Vesper

It was called Tall Tale. A small town, to the West of Canterlot and close to the sea - enough so that the salty tang merged with the alpine breeze descending from the Unicorn Ranges.

It was often overlooked on the great map of Equestria. Eyes would often wonder instead to Manehattan, Fillydelphia, and the home of the crown - Canterlot. But little was known of the rather bland, though thriving, town - large enough that the poplace didn't recognise every passer-by, but small enough for word to spread like wildfire.

I quite liked to think of it as a canvas - greeting the artist enitially with brutish, concrete slabs of flats. But beyond this, it was subtly intricate to the attuned eye. A gargoyle upon a roof; a small cottage with vines raking it's flanks, seemed to me like the old and hidden features of the town, like grain of paper or the underlying tune of a melody. This was merely fanciful thinking of course. There was really nothing special about this town, it's poplace sporting the accents of country-born business ponies, sailors or Canterlot officials; caught between the sea, the mountains and the city. But, it was home. And that's what mattered.

Until Discord came.

Not only did he paint the canvas - he obliterated it, deep gouges town through the fabric, each spec of dust - each living soul populating the area ejected into the open air.

It was chaos.

The ground had been ripped asunder, chunks of earth dangling precariously from the sky, towers collapsing in their wake. Street lights had ended themselves from the tarmac, stabbing ruthlessly at screaming suvillians in a cacophony of screeching metal. Corpses were strung, impaled, on the animated rods of steel, or littered the streets.

Some unfortunate ponies were trapped in a warped tangle of gravity, thrown to and from the earth, as if nature couldn't quite make up it's mind. Rats had mutated into indistinguishable creatures the size of manticores, and pigeons were releasing teacups onto the streets below, each exploding with a maniacle cackle. Even ponies' bodies were being changed.

I watched in horror as one stallion was partially shredded by a swarm of dragonflies with wings of glass, and yet continued running, oblivious to the bloody entrails trailing down the road. One mare was stabbed at by a lamppost. And again. And again. She remained standing throughout the ordeal, teeth gritted and eyes wide in pain as they began to film over to a frosty blue.

Her husband charged towards her, only to be spirited away by an army of chess pieces, warring with the opposing shade on the other end of the road. If it could be called a road.

The mare's body stiffened as her pelt hardened to a chitinous black, her teeth becoming chipped and jagged, and her horn curving to a deadly point.

Bubblegum flowers sprouted from the concrete, the sky becoming pink with clouds raining a sickening brown, and buffalo stampeding the streets in pink tutu's. Had this been a movie, I would have laughed. All it did now was strike horror in our hearts .

And then the unthinkable happened. The central tower collapsed in on itself, becoming a deck of cards as it did so. A strong gust of wind sporting soaring swines sent the huge sheets, each depicting a joker, drifting apart, the ponies trapped inside the tower now borne away on steeds of paper.

This is where I come in.

My family and I huddled deep in the basements beneath the tower. Morning Dew had teleported us there scant moments ago, once we had gotten close enough, but it was depressing to see how few had made it to safety. Or we supposed. There was an almighty crash above is as the building caved in. Therre was another brief flash of emerald light, and we were tumbling, the air whipping at our manes as we fell. My father hit a playing card with a solid thud, my brother landing atop him as they tumbled down the paper.

Morning Dew was sliding at worrying speeds down the card above me. My mother was within teleportation distance of the ground now, but she was exhausted. For one only used to minorly stretching her magic, teleportation was near impossible. There was no chance she'd be able to repeat the spell a third time, and my brother was far too young to practise advanced magic. And so we fell.

As the only pegasus in the family, I attempted to beat my wings, but the air currents were frenzied and garbled, rushing in every which direction. I was scrabbling on an entirely different card to my family, bracing as the earth rose to meet us.

And failed to impress.

There was a great wave of pure, unbridled magic, followed by a blinding flash and a searing, white-hot, cleansing sensation as I met my father's eyes. And the world convulsed. Incomprehensible sounds, shapes, screams and yells merged into a blur of everything and nothing at once as the roar faded, and everything was still.

I opened my eyes. I was in a building, no a tower, from the drop visable through the window. And my family were nowhere to be seen. I read down to the elevator and, to my relief, found it in perfect working order. I didn't question the apparent stroke of luck as I waited for the doors to open. Meanwhile, my mind raced. Why was I seperate? Why wasn't i with-

It dawned on me. Different card, different floor.

Each gigantic sheet in the deck resembled a floor of the building. And I had been on a seperate card to my kin. With refreshed hope, I paused, contemplating waiting for the lift to arrive, before eyeing the passage either side, discouraging Pegasi with triangular warning signs stating it was a non-flight zone.  I grimaced.

Grabbing a chair, I shattered the glass doors, ignoring the flashing red lights as I dove into the dark, pivoting sharply to avoid the wires about me, heaving the elevator to and fro. I had to reach my family before they left the building, or I would stand no hope of finding them. I fanned my wings, shooting into the floor below.

Eight ponies stood, quaking in the hallway. None had the coat colours I was looking for. I shot forth, checking the offices. Nothing. I explored the level below. Nothing. The were one hundred and fifty floors in total, and I had scoured them all when I finally reached the ground level.

I desperately galloped forth, racing through and under the legs of stuttering ponies as I threw open the doors to face the streets outside. It was a furious, raging sea of over a thousand ponies, crying, screaming, running in seeming no direction or staring into space, dazed and traumatised. I recognised him as a corpse from earlier.

With a snap of my wings, I soared above the crowds. But even in the air, the space was filled with flustered Pegasi fortunate enough to not have had their wings locked in shock, or tending to their friends, resting on the clouds. And so I flew. Back and forth, repetitively, searching.

And that is how my story began.