Twiley & Me
Lexical Writer
I’ll Never Forget You
I smiled because of you. I felt true happiness because of you. I felt love because of you.
But in the end…I cried because of you.
There was so much to tell; so much I didn’t have the courage to…
Doesn’t matter anymore.
Tomorrow the sun will rise again; not as bright as it was though.
And I will be here.
Not as bright as I was, though. But...I’ll still be here.
And you’ll be with me…in my heart.
Always…
I must tell the story of my beloved Twilight Sparkle; it certainly left the greatest mark upon my life. Oh, how dearly it cost me!
My dear Twilight Sparkle, with her deep purple eyes and her ornate mane. Not as colourful as my mane, though. I remember those rich, gleaming eyes she had. Her eyes were so exquisite, giving her glance an expression of amazement at anything that interested her, especially those books of hers. She was always dumbfounded when she learned something new from them; particularly, when it gave her more insight to the world.
When I met Twilight and the gang, she was herself. The bright egghead I got to know and love. She was always persistent in learning new lessons about the magic of friendship, and the importance of it. She truly loved her friends with all her heart. They meant everything to her.
We spent time together in the Golden Oak Library, and we wouldn’t let anything get in our way of having our alone time; even if it meant neglecting our other friends. She would read to me, even if it was something I considered boring, and I would often tell her my lame, corny jokes. It always made her laugh, though.
As the years went on, Twilight and I became even closer. We were like sisters. She knew everything about me, and I knew everything about her. Without a doubt, nothing was able to break what we had.
Then, something strange happened. It seemed, as time went by, she slowly stopped being herself; she did eccentric things that didn’t keen to her interests. She spent less time with me, her books, and her friends. She no longer recognized those she deeply loved; me alone, at times, she still knew.
Her strange eyes would come back from so far away that to see them return filled me with dread. Then she would look at me, smiling as before. Sometimes, she would come to me, as I lay on her bed reading something, for instance, and kiss me on the cheek in the joy of rediscovering me.
Then she would go back to rest her head on the rails, looking over the first floor. Her eyes would lose us all, relatives, friends, her little sister. There would be nopony but herself imprisoned within her eerie gaze. Even then I couldn’t imagine how dreadful it must be to be all alone within oneself.
I went to The Crystal Empire, one day, to tell Shining Armor about Twilight’s recent behaviour. Being the big brother he was, he hurried to the library to see if everything was all right with his sister.
I didn’t go back to the library with him because I wanted him to have some alone time with his sister. So I went to find my friends to see what they were up to. They weren’t up to much, really. Just the same old same old for them. They asked about Twilight, but I didn’t tell them anything.
When I returned to the library, I saw Shining leaning against the window frame behind Twilight. He was talking to his sister, who was still gazing over the first floor with her head resting against the rails. She hadn’t moved since I had left to get Shining.
“What’s wrong with Twilight? Did you find anything?” I asked Shining.
Shining stood there in silence, not saying a single word. He was protecting me from the truth. He told me that Twilight had nothing the matter with her. Was this what truly constitutes friendship: by means of lies, to be kept in a world apart? But he could not prevent my search to find the truth.
Then came summer. A hotter, more brilliant summer. Shining Armor and I moved into the library, and Cadance came anytime she could, so we could all keep a close eye on our beloved Twilight. She didn’t leave the library as much anymore. Shining looked after us, though. He was like a second father to me.
I officially became a Wonderbolt that summer. I wished Twilight could have seen me graduate from the academy. I had Shining and my friends there with me, but it would’ve been different with Twilight there. She would have been so proud of her little sister.
Later in the summer, I got a letter from Applejack asking me to go pay her a visit. And I did.
I went to see how the energetic apple-kicker was doing, and she asked me about Twilight. She wondered why she hadn’t come down to do her annual survey of crop yields yet. I told her that she had an extreme case of the Pony Pox and couldn’t play. Wow, play? I sounded like a mother.
As the weeks went by, I ran dry of excuses to hide the truth about Twilight. My friends would frequently ask me more and more questions until I couldn’t hide it any more, until it became apparent that I was hiding something from them. Finally, I had to tell them the truth. At first, they all tried to help in their own way. But they quickly discouraged as Twilight’s condition worsened. They showed up less and less until they hardly ever stopped by.
If I remember that summer so well, it was certainly because the season was so dissonant, and not in tune with our thoughts. Only Twilight seemed not to be aware of this contrast. She, who was the cause of our misery, withdrew from it as though she had no part in it. Almost all the time she was humming.
One day, she went into the attic of the library.
Consistently, Shining and I would ask each other, worried, as though concerned about someone who had eluded our watchfulness and love.
“Where’s Twilight?”
And almost every time the answer was the same, “In the attic.”
Once, though, it took me a long while to discover her. She had hidden herself under her bed, and when I, at last, found her, she was holding her head in her forehooves; this time, she was weeping.
Yet, how was it that, having found her in an attitude which indicated she wanted to play hide and seek with me, I had no feeling that this was a game, nor any taste to join in it? In the past, she and I had often played at hiding from each other, but when we found each other, it was to bubble with laughter or accuse each other of cheating. Twilight would often bring out her rule book for hide and seek when we argued about cheating.
“Say, Dash, where is Twiley? I haven’t seen her all day today,” Shining asked me.
I told him, “Today she’s, uh, braiding flowers and singing.”
Why was it so sad to see Twilight spend hours weaving flowers together to make necklaces and bracelets for her adornment? Maybe she wanted to expand on her fashion, or impress Rarity with a beautiful bracelet. Alternatively, was it merely because she was no longer the enthusiastic egghead we knew as Twilight Sparkle?
One day in the attic, Twilight put on her dress she had worn to the Great Galloping Gala. In her hair, she tucked in some roses and attached ribbons onto them. I knew she was a beautiful mare, but I had never seen her look so lovely. So Twilight-looking. Maybe our Twilight was coming back after all.
I had taken her outside, the next day in the early morning, because I felt like she needed to get out of the library for a while. Celestia’s sun was just starting to rise. We stretched out on the grass, below the Golden Oak Library, feeling the morning dew, and we watched the acorns fall. Sometimes they landed right on our noses when we had not been quick enough to evade them.
We could spend hours beneath the oak tree without exchanging a word. Twilight’s thoughts weren’t always happy, though. I told her that one day, I‘d make it into the Wonderbolts Hall of Fame, and become the best flyer in Equestrian history. Twilight told me sadly, “You say that, and then you’ll never accomplish anything more than paltry things of no account. Like me.”
Then, as though I were ill, exposed to I know not what, Twilight took me in her hooves; she rocked me under our oak tree that rustled quietly in the wind, along with chirping early birds, and I felt as though I was being cradled by the tree; by the sky; by inexhaustible tenderness.
But when I pulled myself a little away from Twilight, I saw that she was crying. She told me: “You see what I should like is that no one suffers. I’d like to spend my life preventing sorrow from touching ponies—you, my friends, my parents, Shining Armor, Cadance, first of all, and then—oh, everypony! Why not everypony? How much hurt is in the world!”
Whereupon, she had again clasped me in her arms, saying, “I’ll defend you. I won’t let them do you harm!”
Next summer, however, Twilight didn’t see how miserable we really were. She didn’t remember any of us. Her plight was our greatest unhappiness.
My friends would still show up at the doorstep every once and awhile, and I would, of course, let them in; after all, they were my dear friends too. They visited Twilight and asked me how she was doing. I wouldn’t know what to say.
This time, Shining and Cadance were the ones who saved me. They explained to them that Twilight had been stricken with a fever that had, as it were, consumed her, adding to what the doctors said of such illness: either this illness killed you, or else the sequel was worse than death.
And I would go off into a corner of the garden, next to the front door of the library, to ponder their words. What the hay could be worse than death? I suppose I preferred to keep Twilight unhappy than to see her die. I was afraid they wanted her dead.
And from then on, it was I who kept saying, “I’ll defend Twilight. I won’t let them do her any harm…” But one day, she bit me savagely, and both Shining Armor and Cadance noticed it.
They were both trembling while Cadance questioned me: “She hurt you? And, before this, has she hurt you before?”
I couldn’t deny it. I was filled with bottomless terror that ate my insides.
Then it was that they decided to send Twilight away. Neither Shining Armor, nor Cadance told me the truth. They, essentially, arranged the truth; they fully transformed it. To all my desperate insistence—“Where is my Twilight? Where is my sister?!”—they replied that she was in good hooves, that perhaps she would return to health. The Twilight we’ve all known since day one.
Just like that, they left. They went back to the Crystal Empire, leaving me here. All alone.
And then, from time to time, I would still fly up there demanding to know where Twilight had gone. What had become of her.
And Shining, who had been so patient with me, put me off rather harshly. “Don’t you see I’m so busy with matters here that I don’t know what I’m about? Leave me alone!” said Shining. It was like he couldn’t even speak properly.
One day, I flew up to confront them again. As I flew around the palace, I spied on Shining and Cadance talking confidentially. Landing on perch, I peeked down, keeping a low profile. I could tell by their faces what they had to say was of interest to me. Luckily for me, I could just hear them.
“It’s a chance worth taking,” Shining Armor was saying. “Twiley loved her so!…”
“But she’s so naïve of these things! And to take her to such a place…I don’t know if she could accept the truth,” Cadance said. “Don’t you realize?”
But Shining replied, “She was so fond of her though! They are practically sisters! The joy of seeing her again…perhaps. Shouldn’t we try everything?”
“With the attachment she has to her? She could be marked for life!”
But Shining insisted for me; he and I had gotten closer than we were before, so he wasn’t afraid to go a little further for me. “Remember how she loved her? If anyone can still do anything, it’s Rainbow. Not me. Only she can get through to her…”
Then, realizing that they expected me to get through to her, I shot off away from them, back to the library. They came to the library, knocking on the door. But I didn’t answer. Shining happened to have a key with him. They searched for me all afternoon that day. And when evening had arrived, they had not yet found me. They kept calling me from the library. “Rainbow Dash! Rainbow Dash!”
As I had my bodily form curled up, under the darkness of Twilight’s bed, I thought of the games of hide and seek we so often had had together: just the two of us, Twilight and I. But as thoughts processed through my mind, I realized something: I owed Twilight more than just feeling sorrow for her. I realized that I had to swallow the complete surrealism of it all. After all, she wanted to prevent others from feeling sorrow. I owed it to her.
Eventually, I heard Cadance’s voice more frantic than ever. She pleaded, no, grovelled for me to come out from where I was hiding. And so I did. They told me that they were going to bring me to see Twilight tomorrow, for me to see her again. And a small smile appeared on my face.
It was very early in the morning. A very rainy morning I might add. I didn’t sleep very well though. I kept thinking about today.
Shining Armor, Cadance and I left to go there that morning. To that place, I had heard countless times. Shining got a carriage for us to ride in, since it was raining. As I had taken my seat near the window, feeling the smooth material that covered the seat, I caught one final blurry glimpse of the Golden Oak Library: the place where Twilight and I had spent countless hours, days, weeks, months, and even years together. The carriage started moving, and all I saw was rain through the windowpanes that looked like melting silver.
On the way, I asked, “Have you locked Twilight up?”
Cadance tried to laugh. “Locked up? What an idea! Of course not. She’s in very good hooves. She’s being cared for by the best doctors.”
The small town we came to had a dismal look, unlike any other town I’ve seen. Perhaps it was because of me. Since those days I had noticed that our thoughts had a great and curious power over things; on certain days they were beautiful, and some days they were ugly. This town seemed silent, bored, and, somehow, ill at ease in the rain. On a low hill, a little outside of the town, there towered a building more silent, more severe than the entire town; it was to this structure that we bent our steps.
We approached the high brick building, and we soon became aware that it was placed in the midst of a rather playful place, with paths, seats, swings, and even jungle gyms. But where came the impression that despite these grounds, this structure had no means of exit anywhere? Maybe because an iron fence was all around it…
We knocked on a heavy door. A most impassive mare showed us to the parlor, the waiting room if you will. I said parlor for lack of better word, because it was better furnished than most places in public facilities. There was reading material scattered on the surrounding tables. There were good, easy chairs gaily upholstered with soft, synthetic material.
Nevertheless, the idea wouldn’t had come to me to call this room a living room; I could only be here for one reason: waiting…waiting…Such was the message of its silence, yet I could hear all sorts of sounds from afar, like soft, almost, fleeting hoofsteps, and the noise of keys: keys being turned into locks; keys swinging on a chain tied around the waist.
Then I heard a peal of laughter; it was brief, but freighting to me. I quickly held my hooves up to my ears. Cadance and Shining seemed not to have heard it, but I sure as hay did. They didn’t even realize how terrified I was. I’ve never heard such terrifying noises in my entire life. Ever.
Shining and Cadance must had been deeply saddened; no longer to even notice my own sadness. It was hard for all of us.
After some time had passed, we heard hoofsteps coming towards us. It was a doctor, wearing a standard white coat that most doctors wear. Then he opened the door with his keys. In the company of the doctor, Twilight stood on the threshold. I said “Twilight” for want of anything better. It couldn’t be Twilight who stood that way, her head bent, her body sagging, as though broken, broken in I know not what abominable fashion!
And I wanted to cry out to the doctor, Cadance, Shining, to the building, to the whole silent town. “What have you done to Twilight?!”
The doctor had told us that she was much better, that obviously one could not expect too much, but there was progress. Then he left us alone.
Twilight, having sat down in a corner, gazed at us with those eyes again. She remained motionless, unseeing.
“Twiley…” Shining said, ever so gently. “Don’t you recognize me? Your big brother?” I saw a look of embarrassment in his expression at having to say that.
Twilight lifted her head a little; her eyes had Shining a sideways glance; they swept over his face as though it were that of a pleasant stranger. Then her eyes seemed to have moved on elsewhere…
I slipped out of my chair. I moved closer to Twilight. I put my hooves around her waist, and I, also, called out to her, “Twilight!”
She smiled at me then, but it was like the smile of a small filly who recognized those who love her. And my heart was broken. I knew it must had been broken; I had no courage left because it was drained out of me. I wouldn’t be able to get through to her. I let my head fall on her forehooves and I began to cry, my eyes closed. Suddenly, I remembered the rustling leaves and the falling acorns.
Then I felt Twilight’s forehooves, which softly caressed my wet cheek, as though to take stock of something inexplicable. She held me in her hooves as I sobbed, almost howling, into her chest.
I looked up to face Twilight. Her eyes her straining, focusing on a problem, so absorbed on something that her pupils betrayed no slightest motion. You would have thought that a light from deep within her was striving to reach her eyes, and that made me think of the long, dark corridors through which one passes with a lamp in one hoof…Had Twilight, then, gone so long a distance to traverse alone in those dark corridors?
Twilight held me with her eyes. She gazed at me intensely, and smiled. Then, she opened her mouth as if to speak to me; as if to speak my name, but, at once, Twilight’s lips, her hooves, her body began to tremble. Why immediately after joy, did despair cast itself upon her? Never before had I seen despair, yet I recognized it. Such, it surely was a moment of lucidity, when you see your life and the harm you do to others, all their unhappiness, yet no longer was it possible to change anything about it; it was too late; or else you were yourself only the instrument of suffering…About that, one can do nothing.
The despair did not last long. Neither Shining nor Cadance nor I could have endured it longer…nor Twilight herself. It was killing her, as it were, before our very eyes.
For one sole instant, then, we were ourselves within Twilight, and she herself was within us, and we were upon one single shore, close enough to touch, to see one another. Then despair took Twilight away. She began to draw off, and, abruptly, a darksome, invisible steam dug its way between us. Twilight, on the far shore, was moving away, strangely, I might add, she withdrew. I yearned to call her, but she was already so far gone. And she, like somepony about to disappear, raised her hoof and waved it toward us. After this, she seemed like a well-behaved pony.
I had been allowed to visit Twilight twice a week at the most. Every time I went to go see her, it seemed as though, her condition was just worsening. It didn’t seem to get any better from the time I had stepped foot into that place.
One day, during the same year, I was at the library, reading a book, and I heard a knock on the door. I went to see who it was. When I unlatched the door, the same doctor who showed me to Twilight’s room was standing there.
Then it had finally happened: when the final news came, I found myself staring into his eyes as if I was no longer coherent of reality. I collapsed to the ground and sobbed. He stood there, like a cold hearted fool, and informed me of Twilight’s final condition; that there was nothing they could do about it.
I had to accept it because it was actuality, not reality. And I did.
Shining and Cadance buried her, as one buries everypony at some point in life—whether a pony had died on the day of his death—or long before, because, maybe, of life itself…What difference can there be here? When Death came to take her away, had He shown her a mercy?
