside for a while?’
With a nod, Tara was lifted into her wheelchair, and was wheeled outside into the gardens. A clean paved path framed by a selection of flowers seating neatly in brick pots, and benches baring various names. There was not a sound to be heard except for the squeaking of Tara’s chair- none of the hollers or loud nonsense she heard when she was trying to sleep, none of the blathering from doctors. She turned to pick up a flower and for a moment, began to think about some gardener planting it and tending to it. Then she tried to put it out of her head; flowers shouldn’t need analysis.
She never gave Equestria that much analysis either. Maybe she should have; then she’d have realised how silly it was to believe in it, and would have left the asylum years ago. No, she couldn’t give up Equestria entirely; if she still thinks about it but acknowledges it as fictional, it isn’t insane, is it?
Something crawled across her gut as she pondered on it. She’d become Twilight Sparkle again, and she’d stay that way again. While she did tell Pinkie Pie she’d try to balance reality with ponies, she just knew she’d lean too far in one direction again.
Pinkie Pie’s Ferris Wheel Adventure. Not enough seats for the ponies. One pony forfeits her turn. Problem solved. Why couldn’t this whole thing be like that?
‘I think we can ground you here for good this time,’ said Foster, ‘I didn’t trust Marge. I actually think she wanted you living your delusions.’ He chuckled, and Twilight chuckled with him.
‘I’d like to speak with Gilda again,’ she said, ‘I think we can still be friends.’
‘Indeed. And now that you’ve seemed to have made an agreement with your imagination, I think you can.’
While raising an eyebrow at that remark, Tara continued the conversation. ‘You know, I’ve always wanted to accomplish something...’
‘Yes, I know. And I think you are on the way to doing that. But remember that you have to stay here.’