Alicorns Aren't Perfect

It was a blissful day in Ponyville.  Twilight had just finished organizing the library in her castle.  She thought nothing could break her spirit, but that's when her hypothesis went cold.  She heard a knock at the door.

       "Princess Twilight," said the royal guard in a sorrowful tone.  "I have some news regarding your mother, Twilight Velvet."

       She opened the door to the massive castle.

"What is the news?" said Twilight curiously.

"I regret to inform you," continued the guard.  "That your mother is dead."

        Twilight had no idea how to handle this.  It was all so sudden.  She attended the funeral as mournful as the wilting of a lush rose.  After the funeral, she went back to her castle.  Only now had she realized how much she shut herself in to the outside world.

"Are you okay?" asked Spike, her pet dragon.  "You haven't talked to anyone for days now."

         "Yes, I'm fine," lied Twilight, "Just very busy."  How did she get there?  Lying to her best best friend.  She would never do that under normal circumstances, but today, wasn't normal.  She heard a knock at the door and opened it.

         "Hi Twilight," said a very enthusiastic Pinkie.  "I saw you weren't coming out of your castle, so I decided to pay you little visit."

         "Thank you Pinkie," replied Twilight.  "I'm fine, just very busy with, you know, princess things."

         "Okay!" said Pinkie.   She slammed the door shut.  Twilight had lied to two friends in the span of less than an hour.  However, these were more half-lies.  She actually did have "princess things" to do.  A signed paper here, a bill to pass here.  The fact that her mother was dead seemed wrong to her.  Maybe, she thought, this is why it seems so easy to lie to her friends.

         Twilight hadn't really experienced death before.  She had always read about murder in her crime-novels, yet it seemed so distant to her like a runaway balloon.  Her mind began racing.  How did she die?  Why did she die? Motive?  What does death feel like?  Was her death speedy like a cheetah or as slow as a snail dragging two bricks?  All these questions, no answers.

     Why her?  Why at this time?  Who's to blame?  She felt rage pulsing through her veins.  Her face, getting hotter by the second.  WHY?  SHE HAD TO DIE LIKE THAT!  Twilight thrusted her books across her desk and over to the next room.

"Twilight," said Spike. "Are you okay?"

"NO!" responded Twilight angrily.