One Thousand Years

by TerraTheTerror

Rating: everyone
Tags: Dark, Sad
Length: 974

Includes two stories: One Last Letter and One Thousand Years.

Since my story One Thousand Years was too short to publish alone, I decided to make it one big a story made up of series of short moments focused on Princess Twilight Sparkle. For now, only One Last Letter and One Thousand Years are in this series. I will add more stories as I write them. Don't be expecting more of them, though, because I may not write them at all.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-12 16:30:43 UTC

One Last Letter

One Last Letter

Twilight gave up trying to see through the tears that had welled up in her eyes. She let them close, and she sat there, seemingly endless rivers of tears streaming down her cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not ever. Her one and only mentor…was fading away right before her. She hadn’t thought it possible…not this one.

“Twilight…”

The lavender alicorn opened her eyes slightly, not bothering to blink away the tears. She stared at the white blur that was her former mentor. She opened her eyes wider when she realized she was being spoken to. “P-princess!” She stuttered, surprised. “I thought you were asleep…d-do you need something?” Twilight began to get up, but the Princess shook her head and weakly motioned for her to sit again.

“No…Twilight, you know as well as I do what’s going to…” Here she stopped. After a moment of silence, she began again. “Don’t try to prevent the inevitable.”

Twilight stared at the Princess. “No…” She subconsciously unfurled her wings and flapped them once. “No! You’re going to be alright, you’ll get better, you will!” She rose to her hooves and stood defiantly in front of the larger alicorn.

“Twilight…stop,” Celestia pleaded.

Twilight looked at the pained expression on Celestia’s face, and once again sat down with a sigh. She was right. It couldn’t be stopped. The princess had been ill for almost the whole winter now, and she’d never done anything but get weaker. Doctors all over Equestria had tried in vain to diagnose her, tried to find a cure, but all without success. Luna had taken Celestia’s place in raising the sun as well as the moon. It was evident that Celestia would soon pass and a new Princess be brought to replace her. Fresh tears welled up in the alicorn’s violet eyes and poured down her cheeks, dripping from her chin to the floor and forming wet spots on the carpet around her hooves. She wept silently for the Princess, dreading her terrible fate.

Hours seemed to pass before the depressing silence that had formed between them was broken again by Celestia.

“…Twilight?”

Twilight looked up, a tiny whimper accidentally escaping her throat. Celestia didn’t seem to hear it. “Didn’t you…learn something, recently?”

“Huh?” Twilight stared at the Princess, confused.

“Was there something you wanted me to see? A…a letter, perhaps?”

Twilight was silent as she thought a few moments. A letter….She nodded, the meaning of Celestia’s words reaching her. “Yes…I-I wanted to write a letter…about something I learned. I’ll just give it to you now…since I’m here.” She knew there was no time to write. She actually hadn’t learned anything. But she wanted to write a letter to her.

One last letter to a Princess.

Twilight drew in a long breath. She inched closer to her former mentor, wanting Celestia to hear every word. She wasn’t sure what she would say…but she thought the words might come to her as she went, as her personal letters often did when she was still the sun Princess’ Pupil. And so she began.

“Dear Princess Celestia…”

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.