I have been called by many names across the aeons, spoken in tongues long since forgotten, as I myself have been forgotten. There once was a time when my name was whispered around campfires in the dead of night, always in hushed tones, lest I hear and answer my summons. Those who dwell the earth now have heard of me only as a legend, passed down from the times before, when monsters still roamed the land. Once, I was viewed as a God. Now, few so much as know my name.

I have been absent for far too long, allowing those that dwell to become complacent, ignorant. They believe that monsters aren't real, that they were just stories told to frighten misbehaving foals.

I think it is time to remind them of why they fear the dark. They will know my name, my wrath.

I am the banished Elder God, and I now awake from my slumber.

My story begins where so many others end; with death. None are so familiar with death as I, For I have lived many centuries and died countless times. Untold dozens of lives have ended this same way; a slow decline in health, both physical and mental. This form fades away, my tenuous connection to this world slowly dwindling, like the last glow of a cooling ember. It is here that my tale diverges from the set way of things, for my ember does not simply fade to nothing. Quite the opposite, in fact. With a gout of flame akin to a solar flare, I burn to ash in excruciating pleasure. When the flames subside, I emerge from the ashes as a fledgling.

My name is Philomena.

I am a Phoenix.

And for her, I’d do it all again.

Timber Blaze was a soldier, a member of the elite Royal Guards, who served five years in combat before an injury forcibly retired him.

Not all wounds bleed, and not all scars can be seen.

Even after Blaze came back from the war, he never left the battlefield. Constantly on edge, seeing movements in the shadows, he fights the psychological trauma caused by years at war. As the flashbacks become more real and more frequent, they push Blaze closer and closer to the edge. This is the tale of what happens when he is pushed too far.

From within my dominion of storms, I survey the destruction being wrought beneath me. As the forked tongues of Eldritch power strike down at the ground below, the howl of the wind changes its timbre. There is a disturbance, an intruder within this sacred place. In the countless years I've brought forth these storms, never has any creature had the audacity to venture into their path, let alone into the very heart of such a tempest.

I must find this fearless intruder... And I must destroy it.

That was the plan, at least. Who could have foreseen this awakening, this re-emergence?

Venturing into the heart of the Tempest, indeed.

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We have the Princesses of the Day and Night, and of Love and Friendship. What about the elemental forces of Fire and Ice, of Tempestuous Skies and Roiling Seas? In this short story, I shall endeavor to personify the spirit of one elemental, who wields the power of the storm.

This here is a short story that came to me as I sat in the shade of a Humvee, eating an MRE. It's a little funny and a little sad, and it is the tale of how a mare named Jade became the afterlife receptionist for Ponyville.

Inspired by Metallica's "One" music video, From the perspective of the victim.

What is the worst fate that you can imagine? Being buried alive? Being paralyzed, unable to move? Having to watch as everything you love withers and dies before your eyes? Every one of these fates is terrible in its own way; but when you combine them all, the result is greater than the sum of the parts; a perfect storm of tragedy and fear.

That morning, I'd kissed my wife goodbye and told her I loved her, same as always. I'd boarded the trolley to the Gem mines in the eastern sector, same as always. I punched in the clock and boarded the elevator, heading deep into the bowels of the granite titans. Same as always. Something happened after that though, something terrible and tragic. The last thing I remember is the sound of the elevator doors clanging shut and the sudden lurch as we began our descent; the last sliver of daylight slipping away as we plunged to the abyss.

Here's a little one-shot story that I got the idea for from listening to Metallica's "One" and watching the corresponding music video.

Everybody has wondered what it would be like to go somewhere else, to just leave all of their problems behind and make a new life for themselves somewhere else. Nobody ever stops to think ‘Hey? What if I actually did go somewhere new and I missed this place more?’ No, nobody ever says that, because we are sure that our fantasy worlds are the bees’ knees and we would never want to return. Let me tell you, that is not always the case. Let’s rewind and take it from the top, shall we?

Good day, Fillies and Gentlecolts. What you are about to read is a factual retelling of the events that led up to, and occurred during, what has come to be known as World War Z. Though occasionally referred to by a few different monikers (The Zombie Apocalypse, The Plague of Trotting Death, and The Blackness to name a few), the name is unimportant. Once the subject is brought up, anypony on Equestria would recognize it as the event that changed the world. After the initial outbreak and some formative events from the childhood of a “Generation Z” pony,one who was born just before or after the initial outbreak, we pick up the narrative based on the account of a cerulean earth pony named Hope, as she struggles to survive in the post-apocalyptic Equestria.

The first few chapters are a bit rough, but they get better.