The Itch

Chapters

Journal Entry #1
Journal Entry #2
Journal Entry #3
Journal Entry #4
Journal Entry #5
Journal Entry #6
Journal Entry #7
Journal Entry #8
Journal Entry #9
Journal Entry #10
Journal Entry #11
Journal Entry #12
Journal Entry #13

Journal Entry #1

Designation: Notebook
Owner: Twilight Sparkle

Hello, my name is Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic, personal student of Princess Celestia, and local librarian of Ponyville, Equestria. This is a forward to anypony that comes across this notebook: If found, please return to The Golden Oak Library in Ponyville, rural town south of Equestria’s capitol, Canterlot. I wish that you respect my privacy and to not read any further. Thank you.
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January 5th, Saturday, 1003 A.B. (After Banishment)

Hello, and as stated before, my name is Twilight Sparkle and this is a notebook in which I will document my feelings and occurrences. This will not be a scientific journal, as I already own multiple. Instead, the topic of this notebook is a little more… selective. Quite recently, earlier this week on Tuesday to be exact, I experienced a bizarre hallucination, I suppose. It’s hard to put into words due to the odd nature of the event, though you could describe it as a daydream, except that it was anything but a dream…

The Pegasi had scheduled a cloudless day, and having been cooped up in the library for the past week researching for a presentation on the benefits of hydroelectricity, I decided that enjoying the outdoors and spending time with my friends would be a nice change of pace. After checking and double checking the list I had made for my activities that day, I went off to spend the day with my friends. Sometime later, making my way from Sugarcube Corner whilst munching on a blueberry muffin left over from the “Berry Baking Bonanza” Pinkie and I had, I decided on a quick trot through the park before heading home for the evening.

Making my way along a dirt path I spotted Scootaloo in a cluster of trees, in the midst of performing tricks with her scooter. A tree obscured my visual of her when she jumped over an elevated root. I became worried when I saw the tree shake from an impact, accompanied with a worrying snapping sound. Concerned, I quickly ran over to where she was. The first thing I heard as I reached the cluster was a strange splattering noise. Still concerned for her health, but now also a little curious, I entered the clearing, and what immediately drew my attention was Scootaloo, impaled upon a sharpened tree branch. As I gazed upon the gristly scene any concern I felt for the still alive filly’s wellbeing strangely wane, leaving in its absence a feeling of intrigue, as if I were examining a Pablo Pegusso painting. The branch was a thin, smooth pike, the sharpened end peeking out of her back, at the base of her wings. Her hooves pushed at the branch, trying and failing to find purchase. The young pegasus’ underdeveloped wings were frantically buzzing back and forth, vainly trying to pull her off her deadly perch. Blood dripped from the puncture wound, running down her struggling form in crimson rivulets, reaching the end of her back hooves only to be flung around the clearing by the wildly flailing appendages, revealing the cause of the splattering sounds.

Making my way forward, albeit at a more relaxed pace, I moved over to where she would be able to see me, and sat down. Her breaths came in sudden gasps, no doubt each one being a struggle. Her eyes were wide with terror, frantically scanning the area, until they finally spotted me sitting on the ground a few hoof steps away. Attempting to speak, she only coughed up blood - the branch had probably pierced a lung. She weakly raised a hoof towards me, silently begging me to save her. I, for my part, just sat there, watching the life slowly drain from the filly’s body. Her hoof eventually fell back to her side, either from her realization of how unlikely I rescuing her would be, or her losing the strength to hold it up. Her gasps were smaller and weaker now; she was slowly losing the battle for life. Her wings soon stopped fluttering as well, now only twitching at the sporadic pulse. Still staring at me, her eyes slowly glazed over, her labored breaths becoming more infrequent with each passing, until eventually they stopped altogether. Scootaloo had perished. I sat there, just listening to her still flowing blood drip into the maroon pool below her pierced corpse. I probably would have kept staring for much longer if it not for somepony yelling “MISS TWILIGHT!”

Startled, I reared back, only to end up flat on my back. I laid there, gasping for air, as if I had just sprinted the Running of the Leaves all the way and back. An orange and purple blob loomed into my vision, blinking rapidly, I soon discovered the blob to be Scootaloo’s face, and that it was in close proximity to mine. “Miss Twilight? Are you alright?” she asked, her eyes full of worry, the same eyes I imagined glazing over. 'I am disgusting’ I thought as I choked back the rising bile in my throat. I managed to squeak out a simple “yes.”

“Are you sure?” Scootaloo persisted, “I saw you standing here, not moving or anything else. When I got closer I saw that your eyes were all distant like, not staring at anything at all. I said your name over and over, but you wouldn’t snap out of it!”

Getting up from the ground, I noticed I was still on the dirt path I was enjoying my walk on before my gruesome imaginings.

“Yes, I’m fine Scootaloo. Thank you for worrying about me, I… I was just lost in my thoughts, that’s all.”

“Well, if you say so…” Scootaloo responded, sounding dubious. Her head suddenly whipped to the sky, her tone of voice changing from suspicion to panic, “Nonononono! I stayed out too late! My parents are gonna go insane when I get back! They’ll take away my scooter and ground me for forever!”

Looking up myself, I was shocked to discover that the sun had already fallen below the horizon, the moon already peeking over the horizon. ‘How long was I in that stupor?’ I wondered. Looking back down at the still panicking filly, I held out a hoof to stop her ramblings.

“Scootaloo, it’s fine, I’ll take you home.” I assuaged her, giving the filly a comforting smile “We can tell your parents that you were out practicing with me watching you. How does that sound?”

The change in her demeanor was instantaneous.”Really Miss Twilight? You’d do that?” She looked up to me with her beaming, grateful eyes, and I felt the same disgust in myself return.

“Y-yes. Let’s get a move on shall we? No need to make your parents worry any longer.” I said, starting off toward Ponyville.

We made conversation during our trip through Ponyville, though it was mainly Scootaloo going on about her adventures in the Cutie Mark Crusaders and me nodding and asking the occasional question, my mind being too preoccupied on what had occurred before in the park.

‘What was that?’
‘How did it happen?’
‘What’s wrong with me?’

Thoughts like these galloped through my mind like the racers at the Triple Tiara until I was once again knocked out of my reverie by Scootaloo’s voice.

“Here’s my house! Thanks for taking me home Miss Twilight!”

Smiling down at the young pegasus filly, I responded “It was nothing Scootaloo. I’m happy to help.”

As we went up cobblestone walkway that led to her house, the door swung open, revealing the furious faces of Scootaloo’s parents. They would have immediately started interrogating their daughter on her breaking of curfew had it not been for me stepping in and informing them that Scootaloo had been showing me some tricks with her scooter in the park, and that we had lost track of time. Like their daughter, their expressions instantaneously changed to gratitude, gratitude towards the same pony that imagined the daughter they loved so much dying a brutal death.

They all thanked me, and as Scootaloo was led by her mother to get ready for bed, her father, Eight Cylinder (a frequent visitor to the library, and a personal friend of mine) invited me to have a cup of tea with him and his wife inside their home. I politely declined, saying that it was getting rather late, and that I had to go to sleep early to open up the library tomorrow. We bid each other farewell, and I made my way back home, but instead of going to bed as I had told Eight, upon entering my abode, I plunged headfirst into every book pertaining to hallucinations that the library had in stock. I spent the rest of the night and most of the next day researching for an explanation to whatever had happened to me in the park.

Unfortunately, due to a limited selection, I am unable to find anything to shed light upon my ailment, but tomorrow I will be taking the train to Canterlot, and more importantly, the Royal Canterlot Library. I shall be taking Spike with me, he’s been begging me to take him to see Pony Joe, saying that his doughnuts are the best (not that he’d ever say that to Pinkie’s face).

This is where I’ll be ending today’s journal entry. Spike has already retired for the night, and I shall be joining soon. It’s already late and I have to get up early to catch the train tomorrow. I expect to have found an explanation for my malady by tomorrow night.

Goodnight and signing off,
Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

'Ey there stranger, what'chu doin' round deez parts?
First off, thanks to any of you people that bothered to read this fuster cluck of a story, I'll try not to buck it up any worse than it already is.
Secondly, if you have any comments or advice after reading this, please feel free to post it below! And even if you didn't read it and just feel like raging/trolling, comeatmebrah.jpg
Thirdly, if anybody would like to be a prereader/editor for me, please message me, I desperately need it.
Once again, thank you for taking the time to read this fic.
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

Journal Entry #2

Sunday, January 6th, 1003 A.B.

Today has been a complete disaster. Words alone cannot describe how things went wrong. The best I can say is that things did not go as planned…

*****

The day had started off on schedule; I woke up at seven a.m. and lightly shook Spike, waking him up from his sleep. Leaving him to get out of his basket, I headed downstairs and began preparing some daffodils, coffee, and hay-bacon for breakfast (the daffodils and coffee for myself, the hay-bacon for Spike). Setting our respective meals down on the table, I sat down and started eating my own, allowing the scent of hay-bacon to retrieve Spike from his post-slumber daze.

After we finished cleaning the dishes and completing the morning necessities, Spike and I set off for Ponyville Train Station with luggage in tow. It was 7:45 a.m. and the train to Canterlot would arrive in fifteen minutes.

*****

We were stuck waiting at the station for over three hours before the train finally arrived at 10:57 a.m. I asked a pair of departing passengers about the delay and they told me that one of the pulling stallions had torn a muscle or of the like two thirds the way to here. Thanking them, Spike and I entered the train and found our seats; he immediately jumping onto the seat next to the window. Rolling my eyes at his antics, I made myself comfortable next to him, and took out one of the books I brought along for the trip.

Soon enough, the carriage began to fill up as other passengers took their seats until the entire compartment was filled with ponies. Taking a look around, I noticed that sitting across from me was a yellow earth pony mare rocking her bundled foal back and forth.

“Is it a filly or a colt?” I asked, causing her to look up.

“A filly, she’s already a month old,” she replied, pride evident in her voice.

“She’s adorable! What’s her name?” I continued, leaning in to get a better look at the little filly held in her forelegs.

“Serene Skies, she’s a pegusas just like her father. She has his eyes.” She held out her napping daughter, an adorable light yellow foal with a short mane of gray and purple. “And she’s always so quiet whenever she’s sleeping; it’s just the cutest thing!”

“I can believe tha-“

I was cut off by the blowing of the train whistle, signifying that we would be departing from the station soon.

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!” The motherly mare and I both cringed as the previously slumbering bundle in her hooves burst into an earsplitting wail that would have given a windigo a run for its money. Everypony in the compartment turned toward the source of the noise, making the mother duck her head down in embarrassment as she tried to calm the bawling filly.

She was still doing just that when the train began rolling out of the station and for the rest of the trip as well. I tried blocking out the foal’s wails with my books, but was met with little success. Spike on the other hoof spent the trip gazing dreamily out the window, probably thinking about you-know-who doing I-don’t-want-to-know-what. I’m somewhat envious of my assistant’s draconic ability to disable his auditory fins (though I am rather tired of his “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you” excuse).

None too soon, the train pulled into Canterlot Station. While we were gathering our belongings, Spike, noticing my slightly frazzled state, cheerfully said to me;

“Hey, at least nothing could be worse than that, right?”

No sooner than he had said this, the doors to the train opened and unleashed a tidal wave of hooves and fur down upon us. Outbound passengers shoved anypony in their path out of the way to gain access to unoccupied seats. Spike and I became separated, pulled apart by the sea of bodies. The next thing I knew pain was breaking my head open as I was shoved roughly against the carriage wall by the overexcited boarders. Dazed, I sat down to prevent myself from falling over, content with letting the manic crowd froth and seethe around me.

I was startled from my stupor by the sudden screech of the train whistle, alerting me of the train’s impending departure from the station. Jumping up, I found that the crowd had moved me away from the carriage door, leaving me with a veritable wall of ponies in between me and the exit. Unable to teleport outside without accidentally bringing an unintended passenger along with me, I began pushing my way through the mass.

I progressed slowly, due to many of the passengers being resistant to the same treatment they themselves had dealt out. Though, any hesitancy I had with using my magic immediately dissipated when I saw that the door to which I was headed was being shut by a train attendant. My horn flared to life, lifting everypony between me and the exit into the air. Ignoring the multitude of protests coming from above, I broke into a full gallop for the door.

The train attendant, oblivious of my mad dash, slammed the door shut just as I neared her, and I, unable to stop at in time, smashed horn-first into the hard metal. Everypony held within the grasp of my magic immediately fell back upon the floor, as I, as anypony else would after suffering two consecutive head injuries, blacked out.

*****

The first thing I noticed as I regained consciousness was a steady thumping noise that shook whatever surface I was on. As I opened my eyes, a wave of nausea struck me, sending a strained moan out my throat.

“Oh dear, hold on a moment.” I heard clattering about and approaching hoofsteps before a reddish blob appeared in my vision, blending in with its blurry surroundings. Warmth seeped into my head, soothing the throbbing in my forehead. Blinking my eyes, the not-quite-red blob soon revealed itself to be a light-red colored unicorn nurse looking down upon me.

“There, that should help with the headache.” She said, extinguishing her horn.

Feeling a slight sense of déjà-vu, I lifted myself up, finding that I was between a bed and a blanket in what appeared to be a small nurse’s office.

“Excuse me miss, are we still on the train?” I asked, prompted by the still occurring thumping motion.

“Yes, you’re currently resting in the nurse’s station on board. One of the attendants saw you take a nasty hit to the head and brought you here for me to take care of you,” she said, frowning slightly as she looked me over. “Thankfully, you appear to have not suffered any serious injuries aside from a large bump on your forehead, and you should be able to get up and move around soon enough.”

I mulled over what she had said to me; I was on a train that I had no idea where its destination was; My parents are probably worried sick waiting at the station; For all I know, Spike could still be lost on – Spike! I had no idea where Spike was! Is he safe? Is he-

“Oh yes, excuse me miss? This scroll appeared by you while you were still unconscious,” the nurse said, levitating a rolled piece of parchment over to me.

Trying to grab it from her with my own magic, a searing pain burst through my head, centered around my horn.

“Oh my! I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you that you’re not supposed to use your magic for the next few hours. Your horn received some trauma and will need time to recuperate,” she said as I reached my hoof toward the parchment, “in fact, you should limit your use of it for a couple of-“

She was cut off as the compartment lurched upward, sending her sprawling on the floor. Another lurch followed right behind, not even giving her time to get up before sending her down again. A third occurred, and this time, various medicine cabinets lining the wall broke open and their contents sent flying out. Gauze, forceps, band-aids, tweezers, needles, test tubes, and scalpels rained down upon us as I pulled the blanket over me for protection.

I heard the nurse scream in pain, and to my confusion, I felt a pleasant feeling washed over me. I suppose it could be likened to the relief you feel when scratching an itch.

Eventually the sound of raining medical instruments stopped, and I peeked out from under the blanket. What I saw commandeered my gaze immediately. In the center of the room laid the nurse with multiple needles, forceps, scalpels, and shards of glass imbedded into her hide. Rivulets of crimson blood trickled down her body, contrasting with the pale light-rose of her fur. Watching them slowly stream down was almost like watching a painter at her craft, painting stroke by stroke.

My attention was still centered on the art form in the center of the room when the nurse started shifting around, having regained consciousness. She slowly began to lift herself up, only to fall down from the pain of moving pierced muscles. Twisting her head around, she searched the room, until finally spotting me sitting on the bed, staring back at her. The stricken nurse let out a request for help, or at least she tried to, but with a scalpel lodged in her throat, it only came out as an unintelligible gurgle. When I didn’t respond to her, she resumed trying to lift herself from the floor, and only succeeding in falling back down again.

The nurse kept at this, each failed attempt pumping the blood out of her body and onto her coat faster and faster. She soon began to grow weak from the loss of blood, each attempt an even greater struggle from the last, until she collapsed once again, and upon trying to stand up was only able to feebly shift her hooves.

She continued shifting her hooves around in a futile effort to lift herself, until she finally realized that she wouldn’t be able to get up and save herself. If she was in a clearer mind, she might’ve used her magic, but as most unicorns do when panicked, the nurse completely forgot about the existence of the horn on her head. Once again, she twisted her head around to look into my eyes, begging me to save her. I perceived a slight sense of satisfaction as I gazed down upon the blood-stained mare as she pleaded for me to rescue her. Her body went limp as her strength left her body with her blood, and like the vision of Scootaloo, her eyes glazed over as they stared into mine.

I gazed at the corpse of what once was a pony, looking over the instruments protruding from her body, glistening wet from her blood. The same blood that soaked her once light-pink coat crimson, pooling onto the floor around-

I was literally shaken from my reverie as the entire carriage began to vibrate, tossing me from the bed onto the floor. The equine pin-cushion was thrown about with me as I bounced from wall to roof to floor to wall again as the compartment became one indistinguishable blur.

“Miss! Stop shaking the patient at once, you’ll do more harm than good!”

The yell stopped the vicious shaking assault, and I flopped down onto my back. I found myself staring at the ceiling of the unfortunate nurse’s office as I heard the mare in question chide my unknown jostler.

“You could have seriously hurt her with what you were doing! She was already in a catatonic state; she didn’t need you jostling her like that!”

“I’m sorry! I saw you trying to wake her up and I got really worried,” the voice of my assaulter spoke up, “I only wanted to help!”

“Well next time leave it to-“the nurse was cut off as I pushed myself upright, eliciting a groan from my throat. Looking around the office, I saw that it was occupied also by the nurse and the mare I had sat across from on the way to Canterlot.

“Ba!” Looking down, I saw the mare’s filly sitting at the end of my hind-legs, busy gumming my tail.

“Ugh, what happ-“ I started asking, until I looked over to the nurse again, and the full weight of what I had imagined came crashing down on me.

“Trash can!” I blurted out, feeling the bile rise in my throat. The nurse, realizing what I was about to do, shoved a waste bin into my outstretched hooves.

After I had relieved myself the nurse took the waste bin out of my hooves, leaving me to flop back down on the bed. A sudden weight landed on my chest, forcing the air out of my lungs. Lifting my head up I regarded the pegusas foal as it clopped its front hooves together and giggled. I probably would’ve ‘awww’d at the sight if it weren’t for my current state of being.

The filly’s mother removed her daughter from the bed and apologized as the nurse came back with a cup of water, giving the mare the evil eye as she passed me the cup. Washing the acidic taste from my mouth, I thanked the nurse and asked her what had happened. She told me that she was about to hoof me the parchment, when all of a sudden my eyes gained this far-away look to them, and my outstretched hoof wouldn’t fall back to my side. I wouldn’t respond to any kind of outside stimuli, even the mother’s (another sideways glare) overzealous shaking. She asked me if I knew what caused it, and I, wanting to keep the vision a secret, responded that it was a condition I inherited from my parents. The nurse informed me that I could remain in the bed for the rest of the train ride if I so wished, hoofed me the rolled parchment, and after giving the mother one last sideways glare, returned to her desk.

I immediately unrolled it and found it to be a message from Spike. It read:

Dear Twilight,

Don’t worry, I’m safe at Aunt Velvet and Uncle Nightlight’s. They were waiting for us at the station when we got separated. They told me that the Vanhoofer vacation season was early this year, that’s why there was that big crowd at the station. I’ll wait at their house for you to get back before we head to the Royal Canterlot Library.

Sinessins Love, Spike

“Um, excuse me.”

I looked up as the mother addressed me. When she got my attention, she nervously shifted her back hooves before meeting my gaze. “You see-“

“Don’t worry about it, it’s okay, no harm done.” I interrupted, anticipating what she was going to say.

“B-but, I could’ve hurt you, didn’t you hear the nurse?” She stammered out, thrown off guard by my preemptive answering.

“Yes, I heard her, but I’m no worse for the wear.” ‘Now that’s a big lie’ I thought. “So no need to feel bad about it.”

“Well, I still feel bad about it,” she responded. The mare paused, thinking.

“Do you have any place to stay while in Vanhoofer?”

“Ah, no. I was supposed to get off at Canterlot, but I was trapped here by the outbound tourists.”

At this statement, the mare brightened up. “Well, you can stay with me for the night, I’m actually moving to Vanhoofer. I’ll be staying with some relatives up there until I get situated, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind housing one more for just one evening.”

“Thank you miss, my name’s Twilight Sparkle, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Twilight, no need to call me miss, I’m Citrine Dust.”

Relieved, I laid back, going over the latest vision in my mind: ‘What caused this one?’ ‘Why did it occur now?’ ‘Could the physical trauma to my head have triggered it?’ ‘Why do they both involve death?’

“GAH! I DON’T KNOW, OKAY!” I shouted, startling Citrine and her foal from their game of peek-a-boo, much to the nurse’s relief.

“Don’t know what? I-if you don’t mind me asking, that is.” She said, pulling a near-perfect impersonation of Fluttershy by hiding behind her blueish mane.

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking to myself, and accidentally replied out loud.”

“Ah, okay then.” She said, before turning back to her foal to continue their game.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you moving to Vanhoofer anyway? I asked, deciding to take my mind off questions I wasn’t able to solve at the moment.

“Well, I’ve been wanting to be closer to family for a while now," the mother said, turning back to me. "And my husband got a job offering as weather manager in Vanhoofer, so we decided it was best to…”

We chatted for a couple more hours, until the nurse told us that the train would be arriving in less than an hour. I decided to get some rest while still on the train, and despite my fears of restlessness, I soon fell asleep…

Citrine woke me up when we pulled into the station, and presented me with my bags that I had assumed were lost. She told me that she and Serene had found them lying near where we sat, and the filly grabbed ahold of them and flew right to the nurse’s office, much to her mother’s distress. Thanking them once again, I set my bags upon my back, having remembered the nurse’s dictum, to not use my magic for the rest of the night.

As we trotted along through Vanhoofer, Citrine went into full tour guide mode, pointing out different attractions, interesting locales, and good restaurants to go to (she had grown up as a filly here). I was just content to follow along and marvel at the architecture and numerous gardens, anything to keep the hallucination out of my thoughts.

Soon enough, we reached the house of her relatives and I was introduced to the family. They were all very welcoming and understanding of my circumstances (apparently there were always a few unintended passengers during tourist season). I ate dinner with Citrine’s family and got to meet her husband, after dinner and cleanup (they refused my attempts to help wash up) I informed them that I was tired and Citrine’s husband led me to my accommodations. After I thanked him, he dismissed himself and left me to my slumber.

*****

As you can guess, I did not immediately go to sleep, but instead began transcribing the day into the journal.

I had hoped that the vision would be a singular occurrence, but it seems that fate has decided otherwise. Today’s imaginings were just the same as Tuesday’s; there was no discernible transition from reality to fantasy, it contained horrifying imagery, I found myself unable to look away, and there were… odd emotions involved that shouldn’t have been felt. The only thing that separates this one from before is the location, the… victim, and how that unfortunate pony died. It’s the emotions that I experienced while in that state are what I fear the most. If this is some bizarre case of catatonia that’s happening to me, then why am I feeling these emotions? And why do I feel them at the most disturbing times!? I felt excited when Scootaloo realized I wouldn’t save her, I felt pleasure when the nurse screamed in pain, and I felt satisfied when she died! What kind of sickened pony does that!?

I’m not a pony like that, the only one I can think of that is twisted enough to imagine such monstrous events is King Sombra… oh no… It couldn’t be him couldn’t it? He was destroyed by the Crystal Heart, how could he be doing this to me? …Maybe it was the trap I set off at the bottom of the stairs- but I thought I solved it. Could this be an after-effect that waited a few months before activating?

Gragh, I don’t know, all this wondering only complicates matters even more. I’m tired and it’s already far too late. I need sleep if I’m going to get to Canterlot in the afternoon - the train ride lasts six hours - I can’t get the answers right now, and fretting over them is doing nothing for me.

Goodnight and signing off,
Twilight Sparkle

Journal Entry #3

Monday, January 7th, 1003 A.B.

Today has been yet another failure. I still have yet to locate any information on the hallucinations. Fortunately, I can report that my return trip from Vanhoofer was nowhere near as eventful as the voyage up there, and upon arrival in Canterlot at 3:14 p.m., I was greeted at the station by my parents. Spike was at their house with an upset stomach, apparently he stress-binged a few dozen of Pony Joe’s glazed finest yesterday and was in bed recuperating. After assuaging Mom and Dad's worries on my own health we parted ways, my parents kindly taking my baggage to their house as I made my way directly to the Royal Canterlot Library. With there being the largest collection of knowledge in the world within its walls, if I were to find the answers to the visions, it would be there…

*****

I made my way along the streets of Canterlot, reminiscing about all the things I had experienced on them as a filly, or rather, all the things I hadn’t. I had been too engrossed in my youthful studies within the Royal Canterlot Library to bother interacting with those outside of its shelved walls, a missed opportunity that still stung me to this day. Other young fillies and colts had invited me to be a part of various occasions, but I, viewing social interactions of any kind to be a waste of time, always refused. Eventually, their offers began to dwindle in number, until finally stopping altogether (I still suspect the invite to Mood Dancer’s party was only a formality extended because Spike planned to attend). Coming upon the stairway to the Royal Canterlot Library, I cast aside all thoughts of the past. It was the time for what this unicorn did best: studying.

After being greeted by the new librarian (the old one had retired shortly after I had left for Ponyville) at the reception desk, a light-green earth pony mare around my age, I guided myself to the psychology section, I began to comb through all that was available on the lower shelves, rereading many of the tomes I had already gone through beforehoof years ago.

My research began at a steady pace, I finishing many a book in less than a few minutes. A few hours having passed in a blink of the eye, the sun had set and the library’s numerous large wall sconces had been lit. With a veritable fortification of books stacked behind me, I was nowhere nearer to solving the macabre mystery of the visions than when I had started. Sighing in frustration, I paused from my examination of Marel Jung’s “Psychogenesis of Mental Diseases” to shift my sitting position when I began to feel a slight itching sensation on my lower spine. Knowing that by scratching an itch one only succeeds in worsening it, I refrained from doing so, and delved back into my studies.

*****

Or, at least, I tried to.

*****

Instead of diminishing, the itch only climbed in intensity, spreading from my spine to the rest of my body, until all of my being was engulfed. I did my best to ignore the increasing irritation, but soon enough I was trying to sate the prickling sensation assaulting me. Nothing I did relieved the itching, and I was left helpless as it continued to rise in pressure.

“Excuse me miss, is there anything I can help with?” The voice of the librarian sounded out, shocking me from my frantic scratching.

Making her way around the literary barricade, the pastel-green mare approached me, “I can’t help but notice you’ve cleaned out all of the lower shelves of the section, would you like me to assist you in reaching higher ones?”

Trying to hide the frustration the itch was causing me, and poorly doing so, I gave the mare a shaky smile, “If you could, I would be appreciative. I recently injured my horn, and I am under doctor’s orders not to use it,” I said, indicating my bandaged appendage with my hoof. “Could you please retrieve that book for me?” I continued, pointing to a randomly-chosen tome high-atop the towering bookcase in front of me.

“Ah, well, I do hope it heals soon,” the mare stated, mistaking the cause of my irritation to be from my temporary invalidation. “Just give me a moment, I’ll be right back,” trotting off further along the shelves, she soon returned, pushing a wheeled ladder in front of her.

Without another word, the librarian began to climb the steep rungs. I noticed that she had forgot to lock the wheels in pace, but, for some reason, I found myself unable to inform her. She soon stopped close to the top of the ladder, near to where the volume lied, and reached out to grab it. Upon stretching her forelimb out fully, she discovered that the book lied just out of reach. Shifting the position of her hooves, the light-green mare reached her hoof out again, only to meet the same result as last time.

Unperturbed, the book keeper made a third attempt, this time grasping the side of the ladder with one hoof and reaching out with another, balancing on the rung with her back hooves. She heaved forward in an effort to grab the inaccessible tome, and finally managed to grasp it. Unfortunately, her jerking shifted the ladder out from under her, and she found herself with only air between her and the floor, leaving the gravity-bound mare only able to scream as she plummeted to the marble floor far below.

The unfortunate bookkeeper’s wailing was cut short as she was temporarily stopped by a large wall sconce, only to smash through it, adding an admixture of shattered glass and flaming metal to her descent. I realized that the mare would be landing near to where I sat, and that if I remained there I would be in danger of falling debris. None too soon either; upon diving behind my recently constructed book fort I heard the flaming debris smash into the marble floor, accompanied by the bone-breaking snap of the young librarian’s body. Strangely, when I heard her impact the ground, the itch’s assault upon my being momentarily lessened, before it returned again in full force.

Desperate to find alleviation, I made my way around the wall of books to view the condition of the fallen mare. I found that she was still conscious and was trying to pull herself out of the flaming wreckage with one of her front hooves, the other splayed out in an unnatural position. Her unmoving hind legs were trapped under a twisted pile of flaming metal that filled the air with the smell of smoke. All along the poor mare’s body were shards of glass sticking out, shining in the light of the fire. Some glass hadn’t embedded itself within her hide, having instead opened lacerations that spread along her body, from which leaked blood, glistening as it was lit by the fire.. The blood-stained librarian let out pained whimpers as she scraped her hoof across the floor, only succeeding in smearing the marble red.

As I viewed this morbid scene, the itch seemed to lessen in intensity, and I thought that my suffering would cease. All too soon, it returned stronger than ever, almost driving me to my knees with the ferocity of its resurgence. Regaining my balance, I began to approach the trapped mare in hopes of another respite. At the sound of my hoofsteps, the librarian twisted her head around in my direction.

“Help me,” she pleaded, raising her one functional hoof up as I came towards her. Her gaze followed me as I walked around to the front of her body, ignoring the pleas that originated from the bleeding bookkeeper. Standing a few feet away from her, I stared down at the fallen mare.

She was covered in a multitude of gashes and glass shards, her blood dripping from the numerous lesions across her body. Her face had suffered equivalent injuries as well; there was a long laceration slashed across her left forehead, streaming blood into her eye, causing the gouged pony to clench it shut. Another significant tear among the myriad of smaller cuts was a perpendicular slash along her lip, slicing her lips in two.

“Please, save me!” She yelled out, causing more shining blood to dribble down from her halved lips to her chin.

I continued ignoring the helpless mare’s bloodied pleadings, taking note of the state of her limbs. Even from a distance it was apparent that her front right hoof had not survived the descent from the top of the ladder whole - the bone had fractured, breaking through her hide, causing the muscles within the fore-hoof to tear, leaving a gleaming mass of bloody ruptured muscle and shattered bone where her right hoof belonged. The sight of it alone brought disturbingly familiar shivers down my back.

The fall alone had been unkind to the librarian’s back hooves; both of the hind limbs were splayed out in unnatural directions underneath the twisted metal of the sconce, but the true damage being inflicted upon her was from the searing flame spreading across her hind legs. The mare’s hide was already showing the effects of exposure to the uncontained flames; her once-pristine light-green coat had blackened and shriveled under the heat of the fire, producing a pungent smell into the air around me. The hide that the flames had encroached upon had dried and cracked open, revealing the boiling muscle below, which soon became dried and burnt black like the fur and hide before it. As the fire crept up her body, the mare’s desperate pleas turned to screams of agony, sending even more shivers of pleasure across my body.

Still standing just out of reach of the wildly grabbing hoof of the suffering pony, I stared into her pain-filled eyes, watching the tears streaming down her face fall and mix with the crimson blood pooling around her writhing form. The flames had reached her barrel now, leaving in their path burnt charcoal muscles and charred remnants of what was once a well-kept tail.

Soon enough, the librarian’s agonized screams stopped, her pain-stricken eyes rolling up into her head as she lost consciousness, leaving the whites of her eyes to gaze into the enraptured stare of my purple irises. I continued to stand there, unmoving as the fire spread hungrily across the rest of the mare’s body, until she was entirely encapsulated within the burning blaze. It was only then did the pyrolytically afflicted pony regain consciousness, her body once again began to thrash about, forcing me to step back to avoid her flaming mass. The agonized screams resumed, causing pleasurable shivers to run down my spine once again, momentarily alleviating the itching sensation still assaulting my body.

Abruptly, the librarian’s frantic flailing ceased, her body falling limply to the floor. Caught off-guard by this sudden change, I was unprepared for the sudden euphoric rush that surged within me. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, it was though as if my entire body sang out in rapturous joy, every cell in jubilant harmony. I don't know how long I was lost in that sensation, time had no meaning for me, my perception was only that of my body, in its pleasures, and the burnt corpse of the librarian in front of me. Eventually, the euphoria began a slow descent down from the ultimate heights it reached, until I was abruptly shocked from my blissful trance by a voice from nowhere.

“Excuse me miss, the library will be closing its doors for the night soon!”

Blinking rapidly, I found myself to be laying upon the marble floors of the Royal Canterlot Library, an unopened volume of Sigmane Freud’s “The Interpretation of Dreams” before me instead of the burnt cadaver of the librarian. Pushing myself up on shaky hooves, I turned my head from side to side to locate the origin of the voice of the mare in question. Hearing approaching hoofsteps I turned to face them just as the local bookkeeper trotted out from behind of my recently constructed book fortification.

“Ah, there you are miss. I must inform you that we will be locking up for the night, and if you wish to return you must do- Are you well miss?”

“Wha- y-yes, I’m fine, thank you,” I replied hastily, trying to smooth down my tangled mane, “thank you for notifying me of the time, I’ll be out of your mane shortly.” I looked around, realizing the severity of the literary disarray that I had wrought in my bibliographical investigation, “well, after I assist you in clearing up the mess I created…”

*****

After some slight protest, I managed to persuade the librarian into accepting my assistance, and the two of us made light work of placing the books back into their respective places on the shelves. Giving my farewells to the pastel-green mare, I made my way to my parents’ home in the nearby residential district, and was greeted at the door by them and a still-queasy Spike. After sending Spike to bed, my parents and I settling down in their living room to catch up with each others’ lives since Shining’s wedding, and after a couple of hours my mother and father adjourned to their room for the evening.

I remained in the livingroom for some time after, my figure prone on one of their cushions, my mind aflutter with racing thoughts. These primarily being over my most recent vision, and the newer features that it contained.

It was similar to the two before it in how I was unaware of the transition from reality to fantasy, and that it featured the brutal death of a pony that I had previous contact with, though I can now surmise that the duration and depth of interaction is inconsequential. What had set this daydream apart from the other two was the “itching” sensation that preceded and accompanied it during the librarian’s suffering. The “itching” originated along my spine, towards the back near my tail, and soon spread upwards to the rest of spine, from there it expanded across the rest of my body, until I was itching from head to hoof. Despite my vigorous attempts at relieving it, the “itching” was initially soothed by the librarian impacting the floor, at which I felt the “itching” alleviate for a moment before coming back worse than before. This disturbing mitigation occurred three more times, these being when I first saw the poor mare trapped under the flaming wreckage of the sconce, the first screams of pain, and screams she made when she awoke to find herself consumed by fire. But these minute alleviations pale in comparison to what I felt at the librarian’s death: the stimulation I felt was unlike anything else I had ever experienced whilst inside the daydreams, the sudden euphoria that swelled within me at her demise…

...It scares me.

What kind of pony am I? How can I be so twisted to the point where I enjoy the pain and suffering of others? When Scootaloo impaled herself upon the tree branch, I only felt curioscity towards her suffering, when the nurse from the Vanhoofer train screamed out in pain, I was excited, elated, even, and when the librarian died encased in fire, I felt pleasure?! Why am I so-

No! It’s not me that is like this! I am a good pony, it is what’s causing these visions that is the error, be it of cognitive, neurological, or thaumaturgical origin. I will find out what is the cause of this “itch,” and I will cure it, or my name isn’t Twilight Sparkle.

I plan to return to the library here in Canterlot again tomorrow, to complete my search within the psychology section and then perhaps move onto some of the darker tomes on magic. Once finished with that, I mean to spend some more time catching up with my family and dine at one of my mother’s favorite bistros to celebrate her coming birthday. After which, Spike and I will pack up our baggage and return home to Ponyville the following morning. I wish I could meet with the princesses for some tea and chat a little, but as it were, Celestia is currently in the Crystal Kingdom assisting Cadance and Shining in reinstating their country to current operating standards, and Luna is busy fending off the ire of the astronomical society after making some adjustments to the placement of a few stars on her night sky.

To be truthful, I cannot help but feel a slight relief at not being able to meet with the princesses. This is because of my trepidation at the possibility of them discovering the existence of the daydreams, and that they, upon realizing the content of the imaginings, will become disappointed or even disgusted with me. Despite my knowing of the extreme unlikelihood of such an event happening, I still retain a minute fear of it anyway. This fear is also the basis for my recent decision to conduct thaumaturgical tests to determine the possibility of of a malevolent spell being the cause of the daydreams upon myself, which shall be done in the privacy of my own laboratory instead of at one of Canterlot’s clinics. Though it should be an easy feat, as I already have the necessary machinery to conduct these tests.

Once again, the hour has become late, and I have many hours ahead of me devoted to research and work. It is time I join the rest of my family in slumber.

Goodnight and signing off,
Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Hey there sugah, come round 'ere often?
First off, big round of applause for Betarius. Thanks for your feedback, I really appreciate your input. Next, apologies for getting this out so late, I kind of had a communications error with my ex-editor, but all is cool now. Lastly, I would like to thank everybody who read/skimmed/sneered at my fiction, you people are cool.
Also, in other news, I'm now looking for an editor! If anyone is interested in gracing me with their critique, something I am in desperate need of, please feel free to Pm me.
Once again, thanks for reading.
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

Journal Entry #4

Wednesday, January 9th, 1003 A.B.

Once again, I must report a lack of progress within my research of the daydreams. After spending much of yesterday combing through the shelves of the Royal Canterlot Library, I found myself not any closer to understanding the visions than I was when I first arrived in Canterlot the day before. After searching through the entirety the library's psychology section, I inquired to the librarian if any books were not available. Upon being informed there were, being the librarian of Ponyville, I set up an inter-library loan for the books as soon as they were checked in. Finishing that, I made my way to my parents' house in Canterlot's residential district.

Once I arrived at their house, my parents, Spike, and I went out to an up-and-coming bistro, Of Mice and Minestrone, a restaurant already famous for its Gryphonian delicacies, to celebrate my mother’s upcoming birthday. The evening started out splendidly, with all of us enjoying one of the restaurant’s fine pony-friendly renditions of High-Gryphonian appetizers. Unfortunately, the night soon ran to ruin after my father discovered a rat in his pasta. A rat still living, might I add. It should suffice to say that after the fiasco that followed, my family will never return to that restaurant again. After managing to salvage what was left of the night with a homemade meal, my father and I decided, before turning in for the night, to make it up to my mother by taking her out to a different restaurant sometime in the future.

This morning, bidding my parents farewell, Spike and I departed on the 10 o’clock train to Ponyville. Upon arrival in Ponyville at 11:34 a.m. I made my way to the Golden Oaks Library, and more importantly, my laboratory underneath. Once within, I began prepping my equipment for the first round of the multitude of tests which were to be performed. As there were three different methodologies (these being psychoanalytical, thauma-neurological, and chemical) that the tests would operate under, I made sure that the laboratory was equipped for each one properly. After the preparations had been completed, I ascended the stairs for a quick lunch and to inform Spike that I was not to be disturbed for the remainder of the day.

As I am the Element of Magic, and as it is also my personal talent, I began with the tests within that respective field. As everypony knows, magic is an intrinsic part of our world: all of nature contains magic, and all creatures within nature unconsciously draw that magic into themselves, we ponies being no exception to that rule. But between unicorns and the other two pony races, this is where the similarities end. As opposed to pegasi and earth-ponies, who are constantly depleting and replenishing their magical reserves unconsciously, unicorns, upon reaching the maximum capacity to hold magic within themselves, they cease to draw in any more until they make a conscious effort to exert the magic within them. When a unicorn uses “their” magic for a spell, the process in which they draw magic out of themselves, is a three-part endeavor:

First, magic is drawn from a unicorn’s reserves into their corpus callosum, which, unlike the other two pony races, where it only serves to connect the right and left sides of the brain, also functions to transfer magical energy from the reserves into the brain.

Next, the magical energy is then directed into the prefrontal cortex, the center of the executive functions of the brain, which includes magical manipulation. It is there that the brain modifies the magical energy to the desired effect of the caster.

Lastly, the now repurposed magic is drawn out of the prefrontal cortex through the unicorn’s horn and is applied to the world around the caster. Once the intended action is performed, the corpus callosum ceases to draw magic from the unicorn’s reserves and any residual magic disperses back into nature.

If the cause of the visions is of malicious magic, it would be revealed through the application of a theurgic-cognitive mapping test, a process in which the magic being applied for spell-use is traced through a unicorn’s brain. In doing so, I can isolate where magical impurities might originate from within the three areas of spell execution.

*****

Having finished my lunch, I stepped back down into my laboratory at 1:25 p.m., and began readying the mental imaging device (an altered version of the machine I had used on Pinkie when I had first discovered her unique “Pinkie Sense”) for the first of the theurgic-cognitive mapping tests I would be utilizing it for. After making a few last adjustments to the machine, I strapped the attached headgear onto my head and activated the device. When the the machine hummed to life, I activated my magic, and began to perform simple levitation spells on wooden blocks I had brought into the laboratory earlier. After five consecutive minutes of levitating the blocks I switched to altering their physical features, such as coloration and shape, and continued doing that for another five minutes before I once again changed the desired spell and began transforming the objects into forms different from their own.

This process of performing different spells went on for a little over three hours before I grew tired from constant magical manipulation, at which point I stopped to take a break. Removing the headgear from myself, I made my way over to where a pile of recently ejected scan sheets lied on the floor. Picking them up with my hoof, I looked them over carefully, searching for any evidence of magical impurities within my mind. To my surprise, I found nothing abnormal, aside from a heightened amount of magical residue. This was not out of the norm though, as the amount of residue is directly proportional to a pony's magical abilities.

Reviewing the scans a second and third time having done nothing to change the results, I began prepping the mental imaging machine once again. Once having completed the preparations, I glanced over at the clock near the stairs, and saw that the time was 3:32 p.m.

Stepping forward to the center of the room, I started strapping the headgear to my head again when I heard a commotion coming from the upstairs floor. Just as I was about to place the headgear down and investigate what was going on, my pegasus friend, Rainbow Dash, burst through the door, followed by a panicking Spike.

“Rainbow, Twilight said she didn’t want anypony to bother her!” He shouted as Rainbow flew directly at me, seemingly with the intent to crash into me.

Anticipating the worst, I clenched my eyes shut as I steeled myself for impact. After a few moments of waiting for the expected bodily harm to arrive, I opened my eyes to the sight of Rainbow’s magenta irises only a few centimeters from my face. Jumping back only a miniscule amount, but certainly not squeaking in fright, a natural reaction to having one’s personal space invaded, I was met with my prismatic friend’s raucous laughter. While I was waiting for Rainbow to be finished with her personal amusement, Spike approached me with a downcast demeanor.

“Sorry, Twilight,” he began, his eyes fixed upon the floor at my hooves, “I know you’re busy and you told me to keep everypony out, but-”

“There’s no need to be sorry Spike,” I reassured him, raising his chin with my hoof, “you tried your hardest at what I told you to do, and I was taking a break anyway. Unfortunately,” I continued, taking off the headgear as I focused my attention at the guffawing pegasus in front of us, “some ponies just don’t seem to be able to respect others’ privacy all that well.”

“Aw, relax Twi, you’re acting like I actually hit ya’!” Rainbow stated, dismissing my accusation with a wave of her hoof. “Wait a minute,” she paused, looking close at my head. “You have a bruise under your horn! Somepony did hit ya! Who was it? Where is she? Why, when I find her-” my cerulean friend began as she flew up in the air, mock boxing with her hooves.

“Rainbow!” I shouted out, cutting her off, “nopony is to blame! I just hit my head, that’s all.”

“Oh, sorry…” she muttered sheepishly, descending back onto the lab’s floor.

“It’s fine, Dash. Now, I’m rather busy, so what do you need me for?” I queried as Spike climbed up the stairs, leaving the laboratory to the two of us.

“I’m here on official business!” Dash announced, her previous abashment dissipated, “the Cake’s are having a party to celebrate the Sugarcube Corner’s ten year anniversary, and they’re inviting all of Ponyville! Pinkie’s busy with baking and stuff, so she asked me to fly over and tell you about it!”

“Gee, I don’t know Dash, I just got back from Canterlot this morning, and I’ve been rather busy all afternoon. And I also have to go to bed early to open the library…” I trailed off, trying to think of a way to weasel out of attending another one of Pinkie’s parties.

*****

Now, it is not that I dislike Pinkie Pie or her parties, she’s one of my dearest friends, and she throws the best parties in Ponyville, if not all of Equestria, but there is a reason why the phrase “too much of a good thing is bad” is still in use today. Even the best parties can become a little tiresome when they’re held two-to-three times a week. And after having to deal with the fatigue and mess that comes after such events too many times, I’ve become a little hesitant when asked to attend Pinkie’s celebrations.

*****

“C’mon Twilight, it wouldn’t be the same without you!” The athletic pegasus stated, lifting off into the air, “you were gone for a few days, me and the girls wanna catch up a little!”

“Are you sure that we can’t meet up at a later date?” I insisted, looking up at the mare circling around my head, “I’m sorry Rainbow, but I really don’t feel like hanging out with you girls tonight.”

“Well… Okay Twilight,” Dash said, looking downcast as she sunk back down to the floor, “sorry for bugging you. I guess I’ll head back to Pinkie and tell her you’re not coming.”

“Wait, Rainbow,” I started, realizing the effect my wording had on my friend, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, it’s alright Twi, I know you’re busy and stuff,” the polychromatic mare stated, trying and failing to give me a chipper grin, “I’ll see you around, alright?” She turned around, and slowly started trudging up the stairs.

“Wait!” Rainbow turned from her ascent on the stairs at my shout, “I’m sorry Rainbow. I’ll see you at the party and make it up to you, okay?”

“Really?” Dash asked, her face lighting up upon receiving my affirmative nod, “awesome! The party starts at 5 o’clock in front of the Sugarcube Corner. See you there!” She grinned as she flew out of laboratory’s door.

Sighing, I glanced at the clock, and saw that the time was 3:41. I contemplated trying to squeeze in some more testing time for a moment, but decided against it. Cleaning up the laboratory, I placed various testing apparatuses back in their proper places and collected the results and locked them securely in the safe I kept under the stairs. Once finished, I ascended the stairs to the library’s main floor and shut the door behind me, locking it with a flicker of my magic.

After informing Spike that we’d be attending the celebration later that evening, I proceeded to freshen myself up. Finishing that, I spent my time going over the library’s records, noting in my mind which of Ponyville’s residents were late in returning their books on time.

Soon enough, the time to head over to where the party would start had arrived. Gathering Spike, I exited the library, flipped the sign to closed, and made my way to Sugarcube Corner. It soon became apparent, by the increasing amount of ponies the closer we got to the local bakery, when Dash had said that all of Ponyville was invited, she hadn’t been joking. By the time we had reached the main crowd situated in front of the Sugarcube Corner, the Cakes were nearly finished with what I believed was the celebration’s opening speech. My suspicion was soon confirmed when the Cakes announced in unison:

“We declare the Sugarcube Corner Ten Year Anniversary Festival open!”

The crowds soon dispersed in different directions, some going inside the bakery, while a large percentage instead headed in the direction of the market district nearby. Opting to follow the main group of ponies, Spike and I headed after them, and soon found ourselves to be in what appeared to be a marketplace-turned-festival ground. There were food stalls all about, but instead of their usual fare, vendors peddled sundry treats and snacks. Alongside those were situated the stands of craftsponies, featuring their assorted knick-knacks and wares. Buying a bag of popcorn for Spike and a couple roasted sunflowers for myself, we wandered further into the transformed market, watching the various performers display their acts. Eventually, with the sun soon to set, Spike and I had our fill of the market’s entertainment, and were making our way back to the Sugarcube Corner, when, literally out of the blue soared in Rainbow Dash, landing right in front of us and causing Spike to fall off my back in surprise.

“There you two are!” She exclaimed as Spike got to his feet, “I was looking all over Ponyville for you two! C’mon, the rest of the girls are waiting for us at Sugarcube Corner,” she continued, beckoning us in the bakery’s direction. We soon arrived at its door, and upon entering, were greeted by the self-proclaimed Ponyville’s Premier Party Pony, and one of my closest friends, Pinkie Pie.

“Hey there girls!” The ever-bubbly mare proclaimed, “the other bearers are waiting at the big corner table. I’m a little busy with other customers at the moment,” she waved her hoof, indicating the packed room behind her, “so I’ll sit down with the rest of you soon!”

Hopping off to see to another customer, she left Rainbow Dash to lead Spike and I through the crowded room to a large table in the corner, at which sat the other three bearers of the Elements of Harmony, my closest friends: Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rarity. I took the seat to the right Applejack while Spike claimed the seat in between Applejack and Rarity, with Dash situating herself between Fluttershy and I.

“Hey, Twi,” Applejack said morosely, glancing at my injured forehead before returning her attention to the chocolate shake in front of her. “Ah see y’got yourself dinged up too, huh?”

“Yes, I hit my head on the train ride to Canterlot. What happened to you, Applejack?” I asked, noting her bandaged barrel with concern.

“Hurt myself preppin’ for the party,” the apple farmer replied, glumly taking a sip out of the shake’s straw. “Now I’m not supposed to do anything strainin’ for the next few days.”

“I understand what it’s like, not being able to perform at your fullest, Applejack. If you ever want any help on the farm, I’m here to help,” I offered, patting my orange friend on her shoulder.

Smiling over at me, Applejack replied, “thanks Twi, that means allot to me.”

“And I can assure you, Applejack, that the same sentiments are expressed by the rest of us as well,” interjected Rarity, “now, what happened to you, Twilight? How did you hurt your head on the train?”

“Well,” I began, “it all started when I tried to get off the train at Canterlot Station...”

****

While I described my unintentionally extended trip, I opted not to inform my friends of my current macabre predicament. I chose to do this in order to not worry them all, though, if the visions persist, or whatever that is affecting them proves to be too difficult to handle by myself, they will be the first one’s I’ll come to for help. Finished with her rounds, Pinkie showed up just as I finished my account, bringing with her a few sapphire sprinkle cupcakes for Spike and a strawberry and daisy sundae with chocolate sauce, my favorite, for me. The other Element bearers were kind enough to fill her in on what had occurred to me during my Canterlot trip while I was preoccupied with eating my sugary dinner.

*****

“Wow, you really got banged up, didn’t ‘cha, Twilight?” Pinkie commented as the girls finished informing her on the reason behind my current state.

Placing my now-empty sundae glass on the table, I responded, “that’s one way of putting it, Pinkie. Thankfully, I can now use most minor spells without causing a headache, though unfortunately, the more complicated spells like teleportation are still off-limits."

“Well, it sounds to me like you’re still in need of a cheering up! You and Applejack both!” Pinkie stated, pointing her hoof in the air, “and I know just the thing to cheer you up!”

Suddenly, the energetic baker hopped up onto the table, and shouted at the top of her lungs:

“Everypony, have I got news for you! This night, right here in Ponyville, we’ve got a live concert, featuring none other than DJ PON-3 herself! The real celebration starts tonight at 10 o’clock sharp in front of Town Hall! Spread the word around, and everypony be there!”

Getting down from the table as the room erupted in cheer, Pinkie grinned at the other members of our group, “it’ll be just the thing to get you two out of your funk!” Leaving the table, she continued, “I’ve got to head over to the market and announce the news to everypony there. Rainbow, you go with Twilight and Applejack and make sure they don’t try to sneak away, alright?”

“You got it Pinks!” The prismatic pegasus exclaimed, giving Pinkie a military salute, “they’re in good hooves!”

“Roger!” The bubblegum-pink mare returned, giggling as she hopped out the door, “roger... why do ponies say that anyway?”

Turning to Applejack and I, Dash said, “well, you heard the mare! You to are getting your party on tonight!”

“Ah really don’t think that’s a good idea, RD. Ah have to get up early tomorrow to work the farm.”

“It’s the same for me, Dash, I have to open the library,” I added.

“First off, you’re not even supposed to be straining yourself Applejack, nevermind working the farm, and secondly, everypony’s gonna be there! Also, both of you should know by now that anypony who attends Pinkie’s late-night parties spends the entire next morning sleeping it off,” she continued, adding, “so there’s no point in opening the library early if nopony’s gonna be awake anyway, Twi!”

“Still, I don’t know if I’m really up to it…” I trailed off, not sure as to what I should say.

“Ah’m gonna have ‘ta agree with Twi on this one, RD, we’re both just not feelin’ up to it.” Applejack added, picking up the loose end.

“Which is why me and Pinkie want to get you two out to this party! You girls have had a pretty rough time recently, and all me and Pinkie want to do is cheer you two up,” Dash finished with an earnest smile.

“Well, if it means that much to ya Rainbow,” Applejack smiled, “ah guess I can go to this party of yours.”

“Alright!” Rainbow cheered, turning to me, “what about you Twi?”

“... Oh fine, I’ll go too,” I replied.

“Awesome! You two are gonna have the greatest time ever!” Dash declared. Turning to the other two members of the table, she asked, “what about you girls? Do you want to come also?”

“Oh, no thank you Rainbow, I’m not really interested in the concert,” Fluttershy piped up, “I think I’m just going to head home and get some sleep.”

“The same for me, Rainbow dear,” Rarity chimed in. “I’ve been feeling a little under the weather recently, and I should probably head home to rest.”

“Hope you feel better soon Rars,” Dash replied as the alabaster unicorn and butter-shaded pegasus got up and made their way out the door. “Both of you get some good sleep tonight!”

Glancing up at the clock near the door, Dash turned back to Applejack and I, “we should probably get going now if we’re gonna get a good spot for the concert.” Getting up from her chair, the cyan daredevil continued, “it’s nine now, and I don’t know if you girls do, but I know for certain that DJ PON-3 shows fill up fast.”

“We’ll take your word for it sugarcube,” Applejack commented as she and I followed Dash out the bakery’s door and into the night.

****

Large groups of ponies were already heading towards Town Hall when the three of us stepped out onto the lantern lit Main Street, and by the time we arrived there was already a large crowd filling up Town Square. Built close to the top of Town Hall was what appeared to be a circular stage, upon which rested various dj equipment and speakers. Working her way through the crowd, Dash pushed us near to the front of the mass, telling Applejack and I that if we got any closer, we would not be able to hear anything for a week after.

*****

As the hour passed, the number of ponies amassed continued to increase, until the entire Town Square was packed full of Ponyville’s population. All at once, the stage perched high atop Town Hall’s spire was illuminated, revealing none other than DJ PON-3 herself, situated behind her turntables.

“Are you ponies ready to rock?!?” The electric-maned discjockey shouted out. Met with a resounding yes, she responded, “then let’s get this party started!”

The music that followed soon after was at best super-projected noise. I suspect that everypony at the party would have received a fine for noise pollution would it have not been for the fact that nearly all of Ponyville was in attendance. The “music” barely contained a blatant farce of a melody, much less harmony; the bass that blasted out of the speakers shook one’s very hooves; the volume was so high that one couldn’t even hear what somepony next to you was saying even if they shouted it; and everypony was caught in such a condensed mass of writhing bodies and limbs that bumping into somepony occurred at an inevitable, and high, frequency.

Yet, despite all this, I found myself enjoying the party greatly: I danced alongside my friends; shouted and whooped in unison with the crowd; and enjoyed moving in time with the beat resounding around and within me. I enjoyed myself so greatly, that it took me a while to notice that a familiar unpleasant tingling was spreading across my spine.

Once I had realized that the sensation prickling along my back was the same as the one that had assailed me two days ago in the Royal Canterlot Library, I was filled with terror and immediately began trying to force my way out of the crowd. All at once, the jubilant throng that I had moved with became a shoving horde, blocking me in on all sides with an impenetrable wall of fur and flesh. I attempted to teleport myself out of the throng, and was painfully reminded that I had yet to fully recuperate from my misbegotten train ride to Canterlot.

Now with a throbbing headache alongside the ever-spreading itch to contend with, I looked around, searching for my friends, only to find that Applejack had been pulled away from me by the crowd, and Dash was flying high above the tossing mass of ponies with the other pegasi. Shouting to them was to no avail, as my words were smothered by the omnipresent bass. Again trying to push my way out of the shoving multitude proved fruitless, for as the itch increased in pressure, my attempts at escape decreased in strength.

Desperate to flee the square, I looked up at the stage, planning to damage the equipment with a well-placed magic bolt, and in doing so, stop the party and make my escape. As I was gathering magic within my horn, I noticed that high above the stage hovered a darkened raincloud, near-perfectly blending in with the night sky. Just as I was about to fire the magic shot, a lightning bolt sprung from the raincloud with a large thunderclap, striking one of the large speakers atop the platform. Startled, I reared back as I released my magic, causing the magic bolt to veer far above its intended path, and strike the cloud from which the lightning had originated.

Energized by my misfired magic, the cloud rained down a veritable lightning storm upon the stage, striking the equipment surrounding DJ PON-3, causing sparks and arcs of electricity to leap off the electrocuted machinery and strike her. Screaming in pain, the alabaster mare ran out from behind her destroyed turntables and scrambled to the edge of the platform to get away from the defective hardware. The disk jockey’s safety only lasted a few seconds, for right as she got to the edge of the platform, the lonely thundercloud above sent down one final lightning bolt upon a support beam right under her, destroying it, and the elevated stage’s stability with it.

The entire platform tilted forward, sending the dj and some of her equipment tumbling off of the stage and onto Town Hall’s roof. Screaming, DJ PON-3 tumbled down the crimson roof, smashing through both of the building’s balconies before finally crashing through the ground floor and into the basement below.

The poor unicorn’s cries of pain having provided me slight relief from the itch’s intensity, I was desperate to attain respite and charged forward towards where she had fell. The crowd parted before me, and I soon arrived at the hole the dj had created as she fell. I peered inside the dark space, but was unable to detect anything other than a faint moaning coming from far below. Unable to teleport myself into the room below, I charged through the Town Hall’s doors and spent what felt like an eternity running through the building in search of the door to the cellar. Finally, I found a trapdoor in the back of the archive room, and, ripping the door from its hinges, was greeted by the darkness of the basement.

Tentatively descending a few steps into the dark, I found an unlit lantern on the step below me, and, lighting it, made my way into the depths of the basement. Making way through the amber-lit maze of towering archive shelves and storage crates, losing myself in the parchment catacombs of Ponyville’s history. I searched desperately for the fallen mare, the ever-increasing ferocity of the itch reminding me that she had yet to die, when, out of the murky dimness, I heard a faint cry.

“Somepony,” a pained voice cried out, “please, anypony! Help!”

Spurned on by a sudden spike in the itch’s intensity, I raced my way deeper into the haze of the dusty room, my lantern shakily illuminating my surroundings as I sped by. Each cry for help was a beacon in the dark, and I soon found the source. Panting, I paused at an intersection of stacked crates, and heard a whimpering noise to the left. Whipping my head to the side, I saw, illuminated by the scant moonlight from above, the unfortunate dj. Near-crippled by the intensity of the itch, I slowly stepped my way closer to her. She had yet to notice me, as her attention was diverted to the world above.

“Help! Please! Can’t anypony hear-”

I set the lantern down with a large ‘clank’, causing the fallen musician to flinch in fright. She swung her head in my direction as I stepped back, far enough from the light that she couldn’t make out my features.

“Hey, you scared me there, mare. S’not cool to sneak up on ponies, y’know?” The dj said, giving a pained grin, “well, even if you did get the jump on me, can’t say I’m not glad to see that somepony came down to get me. I was getting worried that everypony had forgot about me!”

I, on my part, just stood there, breathing heavily. Under the itch’s ferocious assault on my body, it was hard enough to stand, let alone to speak. Surveying the mare, I noted that aside from the black singe marks that dotted her white coat, there were blue-purple discolorations that largely ran along her barrel and limbs, and also that her left foreleg was definitely broken, as it was oddly bent to the side below her knee.

“Well, aren’t you going to help me? I’m pretty sure I broke my leg, not to mention a few ribs along the way down, so I’m not getting out of here by myself.” When I did not respond, she continued, “has anypony ever told you that you don’t talk much? If it’s just me, I understand. A lot of my fans are usually struck silent when meeting me, but I can give you my signature later. Firstly, why don’t you give me a hoof and get me out of this creepy place, yeah?”

My continued stillness was obviously beginning to frighten the immobile unicorn, if the sweat trickling down her forehead was of any indication. Her speech became even more uneasy the longer she spoke to me, all the while not receiving an answer.

“C’mon lady! Well, if you are a lady - if you’re a stallion, I’m sorry I assumed!” Her speech grew worried, and not long after, she began to beg me to help her, “listen! You’ve got to help me! I’m sorry if I’ve ever snubbed you at a restaurant or something, I promise I didn’t mean it!” Her fearful eyes brimming with tears, glistening in the amber lantern-light as they rolled down her bruised cheeks.

“Please! Just stop giving me the silent treatment, I can’t-”

She looked up at the sound of wood cracking from high above, her eyes widening as another, louder, snapping sound came from the hole in the wooden flooring above. She turned back to me, and with renewed energy, pleaded to me;

“Please! Help me! One of my speakers is on the balcony a few floors up above us, and it’s about to fall! If you don’t move me, I’ll be crushed!” The panicking mare begged, her attention changing from the hole above to me every few seconds. All of a sudden, I heard the sound of wood breaking come from above.

The dj returned her attention to me, her frightened eyes fixed on my own as they glimmered with the lantern’s light. She reached out to me with her one operating foreleg, and pleaded, “please, for the love of Celestia! Save-”

She was cut short when a heavy speaker crashed its way through the floor above us and landed straight on top of the unfortunate mare, crushing her with its weight. As DJ PON-3’s bones snapped, her body flattening under her dj equipment, the same unforgettable euphoria that had occurred back in Canterlot returned, sweeping up the painful intensity of the itch and my conscious awareness in its blissful embrace. I was lost to both time and space in that state, with my last memory, being the dj’s blood-splattered forehoof sticking out from under the speaker, the only thing in my mind. All of a sudden, I was shocked out of my pleasurable trance by a sharp pain to the side of my face.

Instantaneously, I was gone from the darkened basement of Town Hall, and found myself back in Town Square, albeit, now soaking wet. Chilled to the bone by the figurative buckets of rain slamming down on my form, I plopped down in the muddy dirt, and heard a thunderclap erupt crack across the sky. Looking up, I saw pegasi speeding in and out of the stormy clouds high above, fighting to tame the storm.

“Twilight!” A voice from beside me shouted out, causing me to jump in fright. Spinning around, I saw that the speaker was Applejack, who was also drenched to the bone. “C’mon, Twi, we’ve got to get under some cover!”

It was then that I realized that we were the only ponies standing about in the middle of the square. Other ponies were scrambling about, trying to locate shelter from the torrential downpour pounding on our backs.

“Yeah,” a voice from above joined in, who I soon noted had originated from Rainbow Dash. “A freak storm blew in from the Everfree just a few minutes ago, and rained on our party,” she declared, looking up in frustration. “I need you and Applejack to get out of the rain while me and the other pegasi get ahold of the situation!”

Not waiting for any further conversation, the prismatic athlete pumped her wings and soared up into the rumbling mass of stormclouds above. Turning to me, Applejack yelled, having to make herself heard over the deluge of rain:

“You heard the mare! We hafta get out of the storm,” she continued to yell, turning around, she finished, “follow me!”

I galloped after the apple farmer as she headed towards the chain of stores that lined Town Square, bursting through the door of what I recognized to be Poney Jean’s Fabulous Manes and Tails. As I stood gasping for breath, Applejack and I were approached by the owner and proprietor of the aforementioned shop, Poney Jean.

“Mes chéries! Are both of you alright?” The powder blue unicorn asked as he hoofed us both towels to wipe ourselves off with, “terrible weather to have a party, non? Though, I will not complain, as the music was keeping me from my beauty sleep.”

“Bad weather, no doubt,” Applejack agreed, grabbing one of the offered cloths. “Thanks fer the towel, John.”

“It’s Jean, Mademoiselle Applejack. Jean.” He protested to the orange mare as I took the other towel from his magic, “but think nothing of it. A few other ponies have already come in to escape the rain, so it’s not a problem at all,” he said, indicating the other towel-clad ponies located about his shop. “Speaking of them, I should probably go check if everypony is doing fine.”

As the prancophone barber trotted off to another group of ponies, Applejack turned to me with a concerned look.

“Twi,” she looked, sitting down as she thought of what to say, “Twilight, you’re my friend, and ah would never want you to feel uncomfortable around me. Ah want to ask ya’ a question, and if you don’t want to answer it, ah want you to know that that’s alright, and ah respect your privacy.” She paused, looking me in the eyes, “Twi, can ah ask you somethin’?”

I took a minute to collect myself, and, easing myself down next to my blond-maned friend, gave a short nod.

“Twi, back at the party, what happened there?” She began, “when the first lightnin’ struck, it near-hit the musician up on top of Town Hall. Once more started comin’ down, Dash flew up there to save DJ what’s-her-name. While everypony else was either tryin’ to control the storm, or runnin’ for cover, ah found you weren’t next to me, and started looking for ya’.” The apple farmer stopped, taking a moment to take off her hat and start drying her mane before continuing, “ and when ah found ya’, you were just standin’ there, like nothin’ was goin’ on around ya’. Ah tried snappin’ you out’a it, ah tried shakin’, yellin’, and hollerin’, but nothin’ worked. Eventually, when ah slapped ya, you finally woke up. Sorry about that, by the way,” she added, looking away sheepishly.

Waving her off with a hoof, I replied, “don’t worry about it Applejack, it doesn’t hurt that much anymore.” Rubbing my cheek, I continued, “thank you for that, anyway. I’m glad you snapped me out of it.”

“And what is “it” anyway?” She questioned again.

“...” I remained quiet, not sure whether or not that I should tell her. If I tried telling a lie, as the Element of Honesty, she would’ve seen through it immediately, but I had no idea how she would react if I were to tell her the truth. Would she be disgusted with me? Would she tell our friends? The Princesses? Various scenarios played through my head, with the imagined situation worsening in each one.

“Twi?” Applejack asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Ya’ still with me here?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here, I was just thinking of a way to tell you about “it” without sounding like a freak,” I responded, trying not to stutter.

“Twi, ah will never think of you like a freak,” she said, putting a hoof on my shoulder. “You’re my friend, and if ya’ really don’t want ta’ talk about it, it’s fine with me. Ah respect that.”

“No, it’s fine Applejack. I understand your concern,” I replied, placing my hoof on top of hers, “it’s just kind of... hard to explain. It’s almost as if I go into a trance… the world, changes in a sense…” I paused, thinking of a way I could avoid telling her the explicit details of the visions without lying. “...From what I can tell from previous experiences, I imagine the world around me changing, but my body still stays where it is, frozen. Well, that is until somepony or something snaps me out of it, though, it doesn’t have to so forceful,” I joked, giving her a grin.

“Yeah, sorry about that, again. Ah gotta ask though, Twi, you haven’t been touching any of that smelling salt, have ya’ now?” She asked, giving me her own grin.

“Not since my academy days!” I responded, chuckling a little.

“Jus' checkin’! Ya’ never know with you intellectual types,” she chuckled with me, before pausing. Looking at me, with some of her seriousness returned, she continued, “so, you said this’s happened before?”

“Yeah, a few times before. They started a few days back, when I was pulling a few all nighters in a row to complete my presentation on the benefits of hydroelectricity. I think “it” may be the side effect of a prolonged lack of sleep, but I’m not sure.”

“Well, here’s hoping “it” goes away soon and stays gone,” Applejack smiled, giving me a warm shake on the shoulder.

“Hey girls! How’s it hangin’?” A dripping wet Rainbow Dash shouted, bursting through the shop’s door and landing on the tile floor below. Shaking herself like a wet dog, she soon was completely dry, whereas Applejack and I found ourselves in the same state we were when we first entered the mane salon.

“Oops, sorry ‘bout that,” she stated sheepishly as we both started to towel ourselves off again.

“Don’t worry about it, RD,” Applejack sighed, “we’re gonna have to get wet again when we head home for the night.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. We’ve got the clouds under control, and they’ll start to clear up in about thirty minutes,” the cyan pegasus corrected. “The pegasi are going around town telling everypony that, so I’ve got to go back out and head to the next place,” she continued, turning around and making her way to the door. “So I’ll, uh, see you girls later!”

And with that, she was out the door, a rainbow contrail fading fast in her wake. Turning to Applejack, I swallowed, and asked her:

“Applejack…” I paused, before continuing, “could you please not tell any of the girls about our conversation?” As she began opening her mouth in protest, I pressed on, “I know you’re not comfortable with keeping a secret, but I really would appreciate it if you were not to mention anything about this to the rest of our friends. I don’t want to worry them with something like this. You know we all have enough to worry about in this crazy town as it is, and I don’t want to add something to the pile. So please,” I pleaded, staring at her in the eye, “keep this a secret between us.”

My farmer friend sat there in front of me for a few moments, then responded, “well, alright. Ah won’t tell anypony about what we talked about. Ah won’t like it, but if it means that much t’ ya’, I guess ah will.”

“It does, Applejack. Thank you,” I said, giving her a grateful smile.

*****

We sat there, chatting about anything but “it” for the next half hour, waiting for the skies to skies to clear up. Once the clouds withdrew from Princess Luna’s night sky, we stepped out onto the muddy ground of Town Square. Bidding each other goodnight, we made our ways to our respective homes. Once inside the confines of the library, I tip-hoofed up the stairs and into my room, checking to see if Spike was in his basket. Thankfully, the rise and fall of his blanket indicated that he had done as I said, and had gone home to bed after we had left the Sugarcube Corner.

Quietly closing the door, I made my way into the cellar, and immediately began performing a multitude of the earlier mentioned tests upon myself, hoping to identify any traces of what had caused the most recent of the disturbing visions. Unfortunately, as of yet, any effort I have made tonight has so far yielded no insight into my affliction, leaving me as in the dark as I was when the visions first started.

This newest hallucination had followed in the path of those before it in that it involved the death of an unfortunate pony - all of whom so far are female, but that may just be because of Ponyville and Canterlot’s heavily female demographic - in some gruesome manner, that anypony, including myself, would find revolting. It goes without saying that even though I do not feel any sympathy of the sort towards to the unfortunate ponies during my visions, I immediately experience disgust towards what I imagined (and myself for imagining it) after I have broken out of my trance-like state. Any reflection on the matter at hoof disturbs me greatly, except, to my great befuddlement and worry, the pleasure I feel at their death.

First and foremost, I am a pony of very high morals, and seeing pain and suffering happen to anypony around me, whomever they may be, drives me to find a way to alleviate it as quickly as possible. Yet, in regards to the torment that I view inside the visions, I can only feel euphoria. I know that is wrong, and it is horribly depraved to think of it as anything but such, but, no matter how much I tell myself I shouldn’t, whenever I think back on the ecstasy I felt when the poor mares die, I can only think of it… in a disgustingly twisted sense of the word, fondly.

I know it’s wrong. I know it is wrong. But for whatever reason, I just can’t help it. The confusion I feel; it’s maddening! I have to do more tests on myself. I must determine what the origin of “it” is quickly, or who knows what darker developments I may make?

Thinking of “it...” I don’t feel that the name Applejack titled with it is appropriate. If I am to determine what this monstrosity within my mind is, I must first give it a name, and in doing so, gain some slight control over it, so that “it” doesn’t gain control over me. Perhaps… why not call it, “the Itch?” Yes, that’s a suitable name; the Itch.

I think the fatigue of staying up late may be getting to me, as it is… already 5:34 in the morning…

I think I shall continue the tests tomorrow later today. Despite my own personal worries, I still do need to open up the library every morning, so I shall be adjourning for tonight, and continuing the tests the following evening.

Goodnight and signing off,

Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Whoof! 7 and a half thousand words? It's a Christmas miracle Charlie Brown!
Firstly, big shout out to Betarius for being an awesome prereader! Go check this one's stuff out!
Next, this is addressing you people reading this; I feel like I've kind of put the whole 'gore' part of the fic on the backburner. When I had started writing The Itch, it was just an excuse to write a gorefic, plain and simple. But now I've really started getting ideas on where to take this thing, and it may not be strictly a 'gore'fic now. There'll still be good ol' blood and gore in it, but the focus (for me, at least) is now Twilight and her deepening mental mystery. I hope you all don't mind that, but still I wouldn't mind your opinion on the matter.
Speaking of you people: thanks! Be it for reading/skimming over/favoriting/sneering at my fic. I really appreciate your interest in it.
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

Journal Entry #5

Thursday, January 17th, 1003 A.B.

The time is 3:05 in the morning. The past day has been a host to stampedes, a mob forming at my doorstep, property damage, and bizarre occult happenings. Put simply, it was another normal day in Ponyville.

Aside from the today’s odd occurrences, I have managed to complete a good bulk of the thauma-neurological and chemical tests I set out for in the past week. Unfortunately, the results I’ve compiled, as of yet, remain inconclusive. For instance, through the use of theurgic-generated axial tomography, I found an unusually high level of magic dispersion occurring in my corpus callosum. This is usually paralleled by a lower dopamine receptor count, but when I made the use of the radioligand benzamide, I discovered that I instead had an unusually high receptor count. Other results have also proven to not follow any scientifically recognized pattern, some even contradict ones performed right before them!

It goes without saying that I had to perform many of the tests over again to make certain their results. As such, yesterday morning I found myself running low on many of the chemicals and components needed to perform the tests, and also nearly out of food as well. It is for these reasons, and that I hadn’t taken a single step out of the library for the past week, and knowing how quickly rumors fester in Ponyville when one doesn’t leave their abode every few days, that I went to the market the previous day. And in doing so, landing myself right into the thicket of another casebook Ponyville calamity.

It is not for that reason alone, but also because I was struck by another macabre hallucination today, that I am writing today’s occurrences down. The vision that occurred earlier today had a bizarre, yet still frightening, aberration from my current mental malady. The vile hallucination still featured a pony dieing in a cruel fashion, but it is the manner in which it concluded that has me shaken to my very foundation.

*****

My day began at 7 a.m. when I woke up and began preparing for the day’s excursion into Ponyville. Spike and I left at 8:30 and quickly finished our shopping for supplies. Once we had finished that, I would have been content to spend the rest of the day in the library and complete some more tests, but, partially due to Spike’s prodding, and that is was such a nice day outside, I decided that we could use some time out and about Ponyville.

After spending some time enjoying the park, Spike and I headed into downtown Ponyville and went to “The Clover Cafe” for lunch and a spot to relax. After enjoying a nice snack of honeysuckles, I decided to pass the time practicing an apple-to-orange novelty spell I had read about a few weeks before. When I began, the spell was a simple way to entertain myself, but once I discovered the concealed difficulty of turning a pomaceous fruit into a citrus fruit, I put forth full effort into my attempts to do so. I am sure that I would have succeeded soon after I had started if it had not been for Pinkie Pie violently tackling (or as she chose to call it, “hugging”) me and throwing my aim off, making my stray shot hit an unfortunate bird (and simultaneously allowing me to discover that it is easier to transform a living creature into an orange than it is another fruit).

After watching my energetic friend have what appeared to be a minor breakdown, I resumed my efforts in completing the spell, before once again being interrupted by the pink mare an hour later (and accidentally turning another unfortunate animal into a fruit). Once Pinkie had rushed off to who knows where once again, I continued attempting to perform the spell for the next hour. Without meeting much results, I vowed to successfully cast it one day, and walked back to the library with Spike. For the next hour or so we spent the time taking stock of and reorganizing the library, until we were interrupted by sounds of shouting coming from the street outside.

I cannot lie and say that when I opened the library doors and was greeted by the sight of an angry mob, I didn’t fear that they had come for me. I feared that Applejack had been pressed for information by somepony, and had revealed the contents of our conversation last week, and, the townsponies, learning what depraved thoughts flitted about my mind, had come to chase me out of Ponyville. But as I gave the crowd in front of my door closer scrutiny and saw that none had brought any torches, pitchforks, or other angered mob paraphernalia, I remembered that Applejack, the most trustworthy pony in Ponyville, had given me her word for secrecy, and that even if somepony had managed to get her to reveal any information, she barely knew anything herself. My worries calmed, I addressed the crowd, and soon learned that the town was under a figurative siege of Pinkie Pie doppelgangers.

I retreated back into the library, and soon discovered the cause of the flood of energetic bakers to be an ancient ritual spring now known by the name, the “Mirror Pool.” Apparently, Pinkie had used its magical properties to create a small army of herself, though, for what reasons, I hadn’t the slightest clue. Unfortunately, while I had discovered the source and the solution to Ponyville’s newest problem, it did not provide a way to determine the true Pinkie from her doubles. The text ended, warning that, if the caster of the return spell was not careful, they could accidently send the actual pony back with the rest.

Returning to the mob at my doorstep, I ordered them to spread out across Ponyville and search for the original Pinkie. Once they were dismissed, I began my own hunt for my multiplied friend. While spending a fruitless amount of time wandering Ponyville in search of the real Pinkie, I encountered an oddly-out of character pink doppelganger. After giving me a short, and rather depressing, rant on her existential crisis, the mare gave me an idea on how to determine which member of the pink horde was truly my friend.

*****

While Rainbow Dash and the Apple family were busy with the task of rounding up and bringing all of the Pinkies to Town Hall, the rest of the Element bearers set up a test specially designed to isolate the true energetic mare we all know and love from her duplicates. I won’t go into any details about the test, but it should suffice to say that it was as carefully tailored as one of Rarity’s dresses. As many hooves make light work, the three of us - Rarity, Fluttershy, and I - were left to twiddle our hooves while we waited for Dash, Applejack, and company to arrive. While leaning against the wall of the stage, I was struck by the memory of DJ PON-3 begging me to save her from her impending doom. With nothing else to occupy my time with, I began to interpret the vision that had occurred over a week back, using some psychoanalysis techniques that I had studied about in order to glean any information I may have missed.

“A good memory, Twilight?” My friend, Fluttershy, whispered from beside me. Though her tone of voice was hushed, the quiet pegasus still managed to shock me out of my recollection when she spoke.

“Huh?” Interrupted, I lost whatever progress I had been making in interpreting the gruesome vision, and was unable to form a more eloquent response to her question.

“Oh,” she paused, hoofing the floor before continuing, “I noticed you had your eyes closed, and that you were smiling a little, so I assumed that you were revisiting a good memory. Sorry for interrupting you,” the shy mare quickly added , hiding her head behind her mane slightly.

“I… what?” I was at a loss for words, ‘I was smiling as I thought about an injured mare begging me for her life? As if it was a fond memory instead of the horrible nightmare it actually was?’ I thought as I started to lift myself from the ground, still in a slight stupor at what I had been doing.

“No, it’s okay,” Fluttershy protested, backing up from me. “You can sit back down, I won’t bother-”

Suddenly, we heard a loud stampeding sound coming from outside, and all at once, the Town Hall’s doors were flung wide as a flood of pink manes and hooves surged inside. Once I had managed to get the crowd of Pinkies under control, I introduced the test, and soon enough, their numbers rapidly dwindled until there was only one left. The remaining Pinkie wholeheartedly professed how she wouldn’t allow herself to leave her friends behind, and explained the reason as to why the whole fiasco had begun in the first place, leaving the five of us without a doubt that she was the true friend we all knew and loved.

*****

Once the troublesome occurrence had ended, I inquired Pinkie as to where the Mirror Pool laid, with the intention to prevent any other disasters like today’s from repeating. Acquisitioning a large boulder from Tom’s Rock Emporium, Pinkie and I enlisted the help of Applejack’s older brother, Macintosh, in transporting it to where the root of all today’s problems lied, deep in the Everfree Forest.

*****

Our expedition into the gloomy forest began well enough, with Pinkie leading the way as Macintosh and I followed behind, carrying the boulder. Him, on his broad back, and I, using my magic to lighten his load. Pinkie rambled on about this and that as she hopped along, the muscular farmer and I following silently after her, not feeling the need to make comment in her one-sided conversation. Walking next to the muscled earth pony, I cannot say that I am the only mare in Ponyville (Applejack being an obvious exclusion, as he is her brother) who has found the quiet stallion to be rather appealing to the eye, but I must admit that I find his presence even more enjoyable. He has this sort of air around him that leaves one content to be encompassed in the quietness that accompanies his presence; it is a peaceful silence that I have found him to exude in any situation, and it leaves one relaxed and with a warm contentedness inside them. I was happy enough just to walk alongside him and enjoy that peace as we ambled slowly after Pinkie Pie.

Unfortunately, that blissful peacefulness was all too short, for soon I felt the gnawing teeth of the Itch set upon my spine. My legs began to tremble as it slowly spread across my spine. I grew more and more panicked as I felt it scraping at the base of my neck with its foul claws. I wanted to turn around and run out of the forest, giving some weak excuse as to why I had to leave. Something, anything that would have gotten me away from having to watch two ponies I held in high esteem, and in Pinkie’s case, close to my heart, die brutally as I stood by and enjoyed their pain. But, I couldn’t do so, for if I were to leave right then, I would’ve left Macintosh to carry the boulder by himself, a feat that even he, with his sheer strength, wouldn’t be able to manage. I was trapped along that faint dirt path as the chances of watching my friends die grew higher alongside the magnitude of the horrible ravaging that scoured its way across my spine. Even though I knew their death would be imaginary, I still feared it all the same, and hated how unable I felt to stop its ever-gnashing fangs.

Though my mind and body were assaulted with the respective attacks of helplessness and physical rawness, I somehow managed to maintain a far more cheerful outward disposition. The last thing that I needed was for more ponies to know about my mental condition, as one Ponyville denizen already had vague knowledge about it, and even though she was sworn to secrecy, the less ponies I had to worry about, the better.

Nonetheless, by the time the three of us had reached the entrance to the Mirror Pool, I was near-dizzy from the intensity of the Itch. It is anypony’s guess to how I managed to maintain my control over the magic I was applying on the boulder when Macintosh finally set it on the ground next to him. I dispersed my magic as Pinkie hopped the circumference of the steep opening as energetically as always, while Macintosh and I opted to slump down to the ground wearily and gasp for air.

“Here we are, ladies and gentlecolts! The amazing Mirror Pool!” She yelled with all the enthusiasm of a door-to-door salespony, jumping up and down in front of me.

“Very… nice… Pinkie,” I managed to get out as I breathed labored breaths. “Now… I hate to leave… but I really … must be going,” I finished, starting to climb to my hooves.

“No wait!” She objected, yanking me up off the ground, “we need to go check and make sure none of those other Pinkies escaped!”

“Pinkie,” I began, “that’s not possi-”

“Macky! You wait here for Twilight and I to get back!” The pink party-planner interjected, dismissing the muscular apple farmer as she pulled me closer to the darkened maw of the Mirror Pool.

“Pinkie! Wai-” I shouted as she threw us both into the darkness below.

How we managed to not horribly injure ourselves in that terrible plummet is a mystery to me. The next few harrowing seconds we spent in the pitch-blackness, bumping and falling ever deeper, were far too long, and when we finally tumbled to a halt, I swore to fight with all my might the next time Pinkie tried to pull me into a dark hole in the ground. As I got up and surveyed the area around me, any complaints I might have voiced to the mare next to me were forgotten. I had landed in what appeared to be a naturally formed cave, hosting a vast diversity of stalactites, stalagmites, speleothems, and so much more! And these amazing formations were beautifully illuminated by the eerie light of great patches of bioluminescent plants I had never seen or even read about before!

I was enraptured as I began to wander about the subterranean area, marvelling at the plentitude of natural beauty that surrounded me. As I enjoyed the appearance of a particularly magnificent formation, my cognizance of the Itch returned to me all too soon, and I felt its ravenous teeth tear at my muscles and flesh with an intensity that nearly brought me to my knees. Remembering why I was so desperate to escape in the first place, I was about to attempt to teleport out of the cave when Pinkie’s voice called out to me:

“Hey Twilight! Come here for a sec!”

I turned around, and saw her staring into a small body of water that lied in the middle of the enchanting cave. Trotting up to what I assumed to be the center of all of today’s problems - the Mirror Pool - I barely managed to force a question out of my trembling lips, “y-yes? What is it Pinkie?”

“See if you can spot anything weird in there,” she responded, oddly calm, pointing into the murky depths as I stopped beside her.

“Sure, g-give me a second,” I replied as she stepped back, giving me room to examine the enchanted waters with close scrutiny.

I couldn’t find any trace of a replicated pink pony in those still waters, only finding my own reflection; a bedraggled pony who looked like she was barely holding herself together. Her mane, though mostly well-kempt, had a few stray hairs sticking out here and there, belying the persistent anxiousness the pony suffered day in and day out. Though she tried to hide it with makeup, I could tell she had bags under her eyes. It was obvious that she hadn’t slept well in a long while, and she certainly hadn’t had enough when she did sleep. Kept awake late every night by macabre memories that weren’t even true, she rarely got four hours of sleep if lucky. It wasn’t like her dreams added to her tormented as well, - no, she never seemed to dream about those vile imaginations - she would know if she did, she doubts she would forget such nightmares so easily. What was worse, though, were her eyes. They looked pained, like a caged animal’s, like she had seen too much of something vile, but they were also filled with fear; a fear that if the pain were ever to come into the light, she would lose everypony she had ever loved.

That mare shares my fear, the fear that if the true nature of the visions were to come about, my friends and my family would turn away from me, disgusted by the foul situations that have inhabited my mind. I can’t allow them to realize what was afflicting my mind. I must solve this on my own. I must.

“Hey, Twilight…” Pinkie’s voice sounded out, its haunting tone interrupting me from my somber thoughts.

Turning to her, I began to ask, “yes, Pinkie? What is i-”

I was cut off as hooves slammed into my side, sending me flying into the Mirror Pool. I plunged into the once-calm waters, and was immediately assaulted by their freezing temperatures. Frozen needles stabbed into my hide as I tried to swim towards the blue-greenish light coming from above, but I found myself only sinking lower into the dark depths. I wanted to scream out in terror when I found that no matter how hard I thrashed my limbs, I couldn’t break the surface, but I somehow managed to restrain myself from doing so, if only barely.

Moving my limbs became harder and harder to accomplish as I sunk into the darkened depths of the pool, and the frozen needles sank deeper into my skin, piercing my strained muscles. Soon, I was unable to continue struggling, and the waters began to return to their previously calm state, and I could make out Pinkie looking into the pool at me. The face I saw was foreign to me, for my beloved friend now looked at me with a cruel mirth - or disgust, I couldn’t tell which, the water rippled too much - as I slowly drowned below her. Her blue eyes no longer held the warmth of a Summer sky, but of a frozen winter, promising nothing but ice and starvation. Her mouth was twisted in a grimace as she spoke to me, but I was unable to hear, or determine, what she was saying; I was too deep down in the ice-cold water to understand her.

The needles had now thoroughly perforated my muscles, leaving them chilled tatters through which the frigid waters poured into, turning my bones and organs to ice. The light seemed so far away now, as I sank deeper into the freezing pool, barely a glimmer of light in the dark to focus my iced-over eyeballs on. My thoughts slowed down as the darkness seeped into my hooves, and then, my legs, working their way up my spine, snuffing the inflamed teeth of the Itch with their frozen needles. The dark, freezing needles pierced my stomach, bloating me with an empty coldness; my heart, filling my veins with their icy chill; my eyes, extinguishing whatever was left of that far-away light, leaving me to sink in darkness. Then I felt the cold darkness pierce my mind, and all ceased to be.

*****

Floating in the darkness, I couldn’t see or hear or smell or make use of any other of my senses except for touch. I knew this because I could feel the frozen darkness within me, soaking my body and numbing my senses. I couldn’t think, my frozen brain unable to do anything other than acknowledge the darkness’ chill. I didn’t know who or what I was, I only knew the dark, and its sister, the cold. All of a sudden, though my ability to hear was suspended in limbo with the rest of my body, I heard, or rather, felt a far away sound. I turned my perception in the direction of the sound, and after a few seconds - or maybe even years, I couldn’t tell, there was no time in that existence - I sensed the sound again, though this time it felt like a muffled yell.

“-light,” a bizarre, distorted voice sounded out, far-away in the darkness that engulfed me.

“Twilight,” it called out a name, but the name was unfamiliar to me.

“Twilight!” It shouted, and I realized, that name was mine!

I opened my eyes with a gasp, and felt my legs give out from under me. The next few moments I spent on the cold, slimy surface were in a haze. I was unable to focus my eyes as a long red and yellow blob appeared in my range of vision, and reach towards me. I first felt myself being lifted up off the hard floor, and then a sickening sensation boil into my stomach. Quickly, the queasy sensation rose from my stomach and into my throat, and in the next moment I tasted a foul, acidic grime in my mouth, and retched.

After I had finished hacking up what was left of my internal organs, my awareness of the world around me slowly began to return. The vile taste in my mouth was the first to make itself known to me, and my vision focused soon after it, presenting me an eyeful of my caustic waste, splattered out against the rocky ground. I began to retch again when my sense of smell returned to me, and the odoriferous odor plunged into my innocent nostrils.

Throughout my unpleasant experience of returning to life, my body remained as cold and numb as it had in the darkness. As I attempted to climb to my knees, the numbness receded, leaving the coldness to torment my being in solitude. My hearing returned last, and I immediately became aware of two voices worriedly chattering above my lowered form.

“Twilight! Are you okay? Twilight?” One nearly screamed out, and I identified it as Pinkie’s high-pitched voice, albeit no longer in its usually-chipper tone.

“Ms. Sparkle,” a low baritone sounded out - Macintosh -, his voice just as panicked, “we need to get you outta here an’ to a doctor fast!” Groggily attempting to stand up, I felt their hooves grab ahold of me, and escort me away from the noxious mess I had painted on the floor.

*****

I am unable to remember much of the return trip to Ponyville, as I kept falling in and out of unconsciousness. Throughout the hurried trip out of the Mirror Pool and through the Everfree Forest I only felt a constant sense of jostling, queasiness, and the pervasive chill, before I finally regained stable consciousness. When I came to be, I found myself thrown across Macintosh’s back like a rug, and, twisting my head to the side, that we were growing ever nearer to Ponyville General Hospital.

All at once, I fully awoke, and, energized by fear, I leapt from the large farmer’s back and established a small distance between my two friends and myself. I couldn’t allow myself to be taken into that building. Once inside, I could be subjected to the same tests I had performed on myself, only this time I wouldn’t be the only one privy to their results. I knew I couldn’t allow that to happen, and began preparing a transportation spell.

Just as I was about to cast the spell, I saw Pinkie lunge for me with outstretched hooves, but she was too late, for in the next moment, I was engulfed in a cloud of smoke. When the smoke dispersed, I found myself standing in the center of the Golden Oaks Library. Looking at the clock, I saw the time was 12:37. Galloping upstairs and into the bathroom, I laid myself in the tub and began to draw a bath. While the tub filled with the hottest water possible, I locked the door and reinforced the entire room with a security spell. Once the tub had filled to the brim, I shut off the tap and began performing various deep breathing exercises to keep myself from hyperventilating.

I laid there, motionless as the near-boiling water cleansed my body of the chill that had haunted it ever since my dreamed plunge into the Mirror Pool. About an hour after midnight (according to the bathroom clock), I heard the door to the library slam open as what sounded like a stampede entered the library. As the stomping hooves climbed the stairs, I was able to make out the worried voices of my closest friends; Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie. I heard them clop past the bathroom door and into my bedroom, where Spike’s voice soon added to the throng.

Leaving my room, with my beloved assistant now in tow, the group began to pass by the bathroom once again, but I heard one of them pause right in front of the door. The pony on the other side of the door attempted to turn the knob, and discovered that it was locked from the inside.

“Girls!” I heard Fluttershy’s normally demure voice shout out, “the light’s on in the bathroom, and the door is locked! I think Twilight’s in here!”

Right after the words had left her mouth, the other hooves clattered their way back to where Fluttershy stood right outside my door. Once the rest of the group had arrived, they began banging on the door and made various demands, pleadings, and requests that I open the door:

“Twilight! It’s us! Open the door!” Applejack’s worried twang shouted through the wood.

“Twi! Let us in there! We’re worried!” Dash followed, sounding even more concerned than Applejack had before her.

“Open up! Please, Twilight, open up!” Pinkie’s desperate tone pleaded through the door.

“Twilight! What’s going on?” Spike’s confused, and slightly frightened voice asked as it penetrated the wood.

“Please, dear, tell us what’s wrong!” Rarity demanded, before continuing, “we’re concerned for you!”

“Let us in, Twilight, please,” Fluttershy added, though I barely able to make her words out from the rest of the shouting.

I laid there, not moving or making a sound, listening to their distressed voices pierce the wooden gate of my sanctuary, wondering how they could be so concerned for one such as I; a pony who imagined and enjoyed the deaths of innocent ponies; a pony who was so thoroughly messed up in the mind that she had begun to envision her own death! What had this pony done to deserve such wonderful friends?

To my surprise, laying there in the bathtub, I began to cry. My friends must have heard my sobs echo through the door, for they at once fell silent.

“G-go away,” I managed to choke out, “please… just go away.”

No sound came from beyond the door, as though they hadn’t been there at all. I believed I was just talking to figments of my shattered mind, and began to cry in full earnest, until Fluttershy’s timid voice broke the silence:

“Twilight, please, let us talk to you, let me talk to you,” she begged, and I could imagine her crouching lower as if she was speaking to an injured animal.

“N-no, you d-don’t want to talk to me,” I pressed on, desperate to be left to cry alone, “I-I’m a bad pony.”

“You are anything but that, Twilight.” The buttercup yellow pegasus softly, yet firmly, retorted, “please, you don’t have to open up the door, I just want to talk to you. I’ll send the others away so it can just be the two of us alone, okay?”

I laid there in the tub, and thought long and hard on what I should to do. I knew I needed to get my emotions out to somepony, but I feared that they would turn away from me if I did so. I wanted to relieve my anxiety and fear on a shoulder, but was afraid of losing the pony it was attached to if I tried. After much debating with myself, I croaked out one word in reply:

“...Okay…”

I heard Fluttershy mutter a few words to the rest of my friends, which was followed by the sound of their descending hooves to the floor below, leaving just the two of us and the door alone. I heard her lay down on the floor , and for what felt like an eternity, the two of us sat there in silence.

“Twilight…” the pegasus mare paused a moment, before continuing, “I don’t really know what’s fully going on, but from what I’ve gathered from Pinkie, you, her, and Applejack’s older brother were in the Everfree Forest to seal the Mirror Pool, when you suddenly stopped moving. When Pinkie tried to get your attention, you just stared into nowhere, not responding to anything she did. When you did wake up, apparently you threw up and Pinkie and Macintosh tried taking you to the hospital, but when they got you there, you escaped.”

“Once you had teleported away,” she elaborated further, “Pinkie and Macintosh ran across town to wake the rest of us up so we could look for you, and we all came here first to wake up Spike and look for you. That’s all I really know, and all I want to do is to listen to whatever you feel like telling me. But please, don’t feel pressured to tell me anything!” She squeaked out, as timid as always

“No, it’s fine…” I stopped, unsure of how to proceed. Now that the emotional flood that had accompanied my tears had been washed away, more logical thoughts began to float to the surface of my mind, and I realized that I couldn’t reveal the full truth of the Itch to Fluttershy, no matter how much I wanted to. She was undoubtedly the most delicate of my friends, and I am certain that she would react the least favorably to the information that I dreamed about the deaths of ponies. I shuddered there in the tub, despite its warmth, to how she would view me if she knew that the “good memory” I had revisited earlier in the day was the remembrance of one such imagining. My newest task now seemed to be to reveal the truth to Fluttershy, while making sure that the account would fit into the half-truth I had told Applejack a week earlier, all the while still hiding the true nature of the Itch.

“...It’s just that I don’t really know how to properly explain it,” I paused, thinking to myself, ‘well, without having you freak out and view me as a monster.’

“You see,” I continued, “when I was frozen like that, at the Mirror Pool, I was having a hallucination.”

“You were seeing things?” Fluttershy, curious, asked, “oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you!”

“It’s fine, Fluttershy. Though, actually, most hallucinations are auditory, not visual,” I answered, ‘most, being the imperative word.’

“And unfortunately,” I carried on, moving the topic away from the content of the hallucinations, “they’ve happened before now. They began a few weeks ago, and the last occurred last week at the Sugarcube Corner’s tenth anniversary party. You can ask Applejack for affirmation; she was there at the time and I’ve already told her a little about it. I asked her not to tell anypony about it, because I didn’t want to worry any of you over it.”

“I told Applejack that I suspected the hallucinations were caused by a lack of sleep, but I didn’t mention the other possible reason I believe may be there cause.” I paused for a moment, deciding to give her a cherry-picked truth, “you see, when I was a young filly, I was diagnosed with a panic disorder,” I began, telling her the truth, though it might’ve not been a truth related to the Itch. “This disorder caused me to have panic attacks at random intervals, seemingly without cause. In these attacks, I imagined myself in wildly unlikely situations; though all were extremely uncomfortable and stressing to me. My parents put me on a mild antidepressant to help me overcome the attacks, but I recently stopped taking them.” Recently, being a relative word, since I haven’t needed them since before becoming Princess Celestia’s personal student, “I did so in an attempt to take cognitive control over the disorder, though it seems that all I have done is cause it to return. I plan to start retaking them again soon, but it may take a while for the drugs effects to adhere,” I added as an afterthought, anticipating the future Itches yet to come.

“I’m sorry,” I continued, “I didn’t mean to cause all of this, I just wanted to cure these hallucinations quietly so I wouldn’t bother any of you. Though, it looks like I’ve failed at that,” I finished, letting the silence fill the space between us once again.

“Oh, Twilight,” I heard the mare’s voice echo through the wood, “you will never bother us; we’re your friends. No matter what is happening, if it’s important to you, it is important to all of us. We’re here for you Twilight, and we always will be.” She paused, before finishing, “so, please, Twilight, don’t shut us out.”

As my friend fell quiet, the silence seeped back through the crack under the doorway and filled the room. Unbidden, I used my magic to unlock the door and deactivated the magic shield protecting the room. The doorknob turned, the door swinging open to reveal Fluttershy. Her eyelids were just as puffy as I felt mine to be, and faint trails of recently wept tears stained the fur of her cheeks. The mare’s soft, blue eyes were lit with worry as she approached the tub, never leaving my own purple pair. With a small flap of her wings, the light yellow pegasus joined me in the water. She hugged my shivering - despite the warm temperatures - form with her forehooves, and held me like that as I began to cry into her shoulder.

We remained like that for a long time; Fluttershy just holding me close as I wept my pent-up anxieties and emotions into her buttercup-yellow fur. Eventually, I lifted my head, sniffling as I gave her a hiccup-ridden thanks.

“It’s fine, Twilight,” she smiled, looking into my reddened eyes, “everypony needs a good cry now and then.”

“Yes, well, thank you for providing a shoulder for me to do so on,” I replied, smiling for the first time since what felt like an eternity, “shall we head down and explain everything to our friends?”

“Only as much as you are comfortable with telling,” Fluttershy added, lifting herself off of me, “oh dear, we should probably get dry first, before we head downstairs.”

After drying Fluttershy and myself off with a quick-dry spell I knew, we descended, and were met by our worried friends. I made sure to first calm Spike down, reassuring him that everything was okay and that I was just stressed out from work. Once I was sure that he didn’t have any lingering doubts as to my most recent breakdown, I sent him to bed, and began addressing the other Element bearers. I first began by apologizing, especially to Pinkie, for causing them so much worry. I then detailed to them the revised version of what had been occurring for the past few weeks, having Fluttershy fill them in on the part about the medication for me. The reason I did so was because if I had told them my partially-fibbed explanation, Applejack would’ve spotted the deception the moment the first word came out of my mouth. With Fluttershy, I reasoned, relaying the information, who she herself believed in the half-truths I had told her, Applejack wouldn’t be able to detect any lies.

Either I was right in my assumption, or the orange mare recognized the deceit, but chose to respect my reasons for doing so, as she did not point it out then or take me aside later that evening. Once I had finished my retelling, my friends informed me that they wished to spend the night with me in the library. I, not wanting to offend them, and also desperately in need of some pony contact, agreed and began setting up various blankets and mattresses in the main room on which they could spend the evening. Once everypony was situated comfortably, my friends, fatigued from a busy Ponyville day and a frantic night, began to drop off, one by one, until I was the only one still awake.

Managing to sneak myself out of the circle of bed materials and ponies that had come to surround me, I tip-hoofed into the kitchen and retrieved this journal from the safe below with my magic, and began writing today’s exhausting occurrences down.

*****

The time is now 4:01 a.m., and I am only now beginning to feel the symptoms of fatigue. This past day has been far too emotionally charged for me to fall asleep easily, and now that I am alone with little fear of being interrupted, the possible implications of this most recent vision lurch out at me in this little moonlit room.

What I imagined today is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, be it in real life, nightmares, or these vile delusions. That feeling of darkness seeping into my body, those freezing needles piercing my very being; is that what my “victims” feel as I watch them die? Oh, I hope not; I wouldn’t wish that upon anypony, no matter who they are.

And why does this particular vision differ from its predecessors? Is it some kind of subconscious moral-based backlash for the previously imagined atrocities, spurned by my revulsion and fear? No, it can’t be that, for no matter how much I hate these hallucinations, I still “enjoy,” at some basal and twisted level, the pain those poor ponies experience before their cruel deaths.

But now, I am the pony who suffers such a death! And I wonder in fear, ‘is this how the visions are going to occur from now on? That now, I must watch myself die from my own eyes, and feel death steal the life from my body?’ I know that this is a truly horrible thing to think, and even more so to write down, but I hope the coming of the next Itch heralds the end of some other pony, and not my own.

I am disgustingly depraved for thinking this, and I know I shall suffer many a sleepless night because of it, but I would rather watch somepony else die than experience those frozen needles pierce my hide again. No cold I have ever experienced, even the chilly winds of the frozen North, cannot compare with the sensations I felt as I sunk into the Mirror Pool’s abyss-like depths, and I dread to feel those hypothermic points perforating my muscles, sinking into my frostbitten bones again.

I’m afraid I’ll have to end tonight’s entry at this point. I think somepony is waking up from their slumber in the next room. I can hear them approaching the kitchen.

Goodnight and signing off,

Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Well, once again: Hello, how are you all doing? Sorry for taking so long in getting this entry published, but hopefully, now that Summer's here, I can get the next one to you all quicker than before (though I secretly doubt I'll be able to).
Thanks to all of you who favorited, liked, commented on, and looked at this story; I truly appreciate it. If you have anything to say about what I write, please feel free to post a comment. Critiques are especially welcome; I value them quite a bit.
Well, I hope you all enjoyed this newest entry!
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

Journal Entry #6

Saturday, January 19th, 1003 A.B.

I would first like to apologize for the hasty ending of the last entry, but due to the sensitive material contained within this journal, I wish to avoid anypony finding out about its existence. This is why that by the time that the awoken pony, who turned out to be Rainbow Dash, had arrived at the threshold of the kitchen, the journal was already secure in the safe downstairs. Upon inquiry as to why I was awake, Dash, still half-asleep, was easily convinced that I had merely having a midnight snack to ease my nerves, and joined me for some celery and peanut butter.

The next morning, I was awoken by the smell of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen. Groaning as lifted myself up on heavy limbs, I was greeted by Applejack as she emerged from the aroma’s origin, and announced that the morning’s meal was almost ready. Before returning to the kitchen, she asked me to rouse Pinkie and Dash, who laid near me, still submerged in their own respective slumbers. Soon, over a delicious breakfast of hay pancakes and daffodils, I was informed by my friends that they would be dedicating the day to spending quality time with me. There is nothing of real importance relating to the Itch that happened yesterday, so I will simply put that it was one of the most relaxing and enjoyable days that I have had in a long time.

While yesterday may have been relatively normal, today, on the other hoof, has held three bizarre developments in the Itch’s macabre characteristics, one of which I can still feel the effects of now. As to what today’s vision contained, it is with guilt-ridden relief that I can say that this most recent hallucination has not followed in the hoofsteps of its predecessor. Thankfully, instead of involving my own painful demise, today’s daydream featured the deaths of not one, but two other ponies. I ask for all the forgiveness in the world for the relief I felt after I ‘woke up’ from the vision, but I still cannot deny the peace of mind that somepony other than I dying brought me.

Though the fact that my ‘death’ had not repeated is reason enough to put ink down into this journal, it is not the only reason that I write today’s occurrences down. Neither is the odd affair of two ponies dying instead of one, though it is bizarre, but rather how they met their deaths that is truly fascinating.

*****

Since I had spent most of the previous day out and about with my friends, and neglected on my duties as librarian of Golden Oaks Library, I spent most of the morning and most of the afternoon fulfilling those duties. In the morning, I was mainly preoccupied in addressing the books that had been checked in and checked out, and which ones were overdue. As I found out, there were quite a few Ponyville residents who had neglected to return their books on time, though, I suppose the large number could be due to the resident librarian spending most of her time in the basement for the past few weeks. After a small lunch, I set out from the library in order to retrieve the missing books from their tardy owners, leaving Spike to take care of the library’s affairs in my absence.

By the time I reached the last house on my list of literary offenders - around 6 o’clock - the Itch had already encroached upon my spine. It began in the middle of my visit on the previous house, but thankfully, I have grown better at distracting myself from the gnawing sensation, so I was able to go about completing my duties with a calm facade upon my face. I planned on finishing business at the final house before finding a secluded spot outside of Ponyville where I wouldn’t attract unwanted attention.

Pausing to readjust the book-filled saddlebags at my sides, I beheld a typical Ponyville dwelling. With a thatched roof, soft pastel coloring, and colorful woodwork, it was nearly identical to any other house in the town, save for a bright blue mailbox, which on the side read in white font, “Mane and Wit household.”

*****

One interesting distinction between Ponyville and my native Canterlot that I’ve grown accustomed to over the years is Ponyville’s lack of a number-based mailing system. Unlike the city of my birth, my current town of residence is small enough in population that the mail carriers know the residents of every house on their delivery routes by name, which eliminates the need of numerical ordering. Though, I myself have never had to bother with placing my name upon a mailbox; everypony pretty much knows where to find the mare who lives in the big tree right in middle of town.

*****

Trotting up the cobblestone walkway, I heard sounds of youthful play emanating from inside, which went silent when my hoof rapped upon the wooden door. A second later, I heard the sound of hooves hurriedly moving towards the entryway, accompanied by a colt’s energetic voice.

“I’ll get it!”

The door opened, and I found a stocky young colt - looking to be around the age of the Cutie Mark Crusaders - looking up at me. As I stared down at the pale green youth, I couldn’t help but feel he looked familiar.

“Hey, Miss Twilight! What’re you doing here?” He asked with a slight lisp, and I realized why he had seemed so familiar. He was one of the colts responsible for leading the Ursa Minor into Ponyville and the damage it caused to the town during my first year of residency at the Golden Oaks Library.

“Snips!” A stallion’s voice sounded out from further inside the domain, “that isn’t how we address visitors!”

“Sorry dad!” Snips yelled back, “sorry, Miss Twilight. Would you like to come in?”

“Well, I can only stay for a little bit,” I replied, stepping past the diminutive colt, “I’m quite busy as it is.”

Walking in, I found myself in a quaint living room - photographs lining the walls, a ceiling-mounted lamp, a worn looking red sofa, a glass coffee table, and a shelf full of books - one already inhabited by another colt, one with a yellow-orange coloration - Snails, I believe it was. He greeted me in a meandering tone, and went back to playing as his friend ran past me and joined him. Left standing awkwardly in the room for only a few moments, I was soon met by the stallion of the household, Written Wit, one of Ponyville’s local writers and a stay-at-home husband.

“Ah, hello Ms. Sparkle. How are you this fine day?” The lemon-coated unicorn asked me in a genial tone, smiling as he walked around the two colts on the floor, “what brought about this surprise visit? If you’re looking for my wife, I’m afraid she’s currently at work downtown.”

“Ah no, I’m actually here to see you on library business.” Pulling my list out of one of the saddlebags, I read what was on it out loud, “you currently have three books overdue, I’m afraid. They are Write M for Macaroni by Alfredo Hitchcook, L'Amour des Legumes by Petit Pois, and… Desperate and Dangerous Dominatri-”

“Y-yes! W-well, I’ll just go get those for you from my study upstairs, all right?” Written cut me off, grinning nervously as he glanced at the two colts playing nearby, “please, won’t you take a seat while I’m doing so?”

Setting my saddlebags on the glass coffee table, I sat myself down on the sofa behind it as he trotted off into one of the adjacent doorways. I squirmed in my seat as I felt the Itch scrape its rusty claws across my skin, picking at my muscles with its jagged talons. I silently prayed for Written to return as soon as possible as the Itch began to mount in ferocity.

All through my torment, Snips and Snails played and laughed between themselves on the wooden floorboards. I began to grow annoyed with their antics; how could they be so carefree, so oblivious to my own pain? How dare they be so stupid, so uncaring? With one of Snips’ annoying high-pitched laughs, I felt my aggravation boil over, and my threadbare patience snap.

“Would you shut the hay up?!” I demanded, slamming my right forehoof down onto the glass coffee table. I must have not known my own strength, for when my hoof made contact with the table’s surface, the glass shattered and fell to the floor below. My sudden outburst startling the infuriating duo from their play, I decided to capitalize on their momentary silence and continued, “both of you are seriously starting to get on my nerves, and you-” I noticed that Snails staring at my right hoof, and growled out an infuriated “what!?”

“Miss Twilight,” he began, his tone trembling, but thankfully speedier than earlier, “you cut your hoof…”

Looking down at my hoof, I saw that I had indeed cut it. A bright red slash stretched across my fetlock, no doubt caused by its violent introduction with the table.

“I’ll go get some bandages!” Shouted Snips as he jumped off and ran for the doorway his father left through.

“Oh no you don’t, you little foal!” I snarled, using my magic to yank him back and throw him next to his slow-speaking friend, “you’re going to shut up and listen to what I have to say…” I said as I hopped off the couch and made my way around the coffee table, using my magic to shut and lock all of the doors leading from the room.

“Miss Twilight! You’re scaring-” Snips began, but was cut off by my hoof striking across his face.

“I said shut up, you little... Ohhh…” I stopped, closing my eyes as I enjoyed the pleasure that hitting the annoying brat gave me.

“Miss…?” Snails didn’t even have the time to get out a second word before I was on him. I hit him, again and again, not daring to stop striking, else I end the euphoria hurting his frail little body brought me. He screamed and screamed and screamed as his friend vainly pulled at me, begging me to get off of him, but I just continued boxing the colt’s trapped, writhing form. Eventually, Snails stopped resisting, only having enough energy to breath gasping breaths through broken teeth and blood. Slowly, I turned around and stared into Snips’ face. One eye had swollen shut from where I struck him, but the other one was a living painting of fear. His pupil was a tiny black pinprick, quivering as he looked into my own purple eyes.

I could feel my mouth contort into a nasty sneer as he began to back away from me. My horn lit up as I opened the door behind him, causing Snips to jump as it squeaked open. He turned around with a speed his chubby frame belied, and made a quick dash for the safety beyond the doorframe. Just as the stubby little colt reached the doorway, I slammed the door shut into his face with a delightfully painful “snap,” throwing him back into the living room. Picking Snips up with my magic, I turned him around to face me. His eyes were staring straight into mine as he nursed his broken muzzle with his hooves, blood streaming down his tearful face all the while.

“Aww, did the pool widdle foal want to escape?” I pouted, mocking the trembling colt, “well, don’t let that mean ol’ door stop you!”

Spinning Snips around, I slammed him into the wooden door repeatedly, his wails becoming softer with each successive hit. Eventually, he stopped flailing about in my magic, and I brought him back to me. Lifting up the barely breathing form of Snails at my side, I held them next to each other, observing my handiwork. Both of the colt’s faces were bloody messes: black and purple bruises spanned their cheeks and muzzles as crimson streams flowed off their faces and dripped onto the floor below. Though I held them at attention, their gazes were unfocused; their minds dazed by the brutal beating I had given them. The fact that they were not paying attention to me ruined the euphoria I had acquired during their thrashing, sending the pleasure buzzing through my tensed body to the ground. Without ecstasy barring its path, the Itch stampeded right into the forefront of my awareness, aggravating my already angered mind even further.

“Hey!” I yelled, slamming their heads together, jolting them out of their daze, “pay attention!” I couldn’t help but crack a twisted smile as they started to cry pitifully in my grasp, not even trying to escape my magic. “That’s better. Now that you’ve learned your place, I have a question for you both.”

Applying pressure to their necks, I continued, “tell me, before you two ran off into the forest just to prove that little showboat Trixie right, did you little idiots even think of what would happen to Ponyville if you had brought an Ursa Major here? I doubt the thought ever crossed either of your tiny brains,” I spat, savoring the colts’ panicking expressions as it grew harder and harder for them to breath. “Well, once I’m done with you, nopony will ever have to worry about you two even breathing, much less thinking.”

Throwing their bloodied forms against the wall behind them, I surveyed the room for inspiration on how to end their miserable lives. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shattered glass from the coffee table glint maliciously in the light. Picking up numerous jagged shards with my magic, I turned and began to advance on the two colts struggling to get up off the ground. They raised their heads to look at me as I approached, allowing me to see the reflection of the glass shards hovering behind me in their fearful eyes.

“So, you two wanted to see some “awesome magic?”” I sneered at their trembling, bloodied forms, “well, let’s put on a show, shall we?”

Snips and Snails didn’t even have time to gasp as I lifted them in the air with my magic and embedded the first blades of glass into their flanks, but they sure did scream when I pulled them out. Their cries of pain were like music to my ears as I stabbed, sliced, and scraped their shaking forms, the glass shards darting about the two colts like tiny, silvery birds taking sanguine sips of the crimson nectar beneath their hides. Snips and Snails futilely flailed their limbs about in an effort to swat away the shards, but only succeeded in tearing the skin of their legs to tattered red ribbons even faster. Blood poured out of the cuts all over their bodies, turning the youths into writhing, blood-soaked messes as their skin was flayed and shredded by my magic.

Eventually, the two began to struggle less and less as their blood continued to leave their bodies and spill across the floor. Soon, I had their barely-breathing, limp shapes held in my grasp, myself left panting from the sheer ecstasy their pain brought me. Releasing the glass from my magic, I slowly lowered the near-dead duo onto their backs at my hooves as the shards rained like blood-soaked falling stars around us.

I stepped back, shivering from the ecstasy pulsing through my body, relishing the sight of their torn-apart forms at my hooves. I would have ceased there and walked out of the house, assured that the Itch’s hunger was satisfied at last, if it were not for this terrible, familiar setting upon my unsuspecting frame. I nearly screamed as frozen needles stabbed through my hide, tearing apart my muscles, and embedding into my bones. The horrors that had tortured me in my last vision had returned with a fearsome vengeance. I writhed and trembled in agony as the euphoria that had warmed me only a moment before was forced out by the numbing, painful cold.

I felt like I was going to die - no, that I was already dying. That I would be the one to perish instead of the two pathetic foals at my hooves. Maddened by the pain and the indignity of my situation, I grew enraged. Why should they survive, and I die in their place? I couldn’t allow that to happen!

Shakily, I drew myself forward on unsteady hooves, stepping over the two’s bodies. Lying in a pool of his own and his friend’s blood, Snips groaned weakly as I stepped over the two’s bodies, and positioned myself directly above their shredded forms.

Opening his ripped eyelids, Snips looked at me with disoriented eyes, “Miss Twilight…” he breathed out, barely able to produce a whisper as I reared back upon my hind legs.

I didn’t give him the chance to speak another word. Shifting my weight forward, I slammed my hooves down upon the two colts’ reddened necks, and a loud “snap” filled the room. All at once, Euphoria overtook me as I stood there on their broken necks, eyes shut, only seeing white as the wave of ecstasy rolled into body, purging the frozen needles from my beleaguered nerves, alleviating my senses to a state of pure bliss. I was lost to that realm of pleasure once again; every part of me, down to the tips of my hooves, was submerged in it and I never wanted to leave. Unfortunately, the wonderful sensation that engulfed my body began to recede once again to the depth of my mind, leaving my conscious to slowly wander back to reality.

“Mi… arkle…” A shifting, bending tone called out to me in the milky haze of the euphoria’s afterglow. “Miss Sparkle,” it condensed, forming a clear voice, “are you alright? Miss Sparkle?” The voice, a stallion’s, asked me, as I felt myself slowly awakening from the glowing fog that surrounded me. Colors swam out of the whiteness’ depths, forming indistinct shapes when the stallion spoke out again, “Boys! Run out and get some help! We need to take her to the hospital!” All at once, the world materialized out of the blurry shapes, and I saw in front of me looking at Snips and Snails, who were poised for the door.

“No wait!” I yelled, shocking the rest of the room’s inhabitants into silence. “I’m fine! Fine,” I lowered my voice as I now had the room’s attention, “I was just lost in thought, that’s all.”

“Lost in thought?” Written echoed, his voice tinged with doubt, “Miss Sparkle, ‘comatose’ would better describe how you were a few minutes ago than “lost in thought.”’

“W-well, it ha-happens sometimes whenever I’m really deep in thought,” I stutter, “I just sort of, shut out all external stimuli.”

“...If you say so,” Written responded, visibly disquieted by my flimsy explanation. “Here,” he changed the subject, pushing three books towards me across the undamaged coffee table, “the books you wanted. Now, I apologize, but we have to clean the house, so you’d better be on your way.”

“But daaaad,” Snips piped up, completely forgotten by the two of us, “we cleaned the house yester-”

“Snips, be quiet and go start cleaning your room,” Written cut him off, making his way towards the front door. “I shall show you to the door, Miss Sparkle?” Picking up the books and my saddlebag, I followed him to the front of his house and wished him a good evening, a farewell the stallion superficially reciprocated, and made my way home. Upon entry of the library, a little past 7, I set about putting the books where they belonged as quick as possible, and then made my way downstairs to retrieve this journal from the safe, and began writing down today’s events.

*****

Though the disgust that accompanies my cognizance of the gruesome content of the visions is not absent, it is overcast by another emotion: relief. It was the emotion that I first felt when I “awoke” from my demented daydream, and I can’t help but still feel a slight giddiness now that I know my own death won’t be a consecutive theme in my unintentional imaginings. And what an imagining it was! Though it may have featured two young colts (a thought that still causes me to wince), I was not a passive observer in this most recent of hallucinations. Instead, I was the cause of their torment; I was the creator of my own pleasure, as I beat their little faces, as I tore their flesh asunder. I saved myself from the needles, from my own death. I was the cause! I was their kille-

Oh my Faust, what kind of monster am I? Their pain, the pain I caused, brought me pleasure? How have I become so twisted, so degenerate? Reading over what was just written, I cannot hold back the feelings of pure disgust for the pony who wrote it. I fear for who I am becoming, if this is to be my frame of mind after every vision that forces itself upon it. Some kind of maniac who delights in the pain of those around me, and now, it’s the pain that I cause? Is that what I’ve become? I wish this vile disease had never infected my mind! What have I ever done to deserve it? I’m a good pony! I’ve saved lives - nations! And this is my reward, my fate? To turn into some kind of bastardous, malicious freak?

And now this relief, this sadistic enjoyment is not the only thing I feel squeezing the sanity from my brain! Ever since the vision ended, where I cut my right hoof inside of it, there has been this tingling sensation in its place. All along my fetlock, there runs this phantom slice that whispers to my nerves, telling them that something is wrong, incorrect.

My hoof was cut, it was sliced open; red, gleaming blood peaking out from between to purple lips. That’s how it’s supposed- NO, that’s how it needs to be. It has to be right, correct.

I need to make the cut myself. I need to make myself right.

In the kitchen. The knives. That’s what I can use. Nopony else is around. Spike is asleep upstairs. It’s just the knives, my hoof, and I…

*****

No, dear Faust no! What do I do? It was perfect; nothing could go wrong. Nothing should have gone wrong, but why? Why did it did anyway?

*****

I was in the kitchen, I had taken one of the knives out - it was long, beautiful, a glinting shard of silver in my magical grasp, lit by the moonlight piercing the kitchen window - and had it laid across my fetlock. Slowly, I pushed it down into my fur, and directed it along its path. It was painful, but it felt so wonderful, so correct. The knife left a scarlet path in its wake, gleaming out from beneath my lavender coat. It was beautiful, right. I was enraptured by the crimson wonder painted across my hoof, until a juvenile, trembling voice broke my reverie:

“Twilight…?”

Galvanized by fear, I spun around and faced the owner of the voice so familiar, one I loved dearly, my assistant, Spike. His face was a portrait of confusion and fright as his gaze shifted between my eyes, my right hoof, and the bloody blade still held aloft in my magic.

“Twilight, what’s going on?” He asked, his emerald eyes staring into my own, silently begging me as I tried to think up some kind of explanation that would preserve his youthful innocence, but found none. “Twiligh-” Spike began again, but was cut off as I dropped the knife from my grasp, and shot him with a sleep spell. Instantly, his eyes rolled up in his head, and he dropped to the floor, only to be caught in my magical grasp moments before impact.

It took every last ounce of my willpower to keep myself from hyperventilating as I levitated my beloved assistant upstairs and into his bed. My mind was numb when I made my way downstairs and washed the knife clean of my blood and used a healing spell to remove any trace of the wound I had just inflicted upon myself. It was only when I sat heavily down in the middle of the library’s main room that fear and his brother, panic, did pounce upon my mind.

*****

What am I going to do? Spike must have saw what I had done, there is no doubt in my mind that he did not. He had to have been watching as I sliced my hide open, as I stared at my hoof, enraptured by my own blood. He simply can’t forget such things! I’ll have to find a way to convince Spike tomorrow morning that what he saw was merely a dream, some frightful image brought upon his sleeping mind.

Ugh. I wish I could be like him right now: asleep. Though, I doubt I’ll get any sleep tonight after what has occurred today. I must redouble my efforts in solving the macabre mystery of the Itch. I certainly have enough time to begin tonight, though I doubt I’ll be able to even address the third bizarreness of the vision: the frozen needles, much less accomplish any other study on myself. My mind is far too muddled by today’s occurrences, to achieve anything worthwhile this evening.

Goodnight and signing off,

Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Hey-dee-hi-dee-ho there! How are you all doing this fine evening? Thank you all for tuning in to watch everybody's favorite macabre-malady maligned unicorn: Twilight Sparkle!
First of all, how do you all like the new cover art? Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. But, as some of you who looked at my most recent blog post, it wouldn't be there without the help of these two generous individuals, xTSGx and Pixel Pony. Both of them went out of their way to help me out on fixing a file size problem I was having. You both have my gratitude, thank you.
Also, I have a little question. Did anybody feel a little uncomfortable when they read the part where Twilight was brutalizing Snips and Snails? Because I sure did when writing some of it. Just curious, y'know. Hopefully I won't be writing anything that involves hurting the little little ponies for a while, but I thought the same thing when writing the first entry, and look where we're at five chapters later!
Lastly, but never to be least, I wish to thank all of you who Favorited/liked/read/looked uncomfortably at my fiction, I truly do appreciate it.
Well, that's all I have to say. Hope you all are enjoying the Summer season!
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

P.S. For those of you interested, here's a link to the original artwork: Clickedy-click

Journal Entry #7

Thursday, January 24th, 1003 A.B

I believed that the events of last Saturday evening could never be matched in personal, actual unpleasantness and unease, but today’s occurrences have certainly corrected my false assumption.

As for what occurred the following morning four days before, since I had spent the entire night awake trying to motivate myself into performing more tests, I was able to attend to Spike when he first awoke. My poor assistant was terrified when he burst through the door that lead to my laboratory and upon sighting me, he practically dived down the stairs to wrap my chest into an embrace. After spending a few minutes to calm him down, I questioned Spike about what I already knew what had frightened him and, showing him my uninjured hoof, was able to convince the young drake that what had happened the last night was merely a nightmare.

As for what had transpired in the days that followed, I was visited by not one, but two visions in those five days. As I am unable to determine that any sort of development in the Itch occurred, I have chose not to write them down in this journal, as it would be a waste of time and ink (though I have to add that I doubt I’ll ever look at a watermelon in the same way ever again). This decision is based off the fact that the two hallucinations only differ cosmetically from Saturday’s; though the who, where, and when are all different, the fact that they “died” by my own hoof still remains, along with the Itch’s ravaging inferno, the sadistic pleasure, and, unfortunately, the freezing needles.

Every time, just as the Itch was nearly sated, those piercing, hypothermic knives stabbed remorselessly into my skin, hacking away my muscles and gouging holes into my bones. It infuriates me! What have I done to deserve such pain? No, I know why. The reason is there, in every vision, in every brutal, uncalled for death. Are they some sort of subconscious, conscience-based attack, punishing me for such ghastly thoughts and thrills? No, that can’t be it! If the needles were of such design, then should they not occur after I have returned to reality, accompanying my guilt and doubt? They must be of some other purpose, some other machination, be it biological, magical, or psychological. But what? I haven’t the slightest clue as to what it is! I’m completely in the dark!

And what a perfect description that is! ‘Cluelessness’ encompasses my entire efforts on delving into the mystery of the Itch! I haven’t been able to identify a single etiology, prognosis, or remedy despite the fact that I have performed 186 chemical, thauma-neurological, and psychoanalytic tests upon myself! Any kind of theory I have on the Itch is just half-baked conjecture at best! I’ve got nothing! Nothing aside from a near-constant state of anxiety and self-disgust, and now, thanks to Ponyville’s ever-so-productive rumor mill, I also have the curious and questioning glances and outright stares to face whenever I leave my home!

And of course, such glances would turn into questions when a certain polychromatic pegasus becomes involved, which is the entire reason behind these most recent of unfortunate transpirings…

*****

Today had begun like any other: wake up, bargain with the sun for a few more minutes of rest, try to go back to sleep, give up, get up, prepare breakfast, wake up Spike, eat breakfast, and spend the next hour preparing the library to open and then spend the rest of the day handling library affairs or trying to sneak in some experiments during slow hours. Unfortunately, this schedule was interrupted a quarter past 3 o’ clock by Rainbow Dash bursting through a window and colliding into the opposite wall, managing to knock down a few bookcases worth of books from their proper placements. As I had long ago become accustom to Dash’s impromptu and abrupt arrivals, I simply began to place the unfortunate tomes back where they belonged while Dash regained her senses on the wooden floor.

“Ugh, did anypony get the license number of that train?” She asked woozily, placing a hoof on her head.

“Good afternoon to you too, Rainbow,” I told her, momentarily looking her way before returning to my work. “Is there a specific reason as to why you chose my window as an entry point, or shall I have to give you another lecture on the history and purpose of doorways?”

“Ah! No need for that Twi! I can remember all twenty-five points and thirty-three sub-thingies on doors just fine, thanks!” She stated, her grogginess immediately evaporating as she lifted herself from the floor.

“They’re called subpoints, Dash,” I corrected her, moving past her alert form as I continued reshelving books, “now, what do you need help with? You do know that the next installment in the Daring Doo series is still 5 months away, correct?”

“Of course I do!” She began, “I’m just, y’know, flying by to ask what’s up?”

“Nothing much, just reshelving books,” I answered dryly as I heard her wingbeats from behind.

“Yeah! Well, s-speaking of books,” Dash spoke out from behind me, “I-I always did kind of think how much you like books really cool.”

Her statement alone was enough to make me halt in placing the book I held in my magic back in its proper place. In my mind, I recalled the multitude of times Rainbow had directly or indirectly insinuated my personal enjoyment of literature to be outside of society’s (or at least her own) social norms. One of her most preferred methods of doing so being to bestow upon me the ‘honorable’ title of “egghead.” But what had really gave me pause was the tone of Dash’s voice. The athlete’s usual bravado was still there, but it was now accompanied by what almost seemed to be a sliver of nervousness. And was that a stutter I had heard?

Mentally shrugging, I placed the book onto the shelf and returned to my work around the library. I opted to just respond with a simple “uh-huh.”

“N-no, really!” Dash persisted, following behind me, “it’s really cool how you… um… read so fast! Yeah!”

‘So that’s her game, huh?’ I thought, determining her poor attempts at flattery to be just another form of prank she was pulling. I spared a moment to turn my head to the side to give her a deadpanned glance of disbelief before continuing to shelve my mistreated literature.

“Uh-huh.”

“Seriously Twi, you’re, like, the grandmaster of librarians or something!” She landed, continuing unassuaged.

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it! I can’t believe-”

“Listen, Dash,” I interrupted her, turning around to speak to her directly. “I appreciate flattery as much as the next pony, but I don’t have to be Applejack to tell that you’re up to something.” At that, the athlete immediately began to look uncomfortable. Obviously having struck the matter on the head, I continued, “Ah, so there is a hidden reason for this surprise bout of cajolery. Well, are you setting me up for some prank you and Pinkie have planned?”

“What? No! Pinkie and I haven’t planned anything!” Dash objected, backing up nervously.

“Oh? So it’s just you then?” I pressed on, following her step-by-step.

“No! I’m not doing anything!” She repeated, beginning sound indignant as her face started to heat up.

“Sure, Dash. And you were at Rarity’s earlier getting a dress too, weren’t you?”

“No I was- Grah!” Rainbow yelled out, aggravated, she stopped backing up, and met me in the middle of the library’s main room, “fine! You wanna know the reason why I came here? I came here to try to get you out of the library later today so we could go to the Sideways Cleft later tonight!”

“The music club?” I asked, confused, “why would we go there?”

“Because you’re always so cooped up in here busy working on whatever and it’s honestly about time you took a break!” She answered, throwing her forehooves frustratedly in the air while using her wings to keep balanced. “We haven’t even seen each other in almost a week!”

“That’s not true…” I began, but realized that Dash was right: the last time we had interacted was on the Friday that she and the other girls had taken off time to spend with me, almost a week ago.

Noticing my pause, Dash interjected, “I’m right, see! And, believe it or not, I actually visited three times this week to see you, but every time Spike told me that you were down in the basement, working on some kind of experiment!” At this point, she was now hovering a few feet in the air above my head, forcing me to crane my neck in order to look at her, giving her the dominant position in the argument. “And what are you even doing down there so much, anyway? Huh?”

“That’s none of your concern!” I rebuffed her, wishing to keep the manner of my experiments privy to only myself.

“I think it does!” She argued, sweeping down to my level to poke me roughly in the chest with her hoof. “If it’s something so important that you shun your own friends for it, where I have to flatter your fat flank just to try to ask you to go with me somewhere, then I should at least be allowed to know what it is!”

Aggravated, I reared back from her hoof and jabbed her with my own, “you don’t have to flatter my “fat” anywhere to ask me anything!”

“Really!” Dash commented, flying out of my reach, “then will you go with me to the Sideways Cleft later?”

“No! I’m busy!” I yelled up at her.

“See!” She shouted back down, “you’re always “busy” with whatever’s going on down there! So spill it! What do you not want to tell me?”

“It’s private!” I almost screamed in anger. Feeling my face heat up out of fury, I tried to calm myself down, but met little success in chipping away the anger that had been building up since the moment Rainbow had entered the library. “So why don’t you mind your own business!”

“I’m your friend, so it is my business!” Dash retorted, “and you know what? I think it has something to do with those hallucinations you’ve been having!”

At her words, I froze. ‘How could she have known? How did she figure that out? What does she know?’ I thought as Dash took advantage of my momentary silence.

“Aha!” She yelled in triumph, spotting the caught expression on my face, “so they do have something to do with whatever’s going on downstairs!”

“No they do not! Now why don’t you mind your own business!” I repeated, now desperate to get her out of my vicinity.

“Not gonna happen!” She returned, diving to the floor and landing in front of me, “so give me some answers already!”

“And I told you, the hallucinations have nothing-” I began, but stopped when I felt a horrid, itching sensation plant itself upon my spine. The Itch had returned to tear apart my body once again.

“Well?” Dash persisted, “I can wait all day if I have to!”

“Listen, Rainbow, maybe we can talk about this later?” I asked as I began to back away from her and towards the entrance to my laboratory.

“I told you Twi, “not gonna happen,”” Dash answered, following after me step-by-step, “so don’t try to weasel out of answering me.”

“Dash, I promise, I will tell you,” I told her, growing more desperate to get away from her presence with each step. “Just not now,” I add as I felt myself bump into the door leading to the downstairs’ staircase.

“Yeah, sure.” Dash deadpanned, stopping in front of me, “and Princess Celestia can pass up a slice of cake. So spill it, Twi. What are those visions, and why are they happening?”

“Um, well, you see-” I break off, twisting around as I use my magic to open the door, “sorrytellyoulaterbye!” I hurled over my shoulder, crossing the threshold and swinging the door closed behind me.

Unfortunately, before I could fully close the door, Dash rammed against it and sent it flying open. Flung by momentum, she crashed into me and sent us both tumbling down the stairs before landing the two of us in a tangled heap at the bottom. Lifting myself off of the dazed pegasus, I made my retreat into one of the corners of the library and sat down. Hunched over, with my gaze fixed upon the blank walls, I hoped that if I couldn’t see anypony, I wouldn’t be able to imagine them dying. By now the Itch had grown into its full fury, and was tormenting my entire being with curved claws and jagged talons, and there was little I could do to combat it other than sit there, trembling in the corner.

I must have been a truly sorry sight to look upon, for the longest time Dash didn’t say a single word. Eventually, I heard her making her way towards me, and I felt her hoof touch gently upon my shoulder.

“Twilight? Please, tell me what’s wrong. I’m worried,” she spoke, her entire auditory demeanor changed from anger to concern in only a few moments.

“Please, just let me be,” I begged, not turning around to meet her. “Just let me wait it out here, please.”

“”Wait it out?”” Dash repeated, sounding confused, “oh! Are you having a panic attack Twi?”

Not even able to verbally lie under the extreme strain the Itch was assailing upon me, I instead just physically fibbed by giving her a shaky nod in response.

“Oh, um, well, do you want me to leave you alone right now?” She asked, only to receive another nod, “um, I guess I’ll be flying out n-Ow!”

At the sound of her pained yelp, I felt a pleasant tug pull on my body, lifting the Itch from my beleaguered form for a moment. I wanted to turn around, to relieve myself from my torment, but I knew that if I did so, I would doom Dash to an imaginary, but painful death, one brought about by my own hooves. What kind of friend would I be then? One who prioritizes her own pleasure over the well being of her friends? But, try as I might, I couldn’t help but turn my head around to see what had caused my friend pain.

What I saw was Dash standing before me, a pained expression adorning her face as she gingerly held her left wing out from her side. Noticing that I had left my solitude in the corner, she addressed me, “I think I may have twisted it or something on the way down.” She explained, wincing as she tried to move it.

I didn’t bother replying, I just sat there and basked in the relief that her pain provided me from the Itch. With each wince, each tinge of pain that radiated off of her I felt a ripple of pleasure spread across me, soaking into my skin and dousing the fire of the Itch. But those ripples weren’t enough. I could feel the Itch surging beneath those miniscule pulses of pleasure, nearly about to burst forth in a fiery eruption of pain and agony. I saw Rainbow beginning to make her way to the stairway, and knew that I had to act.

As my prey made her way up the stairs, I set to work silently behind her. I knew that she was extremely fit, and, despite what some ponies think, she’s not lazy at all. The reason for which Dash is seen resting around so much is because she spends so much time exercising and training for the Wonderbolts. Mindful that even with a damaged wing, Dash would be difficult to contain, I prepared my trap.

By the time Dash had reached the top of the stairs, I had completed my preparations. As she moved towards the door, I prepared myself for what I was about to do.

“Hey, Dash?” I called out, attempting to sound as pitiful as I could.

The polychromatic mare had not been anticipating my voice, as her ears perked up and swiveled in my direction quite rapidly. Turning around, she looked at me with an unsure gaze, “yeah, Twi?”

“C-can you come down, p-please?” I asked, purposefully stuttering a few words.

Dash responded with a simple affirmative, and began to make her way back down the stairs. She approached my sitting form and stopped in front of me, asking me why I had called her back down when I had told her to leave in the first place.

“I-I’m sorry, Rainbow,” I begin, lowering my face so she wouldn’t be able to see the expression of expectant glee adorning it. “I-I’m just so s-scared… These attacks, they just make everything so much harder for me. Ponies look at me like I’m a freak, Spike is constantly worried about me, and now I can’t even interact with one of my friends without causing a problem… I just… can’t take it much longer…”

Though I was unable to see her face, I heard Rainbow’s softened expression in her voice, “oh, Twi… I’m so sorry. I never thought of it that way,” she moved closer to me, “d-do you want a hug, or something?”

‘Perfect!’ I thought as I gave her a nod and held out my forehooves. Like a fly landing on a carnivorous plant, Dash planted herself in my embrace and wrapped her hooves around my body. As I did the same, I levitated a solid bar of iron I had transmuted from a metal trolley behind her back, our position hiding the telltale glow coming from my horn from my victim’s sight. I squeezed the mare tightly as the heavy pole hovered right above her upper spinal column.

“Thank you, Dash. You really are loyal to a fault,” I whispered to her, and bashed the bar onto her spine with all the force I could muster. I couldn’t help but grin savagely when I heard a sickening snap originate from the mare in my embrace and the scream of absolute pain that accompanied it. And ohh, my eyeballs nearly rolled up into my head as I was graced by the surge of cleansing euphoria that accompanied her cry. By the time her scream had ended - and, unfortunately, the pleasure with it - we were both panting out breaths, I from pleasure, and she, from pain.

‘Just as it should be,’ I thought as I pulled the now unmoving pegasus from me with my hooves and was met with her terrified visage.

“T-Twi? What’s going on?” She stuttered out, looking the most afraid I have ever seen her, “I… I can’t feel my wings… my wings...”

Holding out her motionless body with my hooves, I turned her head to the side with my magic and showed her the iron pipe, saying, “there, there, Dashie. No need to worry. Auntie Twilight is going to take very good care of you, aren’t we?”

“Twilight… what’s going on? Why can’t I move my wings?” Dash repeated, “what does that pipe have to do with anything?”

“Wow, you really are thick, huh?” I stated, dropping the faux caregiver act as I turned Dash’s head back towards me. “Here, let me spell things out for you. I, Twilight Sparkle, used this iron pipe as a means to incapacitate you, Rainbow Dash, primarily by smashing it into your back and snapping your spinal chord, leaving you a paralyzed cripple. There, did that clear things up for you or do I need to make pictures as well?”

“Twi… N-no, you couldn’t have…” Rainbow trailed off and continued to mutter off something of the like. I would have responded with a biting comment, but any words I had were silenced by the silent roar of the Itch as it unleashed even greater torment of my body. I looked at the ragdoll of a pony I held in my trembling forehooves I decided that I had wasted enough precious time already.

As I lifted her up in my magic, Dash looked at my with fright filled eyes, “Twilight, what are you doing to me?”

“Just shut up Dash,” I told her, grabbing the metal rod with my forehooves as I balanced myself on my two hind legs. Readying myself as I positioned my victim in front of me, I quipped, “now, make like a piñata... and break.”

“Twi-” Rainbow began, but her terrified voice was cut off by an iron rod making contact with her ribs, eliciting a scream of pain from the immobile mare and a satisfying crack from her torso. I swung again and again, beating down upon my victim mercilessly, each successive hit bringing more and more pleasure rushing through my body. Sometimes I missed my target, only to cause myself to fall down from the pole’s momentum, but I was always quick to scramble up again to deliver even heavier blows upon her body, giggling madly all the while. I struck everywhere I could reach: her hooves, breaking them with each blow; her wings, now only bloody, twisted remains of her once-powerful appendages; her back, breaking it even more with every hit; her ribs, issuing snapping sounds with each impact; her stomach, causing the pegasus to choke up the bile-infused remains of her lunch; everywhere but her head. I wouldn’t strike there out of fear of hitting too hard and accidentally killing my victim prematurely. I couldn’t bear the thought of parting with the ecstasy that her screams brought me. It felt too good to stop, it felt too good to go all the way. I could have gone on like that for ages, just beating her into a crimson pulp with my blood-stained bar over and over again.

By the time that I had stopped to catch my breath, Rainbow almost was a crimson paste, her hide soaked with blood, beaten raw and then some. Her hooves and wings were bent in unnatural directions, torn and soaking red like the rest of her body. Now, when I said I was afraid of hitting her head due to the chance of a hard blow killing her, I never said that I didn’t place a couple ‘light’ blows here and there. Her right eye was a bruised, blackened mess; blood dripped from her swollen-shut eyelids, rolling down her cheek like red, glistening tears. Her left ear was a crimson stump, I having completely torn most of it off with a well-placed shot. When no further strikes came, Dash opened her one good eye slowly and looked down at me with terror in her eyes. A pang of satisfaction ran through me when I beheld those terrified, trembling magenta orbs.

Grinning viciously up at her, I spoke, “what’s wrong Dash? I thought you were almost as big a party animal as Pinkie. Aren’t you enjoying the fun?”

“P-please, Tw-Twi… Just let me go,” Rainbow pleaded, beginning to sob, “it hurts…”

“Aww, what’s wrong?” I mocked, pouting, “can’t the fastest mare in all of Equestria handle a few boo-boos?”

“Please! I-I promise I won’t tell anypony,” the mare almost wailed, “j-just let me g-go! I promise!”

Getting back on all fours, I put a hoof to my chin and replied, “hmm, well, I guess I could allow you to leave…” I paused, watching her eye fill up with hope, “as long as you promise to come back for another session.”

“A-another wh-what?” She stuttered, her breath hitched.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said, another session,” I informed her, “I think this is something we both could grow to enjoy. I think we should give these little personal arrangements enough time to determine that. Unless…” I paused for dramatic effect, “you would rather they just end right here.”

“Of course I want this to end!” Rainbow shouted, pathetically straining her neck, the only part of her body she could move now. “Just let me go!”

“Well, since you insist, at least allow me to show you to the door!” I yelled and released her from my magic. Spinning around, I released Dash from my hold and bucked her with all my might. She flew back, struck the bottom of the stairs with a heavy thud, and laid there limp and unmoving. Grabbing the iron rod with my magic, I walked leisurely over to the stairs and stood over the splayed-out pegasus. I looked down at her bruised and tear-stained face as she sobbed hopelessly, trying to avoid making eye contact with me.

“J-just leave me a-alone,” she pleaded, not a trace of the confident mare I knew to be found, “just g-go, y-you monster.”

I stared down at her for an indeterminate time, just absorbing the sight of a mare completely broken in spirit. It was to no wonder, taking into consideration how much of her self-confidence relied upon her physical abilities, and now that she couldn’t move a single muscle underneath her neck, that she would revert to a despairing shell of her former self. Despite the fact that Dash was one of my closest friends, one who had been by my side for countless dangers and perils, I couldn’t force myself to feel the barest trace of sympathy or concern for her physical and mental wellbeing. Neither could I detect within any existence of opposing emotions either. Neither disgust nor hate nor sadistic satisfaction could I feel for her. Instead, I only discern a sense of disinterest in the crippled pegasus. It was strange, as if any caring I might have felt towards her was dulled and numbed in the face of a prevailing apathy.

But why should I have felt anything for her? She had fulfilled her use. I could no longer feel the Itch tearing apart my spine, the ecstasy I derived from her pain had ensured that. My victim was no longer of any use to me, so why should I waste any precious emotions on her useless form? Silently, without a word, I began to ascend the stairs, the iron rod still held in my magic, as I planned to leave it at the door frame for later ease of access. With the sounds of my victim’s sobs behind me, I reached the door to the main room, and was about to place down the metal pole, when I suddenly felt a cold, stabbing pain pierce my hide. I froze where I was as I felt freezing needles thrust deep into my body, pumping their chilly toxicants into my bloodstream and turning my veins to ice.

As my body began to freeze over, I looked around the room in panic as the edges of my vision slowly darkened and perished from view. ‘I can’t die! I’m not supposed to die!’ I screamed inside my head as I looked around the room for means to save myself. Soon, I spotted Rainbow Dash still spread across the stairs below me, and became aware of a way to save myself.

‘If I wish to not die, then what I need do is insure that my death is replaced by another’s,’ I thought as I slowly descended the stairs on hypothermic hooves. ‘She must die in order for me to live, there is no better way for it to be.’

I knew Dash had heard me approach, by how her ears swiveled to address my approaching hoofsteps, but she chose to refrain from acknowledging my presence as I stopped and loomed over her head. Soon enough, though, my heavy, labored breathing created enough curiosity within her that she looked up to stare with dull, lifeless eyes at my silhouetted face.

“I told you to get out,” she informed me, her tone no longer the fearful stutter of a few moments before, but was now held within it a despaired, empty sound that resonated within my head, her words buzzing madly behind my eyes. Dash’s eyes widened when I responded by raising the iron rod high above our heads, the only sound coming from me being my hurried pants.

“What are you-” Was all she managed to get out before the metal pole was jammed into her mouth and stabbed through the back of her throat, filling her mouth with her own blood. The paralyzed mare began to gag on the sudden blockage of her breath, sending syrupy, crimson bubbles bursting forth out of her mouth and splattering the sky-blue fur around her muzzle red. I grunted in dissatisfaction as I pulled out the red-painted rod from the crimson orifice that held it and readied the pole for a second strike. As she choked on her own blood, Dash looked up at me with tormented, questioning eyes, and then I sent the rod straight through her left magenta iris. I think I might have felt the rod meet slight resistance as I pushed it through what I assume to be her brain, but I’m not sure, as at that time I all my sensory perception was swept away in a tidal wave of euphoria.

Like all of the other times, the pleasure was absolute, at the forefront of my every thought and perception. Not a single strand of my tail was absent from the ecstasy that encased my being, and oh, by Faust, did I revel in that wonderful cocoon of feeling. But, unfortunately, all good things come to an end, for I soon felt myself slowly slipping from that blissful whiteness. It was then, as I came to, that I felt a cold, wet slap fall upon my face, shocking me into a full state of awareness.

Standing in front of me, I beheld Rainbow Dash, holding what appeared to be a flat-bottom flask that once held a clear liquid. Brining a hoof up to my face, I wiped away a bit of the dampness that now resided there.

“Twilight! You’re okay!” The polychromatic mare proclaimed, her face bursting into a relieved grin, “I was worried there for a while! You must’ve been having a panic attack!”

As I was about to respond, I began to feel a small burning sensation in my eyes. Looking at the flask in her hooves, I queried as to what she was doing with it.

“Oh, this?” Dash paused, looking at the glass container in her hooves, “well, since you wouldn’t do anything no matter what I did, I looked around for some water. It’s a good thing I found some in this flask, or else I would’ve had to rush upstairs to get some from the kitchen and leave you alone down here!”

With the burning in my eyes increasing in intensity, I roughly grabbed the flask from Dash’s hooves and read the small paper label on the side. My breathing hitched as I realized what she had thrown on me was anything but water.

“Dash! This isn’t water!” I shouted at her, tears obscuring my pain-filled vision, “this is Sodium Hypochlorite!”

“Huh?” She grunted obliviously.

“Bleach!” I yelled, dropping the flask where it was and rushing over to where the emergency shower I had installed laid. Pulling the metal chain, I raised my gaze upward as chilly water rained down from above, washing the painful chemical from my coat and eyes. I stood there, allowing myself to be completely soaked, until finally the water tank that supplied the the shower became empty. Turning around, I found myself face to face the cause of my most recent torment. She grinned sheepishly under my undoubtedly bloodshot and unamused gaze, and was soon going to say some form of inadequate apology, but I was not about to have that.

“Get. Out,” I growled, glaring at Rainbow, silently daring her to say something. Unfortunately, the pegasus was unable to understand my non-verbal cues, and once again tried to apologize for what just happened.

“I said get out!” I screamed at her, no longer trying to restrain my rage, “I don’t want to see your sorry face ever again!”

“B-but-”

“Get out, get out, get out!” I interrupted her, pointing my hoof at the doorway behind us.

“I’m sor-” Dash started and she began to back up towards the stairs.

“NOW!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, prompting Dash into making a hasty retreat out of the laboratory. Huffing in aggravation when I heard the front door to the library slam shut, I ascended the stairs and changed the library’s sign to closed, deciding to spend the rest of my afternoon trying to calm down, though I had little success. Spike came home a few hours later from helping out Rarity with acquiring gems, and though he noticed my negative temperament, he was smart enough not to ask me about it. We ate a silent and short dinner and he went to bed, exhausted from his day’s expenditures. Though I too was fatigued, I returned to my laboratory and removed this journal from its safe and began to transcribe today’s events onto these pages.

*****

The first thing I have to say is: Damn that flashy, flat-hoofed skank! My eyes are still stinging even now! How stupid can you be to think that any clear liquid you find in a laboratory is going to be water? It makes it even worse when the flask was obviously labeled “Sodium Hypoclorite!” Anypony knows that water is Dihydrogen Monoxide! How does she not? The girl even works with rainclouds, for crying out loud!

I should’ve known from the moment Dash entered my library that nothing good was going to occur. She was acting strange the entire time, trying to flatter me just so I would go to some cheap bar so we could ‘catch up.’ She probably just wanted somepony to drag her drunk plot home later. But I have got to hoof it to her, Dash sure knows how to sweet talk. My heart was just aflutter when she called me “fat!” Who does that dumb winger think she’s calling fat, huh? I may be rounded in some areas, but I am nowhere near to having a “fat flank,” as that muscled minx put it. What does that hyped-up jock expect me to do? Chug down raw eggs for breakfast like her? I should have thrown her out then and there, but how in Tartarus was I to know that she was going to give me a bleach bath later?

Honestly, I’m glad that Dash was in the hallucination! I don’t care if it was imaginary, but I sure did enjoy beating her senseless, watching her scream in pain, and releasing her to see the winger realize her own helplessness. Faust, it felt good! And then, while I’m enjoying the ecstasy I get from ending her miserable existence, she goes and splashes bleach in my face! Bleach! In! My! Face!

I’m tempted to go out and find Dash right now and teach her a lesson she’ll never forget. Maybe I should break that dumb feather-brain’s wings in half! Douse me in bleach, will she? I’ll tear them right out of her sockets! I’ll-

Oh dear Faust, what am I saying? Why would I do such things to Rainbow? She’s one of my best friends! It’s not like she meant to pour bleach on me, it was an accident! And here I am, contemplating hurting my friend just because of a mistake? What kind of pony am I?

Why do I think like this after every vision? Is it some sort of residual sadism remaining from the hallucinations? I don’t know, I’m just not sure of anything anymore! And how long shall this sadism remain mere thoughts flitting about my head? Will I enact them, work upon them? When will fantasy begin to bleed over into reality? Am I destined to become the maniac in my daydreams? A monster who delights in the pain of others, is that my future? Dash said it herself: “monster.” Is that what I am?

Oh dear Faust I hope not. I don’t want to be a bad pony, but I’m just not sure how long it is until I am one.

Goodnight and signing off,

Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Firstly, I apologize to all of the Rainbow Dash fans. This chapter wasn't anything personal, just business.
Secondly, thanks for reading, liking, favoriting, hating, and all of the rest, I guess.
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

Journal Entry #8

Monday, January 28th, 1003 A.B.

23 days have passed since I first became aware of the Itch’s presence within my mind, and throughout them, though they may have been ridden with anxiety and tension, I was still always able to rise above the enigmatic grip of my pathology and maintain, if not moderate, at least passable control over my faculties. Every time that I succumbed to the Itch’s fiery wrath I have been able to retrieve myself from its Tartarus-borne depths. That is, every time, but today.

Before I begin to recollect the events that have transpired this day, I would like to apologize for my shaky hoofwriting. I am once again barred from using my magic by doctoral orders, and am also unable to hold my hoof unerringly, the reason for which soon shall be revealed.

I would also like to give a quick report on the current state of Rainbow Dash’s and mine’s relationship. Despite numerous attempts of my own at making contact, the pegasus seems intent on avoiding my presence at almost any cost, eschewing my company even when lured by a mug filled with chilled cider from my own personal stash. I am beginning to worry that I may have irreparably damaged our friendship, seeing how determined she is to evade confrontation. Our other friends have noticed our interactions, or rather, our lack of them, and have begun to worry. This concern is the backdrop to today’s occurrences, and part of the reason why I find myself in such distress.

*****

It was around 10 in the morning when my regular schedule was interrupted by an unsuspected visitor. Similar to my last journal entry, it was one of the other Element Bearers that entered the main door to my abode and workplace, though this time it was neither done in the flurry of excitement that accompanies Rainbow Dash wherever she goes, nor the polychromatic mare in particular. My back was turned to the entryway when I heard the bell announce the opening of the door, and when I turned around and began to greet my visitor, I found that they were none other than my friend Rarity Belle. The pearl-furred mare greeted me with her usual grace and flourish, and began to make customary small talk with me as we sat down at the reading table in the center of the room. Eventually, she broached the reason for her visit, and inquired if I would like to accompany her for lunch at the Light-as-a-Feather Cafe, a popular spot for mares looking out for their figure, in downtown Ponyville.

My first impulse was to decline her offer, fueled by my suspicion that my friend was hinting at the slight plumpness of my form (despite the fact that for most of written and pre-history, society has viewed individuals of heavier set to be more beautiful and desirable, so in all honesty I should be the one asking her out to an ice-cream parlor), and also because I had already scheduled most of today for more testing. The refusal for her offer was on the tip of my tongue when I recalled the occurrences I had transcribed in the previous entry. Although I knew that Rarity had far more tact than Dash, I was still a little hesitant when I agreed to meet her there in a few hours, if only to avoid a recurrence of the events of last Thursday.

Nervously, I fretted the next two hours away. I tried to read a book on neurology that had recently arrived from Stalliongrad, but my mind was preoccupied by the numerous ways in which my outing could go horribly wrong. All too soon, the clock upon the wall neared 12:00, and, leaving the library in Spike’s care, I made my way to the cafe. I arrived at my destination exactly at 12, finding Rarity to have already arrived and seated herself at a table on the patio out front. After I sat down, a waitress came and left with our orders, leaving Rarity and I to start a rather awkward conversation while we waited for our meals.

It was Rarity who jovially initiated the conversation, and I who reluctantly responded to whatever small talk that flowed from her mouth. Though I tried to conceal my true, less than enthusiastic feelings about our little get-together, my disinterest must have shone through for Rarity soon abandoned the pretense of light conversation and revealed her true intention for summoning me into downtown Ponyville today.

“Twilight dear,” my friend began, exchanging the veneer of cheeriness for an accoutrement of concern, “though I do enjoy eating here on occasion, the true reason I asked you to join me here is because I’m concerned for you and our friend Rainbow Dash.”

I remained silent as she regarded me, judging my reaction. Though on the outside my appearance remained unchanged, I was already thinking up ways I could excuse myself from the conversation.

“I’ve noticed that Rainbow hasn’t been acting like herself recently,” Rarity continued, “though she tries to act like her usual boisterous self, she’s uncharacteristically quiet and looks rather dejected whenever she thinks nopony is looking. I’ve asked around town a little bit, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed this. Other ponies too have noted her change in attitude, and they also have said that Rainbow always seems to find a reason to be elsewhere whenever you’re around. I was a little dubious of this at first, until I saw it firsthoof myself yesterday, when you tried approaching her in the market, and she barely came short of breaking the sound barrier getting away from you. Twilight, I’m worried. What has gone on between you two?” Rarity finished, looking at me with worry etched on her face.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I answered, “Rarity, I understand your concern, and I feel it too. Rainbow and I… we got into an argument a few days ago, and some… hurtful words were said. I’ve been trying to talk to Dash about it, but every time I get near to her, she runs away.” I pause as the waitress comes back with our food, only continuing after she has left, “I’m beginning to worry that I may have irreparably damaged our friendship. I don’t know what to do Rarity, I think she might hate me, or even fear me,” I finish, pushing my salad aside with my hoof, resting my chin on the table, not feeling like eating anymore.

“Oh Twilight, if only you knew how much Rainbow-” Placing her hoof on mine, the pearly mare began, before stopping herself. “Eh-hem,” she coughs, “what I mean to say is, Twilight, I truly doubt our friend Rainbow either hates you or fears you, if anything, I think she may feel the same way you do.” Hearing this, I raise my downcast eyes to look into her own blue pair, confused.

“She’s probably avoiding you because she’s afraid that you yourself hate her, Twilight.” Rarity continued, “if you’d like, I could talk with her myself and try to figure out what’s wrong.”

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ I thought, sitting there in silent shock, ‘could she really just be worried that I am the one that’s angry? It’s possible, but why? If it’s the Rainbow Dash I know, I’d expect her to be angry, not worried. All the better though, for if she had been able to see inside my head that day, I know she would be afraid.’

“Twilight? Are you okay?” Rarity asked, breaking my reverie.

“Y-yes, just…” I trailed off, not knowing how I felt, ‘relieved? Worried? Happy?’ “I’m just surprised, that’s all. But yes, Rarity, if you could do that for me, I would be appreciative.”

“I would be happy to, Twilight,” she smiled at me, “now, it would be a shame to let our food go to waste, non?”

Now with a wonderfully diminished weight off of my shoulders, I nodded in agreement to my friend, and dug into my meal with gusto. Unfortunately, I was only able to get a few bites in of the surprisingly delicious pineapple and daffodil salad before I began to feel a slight sensation tingling across my spine. Unsure of what it was because it was so faint, I paused in my meal and tried to focus on it. All of a sudden, the bare-whisper tingling along my spinal chord erupted into a deafening roar that quickly engulfed my entire back and soon spread to the rest of my body. I must have jumped almost a hoof length off of my seat out of shock, for Rarity herself jolted back in reaction to my sudden movement.

“Twilight, what wrong?” She asked, concerned.

I couldn’t give her a proper reply as I ground my teeth together, fighting against the strain that had engulfed my body. The Itch had returned with a vengeance unlike any other, leaving me barely able to control myself. With shaking hooves, I began to get up from the table, thoughts of escape galloping through my mind. At the cafe, right in the center of the downtown during working hours was not where I needed to be. There were too many ponies about, too many potential ‘victims.’ 'One of those victims could be Rarity herself,' flashed across my mind, driving me to make my way towards the crowds moving adjacent to the patio where we were sitting even faster.

“Twilight, are you okay?” The mare in question asked, coming up beside me, worry apparent on her face, “where are you going?”

Ignoring her, I made my way onto the street, desperate to lose her amongst other ponies. ‘If I have to imagine killing somepony, it won’t be one of my closest friends. I’ve already done that once, and I’m not going to do that again.’

Suddenly, I felt this strange, drawing sensation pierce through my torment and connect with my mind. It was this odd, almost physical, tugging sensation, as if latched onto my brain. It didn’t reduce the Itch’s ferocity by any means, it just provided a clear sensation in the hazy firestorm that engulfed my entire being, like a lighthouse to a ship lost in a stormy sea. I was drawn by that light in my mind, my hooves moving unbidden in its direction, through the crowd around me, through the torment assaulting me. The street which I walked upon opened up into the main marketplace, and I saw the origination of the newfound force that drew me to it in a daze. It was a stallion with a brown mane and a tan coat. His back was turned to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but I did see that he had three horseshoes as a cutie mark. Caramel, I think his name was. Either way, it didn’t matter who he was, all that mattered was that I had found my victim, my way to escape my pain, to douse the Itch’s flames. At least, that’s what I thought.

As I was approaching my prey from behind, I heard a shout from above, and felt my head and horn ignite in pain, right before the world around me went black.

*****

Agony. Agony and darkness was my world, was all I knew. I felt flames running along my hide, igniting my nerve endings, searing my brain. I couldn’t see where I was, the world itself had been hidden from me. Lost in a sea of invisible fire, I flailed about, trying to wave away the flames, trying to find something to grab onto, to orient myself to. In my pain and panicked searching, I saw a light gleam from high above me, piercing through the darkness, and began to move in its direction. The far off brightness began to grow more distinct, and as I drew nearer, I could start to see something inside of it. It began to look like the dark silhouette of a pony, and I soon realized that the light was in the shape of a doorway, in which the pony stood. The pony reached out a hoof to me, and I reached my own to it. Our hooves were about to touch, when I heard a monstrous roar resound from beneath me. I looked back to see a thin trail of violet and black flame shoot out from the infinite darkness below and streak towards me. It wrapped itself around my left hind leg like a fiery chain, and I felt myself violently flung back into the vile void below as a great, volcanic chasm opened in the darkness underneath. Taking one last look above me, I saw the doorway and the obscured figure rushing farther and farther away, forever out of my reach.

I felt myself enter the volcanic chasm, felt my fur igniting, felt my hide charring, felt my eyes boiling and popping inside their sockets, felt my tongue shriveling inside my mouth, and felt my body turning into ash. I last felt myself crumble and disperse, and once again, all was black, all was nothing.

*****

A quiet, but persistent beeping noise was the first thing I heard as I returned to consciousness, and colors, smells, and sensations soon followed after it, filling my perception with the world. The bright fluorescent light above me pierced my eyeballs, the strong odor of disinfectant dove into my nostrils, the soft touch of blankets hugged my body, all coming together to form a clear impression of the world around me in synchronized coordination. Though the smell of disinfectant was clue enough, I turned to my side to view the origination of the beeping noise, and spied a operating heart monitor machine, confirming my suspicions: I was in a hospital.

Placing my head back upon a pillow, I closed my eyes and rested for a moment before becoming aware of another sensation tickling inside my perception: all across my spine ran a faint, but familiar itching sensation. My eyes snapped open and my breathing hitched as the full implications of where I was and what I was feeling hit me.

'I’m in a hospital, and I can feel the Itch! The Itch! In a hospital they run tests and when they run tests they get results and results might reveal the Itch! Which I can currently feel!'

My thoughts galloped to the quickening beep of the heart monitor, running through my mind again and again, in an endless circuit of horror and fear. 'I have to get out. I can’t allow them to test me. They’ll find the Itch. They’ll think I’m crazy. They’ll think I’m a monster. I’ll be put in a straightjacket. I’ll be locked up. What will the Princesses think? What will my friends think? What will my family think? They’ll think I’m a monster. They’ll think I’m crazy. I can’t allow them to test me. I have to get out.'

Rolling out of bed, I tried to get on my hooves, only to end up crashing to the white linoleum floor. Ignoring the now-unbroken drone of the heart monitor, I attempted to stand upon shaking hooves, but was only able to collapse down upon myself again. As I began to drag myself to the door, it slammed open, revealing a doctor flanked by two nurses. Spotting me, they pulled me up and placed me back into the bed. I tried resisting, but I was too weakened to do anything to fight against them. I saw them conversing amongst each other for a second, though I couldn’t make out what they were saying - I was too disoriented - and out of the corner of my vision I saw one of the nurses bring out a filled syringe. The next thing I knew, the world began to grow hazy, and once again, darkness overtook me.

*****

When I next awoke, I was still within the sanitized confines that I had woken up to previously. I was once again under the stark-white covers, once again attached to the beeping heart monitor, once again struck by the blinding fluorescent light, but all these and other observations and perceptions were faint and unimportant, swept aside by the presence of a far greater magnitude and direness: the Itch still remained, and even more so worrying, the prickling annoyance along my spine had grown into serrated claws scouring and grating across my entire form. I was aware that the beeping by my side had risen, and realizing that it might bring unwanted attention to myself, I performed some breathing exercises to bring it back down to an acceptable level.

The clock on the wall read 6:47, and I was left with my own confused and afraid thoughts until 7:10, when a nurse entered the door to my room. Smiling and giving me greeting, she did a few simple procedural checkups, and informed me that a doctor would soon see me to answer any questions. At 7:15 a soft-pink mare in typical doctor paraphernalia entered the room, introduced herself as ‘Dr. Cheery,’ and began to perform her own check up on me. I managed to glean from the doctor that I had suffered severe blunt-force trauma to the head and horn earlier today, when a pegasi moving company carrying construction supplies and tools had dropped a toolbox onto me. The doctor mentioned that the company’s manager had expressed their deepest apologies and had left a business card with which to contact them by before continuing on with her check up.

*****

It was already dark by the time I stepped out of the hospital’s doors, and with a bottle full of pain medication, a horn in a cast with orders not to use it, and a head wrapped in bandages, I made my way home through the darkened streets of Ponyville.

*****

The time is now 11:24 at night. After arriving home, I came to find that Spike is staying over at Rarity’s tonight, as he was rather distressed by today’s occurrences. I’ll have to go to see them first thing in the morning. Poor Spike, recent events have taxed him almost as much as me. He knows something is wrong, he’s been at my side for far too long to not be able to tell when something is troubling me, and it’s troubling him that I won’t tell him what it is. How I wish I could tell him, how I wish I could tell everyone, but I can’t. I know that they’d be disgusted if they knew what I fantasized of, how much I enjoy it.

~~ihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitiloveitihateitihateitihateitiloveitihateitihateitiloveitihateitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveit~~

~~I LOVE~~

I HATE IT

I hate it because it feels good. I hate it because of how it makes me feel good. I hate it because I like it. I hate it because of what that implies about my personal character. But most of all, I hate it because it’s necessary. The pleasure is necessary because it purges the Itch. It douses the vile, sensorial flames that engulf my being because of reasons I can’t understand! I don’t know why the Itch has grown and festered inside my mind and I don’t know why imagining innocent ponies being brutally murdered relieves it. All I know is that for the past 23 days the only reason why I haven’t stepped off the precipice of madness is because of the pleasure that I derive from those imaginings somehow ‘banishes’ the Itch from my body. But now it won’t even do that!

For even as I write this now, I can feel infernal fangs gnawing at my spine, chewing and tearing at my raw flesh. I want it to end. I want satisfaction, but none will come to me. It must have something to do with the blow to the head I suffered earlier today. Right before it happened, I was walking towards Caramel. I knew I was going to watch him die. I knew I was going to kill him and end my suffering! But I couldn’t! And now, though I don’t feel that bizarre pulling sensation any more, I still feel the Itch’s blasted aggravation! What wrong have I done to deserve this?! What wrong?!

When I first began the day, I had set out to complete some more tests, now I doubt I’ll even manage to get some sleep!

I need to take more pills, my horn’s throbbing.

Signing off,

Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Woo! Chapter no. 8 done, Chapter no. 9 here I come!
Thank you all for sticking around this long, for even though it's only been 23 days for everybody's favorite pathologically perplexed purple palfrey for which neither perfunctory nor palladian pedagogy can present proper panpharmacon for her peculiar parepithymia (I have a book on my shelf devoted solely for such odd alliterations), it sure has been a lot longer for you all. Which is why I would like to thank you all for reading, liking, favoriting, commenting, disliking, glancing and sneering at this odd little thing of mine. I hope you all enjoy what's to come.
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

P.S. I'd be grateful if I could get some clarification from some of you. For the hospital scene, would a nurse check on a patient immediately after they've woken up, or would she just address them when making her rounds? Thankfully I haven't woken up in hospitals enough times to know for sure, so I'd appreciate any help on that. Thanks!

Journal Entry #9

Thursday, January 31st, 1003 A.B.

I don’t know how much longer I can go. For the past three days I have been in a state of constant physical and mental anguish, all because of this Tartarus-damned Itch! I want to write paragraph upon paragraph of the frustrations and pains it has brought upon me, but any phrase I attempt to concoct cannot fully describe the true force and torment this psychosis has brought upon me! At least, I think it’s a psychosis. It's not like I have sufficient data to support that claim under any sort of scientific scrutiny. Most of the “research” I do is just speculation, all because of the Itch's chemical contradictions and electrical implausibilities! Even trying to psychoanalyze this blasted malady usually leaves me frustrated over labyrinthine-circular pseudo-logic. My attempts to delve into this blasted mystery in my head are nowhere close to satisfying my personal scientific standards nor those of the scientific method. I don’t even have anypony to vet my research for crying out loud!

But I can’t let anypony else see what I’ve written, why I’ve researched. It would be the end of my life here in Ponyville. I would lose all the friends I’ve made here, break all of the close ties I’ve gained in this community. I love it here. I don’t want to leave. And that’ll be the first thing that anypony would do if they discovered the Itch - make me leave.

But I’m starting to fear that I can’t keep up this charade of normalicy much longer. Even before Monday, rumors had been going around that I was being “weirder” than usual, but the scene I made when trying to escape from Rarity no doubt cemented the idea that something’s off with me to the town’s denizens. Already over the past few days I’ve had multiple of my friends from around town show up at my door asking what’s the matter. I hate having to be evasive and close the door on them, but I don’t want them to discover the horrid truth about me. But I fear that they, and the rest of the town, just might find out soon enough.

I feel like I’m going to burst, like I’m a balloon filled with fiery hot air, and I’m about to pop. Every single second of every day and every night (for sleep is impossible for me in this state) I have been fighting to remain in control of my faculties whilst under the unpausing siege of the Itch. I can feel it chipping away at my mental fortifications, driving me mad with its agonizing echoes. I’ve tried to calm it down by consciously imagining myself violently killing ponies. I’ve spent hours looking out the window, trying to gain the slightest amount of relief with the horrid daydreams I’ve envisioned upon those I see out it, but nothing I’ve thought up works. It feels… inadequate, unreal. I couldn’t distinguish the visions from actual reality - I even believed that what was happening during them was real! - but all my tries just seem like fake fantasy, the vain tries of a deranged mare.

Deranged… I guess I can really call myself that now. First I just imagined horrible deaths without any control over them, now I consciously imaging ponies I know dying painfully just to titillate myself! What kind of sick buck am I?!?

I hate it i hate it i hate itihateitihateitihateihateihatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate I HATE IT

Graaaaaghhh! I’m about to burst under this pressure, and I don’t know what I’ll do when it happens!

...I fear what I will do when it happens.

All this time I’ve spent fighting to rid myself of this mental monstrosity afflicting my mind, one that gave me visions of myself as a killer, a deranged mare, a monster, and now… I fear I may become them.

I can’t. I can’t. I’m the personal student of Princess Celestia. I’m a hero of Equestria. I’m the Element of Magic. I’m not a monster.

I’m not a monster…

I don’t want to be a monster, but I fear I don’t have long before I do…

Signing off,

Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

And so, now we have Journal Entry #9. I know, it's a little bit on the short side, but it's all for dramatic effect, as you youngsters would say. Anyway, I do hope you all have enjoyed this latest, albeit pitifully short entry, and thank you for sticking with my little monstrosity of a fanfic for so long.
And of course, thank you all for liking, favoriting, commenting, disliking, skimming over, and so on and so forth. I do hope you all have a wonderful day/evening/existence.
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

Journal Entry #10

Dear Princess Celestia,

Oh, how I want for you to read these words. How I wish I had the courage to tear out these pages and send them to you, the bravery to show you how twisted I’ve become and accept whatever punishment I deserve. But I’m a coward, no better than a snake, slithering on the ground, tracking in dirt and dust with its lowly form. I’m vile, like that snake; I don’t merit the kindness, much less love of those around me. I’m a serpent, a monster in a pony’s skin. The pony that once inhabited that skin is gone, hollowed out from within by the Itch, and I’m the shell that is left behind.

Today is Friday, February 1st, and now, an hour away from midnight, I once again find myself freed from the cruel grasp of the Itch. If only the purgation of the Itch had been caused by anything other than today’s events, I would have jubilantly written down paragraph upon joyful paragraph in relief, and devoted stanza upon ecstatic stanza in song. I would even prefer to still be in torment than for this day to have occurred like so. But this could not be, and so I wallow in misery, wishing that this day had never happened.

I thought I would have given anything to have momentary respite from my torment, but I now realize that the price I have paid is one far greater than I could have ever imagined, than I would have ever wanted to imagine. Something that I would have never wanted to pay. I have paid with my equinity, the right to consider myself a pony. I am now just a monster that only resembles Twilight Sparkle, and the actions I have made today are the cause of this horrible transformation.

*****

It was 6:40 in the morning when Spike interrupted me from my research. Following in the past few days’ example, I had spent the entire night performing tests and was planning on spending most of today continuing to do so as well. That is, until Spike entered my laboratory, despite the fact that I had ordered him not to just the previous day. I was about to yell at him for disobeying me, when I noticed the darkened bags under his eyes. I realized how much he must have been affected by my most recent attempts at isolation, and my brusk and irritated attitude had done little to soothe his distress. We stared at each other for a few moments, both, no doubt, taking in the raggedness of the other when he spoke in a tired voice:

“You’re supposed to go over to Fluttershy’s today,” he paused, before adding in a dejected tone, “though, why should you care?”

Confused, I asked as to why I would go to see her, prompting Spike to sigh, his little scaled shoulders sagging glumly, “because Princess Celestia is going to be here today with the delegates from Saddle Arabia, and is expecting a show to welcome them. You’ve forgotten about the letter, haven’t you?”

“Delegates?” I began, racking my brain for anything involving Saddle Arabia. I then remembered that Princess Celestia had, in fact, sent a letter a week before informing me that she would be arriving with two Saddle Arabian representatives on the first of February and wanted to welcome them with a show.

To be honest, I completely panicked when I remembered that today was the first of February. I had completely forgotten about the letter, being so caught up in the mystery of the Itch. The corners of my vision were already blurry from the unending assault of the Itch, but when realization struck me, my entire world turned into a disorganized haze. I eventually recognized that I was hyperventilating, and began to calm myself down with breathing exercises. When I had finally calmed my breathing down to an acceptable level, I grabbed Spike in my magic and teleported us outside the library.

Knowing that town hall wouldn’t be open yet, I ignored Spike’s protests and galloped over to Mayor Mare’s house, teleporting us inside her living room, where we found her staring at us with wide open eyes and a spilled mug of coffee at her hooves. Wasting no time, I explained my sudden appearance, the reason for it, what needed to be done in preparation for later today, and was soon galloping over to Fluttershy’s cottage as fast as I could.

Fluttershy was already up and about when I came running onto her property. I quickly explained my being there and sent the yellow caretaker gathering the various animals I would need for my performance. She was understandably concerned for her animals' safety, and began to express it rather vehemently once I had explained what their part in my act would involve. Already nearly apoplectic by the constant siege of the Itch and now under the pressure of handling a welcome for Princess Celestia and two representatives from one of Equestria’s most important trade partners, I must admit I didn't handle her concern as maturely as I could have. Either way, I was free to practice as much as possible for the next few hours, albeit accompanied by a Fluttershy far more timid than usual. Spike was smart enough not to intervene in our short, but concise, ‘conversation,’ and remained out of the way for the rest of the morning.

Thankfully, my horn had healed enough from its most recent injury that by the time 9 o’clock rolled around, I was satisfied that my act for the evening would be acceptable. I started to trot away from Fluttershy’s cottage, believing that I was now free to spend the next few hours planning out how to avoid Princess Celestia for the entire night. Unfortunately, any ideas having formed inside my head were soon dispersed as a certain sky blue mare alighted from the skies to land before me.

I honestly would have been ecstatic at the fact that Dash had finally stopped avoiding me, but thanks to the Itch anything and everything only served to increase my irritability. Dash didn’t help the matter by acting annoyingly uncharacteristic: avoiding my gaze, shuffling her hooves, stuttering with every other word - it was like I was dealing with two Fluttershys!

Stuttering, Dash told me that I was needed over at Town Square, though neglecting to mention as to why before quickly taking off in the direction of town. Cursing under my breath at the rainbow-maned mare, I ordered Spike to get on, and left a trembling Fluttershy behind.

Upon arrival at Town Square, I found that a crowd of ponies had amassed in front of Town Hall, all apparently having their attention drawn by something in front of it. As I approached, some ponies in the back of the crowd noticed me, and began urging those around them to move out of my path. The sea of flesh parted before me as I made my way to the front, and was greeted by the sight of an atrocious dress aparating on Rarity by a beam of red magic. The sudden aesthetic assault on the dressmaker’s sense of fashion was apparently too much for her, and she had to be carried away by Applejack and Pinkie. Looking to the origination of the spell, I saw none other than Trixie, the failed showmare who had fled of Ponyville after the Ursa Minor incident.

The blue unicorn grinned evilly as Dash flew up to her, and sent another magic bolt at the airborne pegasus, causing Dash’s right wing to enlarge grotesquely and send her careening off balance. Trixie then proceeded to fuse her two young hanger-ons (the first ones I imagined killing with my own hooves) by their horns, before turning to address me. After a few moments of self-appraising drivel, she challenged me to a magic duel, and stated that the loser would have to leave Ponyville forever. I outright refused her absurd challenge and began to walk away from her when Trixie picked up Spike in her magic and began bouncing him around like a basketball. My already dangerously shaken temper began to slowly destabilize even more as she displayed the Ursa Minor incident from her own self-absorbed perspective and the difficulties of her life that ensued, which apparently I was to blame for! In all honesty, considering the current economic recession that Equestria is going through and the rising levels of unemployment, she was lucky that she got hired at a rock farm!

But when Trixie began casting spells on more of my friends and some of the crowd, I was almost ready to tear out that egotistical mare’s throat. She even tore my house out by its roots! By its roots! Angered almost beyond reason, I agreed to Trixie’s ultimatum, and prepared myself to duel.

*****

When the first thing Trixie did was endanger innocent bystanders, I knew that I wasn’t dealing with the same hot-aired performer from before. She may have just been insufferable then, but now she seemed to have a certain ruthlessness about her. I soon realized that the showmare had also gained newfound power to base her haughtiness off of, and found myself unbelievably outmatched. She was able to perform an age spell, an enchantment only feasible by the most powerful of unicorns! Something I myself can’t cast! But for some bizarre twist of fate, in our duel a half-bit performer was able to do something a prodigy student of the Princess wasn’t! Somehow, Trixie was able to alter time with only the use her magic! How can she even do such a thing? Starswirl himself, who devoted most of his life to thauma-temporal studies, was only able to alter the age of one pony, but some dirt-poor attention whore was able to age two colts!? Into two different ages at that!? It angers me now just to write it down!

And because of this impossibility, I lost the duel, and found myself roughly launched to the fields outside of Ponyville! I tried to run back, but Trixie conjured a giant glass container around the entire town, preventing me from returning. I was trapped outside of the glass, looking on as my friends ran to meet me, only to make their own discovery of the horrid barrier keeping us apart. I felt a bizarre, liquid sensation bubble up in my heart; a syrupy molasses formed from emotions foreign yet oddly familiar to me.

The feeling it brought to my heart was so caustic I almost forgot about the Itch in that moment. But soon after it arose, that feeling soon sank back into the recesses of my mind, and I realized that I had no idea how long I had been standing there in front of my friends, submerged in alien emotions. Focusing my eyes on them, I was surprised to find in their faces both worry and… fear. Etched lines of concern were joined on their faces by sweat droplets and shrunken pupils, all directed at me. It was something they must have seen in my face in those moments I was touched by that unknown-intimate emotion, something in my eyes, in me, that must have frightened them. They were afraid of me. Such a thought was too much to bear for my beleaguered heart, and turning from them, I ran off into the hills with tears blurring my sight.

*****

After an indiscriminate amount of time, I was able gain a weak hold on my emotions, and realized that I was now near the border of the Everfree Forest. Panting for breath, I delved into the pain now searing my heart, digging past the agony shrouding my body. My heart was surrounded in a swirling miasma of disgust and self-hatred, tainting it with a searing poison. Ever since coming to Ponyville, I have prided myself as somepony that others could trust and confide in, and now I felt like I had betrayed my friends, like I had broken their trust in me. What did they see in me when that unknown emotion rose in my heart; what kind of pony did they find their friend to be? Whomever they saw in my features must have been a truly terrifying pony; I can only remember seeing such frightened gazes in my friends eyes when we first beheld King Sombra during those harrowing days trapped in the Crystal Kingdom. Is that who I am to compare myself to from now on, a maddened, sadistic, power hungry tyrant? Perhaps it is right to do so, as I already share the first two criteria. Who knows, maybe the third will come in time?

*****

Eventually, I reached my destination, and gazed upon the gnarled and bulging form of the aboreal home of one of the Everfree’s more friendlier inhabitants. Knocking on the out of place door lodged under a frightening mask, I was soon greeted by the striped face of one of my dearer friends: Zecora. Though the zebra rarely goes into town, we always make time to visit each others’ houses and chat. After the whole “evil enchantress” debacle, we found each other to be knowledgeable minds when it came to the fields of science and magic, both of us being well-read on many different subjects, so it was of no surprise that when she saw who had come to see her, Zecora’s face lit up with a smile.

That smile though, soon turned into a worried frown when she saw the state of distress I was in. Bidding me inside quickly, she offered me a cushion to sit upon while she prepared some tea. Knowing that offering guests tea was an intrinsic part of Zebrican culture, I waited for her as calmly as I could, though I couldn’t stop myself from fidgeting nervously all the while. Not quickly enough for my liking, Zecora finally came to the table with two steaming cups of tea, and offering me one, she prompted me to begin my story.

*****

“... I just don’t understand how that cheap slu- performer could even manage to lift an entire loaded cart, much less age two colts so drastically! And now I’m banished from my home while my friends are trapped inside that glass dome, subject to who knows what vile whims she may have?!” I almost shouted, slamming my hoof on the short table the two of us were sitting at.

Steadying the rattling cups, the striped mare looked at me quizzically for a moment, before replying, “I know that these matters bring you fear, but panicked thoughts your mind must not near! For what use will you be, to your friends in dire need?”

Breathing deeply, I tried to get my temper back under control, though I wasn’t met with much success. First there was Spike’s reminder of the Princess’ visit with important dignitaries, then the ensuing interaction with Fluttershy, then Dash’s demeanor, the arrival of Trixie, my defeat at magical prowess, and now I have found myself banished from Ponyville with no way of contacting the Princesses! But while all this was occurring, the ever-present reminder of my quickly approaching madness still wreaked havoc across my body and senses. Despite days upon days of research and desperate experimentation, I feared that I would never discover the origin of the condition affecting me. I knew its symptoms: aggravation of nerves, audiovisual hallucinations, and sadistic urges, but not a single idea of its etiology. Could it be chemical, neurological, mental? I hadn’t the slightest idea! All I could plan to do was to conceal any worrying occurrences of this disease from those around me, in order to buy more time for myself, and I couldn’t even do that right!

“But what is there that I can do?” I questioned Zecora, desperate for a solution to my woes.

“Though this Trixie has powers strange and wrong,” she began, giving me a reassuring smile, “train with me and you too can be that strong.”

Taken by surprise, I asked incredulously, “but Zecora, what is it that you know of Equestrian magic that can trump a unicorn who can cast age spells?” I gestured her, accidentally knocking over the zebra’s cup.

Seeming to be more annoyed about the spilled tea than about my doubt in her abilities, Zecora picked up the cup and circled her hoof around the brim. “Though skill in your magics I may not possess, within other powers I own great finesse. Power can be found in many ways; ‘one’s best above others,' who’s to say? If you truly wish to save your friends, I just may help you attain those ends.” She turned the cup towards me, showing it to be full of tea again.

“You really believe that I can defeat Trixie?” I asked, desperate for good news.

“Accompany me, and soon we shall see…” The hermit answered, leading me out of her house and into the murky woods beyond.

*****

It was in those woods that I was introduced to an entirely different aspect of my friend. In that twilit grotto deep she displayed such an ageless patience and emotionlessness that I half-wondered if my friend was an ancient, unknown immortal being, one having lost her equinity to the aeons. The rhymes that issued forth from her mouth were strange, almost nonsensical at times, and yet, like unwavering arrows, always pierced into me with meaning and instruction. Under the mentoring of Zecora, at that silent pool, I felt myself far more at peace than I had been for a long while.

This peacefulness softened the thundering percussion of the Itch, the screeching strings of my anxiety, and the wailing brass of my shame, giving me a clearer sight to view my predicament. I followed Zecora’s orders word for word, and soon found all that had perplexed me simplifying in my mind. In that calm, I was able to look past my emotions and judge unbiased all the mistakes I had made in dealing with Trixie. Enmeshed in this relaxed state, I was wholly unprepared when the Itch, having been pushed back to the farthest reaches of my attention during my meditation, surged forth with frightening ferocity to the forefront of my mind, ravenously demanding sadistic pleasures and unspeakable, brutal acts. When I mentally refused to yield to its demands, the Itch sent its hounds, doubt and anxiety, upon me. Nipping at my fetlocks, they drove me from the meadows of tranquility I had come so close to attaining during Zecora’s teachings, and back into the maddened and frantic mental wasteland I had been trapped in since the first occurrence of the Itch. Now doubly tormented, in those jagged peaks of fiery agony and precipitous cliffs of madness I was plagued with winds of auditory hallucinations and flashbacks of my failures earlier today, haunting reminders of my present shortcomings.

*****

“...Trixie is the highest level unicorn!” I heard the cruel performer yell, her spectral, malevolent laughter breaking what last vestiges of concentration I had left, making me loose my hoofhold on the surface of the pool, and plunge into the chilly waters underneath. When I surfaced, the only emotion that I felt was boiling rage, and seeing Zecora stare pitilessly down at me, I imagined that she was the source of all my suffering. For a brief moment, I contemplated attacking her, assaulting her and making her feel my pain, and relieving the Itch through her pain. I imagined taking her staff and breaking her legs with it, tearing out her earrings, gouging out her eyes. I wanted to do all of those things in that one moment, but then realized what I was thinking and became disgusted with myself. I’m not sure if Zecora noticed the way I had looked at her, but the cold way in which she regarded me did not provide reassurance.

“The power you seek cannot be gained, through blackened thoughts nor outward facade,” she looked down at me, her gaze piercing my soaked and worn exterior. Turning from me she continued, “to be victorious, your mind must readjust.”

With downcast eyes, I pulled myself from the shallow pool, and silently followed after the striped mare through the oppressive trees. Imagine my surprise when arriving at Zecora’s tree, I found none other than Fluttershy waiting there for us. Great was the relief in seeing such a close friend in those blighted woods, and I was hungering even more so for one in light of Zecora’s recent coldness towards me. She was perched upon the doorstep, her eyes nervously flitting about, her wings twitching, ready to take flight at the slightest sign of danger. When Zecora and I came closer to her, the yellow mare finally took notice of our approach, and let out a panicked squeak.

“Calm down my dear, there’s no need to fear,” Zecora rhymed softly, reassuring the frightened mare before us. “It is only us; two friends you can trust.”

Fluttershy visibly calmed at the zebra’s words, though when we reached her and I tried to hug her, she shied away from me, as if afraid of my very touch. Zecora observed the tense interaction between us, her face unreadable. Sighing in frustration, I shouldered past both of them and entered the tree, feeling their gaze upon my back.

*****

Zecora set two teacups down at the wooden table, one for herself, and the other for Fluttershy. The striped mare glanced at where I was walking back and forth, too jittery from Itch’s siege upon my body to sit still, while Fluttershy took a drink of the tea to calm her nerves. I looked away, not wanting to make eye contact with her, causing the zebra to frown slightly. When Fluttershy at last pulled her mouth away from the cup, she turned towards me and addressed me, though her eyes remained on the cup in her hooves.

“Um, Twilight, I, uh, we - that is, Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow, Pinkie, Spike, and I - um, well…” She trailed off, her wings shifting nervously, “uh, we’ve, well, at least we think we’ve found out why Trixie is so powerful.”

“You have?!” I burst out, forgetting the tension between us, rushing close to her, “what is it?!”

“EEP!” Fluttershy squeaked, shielding her head with her hooves, accidentally throwing the cup of tea into the air.

I also gave a slight “eep” when Zecora’s hoof appeared right before my eyes and caught the cup as it was right about to hit me. Unfortunately, most of the tea contained in the cup had been ejected by Fluttershy’s reflex, and I was made painfully aware of that fact when the airborne liquid splattered on my face, splashing my eyes and muzzle with hot tea. A few cool towels and a pair of reddened eyes later, Fluttershy continued speaking, occasionally glancing at where I laid on the floor.

“Ah, w-well, we think she’s so powerful because of the necklace she has. We were in the library, and an illustration of it was in one of the books,” she paused, scratching her head, “I think it was called, um, the Alicorn Amulet?”

Recognizing the name, I leapt up from my position on the floor and began pacing back and forth in Zecora’s tree. “Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the Alicorn Amulet! It’s only one of the more dangerous known magical artifacts, and it was right under my muzzle the entire time?!” I growled angrily, “how did that skank even manage to get it in the first place?”

Fluttershy and Zecora just sat at the table and stared at me as I paced back and forth, muttering various curses under my breath, until finally Zecora spoke up, “Twilight Sparkle, your mouth you need to cease. Such turn of events, your brow must not crease. You now know the source of her power; why is it that you are so dour?”

“How the hay am I supposed to beat her if she possesses a magical talisman?! Do you really think I can beat her with some mumbo-jumbo I learned from some lonely hermit?!” I questioned her, glaring at Zecora for asking such a stupid question.

“Foolish mare! Who do you think I am?” Zecora’s rebuttal contained as much venom as my question, “is what I’ve taught you not worth one damn? You’ve learned all my lessons, all except one. Quit your griping, there are things to be done!”

Realizing that I had just spurned the one mare who had been there to help me the most through this whole ordeal, I hastily tried to apologize. “Zecora, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Silence!” She barked, not bothering to rhyme the two syllables with anything. “Do not speak, you impudent worm; your forked tongue you shall dare not turn. Here, the last lesson I have for you; listen well, and then make yourself few: If Trixie’s tricks have you in a great fix, you must mix your magic, and use the six!”

Confused, I began to ask Zecora, “wha-”

“Out!” She yelled, throwing a small object at me. Instinctively catching the small projectile in my magic, I turned around and ran from the tree, with Fluttershy at my fetlocks, and into the twilit gloom of the Everfree.

*****

The object Zecora had thrown at me turned out to be a gold necklace with a green glass fixture, and at first I was confused as to why she would throw something like that at me. It was only when Fluttershy (who had been following meekly behind me the entire time) and I reached the edge of the Everfree Forest did I figure out the zebra’s intentions. Despite the fact that I had been so disrespectful to her and her hospitality, she still assisted me in my time of need. And now, as I left the murky gloom of the forest, the puzzle pieces of our meditations, her final lesson, and now the necklace all fit into place to form a plan that I could use to defeat Trixie. I turned to Fluttershy, ignoring how she flinched away from me, and began instructing her on what we were going to do…

*****

It was simple enough to con Trixie into accepting my challenge for a reduel and dispell the barrier, allowing Fluttershy to sneak in on the opposite side of Ponyville and inform the rest of the Element bearers and a few other ponies on my plan. The only difficulty I had was keeping myself from assaulting Trixie before the duel. I swear, if egotistical blathering was a degree, that hot-air horse would have a doctorate in it! Thankfully, all my patience and preparation paid off, for the fool soon removed the Alicorn Amulet in favor of my own phony talisman, making herself no longer a threat to the town. Despite my victory, there unfortunately wasn’t any time to distribute any retribution upon the showmare, as Princess Celestia and the delegates would arrive in only a few hours. Mayor Mare and I organized the town to remove the cult-like banners and flags that Trixie had forced them to set up and begin building an arena in which the show would be held. Throughout this, the Itch only increased in its aggression, its claws tearing with unrestrained violence at my hide, increasing my irritability and curtness, which made most of the citizens hesitant to approach me for directions or help, among them including my friends, though I did notice Rarity try to come to me before being pulled back by a panicked looking Rainbow Dash.

Thankfully, the preparations were completed just in time for the Princess’ arrival. She was borne in on a golden chariot pulled by two of her pegasi guard, with two more chariots behind her bearing the dignitaries. Right before she landed, I excused myself from the welcoming group under the pretense of needing to prepare for my act later that evening. I couldn’t have allowed myself to face her then. She knows me too well. She would seen right through whatever disguise I’d have tried to hide myself behind, and would see how vile I had become. She would banish me from Equestria, encase me in stone, or, hay, even send me to the sun! I can’t allow her to see what I am!

It was thoughts like these that possessed my mind as I sat beneath the stands, waiting for the ponies before me to finish their performances. As the sky attained a purplish twilight glow, trapped between the descending sun and ascending moon, I walked into the arena. Noticing the Princess and the dignitaries to my right in a private stand, I turned my back to them so Celestia wouldn’t see my face.

Thankfully, I didn’t mess up once during my performance, and as I did my finale, a series of unexpected fireworks shot up above the arena, earning a final round of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the crowd. Tracing the tails of the fireworks back to their origination, I saw none other than Trixie standing just outside the entrance to the arena.

“Trixie? What are you doing here?” I asked in a guarded tone, preparing myself for a possible attempt at revenge. Instead, I was completely surprised when she began to give a heartfelt apology for her actions.

*****

“...could you ever forgive me for what I’ve done?” The showmare asked, looking at me with a pleading stare.

I realized then the futility of my anger towards her. Yes, she may have acquired the Alicorn Amulet with not the best intentions in heart, but she had only intended to make me feel the embarrassment that she herself felt after the character she had so carefully constructed had been reduced to shreds. It was never her true design to run me out of town and subjugate the denizens of Ponyville, it was only under the influence of the Amulet that she had done so. With this realization came a sort of peacefulness that transcended the violent demands of the Itch. I felt content, having managed to clear up at least one problem in my life.

Staring back into the purple eyes of the mare before me, I smiled, and said, “of course I do, Trixie. Though, would you be willing to go on a walk with me before you leave?” I asked, wanting to know what her plans for the future were and if she needed any help before leaving.

Returning my smile, Trixie playfully responded as she joined my side, “oh, I suppose the great and apologetic Trixie could deign to do so.”

*****

We walked together in the park, admiring the artistic brush strokes of blue and grey the night had painted upon the grass and trees. As we chatted, despite the constant barrage of the Itch, I tried to keep on a cheery disposition, though, things soon turned for the worst. I spotted the place where the visions had first visited me, where I imagined Scootaloo dying, and felt a slight thrill from that vile memory. Almost in response, it seemed, the Itch began to increase in ferocity, eliciting irrational and frightening thoughts from my mind:

‘Why am I being nice to this skank? She’s already caused so much trouble for Ponyville. She doesn’t deserve my kindness.’

‘In fact, shouldn’t I make her pay for what she’s done? She certainly would deserve it.’

‘That’s it. That’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll make her pay for what she’s done to my friends. Surely a few broken bones wouldn’t be too unreasonable.’

It was because I was fighting off vile thoughts like these that I failed to notice that the path we were taking was bringing us closer and closer to the Everfree Forest. Trixie, it seemed, failed to notice my increasingly troubled demeanor, too busy talking about herself, something she seemed never to grow tired of. So occupied by my malicious thoughts, that I almost failed to notice when she had stopped moving by my side. Looking about us, I realized that we were at the entrance to the Everfree.

‘She deserves to feel PAIN! Make her feel-’

“Well, Sparkle, thank you for taking the time to talk with Trixie,” Trixie began, interrupting the invasive thoughts as she smiled at me. “Trixie really does appreciate your concern in her well being,” she paused and looked closer at me, “say, are you well, Twilight Sparkle?”

‘Shut her mouth up! Enough rotten words have spewed from it already! Silence her with bruises and broken teeth!’

Gritting my teeth, I ignored the evil demands of my mind and started to respond, “y-yes, I’m f-”

‘HURT HER! BURN HER! BRUISE HER! MAKE HER FEEL PAIN!’

Almost physically knocked over by my rage-filled thoughts, I sank to my knees as the Itch grew even more furious, its searing maelstrom rising with each cruel word.

“Twilight!” Trixie shouted, her concern evident to me despite my tightly shut eyelids, “what’s wrong?! Are you-”

‘HIT! GOUGE! RIP! SLI-’

“Should Trixie go get help?!” She interrupted in her annoying third-pony reference to herself, “can you-”

‘DESTROY HER! MUTILATE HER! REDUCE HER TO SHRED-’

“Twilight!” She shouted, and I could feel her breath on my head, “can you hear-?”

“SHUT UP!” I yelled, swinging my head back angrily, feeling it connect with her muzzle, eliciting from her a pained squeak. Trixie landed on her butt in front of me, looking at me with confused eyes. Glaring at her, I yelled, “JUST SHUT UP YOU DUMB FOAL!” And leapt at her, my hooves outstretched.

I was on top of her before she could react, and began striking her with my forehooves, throwing punches with wild abandon. With each hit, I felt my hooves connect with her flesh, causing her to gasp and cry out in pain, I responding with grunts of anger and pleasure. This was what I had missed, the sensations that I had so shamefully craved for. But why should I have to despise myself for feeling this? How could such pleasure ever be? It was too long since I had last felt like this, and the sensations I felt then were nothing in comparison to what I felt now. Pinning down Trixie, bloodying her with my hooves felt far more... for lack of a better word, full than the my last time with Rainbow Dash. It was like a whole new depth was added to that beautiful experience, beneath an opalescent moon and atop a cowering victim, in a way I couldn’t explain. With each strike, I felt the Itch receding from my hide, pushed back by each delicious, violent impact. So enmeshed by the physicalities of her tender flesh against my hooves and the euphoria sent racing up my forelegs with each hit, that I wasn’t expecting any retaliation on Trixie’s part.

Pulling my hoof back for another strike, I felt a sharp pain on the right side of my head, and toppled off of my victim. Dazed, I blinked my eyes, and saw Trixie dragging herself to her hooves, a sizeable rock held in her magic. Once upon her hooves, the bruised mare began to back away from me, the one eye I had not blackened looking at me in utter fear.

As the Itch began to fill the void left by the fleeting traces of pleasure, rage filtered into my mind, and slowly rising from my hooves, I glared at the bloodied showmare. ‘How dare she strike me! I’ll make that whore pay a thousandfold!’ I thought, already devising ways in which I could teach her the foolishness of her actions.

“T-twilight, s-stay back,” she stuttered out of broken teeth, blood streaming down her chin. Ignoring her plea, I slowly began to approach, taking precise, menacing steps towards the object of my ire. “I’m warning you, I-I’ll hit you again if I have to.”

In response, I feinted forward, acting like I was going to charge her, and pulled back in time for the rock to sail past my muzzle. Grabbing the rock with my magic, I overpowered Trixie’s weaker grip and shot the rock at her forelegs.

She fell with a satisfying crack, giving a scream that sent shivers down my spine. Picking up the rock with my magic, I drunkenly stumbled towards her, unable to make steady steps underneath the pressure of the Itch. Just as I reached her, Trixie raised her head, her horn lighting up as she prepared a spell. I immediately slammed the rock down upon her horn, driving her back onto the ground. An idea struck me, and I stood astride Trixie’s form as I grasped the rock with my right hoof.

“You know,” I said, “you’ve caused a lot of trouble with that horn of yours. I think we should do something before another thing happens. Do you know what a preemptive measure is?”

Trixie looked up at me with eyes containing a mixture of pain, confusion, and fear, and asked, “w-what are you talking about?”

“Oh,” I mock-gasped, raising the rock above my head, “I forgot, you’re just some dumb attention whore. I think I’ll just give you a demonstration instead.”

With a vicious grin, I swung the rock down upon Trixie’s horn. One time. Two times. Three Times. Again and again, she screamed and screamed as I mercilessly battered the sensitive bone, writhing helplessly underneath me, held fast by my magic. Each strike brought greater and greater amounts of pleasure bursting through me. I kept hitting her over and over, desperately wanting the pleasurable sensations to never end.

Abruptly, a loud crack broke through the fog in my mind, and I heard Trixie give a piercing cry of pain underneath me. Looking down, I saw a jagged stump residing in the place where Trixie’s horn once stood. The other half of her horn laid on the ground nearby, and, stepping away from Trixie, I dropped the rock and picked up the half. Gazing at Trixie, as she whimpered and cried, her eyes shut in fear and pain, I determined she would be of no danger to me, and released her from my magic. Her limbs freed, the broken mare curled up into a ball, her forehooves curled around her head, trying to feel for something no longer there. Realizing what I had done, she began to cry in earnest, miserable sobs wracking her body.

Gazing over her pitiful form, I couldn’t help but express my disgust. “The Great and Powerful Trixie? Hah, look at you now,” I sneered, “not so great anymore, are you? No, you’re now just some dirty, hornless weakling who can’t even lift herself up off the ground.”

I grew irritated when the mare refused to look at me as I spoke to her. Clenching my teeth, I walked closer to her and stomped down on her vulnerable side with my forehoof. “You can’t even show proper respect to your superior? You really do belong on the ground with the dirt then. Here, have your horn back, it’s not like you can make use of it anymore,” I tossed Trixie’s horn onto her, and became lost in my thoughts.

‘I… can’t feel the Itch any more,’ I marveled, stuck in silent relief. “No… wait, it’s still there,” I amended, ‘it’s still there, but I can barely feel it.’ I looked down at the huddled, bloody form at my hooves, ‘perhaps all I needed to do was to attack someone to relieve the Itch... I never had to kill her in the first place!’

Looking down again at Trixie, I suggested that it would be better for her health if she left Ponyville permanently, the coldness of my tone surprising even myself. Giving a parting warning to never mention what transpired tonight, I turned, and began to walk away from the hornless mare.

*****

Oh, what a fool I was to believe that my troubles were at an end! Had not my previous experiences warned me that fate never allows anything to be so simple?! Alas, this foolishly secure state of mind was mine as I walked away from the broken mare. If I had only known the depths of despair and depravity that night would have taken me, I would have never left my library, Princess Celestia's welcome be damned!

*****

I had only taken a few hoofsteps when a thousand sharp syringes stabbed into my body, halting me in my tracks. The pain was unlike anything I had felt before, and I felt my knees begin to buckle as the needles sunk slowly deeper into my flesh. I was barely aware when I collapsed upon the ground, so insensate was my mind from the pain. Thoughts racing desperately, head thrashing savagely, mouth foaming, wordlessly drawing breath for spasming lungs, my eyes lit upon the trembling form of Trixie, and our eyes connected.

As I looked into the light purple eyes of the mare on the dirt near me, my frayed thoughts centered into one, singular thought within my mind:

SURVIVE

I didn’t know why that one word came into my mind, and even now, I’m still no closer to understanding its relevance, but that word became a chant within my mind that I rallied myself under, beneath the assault of the needles

Survive, I thought as I righted my trembling limbs, lifting my shaking body off the ground.

Survive, I thought as I walked slowly towards Trixie, relishing the whimper she gave at my approach.

SURVIVE bounced back and forth in my head, sparking an idea in my head as I took notice of a nearby tree.

I stood over Trixie, the light of my horn as my magic worked illuminating her beaten countenance. Framed by blood and bruises, her eyes were captivating. The fear that they held, their fear of me, was satisfying just to look at. I drank in that fear, and it felt right.

I was broken from my reverie by a sudden increase of duress from the syringes in my spine, and glanced up to see if my magic had finished its work. My mouth split wide and I grinned down at my prey, my magic flowing into existence around her.

“W-what are you doing?” She stuttered as I lifted her into the air, “what do you still want from me?”

Not bothering to respond, I looked past her and grinned even wider. Seeing my attention was not on her, she tried to turn her head to see where I was looking, but was held in place by my magic.

“What are you look-” She began, but was cut off as I sent her flying forward, and a wooden pike erupted from her chest.

Coughing up blood, she stared down at the spike protruding from her blue fur, caught unaware when I released my magic. The sudden presence of gravity on her pierced form sent the mare into writhing spasms, jerking limbs waving wildly in the air. Crimson mingled with the shorn twigs and leaves that once adorned the deadly branch as Trixie gripped it, vainly trying to pull herself off it.

I was held captive by the sight before me. In past visions, I had described what I saw as artwork, akin to paintings and sculptures. Then, though, under Luna’s moon, I saw something beyond any representation of life. Tonight I saw life itself. It surged in her muscles, glimmered in her eyes, flowed in her blood. She was life itself, struggling to survive beneath the stars in the sky. She was beautiful, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her.

Trixie’s attempts to pull herself off weakened with each consecutive try, each one more futile than the last as her strength flowed out of her body with her blood. Finally, she gave up altogether and let her arms fall to the side limply. Hacking up feeble breaths, she raised her head, and our eyes locked. During her entire struggle, she could only emit pained grunts and gurgling mumbles, her voice muted by the blood pooling in her lungs. Now, as we looked into each other’s eyes, she tried to speak to me, but only was able to force more blood out of her mouth. Raising a trembling hoof, she wiped some blood off of her lip and stared at her crimson stained hoof. Resting the hoof on the branch, Trixie returned her gaze to me, silently asking me why.

“I needed to scratch an itch, and you were simply there,” I answered, my voice impassionate.

Trixie’s eyes conveyed her confusion at my statement, and seemed on the verge of trying to voice it, but instead exhaled a last, shuddering breath. I never broke eye contact as her light-purple eyes glazed over, and as I gazed into the eyes of a dead mare, I felt my spine tingle with the arrival of a euphoria unlike any I had ever experienced.

Even in previous visions, the pleasure brought to me by the death of my prey was always seeming to increase, but the ecstasy I felt right then is beyond description. Even now, as I sit here and write this, just the thought of what I felt then makes me shiver. The world became a blanket of white, and as the bliss rose to even higher levels, I was absorbed into that blankness. Immersed in white euphoria, every worry, fear, and concern I had was erased, and I just floated there, without a care in the world.

Eventually, the bliss that I wrapped within began to fade, and I once again returned to reality. Alas! If only I could have remained in that state forever, and never was greeted by the sight that I returned to! For when my senses returned to me, I found before me the dead form of Trixie, still hanging off of her mortal perch.

My mouth went dry as I took in the scene in front of me, finding it exactly like it was before my euphoria immersion. Her limbs still hung limply, like a marionette that had its strings cut, her blood still trickled down the shaft, the sound of droplets hitting the ground filling my ears, and her eyes still questioned blankly, though the foggy portals now stared at the ground, her neck now as limp as the rest of her.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I desperately tried to come up with some sort of explanation for why Trixie still appeared to be dead. ‘Could this just be a continuation of the hallucination?’ I thought, reaching out to touch the mare in front of me.

“T-Trixie? Are you…” I began, but trailed off as I wondered what I could say. ‘Are you actually dead? Did I really kill you, or was I just thinking about it?’ I thought in my head, scorn and disgust filling my every pore.

‘It has to be a hallucination, I couldn’t have killed somepony, could I?’ I asked myself, trying to avoid thinking of such a possibility.

My ruminations were cut short by the sound of ponies nearby. Looking around, I saw the light of torches on a nearby hill to the left of me. I heard indistinct voices shouting out, and was able to catch a few words such as “scream” and “search” interspersed among them. I became panicked as my brain went into overdrive, imagining scenarios in which I was caught here with a corpse with magical residue on it that matched my theurgic signature. I couldn’t be found, and I couldn’t allow the corpse to be found either. I looked about, searching for a place where I could hide the evidence of our… interaction. My eyes lit upon the entrance to the Everfree Forest, and the perfect place to hide the body came to mind.

My destination set, I began to hurriedly clean up the area of any traces of violence. Pulling Trixie off of the stake, I wrapped her cape around her midsection to prevent the gaping hole from oozing out any more blood. I then used her hat to wipe up any spilt blood in the area, broke the branch off of the tree and shattered it into splinters, and dropped them into the hat. The torches of the search party had become worryingly close, and so, using a spell to remove any residual traces of my magic from the area, I stole into the Everfree under the cover of the night, my sinful baggage held aloft behind me.

*****

I don’t know how long I was trotting on that murky path, but it seemed far too much time had passed before I finally reached my destination. Stopping to gather my breath, I looked at the boulder that blocked off the entrance to the Mirror Poll, and knew that it was the perfect place to hide the body. It was remote, protected by dangerous woodland, and was blocked off from accidental entrance. I quickly removed the boulder, and was just about to throw Trixie into the open hole when our eyes met. Her dead, glassy gaze pierced into my heart, and I knew I could no longer deny that this was no hallucination. With the final acceptance that I had murdered another sapient being, I fell to the ground, overwhelmed by guilt and remorse.

In that unnatural forest, with only the company of a dead mare, I became aware in the fullest and most painful sense of what I had done. I had taken a life for the sheer pleasure of it. I had murdered another sapient being in utter selfishness. I had stolen all the future possibilities from another living being just to sate a damn itch! I cried then, but unlike earlier, when I first cried from pain, and then from pleasure, I cried from pure remorse. Remorse for the mare whose life I had taken, and remorse for the pony who I once was. I could no longer call myself Twilight Sparkle with pride. Twilight Sparkle, the friend of those she loved, the daughter of two loving parents, the sister of a kind brother, the defender of a nation and the world, and… the pride of Celestia, had died. In her place I now found myself, Twilight the murderer. I tarnished the very shoes I now filled, just by existing. I was an insult to all those who had ever loved or had been loved by Twilight Sparkle, and a defacement of all that she ever stood for. Nothing I can ever do will fix what I have done.

Eventually, I managed to force myself to rise, and with a heart coated in lead, I dropped Trixie into the hole, trying to ignore the sound of her body hitting the floor far below. Replacing the boulder, I slowly trudged back home, left alone to the judgement of the stars and my somber thoughts.

*****

It was 11:34 p.m. when I finally reached the library, and I immediately...

Oh, Celestia, I’m sorry, so sorry. I’ve failed you. You had such great plans for me, and now I’ve betrayed every one of your kindnesses. You took me in at such a young age, you taught me how to control the power within me, you trained me to be a greater magician and a better pony. You practically raised me like a second mother, you treated me like I was your daughter, and this is how I repay you? With spilt blood and innocent lives?

I’ve become a monster, a wolf in sheep’s skin. I hide in my vileness amongst your ponies, wearing the skin of one of your most trusted subjects. Celestia, I’m so sorry, I love you, but I still hope you’ll never see these words. I know I deserve to be subjected to the worst of punishments and ridiculed by all of Equestria for what I’ve done, but I still don’t want to be discovered for who I’ve become. I’m ashamed of my selfishness, and desperately wish it wasn’t so, but I can’t help but think of ways to lie about how my ‘talk’ with Trixie went. I’m already planning out scenarios where I lie to my friends on what she and I talked about, and telling them that we departed as friends! How sickening can I get!?

I don’t know what I am going to do with myself now. Should I follow my shameful desires and hide? Can I bring myself to reveal the horrible thing I’ve done, and bear to see the looks of pain and betrayal on the faces of those I care most about? Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Shining Armor, Mother, Father, Cadence, Celestia, my friends, my family, my teacher… I’m so sorry… I can’t bear the thought of losing you all… I’m sorry...

I don’t know what to say. It’s not important. Nopony will ever read these words, flit through these pages. Only I will know of my shame, of my atrocities. I will defend my shameful secrets with my life, and take them to my grave…

My grave… what sort of grave have I given Trixie? Her parents will never know what happened to their daughter, what I’ve done to her, where her grave is… Did she have friends? Did she think I was her friend right before I killed her?

Questions, so many questions. I don’t know the answers, but do I want to? I don’t know… I’m tired, but I know I won’t get any sleep.

-Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Aaand finisimo!
Thank you all for waiting so long for this chapter, I hope it made up for the wait. I apologize for taking so long, but I've been rather encumbered with school, preparing for college, and prolonged sickness. That aside though, please do give me any feedback on what you thought of entry 10, I would love to hear it. Hope you all enjoyed the newest entry, and thank you for sticking along so far.
Also, thank you eLka for the prereading.
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

Journal Entry #11

Saturday, February 2nd, 1003 A.B.

Almost a full day has passed since I have murdered Trixie...

I want to add something to that sentence, to make complete it, but the words don’t come. The remorse I feel can’t be written down; anything said would be inadequate to express the emotions roiling within me. I want to forget everything - what I have done, these feelings of pleasure, pain, and guilt - I want to wipe them from my memory, but they seem intent on haunting me to my grave.

It seems Trixie as well has come to haunt me from beyond her own grave. Even though I just put her in it, she has endeavored to ensure my peaceful life here in Ponyville will not last. I don’t blame her though, in fact, I almost welcome her. I deserve her retribution, whatever may some of it.

...I have been vague, and I apologize for that. I’m still somewhat in shock from yesterday, and what I read in the paper has done little to centralize my mind. Here, I will write down what I read in today’s Ponyville Gazette to make things clearer:

NIGHTTIME SCREAMS TERRIFY RESIDENTS

Last night, ponies were awoke to screams coming from Ponyville Park. The screams were determined to belong to two different mares, and a search party was quickly formed to find the source of the disturbance, but neither of the mares were able to be found. What the search party instead found was a shattered light-blue horn, half-hidden inside of a bush. Authorities at the moment are not sure what to make of the horn and how it got there, but a comment of one of the search party members certainly leaves a foreboding shadow over the entire matter:

“It was frightening, searching in the dark with only the light of your torch to guide you, all the while hearing these screams echo in the night. And I swear, what makes it even worse was that one mare sounded like she was screaming in pleasure, and the other like she was in pain…”

I don’t know how I could have missed her horn during my comb-over of the clearing, but that hardly matters now. Trixie may just have gotten her revenge, for I have no doubt “the authorities” will soon contact an investigator from another city, and when they arrive-

There’s somepony knocking at the door. Who could that be?

*****

Oh Faust, I nearly panicked the moment I opened the door! When I opened it, there was a guard waiting behind! She said the Mayor had requested my presence at Town Hall, but how could they possibly know it was me so soon? How could the horn have brought them to me so quickly? I removed any traces of my magic’s residue from the area and all within it: the same should go for the horn! Wait, maybe they don’t know it’s me yet, the guard didn't wait to escort me to Town Hall, which almost makes me hope that they don't suspect me of anything yet. Could it be they don’t know yet, or is it a trap?

What is there that I can do? If I run, they’ll have reason to suspect me, but if I go, I may be walking into a trap! Damn it all! What did I do to deserve all this?

Oh, right. Commit murder...

I suppose I have no choice but to go over there, but I’m going to pack a few things in my saddlebags in case I need to make a quick escape. Hopefully, I won't need to.

In the off chance of not having to run for my life as a fugitive, I'll finish this entry once I've returned from Town Hall.

*****

So, as one would surmise from the fact that I'm writing this now, my trip to Town Hall didn't result in me having to flee Ponyville for my life. Rather, in fact, I believe that my visit with the Mayor has improved my safety in Ponyville greatly, and the chances of me ever having to leave my friends is now greatly diminished.

But earlier, that did not seem to me the least bit likely. Nay, as I trudged with trepidation to Town Hall, such a possibility never crossed my mind...

*****

It was mid-afternoon when I left the library for Town Hall. I yelled out to Spike that I would be out, but he didn't respond. I'd like to think that he didn't hear me, but there's no use in fooling myself. He's been acting distant for almost a week now, and I know it's because of how I've been treating him. He didn't deserve for me to be so rude and cruel to him, and now I fear I may have damaged our relationship permanently...

...I'm sorry. I digress.

It was mid-afternoon, meaning that the afternoon market was in full swing. It would have been packed with ponies, and I wasn't in the mood to get one last glimpse at faces I might never seen again. So I purposely took the long route and walked through the less-frequented streets. Thankfully, I only crossed paths with a few ponies, and none of them I knew very well. During that final march to the hangmare's noose, my solitude made me wonder if all I had done before last night, all the good I had performed in my life, made up for what I had done to Trixie. Can a lifetime of good redeem one evil action? Does the perpetrator of an evil action deserve to be redeemed? Do I deserve to be forgiven?

I was in the shadow of storm clouds the entire way to Town Hall, despite there not being a single cloud in the sky. When I finally arrived, Town Hall had take on the visage of a prison, the guard at the main entrance doing nothing to dissuade that image. Informed that the Mayor was waiting for me, I was led to her office, and ushered inside. Inside, I was greeted by Mayor Mare and the head of the Ponyville guard, Sergeant Whisper Winds, a light gray pegasus mare.

"Thank you for coming as soon as possible Twilight. I didn't know who else to turn to in town," the Mayor began, waving me towards her desk.

I couldn't help but gasp when I saw Trixie's horn sitting atop a paper sheet on the Mayor's desk, drawing the attention of the other two mares in the room.

"I take it you've read the newspaper, Ms. Sparkle," the Sergeant said, glancing over to me before nodding at the desk, "that horn is why Mrs. Mayor asked for your presence here."

I remained silent, not trusting myself to say something that would bring suspicion to me. Taking my silence as invitation to continue, Sergeant Winds spoke up again.

"As you read in the paper, screams were heard the night that we found that horn, which gives us good reason to suspect this is the result of pony on pony violence. Since Ponyville rarely has any such occurrences, aside from the rare drunken brawl, our guard force here isn't equipped for any sort of investigation."

"Which is why you're here Twilight," Mayor Mare picked up, gesturing me closer to the table, "I didn't want to contact a professional investigator from another city just yet, as it would bring the wrong kind of publicity to Ponyville. So I was hoping that you, as the premier magic expert in Ponyville, would perhaps have a spell in your repertoire that might aide us in identifying who this belongs to, and possibly what ponies were involved in its... forceful removal," she finished, the jagged nature of the break ominously alluding to my actions the previous night.

"Well, I'll see what I can do..." I trailed off, desperately trying to think of a way I could remove the horn from their possession before they would contact a proper investigator from outside Ponyville.

"Miss Sparkle, we would understand if you wouldn't be comfortable with doing this," the Sergeant placed her hoof on my shoulder, "if you don't wish to, we thank you for coming here anyway."

"N-no, it's fine, I'm just thinking of what spell to use," I responded hastily, moving closer to the desk.

I couldn't help but shiver when I picked the horn up with my magic, but it wasn't a shudder of disgust that ran down my spine. I felt satisfaction for what I had done run through me as I held Trixie's horn, feeling its furrows beneath my magic. Forcefully repressing the sensations, I returned my attention on the horn itself, and focused my magic into a spell.

A cloud of smoked erupted into existence around the horn, concealing it from view. As the cloud began to disperse, the room's other two occupants stared intently at it, waiting to see what the horn. Their expressions soon turned to bewilderment, for when the cloud disappeared, a rock was held where the horn had once been.

"...Ms. Sparkle, where did the horn go?" The Sergeant asked, eyeing the rock confusedly.

"Yes indeed, Twilight," Mayor Mare added, "and why are we staring at a rock?"

"Well, ladies," I addressed them, "the horn was, in fact, this rock before you now. When I picked up the horn, the first thing I noticed was the signature of a very common transmogrification spell. Though," I paused, swallowing nervously, "I can't say I ever saw the spell used like this."

"But why would anypony want to make a shattered horn? And what does that have to do with the screams?" The Mayor asked, just as befuddled as the Sergeant.

"Well, I might have an idea on that..." I answered, a slight blush appearing on my face in anticipation to what I was about to say, "the paper said that two screams were heard right?" Getting a nod from the two of them, I continued, "well, the interviewee said that one scream sounded like pleasure, and the other like pain, so if we put that together with this prop," at this, I lifted the rock, drawing their gaze to it, "I think that the two ponies that were heard in the park may have been enacting in some sort of... S&M activity..."

All three of us were now wearing red faces, and the Mayor and the Sergeant were making a point not to look anywhere near the rock held in my grip.

"W-well, that's an interesting theory, Twilight. I-I hadn't thought of it in that way," the Mayor spoke, uncharacteristically stumbling over her words, "but what then is to be done about the... perpetrators?"

"I don't think anything needs to be done, honestly. They're probably embarrassed enough as it is after reading the morning paper," I replied, shrugging, "you may still want to announce that the horn was a fake to calm the town though."

"Ah, y-yes, a good idea. I think I'll get right on that," Mayor Mare said, walking behind her desk, "Sergeant, would you be kind enough to escort yourself and Ms. Sparkle out? Thank you both for your help."

"Of course Miss Mayor. Ms. Sparkle, if you would follow me," Sergeant Winds nodded, heading for the door.

Just as I was about to pass the threshold, Mayor Mare spoke out, causing me to turn around, "and Twilight?" She half-smiled at me, "I would appreciate if you tossed the stone somewhere in the park at your earliest convenience, if you would."

*****

Well, it goes without saying that I didn't do as Mayor Mare asked. The horn is currently stowed away in the safe downstairs, so I'll have to find the time to dispose of it safely in the Everfree.

But now, once again within the home I feared I would never return to, I feel as though a great weight has been lifted from me. I know that I don't deserve to feel such relief, but I can't help but be glad for it. As I sit here and write, I can see the faintest glimmer of hope in the corner of my eye. I know now that my life doesn't have to be an unending Tartarus of suffering. Yes, it may never return to the contentment and security of mind that it was before the Itch ever came into my awareness, but at least I can put back some of the shattered pieces. But to do that, I first must rebuild the relationships I had let decay during the tyranny of the Itch.

I can only hope that it never returns...

Good day and signing off,
Twilight Sparkle

Journal Entry #12

Saturday, February 27th, 1003 A.B.

For once, it seems I don’t have any morose words to begin an entry with. Ever since I began documenting my experiences in this journal, each entry only served to illustrate every step I took down the stairwell of my despair. Now, this is no more: I had, as the saying goes, hit rock bottom, but I am now climbing back up, guided by the light of hope that I first saw in the corner of my vision almost a month ago. I know I will never return to the heights which I shared with those around me, but I will be content to reach some vestige of dignity. I have committed the foulest of crimes, one which I will have to strive for the rest of my life to redeem, if that even is possible. That regardless, this month marks a new chapter in the life of Twilight Sparkle: From now on, I will be the most upright pony to trot the face of the world. I will be an exemplar of harmony amongst all those around me, and now, without the return of the Itch, this can be possible.

Not once, since the First of February, have I felt the terrible claws of the Itch upon my spine, not once have I been wracked with fiery pain, and not once have I been tempted to torment others. I wholeheartedly mean it when I say that this month marks a renewal for me. Though part of me rebukes myself for being so optimistic, I cannot help but hope that the Itch is gone, that whatever affliction, be it of mental, magical, or physiological origin, that caused it has left my body. Now, I know that no such drastic change could come so quickly, but I cannot help but wonder, perhaps the increased immersion into the daydreams and the increasingly powerful pains and pleasures provided by the Itch were symptoms of its last stages? There are some diseases that are the strongest before their cessation; perhaps the Itch was akin to these. I have been meaning to run some tests upon myself to probe further into these ideas, but I haven’t been able to begin because of all of the effort I have devoted to regaining my social standing here in Ponyville.

As some of my previous entries have illustrated, while under the duress of the Itch, I wasn’t exactly a pleasant pony to be around. Ponies actually avoided me and actively minimized their chances of interacting with me (library visits were at an all-time low). Even worse, some of my dearest friends kept away from me, not wanting to incur my wrath. Worst of all, though, was the way Spike regarded me. He was constantly avoiding me, and even when we were in the same room, he tried to avoid any confrontation or communication with me unless it was absolutely necessary. It was obvious that he was afraid of me: He avoided meeting my gaze, he rarely spoke to me, and I could visibly see him tremble whenever I got close. How could I have ever allowed the one being that meant the most to me become so terrified of me? Even now, the thought alone makes me want to curl up into myself from guilt and shame. Thankfully, this is no longer the case.

For the past month, I have worked endlessly to rebuild and strengthen the ties I have forged with those around me, and my efforts have finally paid off. Spike no longer looks at me in fear, and our bond is stronger than it ever was before, ponies greet me in the streets instead of avoid me, my friends about town invite me to their houses once again, and library attendance is higher than it ever was before! I have not been negligent in restoring my bonds with my fellow Element bearers either. The looks they gave me through the glass dome are still etched in my memory, and I don’t think they ever will fade. After the whole Trixie fiasco, they tried to hide their fear of me, but I could still tell they were afraid of what they saw in me that day, whatever it could be. Even now, I sometimes begin to worry that they still do, but I think I have rectified the problem. Through ceaseless effort on my own part and by working ceaseless hours at Sweet Apple Acres, Carousel Boutique, Sugarcube Corner, and Fluttershy’s Cottage I have managed to regain their trust in me. All of them are comfortable being around me now and don't seem to suspect a thing about me. That is, all except Rainbow. Not that I believe she suspects anything criminal of me, she just seems hesitant to be around me. I am really worried about her... Could she suspect something? No, she was nowhere near the park that night... Unless, could her house have floated above us and Trixie's screams woke her up!? I was screaming too, but there's no way she could have recognized me, is there? No, wait, this is Rainbow Dash I'm talking about here. If she had heard somepony in pain, she would have dived in to save them. Dash couldn't have been anywhere nearby then, that's for sure. Why does she avoid me then?! There must be another reason then! Could it have been how I treated her when-

Nonononononononononononono

It cant be it cant be

I thought I was rid of it. Why now? Why now? Why now, when I write down that it may never come back? Faust, why?! Is this some sort of sick joke? No, it can’t happen again, I can’t succumb again. I don’t want to, damn it, I don’t want to. It’s not my fault.

Maybe I’m just mistaken right? I could just need to go to the chiropractor, or maybe my spine is being assaulted by bone-eating bacteria! Yes, that’s possible! Spine-eating bacteria! Think of the scientific community’s reaction when I reveal my discovery!

Dammit, what’s the use in trying to fool or distract myself? I know that the Itch has returned, but I don’t know why! It’s not my fault. Is it because I dared to hope it never would?! Why would there be such a long period between occurrences? I don’t know! I don’t know! It’s not my fault! It’s not my fault! IT’S NOT MY FAULT! IT'S NOT MY FAULT! I DIDN’T MEAN TO KILL HER! I DIDN’T MEAN TO! IT’S NOT MY FAULT! IT’S NOT MY-

...I need to calm down, collect myself, control my emotions. Panicking achieves nothing. The Itch isn’t that noticeable, only a slight irritation in the small of my back. It’s not my- I have time. Time to work towards curing this Itch, or at least mitigating it in a non-violent way. However, I can’t allow myself to degenerate like I did before. A repeat of last time is not what I need, so I shall maintain with the utmost resolve a mask of civility and normality in the face of my torment, no matter what.

I will update further once a development has occurred in the Itch or in my research. It’s not-

Goodnight and signing off,
Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

I had originally planned on splitting this entry up into two, and giving Twilight here a little break, but then I thought: Nahh...
So here you are with the 12th entry, and thank you all for reading this latest escapade. I really do appreciate it. I tried out a few things with spacing of the lines and their structure for this entry, and I was hoping to get your opinion on it. Yay, nay, or eh?
Anyway, thanks once again for reading, liking, commenting, and favoriting my little attempt at writing. See you all in the next entry.
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

Journal Entry #13

March 7th, 1003 A.B.

Tonight I can add another criminal activity to my growing repertoire. With homicide, obstruction of justice, and now breaking and entering on my resume, I’m becoming quite the criminal aficionado… I almost made myself laugh with that one, and Faust knows that I need a laugh to distract my mind from what I’ve learned tonight. Just this past hour, I have returned from a clandestine visit to Rainbow Dash’s house, bringing with me information I never would have believed had I not seen it with my own eyes. I feared that Dash was afraid of me, or even worse, knew what I had done to Trixie, but instead, what I have learned has me both flummoxed and worried: Rainbow Dash has a crush on me.

Such a statement is as strange to write down as it was to read in Dash’s diary back at her house, but I can’t deny that what I read was in Dash’s own hoofwriting. Though I wasn’t able to find any evidence that Dash knew anything of that night in the park, and am certainly relieved for that, this unexpected discovery opens up an entirely new avenue of potholes and cracks which I have to traverse…

*****

The girls and I had just bid Rainbow Dash farewell and were watching her fly off to Cloudsdale for a week-long training camp at the Wonderbolts Academy. Or rather, they bid her goodbye as I stood resigned to the background after she shied away from me when I tried to wish her good luck. Once she had left, the rest of us gave our own farewells and departed. Once I got back to the library, I immediately began planning for tonight, when I would break into and search Dash’s unoccupied house. This was an opportunity I had been waiting for for a while now, and I planned to capitalize on it as soon as possible. For all I knew, Dash would be kicked out of the Academy tonight (knowing her strong-headed tendency to argue, or her fangirl-like obsession of the Wonderbolts) and would be back in her home by tomorrow morning.

With this in mind, I made my preparations for tonight’s excursion and spent the rest of the day fidgeting around the library in nervous anticipation for the sunset. The grasping and worming tentacles of the Itch along my spine were of no help to my patience, but the Itch seems to be gradually rising in pressure, unlike the sharp increases from several previous experiences. It’s a mounting horror, but one that I still have time to combat. I have, in fact, already taken steps to further my campaign against the Itch - but more on that later. Thankfully, Princess Luna was faithful in her duties and night did fall, allowing me to enact my plan.

Once I had tucked Spike into bed for the evening, I made my way downstairs, locked the door, and entered the night. Though my heart was racing, I maintained a calm demeanor and slow pace, so that on the off-chance that I encountered anypony, it would seem as though I was merely taking a leisurely night stroll. Even though I never did encounter anypony on my route through Ponyville, my heart felt like it was about to explode when Dash’s house finally came into view, hovering above one of the orchards of Sweet Apple Acres. Arriving at the wooden fence that established the border of Applejack’s farm, I looked around for spying eyes, and finding none, hopped the fence.

When I was in the shadow of Rainbow Dash’s house, I cast a cloud-walking spell and then teleported myself up onto her front porch. She had left the door unlocked (after all, how would anypony from a town predominantly populated by earth ponies get up there anyway?), and I was left with free reign inside her home. Time was not on my side, so I immediately began my search, being careful to return everything to where I had originally found it. At first, it seemed as though I would find nothing of interest (aside from a few disturbing pieces of Wonderbolt fanfiction), but that soon changed when I opened up the top drawer of her nightstand and found her diary.

Normally, I wouldn’t go through one of my friend’s most private possessions, but the circumstances I am under are hardly normal. Silently asking for Dash’s forgiveness, I cracked open the diary to the latest page and began reading.

In surprisingly neat hoofwriting, it read:

Dear diary,

Things are finally looking up! Tomorrow I’ll be at the Wonderbolt Cadet Academy and’ll be one step closer to becoming a Wonderbolt!

I still can’t approach Twilight though… maybe I’ll build up enough courage to do it when I come back.

‘So she is afraid of me.’ I thought morosely as I turned the page back to the next entry. It was even shorter than the first one:

Dear diary,

I got in!

I couldn’t help but smile when I read those three words, packed so full of excitement. Dash was so happy that day. She told anypony she could about the news until the whole town was aware. Well, except for me. I only found out later from one of the library’s usuals the reason for her excitement.

I skimmed past the next few entries, all consisting of similarly short entries, such as “good weather” or “nice nap.” Occasionally there would be an entry where she would flesh out a stunt of her design (along with a detailed description and a respectable number of graphs), but aside from the first entry I read, I found nothing related to me.That is, until I found an entry dated February 2nd, the day following the night I mur ended Trixie. It read:

Dear diary,

I’m still too scared to confront Twilight. I don’t know what to do. Should I go to Rarity for help?

‘Rarity!’ I thought, my heart beginning to race. If she knew anything too, I wouldn’t know what to do. I could find a way to keep Dash alone quiet - it shouldn’t be the hardest thing to do since she bears the Element of Loyalty - but with Rarity alongside her, they could conceivably work together to bring me in, even if they are my friends. But why hadn’t they done so by now?

With my heart beating in my ears, I turned to the next page to see what she had seen the night before and found a long entry detailing the events of Trixie’s return to Ponyville, but nothing of what happened between her and I that night in the park. Had she not seen what I did to Trixie? If not, then why is she so afraid of me!? What could be the reason for it? Grinding my teeth, I tried recalling all of our interactions for the past month to think of an event where I could have frightened her so terribly. Sugarcube Corner’s tenth anniversary? Unlikely, she was too busy handling the sudden storm for that to be possible. After I had been exiled from Ponyville by Trixie, and had scared all of them outside the glass? Possible, but I had managed to patch things up with the rest of the girls, so why not her?

Try as I might, I couldn’t think of a likely instance where I might’ve frightened Rainbow Dash enough to make her permanently terrified of me. Then, as I stood in her half-lit room wracking my brain, the memory of a heated argument we had came to me. It was mid January when I was still having the daydreams and Dash had entered the library during business hours. I don’t remember much of our conversation other than that we got into an argument. And then the Itch began, and when I tried to shut myself off in the basement she followed me down. Then I had another daydream where I… ended Dash… What date was that?

The 24th.

I flipped to the corresponding diary entry and found two entries for that day. The first one read:

Dear diary,

Today is the day! I’m tired of sitting around twiddling my hooves! After work I’m going to march right up to Twilight and ask her out! Rarity’s right! I’m the coolest pegasus in Equestria and she’s the coolest unicorn in Equestria, so how could it go wrong?

I furrowed my brow, completely befuddled by what was written. ‘Ask me out? If I remember correctly, she did mention something about hanging out at the Sideways Cleft, but why is that so important she’d write it down so excitedly?’ Still confused, I looked down at the second entry and immediately noticed a marked difference in Dash’s tone of writing.

Dear diary,

How did all go wrong? I’ve been planning this for weeks now, and I bucked up so royally I should be called the princess of bucking up! I thought I’d get her to the bar first and get her to, y’know, relax. She’s been cooped up in the library for who knows how long, so she must be stressing out on something. Spike says Twilight hasn’t told him anything, so I bet it has something to do with those hallucinations she told the girls and I about.

So here I am, walking into the library - well, I didn’t exactly walk in, I crashed into it like usual - thinking that she’d like the chance to destress, yeah? But she just acts like I’m a pest! So then I try complimenting her so she’d warm up to me but she thinks I’m trying to prank her!

At that point, I lost my cool and kind of blew up in her face… Buck, I called Twilight fat! That’s one MAJOR thing you don’t do when you’re trying to ask a mare out!

‘Wait, what?’

I’ve probably permanently screwed up any chance I had at dating Twilight, and it’s all because I couldn’t control my temper!

After that, things happened too fast for even me to handle. Right in the middle of our fight Twilight got really weird and tried to run into her lab and I chased her and sent us down the stairs. I ended up twisting my wing, and even worse, I think I made Twilight have a panic attack. She told us about them last week, but Applejack told me later that she had a “funny feelin’” while listening to Twilight and Shy explain the attacks, so I was never too sure about the truthfulness of what we were told, but when Twilight had one right in front of me, how could I have ever doubted her? After landing at the bottom of the stairs she crawled into the corner of her lab, as if she was trying to escape me. My heart felt like breaking then, as I looked at her shivering in the corner, scared of me.

I did that to her. In that moment, everytime I pranked her or messed with her played in my head and I realized, how could she ever love me? She’s an amazing, intelligent, funny, kind, friendly, wonderful, and beautiful mare and I’m just a insensitive, clumsy, noisy jerk. The two of us a couple? What a joke. She probably hates being around me.

And I only made things worse when I tried to snap Twilight out of her panic attack. I had tried shouting and poking her, but nothing would work, so I looked around the lab for some water I could splash in her face. I thought I had found some in a glass cup so I splashed her with it. Thankfully it did make her wake up, but it turned out the cup had bleach in it. Twilight spent a few minutes under a weird shower washing the bleach out of her face before turning to me, and I knew immediately that she really did hate me. The look in her eyes told me she despised me and that I was nothing more than a bother to her. I tried to apologize but she didn’t even want me in the library. She told me to get out and when I tried to apologize again she started screaming at me and kept getting angrier and angrier at me. Even though I’m definitely stronger than her, I don’t think I would’ve been able to make myself stop her if she had tried to hurt me. I deserved it. Instead I ran up the stairs before she could do anything and escaped the library. I don’t know how long I galloped blindly, but when I finally stopped to catch my breath I was beyond Ponyville limits. As I walked back my legs were numb and my head filled with her eyes. Her beautiful, hateful eyes…

Even now, back in my room, I still can’t take my mind off of her eyes. Ever since I first met her, the intelligence and beauty in those eyes shined out to me. And recently, now that I’ve realized my feelings for Twilight, I’ve wanted love to shine out from those eyes too. Faust damnit, why can’t I do anything right? I just want her to feel the same way for me as I feel for her! But I just had to go buck it up and now she hates me and probably never wants to see me again. Stupid, clumsy, idiot!

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to build up the confidence to go see her again, but what’s the point honestly? It’s not like she’d ever like somepony like me anyway…

The page is covered in tear stains… Oh Rainbow, what have I done to you? How blind have I been to the feelings of those around me? I feel like I haven’t learned a thing since I left Canterlot, and have been only deluding myself with these “friendship lessons.” I never knew you felt that way, never knew how much I had hurt you. No wonder Rarity had come to me a few days after our fight, you’ve been going to her for help for who knows how long.

I always liked to think that I was there for my friends, but those few short paragraphs made me realize then and there that I was merely fantasizing. Sure, I’ll be there whenever this week's national threat rears its head, but for the personal lives and inner feelings of those around me, I’ve been largely ignorant of for the past month. And tonight I’ve hardly done anything to make up for it to Rainbow Dash. After placing the diary back into the nightstand, I teleported myself back onto the ground, and cast a spell to remove my theurgic signature from her house, and watched the clouds that formed Dash’s home crumble and disperse, leaving all of her belongings to fall to the ground. Escaping from underneath the falling furniture, I saw the distant lights of the Apple’s farm house turn on, and knew that my departure was overdue.

*****

As I have discovered with Rainbow Dash’s house and tested with a cloud sample in my laboratory, the theurgic trace-removal spell also nullifies the magical signature that pegasi possess. And since this signature is what allows pegasi to manipulate clouds, it causes molded cloud structures to dissipate and return to water vapour. While it is an interesting side effect, I wish its discovery could have come about in a more controlled setting, and not through the destruction of Dash’s house.

Speaking of Dash, that poor mare… How much have I made her cry over the past few weeks? If only I had payed more attention to my friends, this might’ve not happened, I might’ve not broken the heart of one of my closest friends. And the way she described me in her diary… is that how she really saw me? Perhaps Dash still does, if she’s still afraid to even confront me. I need to talk to Rarity. Dash has obviously been going to her for help for who knows how long, so Rarity’s my best chance for patching up our relationship!

All of what has transpired tonight has left me thinking about my own desires of romance. I have forgotten all about my dreams of love ever since the Itch arrived, but what I read in Dash’s diary has reminded me of my own hopes. Unlike what most ponies think, I’m not married to my books. I’ve always dreamed of finding a stallion once all of this Element of Harmony business settles down and having a family, growing old and getting to watch my children have children of their own, but this just seems like a distant fantasy now. What I’ve done… would bringing life into this world repay the one I took out? Do I even deserve a happy life now? Perhaps Dash is right to stay away from me; I don’t deserve to be surrounded by ponies who care about me, who are unaware of the monster hidden by the skin of their friend. Perhaps I should leave Ponyville so I don’t hurt them anymore than I already have.

I don’t know what to do honestly, I just don’t know.

Author's Note

So, I'm planning on changing this fic into a romantic drama...