There has to be something at the End(s)

by Regina Wright

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 1028

Lolly Blue is somewhere that she doesn't know the name of. Yes, you can guess that Lolly couldn't possibly know the names of everything.

Lolly Blue is somewhere that she doesn't know the name of. Yes, you can guess that Lolly couldn't possibly know the names of everything (despite all of her conniving and info-gathering about the ponies she's worked with over the years) and she's making a big deal out of nothing (As in nothing here in this nameless world knows her). But she doesn't know the name of any of the people here. Can't ask. Most of them are dead.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-05-08 22:10:06 UTC

Nameless, this forest.

"This world is already full.

That world is reaching its limits

Ah, I failed."

Those were the only words left behind fifteen years ago.

Kami-sama no Inai Nichiyoubi (Sunday Without God)

This new world is grand.

Silent.

Endless.

The landscape continues on and on. Her hooves tire. Wet mud sticks. She's still waiting for something that doesn't have a name. There's a pair of boots she can use in her bags. It would be simple to stop, to wait a few minutes to fish them out of her side-bag and put them on. The muck is hardening, drying in patches that later she's going to be struggling to wash out.

But.

She's still waiting. For that something, that thing without a name, that numbness right after the doubt flees. It's been three days now since she's started onward. Kept going somewhere.

Things that make sounds stay away. That's a lie. She's the only thing making sounds. Reality stays away. Something is hunting her. She's knows it's name. Terror. Fear. But she's still waiting. Her lungs go in and out, but she still can't breathe.

Something's in sight. Gray. Tall. Striking against the horizon. If she squints and ignores the silence. Ignores the dead things she passes. Corpses bloating, rotting that have been impaled by all sorts of objects like bats, sticks, knifes, glass... Some are fresher than most. They only have holes in their foreheads.

A passing thought wonders if the holes are significant in some way. Her eyes won't linger. She wants to be blind. Her eyes can't linger. If she squints, looks only forward and away from the ground, ignoring everything demanding she stop, there might be a clue as to where she is. At that place where smoke continues going up and gray, tall things reach for the sky. Something's there. Her peace could be there and no matter how much she walks, she still isn't there.

The smoke has to be run by someone. And she's walking there specifically because...

“Why not? I don't need to explain myself.”

There's no one here to call her name.

There's no names here for her to call.

There's no one else here, except silence, her and the dead.

In her walk, she reflects on what is different and what is not. But her mind can't think clearly. There are too many possibilities whirling through her head: Nightmare, alternate worlds, time-travel, magical rebound. Excuses. Distractions. And in this world without ponies to call her name...

“Should I even try to understand why I'm here?”

The fear should have caught her by now. It gnaws on, around the edges of her mind but it hasn't stopped her. Somehow, she's still walking. Going. Her stride is slow, her body trembles and the silence of everything else mocks her.

But she keeps moving forward because, “Why not!”

But she keeps moving forward because, “WHY NOT!”

But she keeps moving forward because, because... “I-” There's a sound. She looks upward. Her ears twitch as she freezes in place. That sound, that soft, slight sound that she knows. Sees a bird, simple brown feathers just like in Cinder Rock, just like the ones that sat outside her window that couldn't hold a note. Dumb birds. And suddenly, she can breathe. Dumb, silly bird! It perches on a branch of the tree in front of her, tweeting and picking at it's feathers.

She stops. Finally.

“Hello there, silly bird. I imagine that you know what has happened here,” The bird turns to look at her. “Oh, are you going to call me rude for calling you silly? Well, that's what you are. Silly. Here I am, walking through all of this not having a mental break-down. Not knowing why they are dead! Not knowing what killed them! Not knowing WHERE I AM! And there you are, acting casual, like nothing's happened. You were here and even if you weren't, birds talk to each other!”

Two more birds fly by. One settles down to the forest floor and starts picking at the ground. The other tweets aggressively at the first bird. It's all normal behavior. Just like any bird in Equestria.

“See! You're all ridiculous. But I guess if I was small and had wings, I wouldn't care either. They're dead but you're still alive! How on earth could you feel guilty if you had nothing to do with it? It's not your fault. Dumb, stupid, cruel, scared birds!” Her tears won't stop. “You probably still feel sad. Of course, death may be beautiful but the dead are terrifying, right? People die when they are killed. All of you have just moved on, right! You've done this to others to survive for reasons both right and wrong. The people here shouldn't be any different!”

She sighs, looks down at her muddy hooves and back the way she's came. There isn't flash of insight. There isn't a epiphany. But peace has found her. That's okay. It's good enough.

This new world is ordinary.

Moody.

Endless.

“You know where I'm from, I have dozens of names for dozens of occasions. But I don't have a name for... Events like this. I make things like this happen but they don't usually happen to me. I guess my number was called.” Time to seize the chance! “What should call myself here? Hmmm...” She glances at her cutie mark, a symbol of three candy wrappers. “Let's face it, it will be a long while before I can get myself back home. I'm not a unicorn with super magical power that can do the impossible. I'm a stupid mud pony, heh see what I did there, whose gotten over her head.”

She closes her eyes. Opens. Closes them again. Breathes.

“I am declaring holiday!” Where did the fear go? Why does all of this feel so normal? “I will go forth into this nameless world! Either I will find its name or I will give it one!” Did she always sound this stupid? “I will be known as Lolly Blue, vacationer! Also, explorer. Ehhh, Lolly Blue, vacationing explorer! I'll come up with something better, eventually.”