Dry Rain

Chapter 1: The World Will Still Be Turning

All is quiet in Canterlot while the corpse of an allicorn hangs by the neck from a rope in her palace. The corpse would hang there for months until it rots away into the nothing it was in life. Nopony would bother to take it down or venture into the room that has become a forgotten tomb. Nopony even seemed to notice that she is gone. Nothing much changes. It is hard to say what became of Canterlot after that, as it stayed absolutely the same as it has been for years. Perhaps Luna took the throne and ruled just as her sister did, or perhaps the impact that Celestia had on Equestria and her influence was so insignificant that whether she was dead or alive made no difference.

No one is quite sure how long Celestia had been contemplating suicide. She had spent days without sleep thinking of it, but never was all that sure to go through with it until a rather sadistic figure had visited her and sent letters to her. This figure had no business in Canterlot, and is debatable if she has any business in Equestria, or along any of the plains of the universe. It started rather strange, as Celestia herself cannot recall of it was reality or a dream, but aren’t they the same. A voice came to her from above the palace, talking of how everything was all good in the world, but of how everypony had to learn things and find a place in the world. There was one pony that had not learned anything, but had merely watched as all others struggled. How she relied on ponies writing to her to learn what it means to be alive. She was reminded of how no matter how many friendship reports she’s read, she will never know how to be alive. She was truly dead on the inside. When sleep finally came, or perhaps while she was awake, there had been a small cut on her leg and on the walls of her quarters was written in blood, “There is no meaning to life.”

It is still unsure if Celestia herself wrote this while she was conscious or not; or if the days without sleep had put her into such a deep sleep, that she would not have felt a small cut or hear the writing of blood. A day later, it was her birthday, and uninvited and unannounced came a pony with a present. Celestia was surprised, and her and the pony had deep conversations about life, and somehow, this pony knew that the right persuasion could bring Celestia away from suicide, or drive her to it. This pony had appeared to be complimenting Celestia on a well done job in Equestria, but the way she put it was making Celestia hear of how this place needs no one to rule it, but a figurehead to make even the most useless of ponies to seem relevant. This pony was some sort of master manipulator for she brought up how Celestia was on the verge of suicide. She would say that she shouldn’t do it, but the way she worded it made a troubled mind think to do it. Before leaving she said, “You have nothing to die for.” When Celestia opened the present the pony had given her, it was empty.

The next week anonymous letters came to Celestia. Odd how she had read them and thought about them more knowing they did not come from Spike’s fire and they weren’t friendship reports. As for the past month, Celestia had not received any friendship reports. Reading them and trying to find ways to be alive were really helping her not be depressed, but ever since the visit from the pony, she had been incredibly depressed. These letters said how no amount of reading reports would teach her how to love and be happy. Another said how she did not do anything to help Equestria, but watch as it suffered during hard times, as she did not have the heart to help. No emotion was shown from Celestia, the multiple times she read each letter, proving the letters correct. When the time came, she had made a noose, placed on a chandelier in her quarters, and put her head through it. With her head through the noose, without any second thought, she stopped flapping her wings. While her body was twitching and flailing rapidly, this would be the part where someponies life would flash before their eyes. Centuries, perhaps even a millennia of life, and there was no life that flashed before her eyes. There were no high points or anything memorable or relevant to flash before her eyes in her last moments of so called life. It was all blank. Then, her body had stopped moving, and she was dead. A few hours later, when morning came, the sun had come up at its brightest.