My little Derpy 2: Dr. Whooves got in!

I was at WoodenToaster’s house writing lyrics for the new song. The song was entitled Weeping Angels. The lyrics I had so far were these.

They take the lives

Of more than you

Could count, and

Cry they might, but

They show no mercy,

They are after the

Ones I hold close,

The ones that

I love most

Weeping Angels,

They live in the

Basement, of the

Pony who made them,

They have mercy, for

Only those who hate them,

I had no clue what to write next. Glaze walked out of his room, humming his song “Heartmender.”

I picked up my parchment and quill.

“Bye, Woodentoaster,” I said, “I have to go do something very important.”

Glaze nodded. “Bye.”

I asked Rarity for directions to Whooves Pharmacy, and she gladly gave them to me.

“Go past Sugar Cube Corner, take a left, and it’s a few blocks west from Golden oaks library.”

“Ok,” I said, and thanked her for the directions. “Bye, Rare.”

“Bye, Autora.”

After a short walk to visit Whooves Pharmacy, I walked to the counter and asked Dr. Whooves an simple question, “Is Derpy with your statues?”

“Wha-a-a-at?” he said nervously. “What statues?”

I glared at him.

“No, she’s not,” he whispered to me. “At least, I don’t think she is.”

I kept my eye on the stallion as I left.

I went to my house and urgently knocked on the door. I heard a scraping sound and the chokes of a breathless mare.

I gasped and turned around. I lifted my hind legs and slammed them against the door. I continued bucking until the door gave in. my legs were covered in splinters and blood, but I didn’t care. I stared at the statues, causing them to freeze. I walked over and pushed them off of Derpy; they were lighter than you would expect.

“Derpy, get the mallet.”

In about twenty seconds, I was smashing the concrete statues to dust.

I sat against the wall, breathless. The statues of Princess Luna, once solid, were now dust and pebbles.

Derpy was in my embrace. She was shaking. Much like ten years ago when I had found her in a box.

“It’s okay, my little Dinky,” I said, stroking her mane. “It’s okay.”