Night's Twilight

Night's Twilight

By: Dusk Quill

“The heart will break, but the broken live on.” — Lord Byron

No lights illuminated the inside of the modest living room. Pale darkness had made its residence amongst the couches and cushions, casting long, gray shadows all around the room. The same could be said for the turbulence spiraling about in my soul. I stared blankly at the bare walls where half a dozen pictures had once hung, each empty spot taking a piece of me with it. The soft, melodic sound of the falling rain on the roof and windows would normally have soothed my spirit and lulled me into a sense of tranquility. Now even the mellifluous lullaby only felt like a gale in a typhoon.

I heard a soft clatter behind me. I didn’t bother to turn around; I didn’t want to see the last box leave. The gentle clop of hooves on the parquet floor alerted me of my friend’s presence just behind my back. He had stopped. I knew why.

“I think I got the last of the stuff.” The voice didn’t even budge me, save for a flick of an ear to signal that I had heard him. “Do you… uh, do you maybe want me to hang out for a bit?”

I just shook my head slowly, barely tousling my white mane. Hanging out was the furthest thing from what I wanted to do. “No thank you, Orion. I’ll be fine.”

Despite the refusal, Orion still didn’t leave. I wished he would. I wanted nothing more than to be left alone. I always dealt better when I was on my own. I didn’t need anypony else. I never needed anypony else…

“I just want to say I’m really sorry, Night. I had no idea anything like this was going on.”

I bit my lower lip so hard I could taste the metallic tang of blood on my tongue, forcing myself to remain as still as a statue lest I lose my composure. Strong—I had to be strong. I had no reason to not be. Things like this happened all the time. It was part of a common day occurrence. Common day occurrences hurt like hell. The blank wall had never seemed further away than it did now. I was miles away from the real world, nothing more than a spectator as this world came crumbling down.

“I know, Orion. Thank you.” I finally gave in and turned around, giving the pony a false smile. The weakness I knew resided in my eyes told a different story. I just prayed he wasn’t feeling astute today. I eyed the box levitating in his magic’s grasp, swallowing back the welling emotions it dredged up. “Just… get that stuff out of here…”

Orion nodded and lifted the box with his magic as he levitated it out the front door of the small townhouse. He followed it out the door, then paused halfway through.

“You’ll make it through this, buddy. You just gotta tough it out.”

Tough it out. No remark had ever struck me quite like a slap to the face as that did. Actually, one other came to mind… I shook my head, refusing to dwell on that grim thought. It was easy to say things like that when he had no idea of the battle going on. I gave Orion another weak smile. It was all I could do.

“Give Sunkissed my regards…” I murmured, my voice hoarse and barely audible even to myself. Once I had said it, I realized just how pathetic I must have sounded. I wished I could have taken it back.

Lifting the box with his magic, Orion placed it amongst a stack of several others in a cart outside on the cobblestone street of Canterlot. I stood in the doorway and just watched all the while as he and another pony began pulling it down the road and out of sight, taking my past along with it. In the silence and solitude, I suddenly became acutely aware that I was alone—alone at the mercy of my demons.

I shut the door, listening to how the latch clicked sharply into place. My hoof rested on the door while I lingered as if time had frozen around me. I stared intensely at the wood, following the path of the grain idly with my hoof. When my hoof finally fell to the floor, the resounding clop it made on the cold, unforgiving wood seemed to echo around the empty house like an explosion.

Morose thoughts lingered at the forefront of my mind as I wandered back into the living room. A flash of lightning emphasized just how desolate it was now. It was exactly what I had always dreaded. With my head hung low, I trudged up a narrow flight of stairs to the second floor. The door to the bedroom sat half open and was also cast in darkness. I refused to even give it a passing glance. I didn’t want to put any lights on yet. It would only make the fact I was trying so hard to deny all the more real.

No mementos remained—no photographs, no souvenirs of past trips or fleeting moments, no memoirs of a life now gone. The coldness stung at my aching heart, spreading through me like a disease that afflicted the soul. I continued upward, up to the tiny third-floor attic. The only room up here was my loft space. I had converted it into my own private study to conduct my work. It was supposed to be my sanctuary. Now the room that had once felt so welcoming and warm sat silent and shadowy, just like the rest of the gloomy house.

It also happened to be the one room Orion had forgotten.

I stepped past the bookcases overflowing with old textbooks, literary classics, every military fiction from Tom Prancy, adventure epics by A.K. Yearling, a variety of other acclaimed authors, and dog-eared romance novels, making my way over to the old oak desk nestled up against a large arch window. The view overlooked Canterlot Park. The beautiful and breathtaking sight that normally would have inspired me now left no mark. Dark clouds hung in the skies overhead, pouring rain down like tears on a forlorn land.

My eyes drifted down from the idyllic scene to the contents of my desk. Several bottles of ink and quills sat neatly to the side and a stack of paper lay in wait for their owner to fill them with characters and worlds and events. I pursed my lips together in a tight scowl. There would be no happy ending to this story.

That was when my eyes turned up—up to the framed photographs on the edge of the desk. The two ponies in each smiled wide, blissful grins at me from times long gone. Each one brought back a memory with it, and with those came more and more. The visions blurred together into a kaleidoscope of pain and regret. My eyes burned and I realized something wet was falling down my cheek. The roof must’ve had a leak in it.

My vision clouded with moisture the longer I lingered on each picture. I could feel my heart ripping itself into a thousand tiny pieces again. My jaw tightened, my teeth gnashing together so hard it hurt. My lungs ached and I became aware that I had been unwittingly frozen still. The icy knife left lodged in my back kept me from drawing breath.

And then I let all that raw pain and anger seethe out. I released a cry so full of pain and torment that I barely recognized my own voice mixed in it. I heard glass shatter and noticed I had thrown the pictures clear across the room, the reddish aura of my magic still subtly lingering around them. My insides hurt and my head was spinning. The leaky roof must’ve been getting worse; water was running down my face more frequently than before.

Levitating each photograph up, I fought back a sob while I tore each one into pieces and tossed them carelessly across the floor. I couldn’t stand looking at them any longer than I had to. I spun around, letting out another agonized roar as I knocked the papers and items off my desk in a blind fit of emotion. Nothing made sense and everything hurt. I needed release. The directionless fury provided that release. Freeing the pent up anger helped, but only for a brief second before the agony threatened to overwhelm rationality again.

I knew the dangers of letting my emotions get the better of me, and especially of my magic. The books from the bookcase joined the other items on the floor in the next burst of uncontrolled magic. Something heavy hit the floor and shook it beneath my hooves. I must’ve toppled one of the bookcases completely. I could feel the energy draining from every fiber in my body until I couldn’t fight any longer. When I finally lost the strength to keep lashing out, I collapsed into a heap on the cold floor, too tired and mentally exhausted to do anything but cry. I curled up on myself, quivering with each sob as the pain consumed me. Nothing had hurt so badly in all my life.

Somewhere between the emotional outbursts and self-loathing I managed to get back to my hooves. I ended up back downstairs in the bedroom, pulling out every ostentatious and outlandish outfit that insulted my personality and tossing them with nothing short of revilement down the stairs. I would get rid of them. I briefly considered burning them all.

The pictures in the bedroom were the next to be purged. They all met the same fate as their siblings up in the attic. The dressers were emptied and the bed torn asunder. This whole house was a bad memory that needed to be cleansed. Still spiraling out of control, I stumbled coming down the stairs again. I stormed into the lounge, looking for something else to take this unbridled anger out on.

With no more pictures left to direct my fury at, I turned to the only thing I had any power over: the stack of papers on the coffee table. I glared at the sheets while lifting them into the air. They were the cause of this; the reason this had all started. I saw red. I wanted nothing more than to put all the blame on the innocent pieces of paper, each filled with lines of elegantly scrawled text. I wanted to direct all the hurt onto them and be done with it.

But the more I stared at them, the more my heart ached. It would be so easy to destroy the manuscript. But I couldn’t. It was my work—my life. It had done nothing to offend me. In fact, it was all I had left now.

With another choking sob, I dropped the sheets of paper in midair, each one fluttering into a disorganized mess across the table and floor. My teeth gnashed together as the fire burned out within me. Sadness and regret replaced it in my chest. I stared blankly into empty nothingness while my mind tried to process everything and my body tried to keep from shaking. That was where I stayed for longer than I could remember. Somehow I ended up on the floor again, covering my face with my hooves as I came undone, thread by thread.