One Thousand Years

One Thousand Years

The lavender-coated alicorn walked slowly, without hesitation. Her hooves made no sound. She did not show any emotion. Her steps did not falter.

She walked past a very large oak tree, black and brittle with age. One could tell it had previously been a home – there were windows as well as a door frame carved into the wood. However, it no longer housed any pony. The door had rotted away, leaving the entrance empty and unwelcoming. The few bunches of leaves that still clung to branches at the top of the tree were shriveled and lifeless.

One thousand years.

She walked past what remained of cobble roads, leading to a square. The once-beautiful stones lining the ground were now cracked, dirty, and missing in several places. Empty, rotting wooden kiosks were scattered around the square, many of them barely managing to stay in one piece. Picnic tables lay broken, parasols tattered. A strong smell of rot drifted through the air.

One thousand years.

She walked past fields long dead; empty gardens and empty hills. Tree stumps stood silent and dead, scattered lightly about the hills. An old, tiny cottage could be seen, sitting atop the highest hill. Not far from it, a dark forest lurked, thriving, unlike the dead land surrounding it, kept alive by the dark and mysterious magics unknown by ponies.

One thousand years.

She walked past acres and acres of apple trees; dead, they no longer bore apples. Past an old, rotting barn beside an old house. A large sign loomed over the trees, worn with age and words unreadable. The sign that once gave a proud name to the trees, now named nothing. Standing over nothing. Nameless acres.

One thousand years.

Soon after she had past the last of the lifeless apple trees, the alicorn’s pace quickened. She broke into a trot; then a full-speed gallop. Her wings unfurled themselves. She flapped her wings as she ran; slowly, at first, then gaining speed as she released her weight from the ground and hovered low. She continued to gain altitude and speed until she could no longer see the ground and the wind whistled and moaned in her ears. Her deep violet eyes squeezed shut, unable to keep open with the wind batting fiercely at them. So she flew blindly

and listened to the wind. Whistling and moaning. Moaning and moaning.

Still she kept on, still she gained speed. Tears rolled down her cheeks, flying backwards once they released into the air. The wind now whipped painfully at her face; yet she ignored it and kept going, listening to the whistling, the moaning, the whistling, and moaning, moaning, and moaning, and screaming.