Who I Am

by EpicGuy

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Pinkie Pie, Sad
Length: 5540

Pinkamena reflects on her doings and past.

Note- Light TwiPie and DashPie, along with some gore. Not enough to rate it as Mature, but ye be warned...

Pinkamena is feeling especially down one day and begins remembering some of her happier (and some not so happy) memories. This doesn't help her as much as needed, though, and she is forced to find out what to do with her life and if possible if she can turn it around. But it may be a special present from some suprising friends who help her with her difficulties...

*Whew* This one took a while! Probably the story (so far) that has taken the longest, about 2 weeks for ideas and writing. Hope you like. Also, I tried to go with a different approach to this one instead of just straight-up sadness- I tried to hopefully get whoever's reading this to get a different opinion on our favorite psycho cupcake-making mare. If I did, awesome. If I didn't, oh well. At least I semi-tryed.

AND I was excessively listening to Shattered by Trading Yesterday while writing this, so many of the lyrics are put in the title, chapter, and story itself. Find them all and win a Fluttershy.

Published 2012-02-25 04:14:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-02-25 04:14:02 UTC

Love Gone Wrong

Pinkamena flattened her pink ears to her head and tried not to weep. This was very hard for her to contain, as she felt she could no longer take the pain, the chilling silence that greeted her, the emptiness in her heart, a void where laughter and happiness once rested. She couldn't take the loneliness that came with her evil deeds and doings, the price she had to pay for what she loved.

The muted pink pony bit her lip furiously to keep from the silver tears from draining in her eyes. A dark crimson line sprang from her light magenta flesh and dripped, like a faucet, onto the stained linolium. It bounced, once, twice on the surface before making a grand splash much like a wave (yet on a small scale) and landing in a small puddle. A rogue drip from her faucet came back and hit the pony who created it, but she didn't give any notice to it.

What have I done with my life?

It had gone downhill since that fateful day she was outcast from her family's faithful rock farm. They had deemed her too "happy go lucky." If only they could see me now, she thought sadly.

That blue unicorn. She remembered him well. The first Ponyville citizen she had ever seen. His name was Aristotle. His cutie mark was a constellation. He had taught it to her once- but those memories had long since been buried. He was very calm and even-minded, and it took a lot to make him even raise his eyebrow. He took everything in his stride, whether it be good or bad. She remembered the pale blue eyes that seemed to laugh alongside her and his much darker body. I thought his mane was toothpaste, she recalled. His mane was pure white like snowflakes with a striking aquamarine stripe through the middle. He said he got that comment a lot.

Another river of blood branched off from the first. She couldn't barricade the tears much longer.

He had said once that he enjoyed cupcakes. She had baked some with help from that pretty earth pony at Suagrcube Corner, but he said they were too sweet. She had baked some more, these too sour. Determined to make him happy she endlessly slaved over that oven, sometimes overnight while her mentor was sleeping. All were turned away, but politely. She wasn't going to let him down, though.

One tear squirmed its way under her eyelid. The first of many.

That was how it all began. This horrible mess that she had gotten herself into. With her life, her friends, her sanity. It was all his fault. This would't have happened if it wasn't for that unicorn, she seethed through clenched teeth. Then she sighed and dipped her head again, unknowingly let another tear join the dance on her cheek. It wasn't his fault. I know what I did.

A dark and stormy night, she remembered it as if it were the previous night's events. He was walking about, looking for the former library maiden, Miss Binding. She had been strolling behind him, waiting for the chance to strike. He had stopped at a bush to check the time and admire the moon. She had knocked him out with her stone cold hoof and carried him away, in the shadows, to Sugarcube Corner. He was violent and had a right to be- there was still a scar on her leg where he had involuntarily kicked her.

He was dragged to the bakery and taken downstairs, to a long room long since abandoned by the Cakes. She hung him on a stocky wooden board and chained him by his hooves. When he awoke she was standing beside him with a butter knife, a rusty container, and some flour.

She let another tear out willingly.

"What is the meaning of this, Miss Pinkamena?" Aristotle asked after the dizzyness had worn off.

Pinkamena smiled and held out the butter knife. "Oh, nothing. I was just going to make some cupcakes for you."

Aristotle's face softened. "It's quite alright, little one. I already have some at home. Now, if you would let me go, I would be happy to share."

Pinkamena shook her small head and came up to Aristotle and pressed the tip of the knife to his neck. "No no no! I have to make the perfect cupcakes for you. You deserve it." She flashed a toothy grin and began to push the blunt edge of the knife into his flesh. A spurt of blood jumped from the cut and hit young Pinkamena's face. He screamed at the sight of his own organs and struggled against his chains.

"Pinkamena! Stop this at once!"

Her expression of happiness turned to sadness, then to a dark shade of anger. She drove the knife deeper in a flick of her wrist and crimson blood flew.

"Why can't you see I'm doing this for you!? I want to make you happy! That's my dream! And the only way I'll do it is to make you cupcakes!"

Tears mixed with blood and Pinkamena tearfully took the knife and used the flat side to slide the mixture into her container. Aristotle gasped and screeched, but she sadly put another parallel mark in his neck and connected the two at the tips. She got down on her hooves and used her teeth to pull the flap of skin out. Another roar followed.

Much later did Aristotle rebel. She had taken the flap of skin on his neck, plus his cutie mark and half of his leg, and put it all in her bowl. She used her own hooves to crush the skin into a red and blue mess, then mixed it with flour in the same bowl and threw it in her oven.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He shrieked as she put the knife down and began to stick a hoove into his open neck.

Pinkamena didn't answer.

She grabbed a handful of nerves and yanked, provoking Aristotle's legs instintively kicking out. One hit Pinkamena, and she fell backwards along with the nerves. He groaned in extreme pain.

She felt the bleeding welt on her cheek with one hoof while the other held the nerves. Her blue eyes widened and they glistened as if they were moist in the pale light. She put the nerves absentmindedly into another bowl and left her mouth open in suprise. When she came back to get more nerves from his neck, she also brought some nails that had been simmering in a corner and a hammer. "You brought this on yourself." She said simply, expression and emotionless.

She hammered the white-hot nails into his hooves and tail. At first the pain was cold, like bathing in a river stream- but then it was like being thrown in the depths of hell. He cried out, but she didn't take any action.

Pinkamena continued to rip him apart limb by limb, putting some of her handywork into the bowl. At last there was a dull ding and the smell of cupcakes wafted by the pair.

"Ready to be amazed?" She said, her hair unusually straight and her eyes sparkling.

Aristotle was in too much pain to reply.

She crushed the contents in the bowl and left to get the cupcakes. A moment later she appeared with a cupcake tin full of fluffy red and blue cupcakes and set them down in front of Aristotle. She then got the bowl once more, with the butter knife, and stuck the knife into the mixture. She pulled up, and a mess of red goo was stuck on the silver blade. Pinkamena gleefully began to frost the demented cupcakes with amazing precision and grace, each one getting the perfect ratio of cake to frosting.

Once all were frosted she took one out and observed its beauty. It was an elegant combination of red and blue, complimenting the red and white of the frosting. Pinkamena smiled and shook it in front of Aristotle, who grimaced and tried to move away.

"What's wrong, Aristotle? You haven't even tried it yet!"

She shifted the cupcake onto one hoof and used the other to force his mouth open. Once she could see his gnashed teeth she threw the cupcake in and made him chew and swallow. "Now," she said, "what do you think?"

Aristotle gagged and shook his head.

Pinkamena gasped and cried out. She reared backwards onto her back hooves and wiggled her front ones wildly as if at a rodeo. "Is there any way to please you?! Can't you just say yes for once!? I need your approval!"

Aristotle's throat bulged as the cupcake slid downwards. His face contorted in a morphed combination of absolute pain, shock, and a hint of sadness, it seemed. A shake rattled his frail body and his eyes lazily focused on Pinkamena as he floated on the border of conciousness. "How did this happen, Pinkie?" He asked, using her pet name only he called her. If anypony else used that silly nickname Pinkamena began to tear up and beg for them to take it back for reasons she didn't dare tell.

As if he was a stranger she began to tear up and she made pitiful cries in the darkness. "How did THIS-" she thrust a hoof at his body, then at the demented cupcakes still cooling on a table- "Happen?!?" She stretched out the last word until it was so thin you could see through it. Pinkamena snarled at Aristotle and grabbed the butter knife in a swift motion. "YOU are what started this, dear Aristotle! If you could have just kept your mouth shut and swallowed the cupcakes that I slaved over, this wouldn't happen! You wouldn't be dying, I wouldn't be over you with a butter knife, and everything would be happy-happy and rainbows and jellybeans!" She took a deep breath. "But that's not how the world works. There arn't any stallions who're gonna sweep me off my hooves and take me to a magical castle and make me a princess and there arn't any rainbows who're gonna come and help make my sad life better!" She let out a cross between a groan and a shrill screech. Her blue eyes were huge and luminous, greedily soaking up the little light in the room.

"All I ever wanted..." Pinkamena hopped down from Aristotle and began to pace. But unknowingly to her or Aristotle for that matter was a silver sliver stuck in Aristotle's chest, thrust in by her anger.

"...Was to make you happy!" In her fury she lept to an abandoned fridge and pulled out a thin cord and a small box with gilded hinges. Pinkamena, as if in a daze, attached the cord to Aristotle's tail and put the box in front of her on the cold floor. Still in a slight daze she pulled down a lever and a visible volt of electricity shot from the box to the cord, hitting Aristotle's body with a snap and a sizzling of fur. He roared and clenched his teeth together, trying not to burst out crying.

Pinkamena took this as a sign that she should up the ante and walked slowly to the cupcakes. She took a bite out of one and chomped in slow motion, a nerve bouncing around in her mouth with glee. Aristotle felt the same cupcake she was savouring threaten to come up again.

She stopped chewing and swallowed without the slightest bit of trouble. She then paused and seemed to freeze in position, her eyes glazed over. Silence followed her sudden stop.

Then Pinkamena was thrown violently into a fit of rage and noticed the knife in Aristotle's chest. She ran to it, quick as light itself, and grasped the handle with a crazy light in her eyes. "All I ever wanted..." She rubbed the holt as if it were alive and she was calming it. Aristotle held his breath and prepared for the worst.

"WAS TO BE LOVED!"

She pushed it down into his heart with such force that blood flew almost instantly and he buckled in her grasp. Aristotle's body didn't move, but his eyes flickered from her to the cupcakes to the knife stuck into one chamber of his heart and going through the next. He beckoned her closer with eye movements, and as a death wish she came closer. His lips trembled as the noble and magical Aristotle uttered one last sentence before he gave in to darkness-

"I always loved you, Pinkamena Diane Pie."

Another red vein stemmed off from the centermost one on her face. A single tear blended with it and made a sticky solution that frothed down her cheek.

I was always loved. Aristotle always loved me.

She had to remember that. No matter what she ever did, the things she said, Aristotle always loved her.

The things I did.

The ponies I killed because I thought I wasn't good enough.

Pinkamena let another tear escape from under the grip of her eyelid, and this time she didn't care if others found a gap in her defenses. This was her doing, and she wanted the life before it back. Sure, she had met five great friends at one point and been places she would have never dreamed of going, but both of those had their lows to their highs. The trips they took put her "work" on the backburner in her mind, but they still haunted her even as she smiled and had fun. Her friends she ended up making into cupcakes, unfortunetly. For each she made a prayer to Aristotle, and hoped that where ever he was he approved of her sacrifice and her doing.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Pinkamena was about to launch into another vivid memory but was brought to the present by a peculiar sight- a floating music box of some sort. It had a small, bright yellow note attached to the top that read "For Pinkie when she needs it most" in a swirly calligraphy font. She was about to take the gift when she noticed something around the box- a magenta and light blue aura.

She was thrown backwards by an invisible force and blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend the sight while getting to the tears that released themselves and now freely flew across her cheeks.

Only Twilight Sparkle and Rarity had those auras when they used magic.

Pinkamena's mouth gaped and a mixture of blood and salty tears flooded in.

B-but they were dead a long time ago?

She slowly got to her feet to get a better look at the box. It had gilded edges and a gold locket in the shape of a balloon, and when she looked under the note inscribed in the wood with gentle hooves was the name "Pinkie Pie." She just stared at the peculiarness of it all, but then the box moved and seemed to nudge itself closer to her as if her unicorn friends wanted her to crank it. Carefully she took it, and the auras dispersed and reformed in the loose shapes of the duo's eyes. They seemed to blink and waited for Pinkamena to do something. From behind her (she was sure she was very delusional), she heard the faint beating of pegasus wings, to be more specific two pairs of wings, one louder and powerful and one almost silent and barely moving the air around it. To add to the effect Pinkamena swore she heard the hard clopping of hooves clicking against the old linolium, proud and honest. She felt the spirits of her friends around her, and whether it be a crazed fantasy or a real situation, she felt a twinge happier. Relaxed now she began to crank the gilded handle that hang out from the side. It chimed a few times, like a rubber mallet striking a high note on the bells, then make a creaking sound and with a note far too high pitched snapped open. Inside was a small stage, decorated to look like Sugarcube Corner- or, more in a more accurate sense, what it was like before her "obsession" took over her life and career; bright colors that popped and small tables and chairs like the ones you might find at a classy Canterlot coffee stand. In the center, on her own separate platform, was a little figure of Pinkamena- or Pinkie Pie, classified by her frizzy and unkept mane and bubbling eyes. She was laughing in mid-leap and not willing to stop her antics.

Pinkamena thought she might cry again. It was truely a work of art, that small music box. But she was not prepared for what came next.

The song started, and with it came a huge gasp from Pinkamena. She knew this song from her childhood. Aristotle, one time while in a terrible mood, played it nonstop on his vintage record player. When he met his untimely deminse, Pinkamena made it a requirement to think, or at least listen, to it whilst doing her job for her friend.

The lyrics touched her heartstrings and plucked them gently at first, mostly because at first they meant nothing to her and were simply poetry meant to be enjoyed and not have a deeper purpose. Then they went down the harp in her heart, each string plucked a little stronger than the last stanza that was sung with such richness and emotion. She felt the beginnings of a tear but brushed it off, admiring the tempo.

Suddenly the lyrics stopped and the beginnings of a instrumental solo began to edge their way into the song. At the same time the little Pinkie Pie figure and the stage alike began to turn in opposite directions, meeting up once more in the center, this time with a new background and a new face. This background was much more monochrome, with dark undertones and figures in shades of gray. The happily galloping Pinkie was replaced by a depressed Pinkamena, complete with a straight mane and a dipped head. The instruments got stronger with each second, and finally-

The instruments climaxed in a gorgeous combination of percussion and strings, occupanied by the strong, meaningless vocals of the singer. It immediately brought tears to Pinkamena's eyes and she wailed, so moved by this change of pace the song took. Although the box was small the sound boomed in her ears and filled every nook in the entire building with its wonderful tone. She felt the gazes and warmth of her friends beside he and she cried even harder.

The song went on, each part getting a little more heartfelt then the one that preceded it. Pinkamena wept through every moment of it, savoring the pitch and warm feeling in her chest.

Finally the song came to a dramatic close, draining its sound out from the song little by little, until it was only the vocalist and the strings who were left. The platforms each turned again, and when they settled instead of Pinkie or Pinkamena in Sugarcube Corner it was a blank stage and all her friends in a majestic clay form, each doing what they did best- Applejack bucking a small tree, Rarity levitating a new dress, Rainbow Dash preforming a Sonic Rainboom. But the eyes were not on their hobbies- they were on her. Another note on the blank platform read, in Twilight Sparkle's neat and tidy handwriting, "We forgive you." Each one of them signed it using their own special signature at the bottom in their choice of pen.

Rarity wrote "From your sweetest marshmallow". Applejack wrote "We'll help ya get through it, sugarcube." In Fluttershy's graceful handwriting was "From your Flutters" with a small heart. Rarity's words were wavy and curled, reading "Stay strong, darling." Rainbow Dash, who was always in a hurry to beat some record or one-up somepony's feat, had written very quickly the words "From your awesomest friend ever."

Twilight Sparkle's was on the back of the note, since it was not just a single sentence. In her clean handwriting was not a few sentences, but an entire paragraph. It read:

Dear Pinkie Pie,

You're probably wondering why and how we've written this for you to discover one day. The answer may suprise you, but I got a message from Princess Celestia a while back that explained how to predict the future by completing a diverse spell. When we saw you've been depressed (and Rainbow Dash mysteriously disappeared), I decided to try out the spell. You couldn't imagine my suprise when I saw your future without us in it! So I personally got everypony together and made this little music box (We would have invited you, honest! But you said you were finishing some "unfinished work" with Mayor Mare.) for you to enjoy and remember. Unfortunetley, I also used that spell to find out what will happen to us in the future. To say the least, I'm shocked and disgusted at your so called "hobby." I won't go into detail, but I won't look at your cupcakes the same way again, to say the least. The others also have the same fate at your hooves, sadly. But although I know how my demise will unfold, I'm truely glad I got to meet you during my time in Ponyville. Before I knew your secret side, you were the only sunshine that brightened my day (and sometimes, burned). Yes, the others are very kind and were quite welcoming to me on my very first day here, but you in particular stood out to me. Before I get tears all over my last scroll for the week, I have to say one last thing- I truely love you, Pinkie Pie, and hope where ever your hooves take you there is good fortune that follows. I'll always be with you, the one and only Pinkie Pie, the only one I've ever seen who can pack a suitcase full of balloons.

Your Faithful Friend,
Twilight Sparkle

Pinkamena's mouth gaped at the last few sentences. Her blue eyes felt like they were simply going to slide out of her head from lubrication.

They knew. They knew what was coming, and they embraced it.

She dipped her head slowly and let her straight mane fall in sleek ringlets down her shoulders, like a magenta waterfall. "And Twilight... She... Loved me." Pinkamena thought back to Aristotle's last few moments by the hilt of her knife, strapped to a wooden board and dying.

All I ever wanted...

WAS TO BE LOVED!

Her eyes shot open, as if her eyelids were curtains and somebody yanked on them as hard and fast as possible. "Twilight Sparkle loved me. So did Aristotle." She glanced at the other side of the note. "And Rarity, and Applejack, and Fluttershy." She had begun to rattle off her other friend who she ended up making into sweet confections, but didn't say Rainbow Dash the entire time.

Soon she found her mistake and began to consider. Dashie always seemed to be closer to me than the others, she thought. But does she forgive me like the others?

Rainbow Dash was a loyal friend through and through- that Pinkamena knew. She had a heart of gold and a mane of rainbows, and she was the Element of Loyalty. Whether her loyalty would extend to murderous, backstabbing (literally) friends, that was unknown. She painted a mental picture of the cyan pegasus, smiling down at her from a high cloud. She quickly erased it, the sight of her friend momentarily blinding her.

Pinkamena saw out of the corner of her eye the familiar glow of the unicorns' magic and behind her the brief fluttering of restless pegasus wings. A hard clopping of hooves alerted her that Applejack hadn't left her.

She looked about, confused. "What happens next?" She asked the spirits. They didn't answer. Pinkamena got up and tried to touch them against her knowledge that she wouldn't feel their soft fur. "What happens to me?" The pink pony stretched her hoof by the spot where she last heard the sound of pegasus wings. Of course there was nothing for her to feel, but it sounded like whichever pegasus it was flinched at her touch. "What happens to you?"

Twilight Sparkle's aura froze in midair and fell to the ground, exploding in many miniscule sparkles. It reformed at Pinkamena's hooves and floated upwards in a silky smoke that tickled her nose playfully. It blossomed and inside the clutches of her telekinectic hold was another scroll, this one dripping slightly with new ink. Pinkamena tearfully grabbed it and unfolded the parchment, which was adorned with Twilight's handwriting. Instead of it's usual calmness and stillness, this message was written shakily and swirly, as if she was trying not cry while writing it.

Dear Pinkie Pie,

Your future is up to you; I didn't know that when I saw my dismal one. Choose it wisely, for you may be held against it some time in the not-so-far future. But I know I died for a great cause- helping you find yourself within this horrible monster of a pony. Maybe someday we'll cross paths again, but I hope not for a long time, if you know what I mean. Goodbye, my Pinkie Pie.

Forever yours,
Twilight Sparkle

Pinkamena finished reading the note and gasped as both of the auras vanished suddenly with no trace of either. The music box slammed on the wood floor, but fortunetly suffered only a very small chipping on the back. The wingbeats were silent, and the hooves stopped moving all at once.

Pinkamena was alone.

But now she knew what she had to do.

Rain pounded on the door of Sugarcube Corner and angrily asked to be let in. The door however didn't want anymore visitors for the night and locked itself. In responce the rain brough along its friends thunder and lightning and made a storm of chaos throughout Ponyville.

Pinkamena checked her knapsack once more to make sure she had everything; The glorious music box, Grandma Pie's cookbook, a few miscellaneous possessions from her childhood, and finally the carefully concealed skulls of her best friends. They made her wince and tingle benath her skin, but she knew it was nessessary to have something to remember them by.

The pink pony sighed and took a look around the abandoned bakery. Dust covered every chair and the cakes beneath a layer of glass were stale and had a dust coating of their own. But at the same time it felt like home, as if somepony somewhere knew they most certainly belonged there. Pinkamena did not.

She sadly opened the door that used to have bells to alert her whilst in the kichen for the last time. Rain poured in and awaited their friends to come after them through the threshold. She walked out of the cover of the overhanging roof and into the stormy night, watching the pattern of rain eclipsing the few streetlights that remained on at this hour. She dragged her knapsack, packed to the brim with her items plus a few bits, into the foliage of a nearby bush and buried it deep within the jagged leaves before turning back towards the store. "I have to." She reassured herself.

With that she took from under her hoof a small match that Grandma Pie had given to her as a present. She said it was a magical match, and whatever little Pinkamena decided to light would burn in the colors of a rainbow and the hissing would become singing. For once she hoped her grandmother was right.

From a jar in the knapsack she got a jar of lard and another of grease- both were things Peachy and Berry Pie had almost thrown away, had it not been for their pack rat daughter. She kept it because the lard smelled like cupcake batter and the grease like a summer's night under the stars.

She took large globs of the lard out and set it out by the various bushes that surrounded Sugarcube Corner. Inside she dragged a cloth soaked with grease around in circles, loop-de-loops, and figure eights until she was satisfied with her greasy mess. It was difficult for her to hold the match whislt trying not to slip about on the linolium.

Finally she got a firm grip in her mouth upon the thin wooden match and struck it upon her own stone-cold hoof. At first there was nothing but a soft humming, then the match burst into a rainbow-colored flame and the prettiest song began to emit from the flame in place of the hissing. It soon ate most of the match, and Pinkamena was forced to drop it and run.

A single rainbow flame licked her cheek and kissed it gently as it left her mouth, and the song caressed her ears as sweet as the siren's song. Before the match even hit the ground Pinkamena was dashing towards the open door, but during that time the fire honed in on the grease and lit it afire before the rest of the match landed. The song sped up slightly as did the fire, and within a blink of the eye almost half of Sugarcube Corner was engulfed in vibrant rainbows.

The heat nipped at Pinkamena's fast hooves and slithered across her forehead, and before long her eyes were heavily clouded with sweat. "I-must-get-to-the-door!" She cried, trying to speed up as a rogue flame attempted to light her tail.

The fire grew unnaturally quickly and before she had even made a dent in the distance between her and the door the fire was burning the entire of Sugarcube Corner to the ground. The song pounded in her earlobes and gave her a slight headache, but she knew she had to get out before the fumes or the fire itself got to her head. Her blue eyes were tired of running, both from the raging blaze and her past. She was tired of running away from what she had done, and what she had left to do.

She had to stand up and fight.

Pinkamena roared over the sound of the song and blasted past the flames, her legs a pink blur. A magenta trail followed close behind her, and she dodged the ever-close rainbow fire with striking precision and ease. A single tear fell from her eye and was quickly blown off course in the wind she was creating.

Suddenly the door rushed up to meet her and Pinkamena leaped into the hot air, spreading her legs so she could go farther. But as she was soaring through the air and trying to outrun the fire, she remembered the warning Grandma Pie told her once she got her hooves on the small match-

Remember Pinkamena, whatever you do, don't put any liquids on the match's flame. It'sa veeery special match, remember.

At that moment her head shot back to see if she had accidentally dropped a teardrop or any other liquid. In that very second, the single tear hit the singing fire.

Pinkamena was shot into the air as Suagrcube Corner exploded into a rainbow mess.

Pinkamena hit the ground running and sped for her knapsack, praying nothing was hurt by the explosion or fire. First she felt the hard bone of the skulls. They were free of any debris, so she went to to her other various possesions (including Grandma Pie's cookbook) and happily found nothing was hurt- even the music box was fine.

She turned around in the emerging moonlight to see rainbow flames going everwhere and the smell of cupcakes in the air. The singer's voice was being hurled into the sky and filled Ponyville with its wonderful music. Pinkamena took the sight in and sighed- not of relief or frustration, but of slight depression. She was all alone now- only the sack on her back and the spirits of her friends to guide her hooves. It seemed like a dreadful thought, but she was ready. She was ready to do whatever it took to get a new take on life- a chance to start over and make a new persona for herself. Proudly she turned in the direction of Canterlot and took her first step in her solitude.

Where am I going? She thought after Ponyville had been hidden by a grassy hill. She probably wouldn't want to go to Canterlot or any other major cities- much too risky. Appleoosa might be a possibility, but it was way too cramped and old fashioned for her liking. Manehatten? A possibility, perhaps.

But what about a name? Pinkamena had to stop at this. She hadn't gotten that far. She couldn't live under her name Pinkie Pie, or maybe even Pinkamena, for that matter- almost all of Equestria, from the pegasi to the sea ponies, had heard of her. But she wasn't sure she wanted to give up the Pie surname, it had grown on her.

Putting those thoughts behind her, Pinkamena galloped into the moonlight and waited to see where her hooves would take her.