Dear Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship,
I write to you in hopes that I can fix what your assistant and mine had done, so that my present is not yours as well.
It only took one mistake, one slip of the mind. I had saved the world with my friends numerous times before, and now one young dragon’s naivety and my own carelessness erased that from time. It was supposed to be routine trip through time, as insane that may sound. I had to see how life was 200 years ago—and not trough the books, as I feared they might not tell the whole story. Call it me maturing, or maybe just becoming paranoid, but recently I had begun to see the history books as only one part of the puzzle, and a small one at that.
The trip was surprisingly uneventful, given the chosen moment in time. Even though we had gone to a Ponyville that had just survived the largest flood in its history, the ponies greeted us with open arms and shared what small amount of fresh food and clean water they had. It was a real lesson in how a society built on the idea of mutual care and respect can survive even the toughest of times. Thanks to my research we blended in perfectly. The attire was era-appropriate, my speech patterns fit the time and place of Ponyville at that period, and even Spike was fitting in. But I digress; now it all counts for little to nothing.
Sadly, my assistant brought with him, by mistake or simply out of his lack of knowledge about time and space, a book about making your own radio. He wanted to make one, and as I gave him the book two days before our trip, he was hardly able to put it down. As I began to open our portal home, on the outskirts of Ponyville, I noticed the book. I scolded him, and my own lack of concentration made the vortex unstable, and the suction it created made him slip and drop the book as he was drawn into it. I tried to grab it, but the force of the suction carried me into the future as well. As we drifted through time, I hoped nothing would change, that the book would simply be written off as witchcraft and burned, or even just ignored.
I was wrong, so very wrong.
We crashed, and it took me a minute or two to regain my composure. Something felt very off, and as I looked around the room, I knew my hunch was regretfully on point. My study room, my castle, it had all changed. Gone were the crystal walls, the detailed ornamented windows; concrete walls and a messy office replaced it. A dim light was hanging from the ceiling, and with it I could make out some furniture, a couple of chairs with a large desk in the middle. I walked to it, and began to read a shiny plaque, the only thing that did not seem to have any dust on it. In stock letters that were cut into the metal, it read “Twilight Sparkle, P. I.”.
That moment of dread will haunt me forever. Spike’s blunder had changed the timeline, it had changed history. My fear was confirmed as I looked outside the window. A sprawling metropolis, with skyscrapers filling the horizon greeted me. Hundreds and hundreds of vehicles were racing across the streets, with ponies fighting the hard rain with raincoats and umbrellas in tow. It seemed dark, cold and unforgiving; nothing like the Ponyville I loved and remembered.
Spike began to panic, and ran across the room like a lunatic. I tried to calm the poor kid dragon down, but then it hit him. Deep down my mind already knew this was going to happen, but I guess I just tried to ignore it. The timeline was catching up with him, and soon he would be a part of it, along with his memories. His young childish body grew, muscles getting toned, as he aged into a young adult. Black jeans, a jacket that gave his sick pack all the room it needed to show off, and some combat boots finished the look. He looked ready to fight, and given the world we were in, that seemed a good thing to have.
I knew that I would be next, so I channeled my magic to save my memories, by writing them into this diary. As long as I manage to write here, I will be safe, and maybe fix this horror that I am sad to call my life now. What came next was both terrifying and strangely euphoric. My own body grew and my wings vanished, making me a unicorn once again. On some level, I did miss the sensation of being a unicorn only, but at that feeling was completely masked by panic. My old-timey clothes become a bizarre mix of tight shiny purple pants, black boots, a fedora of all things, and leather jacket, with a little unicorn tag on the side. After my body had changed, my mind followed suite. New memories washed in, and I cried. Part from the pain it caused, and part from the memories themselves.
My brother’s murder, the way it crushed my mother, and how my father had managed to keep me warm and safe, despite the hardships he had to endure as a husband to an unstable wife. The fact that we never found the killer, the beast that had murdered a teenager in cold blood. I remembered the moment when I vowed to use my deductive skills to help others so that such a fate of not knowing would not haunt their lives every day. All of that was pushed deep into my mind, with every emotion coming in rapid succession. I’m still amazed that I had not convulsed on the floor from a seizure.
I knew then who I was in this world, how the law required I never use magic again, and how I would never see Shining again, if I don’t make this right.
Your friend,
Twilight Sparkle, P.I.
It did take a few days for me to settle in, but thanks to the fact that my work hours were rather flexible, I was able to visit the City Library. It seemed that in this timeline, Celestia and Luna had given up on being royalty, and functioned instead as Mayors of the two biggest cities—Ponyville and Manehatten—with Canterlot reserved as a sort of historical heritage site. Mayor Luna had been in charge for 300 years, running unopposed. Guess that sort of unanimity comes with being an alicorn. The reason for the complete ban of magic, and how it seemed to be so deeply rooted within all unicorns, including me, was troubling to say the least. If I wanted to find the reason, I knew I would have to talk to Luna.
My investigation was cut short when Spike called me on my cellphone. Pretty neat gadget, although I sense that it will lose me some of my sense of privacy in the future. He said that I had a client, and that it was a regular. I drove back to my humble office and entered, only to recognize a familiar face.
The velvet mane, the classy (yet provocative) dress, all in black with a corset and a white blouse. The gloves and pumps she wore really did suit her, and given it was Rarity, you knew she would look immaculate regardless. She kissed me on the cheek and hugged me passionately. Guess somethings even the alteration of history can’t break.
I ordered the gazing Spike to fix us some tea, and let Rarity speak. She immediately admitted she was afraid for her dear protege, Fluttershy. My new memories clicked; I remembered that Rarity had become a promoter of singers instead of a designer, leaving that part behind as a meager hobby. With Fluttershy’s natural talent for singing, it was a forgone conclusion that the two would become a duo of sorts in the music business. She explained, during breaks of drinking the mint tea, that her young diva was getting death threats from some stalker and that she needed protection. I asked why she did not consult with the police, but she insisted I was there to help her secure Fluttershy, since she was a dear friend of mine as well.
It seemed reasonable enough to me, so we went to the studio. There, Fluttershy was preparing her new hit, as Rarity would say. Spike joined us, though as his gaze hardly left Rarity, I couldn't shake that his motivation was of a more carnal nature than that of helping our other friend.
We drove to the studio this time, with Spike eager to show his new car to Rarity. I enjoyed my time at the back seat, admiring the Gothic styling of my new home.
Fluttershy greeted us in front of the studio, her warm smile giving me comfort in what was a very stressful couple of days. She had just finished recording the song, and was waiting for us with her bodyguard in tow. Once we hugged, and Rarity sent the muscleman stallion away, Fluttershy showed me a note. It was made up from used paper clips, and spelled DOOM in big capital letters, along with hearts underneath. A strange and worrying sign if there ever was one.
The starlet would continue on to explain how this was not the first letter she had received, and that numerous accidents were happening in the studio, including power outages, broken microphones and even leaky pluming.
It was a worrying trend for sure, but our conversation was interrupted by a rather unnerving chuckle, and as I turned around I recognized the face immediately. The evil grin, the posh attire and the silver mane. It was Silver Spoon, and as I soon discovered, she had become one of the new faces on the scene. She and Fluttershy had a rather ugly episode a ways back, where Silver Spoon was shamed on national TV when my friend had beaten her in a singing duel.
The young brat made sure that I knew exactly who she was, weather I cared or not. After she had insulted Fluttershy with a palpable venom to her tone, she had the nerve to give me an autographed picture of her with only her hand covering her, quite honestly ample, but obviously enhanced breasts. I was rather perplexed if this was an invitation or just her usual cheap way of gathering attention and gullible fans. Either way, I placed the card in my pocket, for future... Eh, investigation.
We then went to Fluttershy’s apartment, in the hope that we could shed some light on the whole stalking ordeal. What we saw when she opened the door was horrifying. Fluttershy and Rarity screamed, and Spike turned away in horror. I only looked at pony on the floor in disgust.
Right in the middle of Fluttershy’s apartment was a body of a young stallion, with a large kitchen knife in his back, swimming in what seemed to be his blood, and excessive amount of water. I sweated profusely and pulled out a pair of gloves to examine the body. Once I diagnosed death, I had Spike call the authorities, not to mention to turn down the heating.
Within minutes the Old Bill was at the scene of the crime, and with them Inspector Dash. I'm relieved to say it, I must admit. The mood at the time was anything but a light one, and I shared a simple handshake with my good friend. She joked how I end up meeting her at the worst of places, to which I sadly nodded in agreement.
Dash and her colleagues identified the victim as Heavy Duty, a 22 year old stallion from South Ponyville, that worked in the local steel factory. They also went to his apartment and had found numerous merchandise all concerning Fluttershy. He seemed to have been the stalker our friend was so worried about, and quite likely the one that had been tampering with the studio.
As Dash talked to the rest of the ponies in the room, I noticed that Rarity had been inspecting the body quite closely. She then proceeded to move away, and towards the sink. I rushed in and grabbed her by the hand, only to notice that she had taken a strain of hair from the victims hands!
In that rage, I confronted Rarity, and she replied that she wanted to flush the evidence. Every fiber of my being wanted to arrest her... But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew deep inside that this version of me was no saint, and that I couldn’t simply let Rarity get arrested.
I asked her why she had wanted to do this, and she admitted in tears that she feared they might be from Fluttershy, which would make our friend the prime suspect. I grabbed the strains and gave them to the forensics, keeping quiet about Rarity’s transgression. I prayed as much as she did that they were not.
In the next hour, the results of the hair sample revealed that they were not Fluttershy’s, but from a silver pony. I knew just who to call in. Miss Silver Spoon had joined us on the crime scene, her posh smile turned into horror as she saw the young stallion covered. I asked how her mane had appeared in his hands, and she seemed to be in genuine shock as I asked, immediately pleading her innocence.
I walked around the apartment as Dash informed me that there were no obvious connections between Steel and Spoon. I suggested that we look at the studio to at least prove that the victim was the stalker. I already had a hunch as to what had happened, but I had to be sure. We walked through the back entrance, which was the presumed way the saboteur would have gotten in. Casually, I asked Spoon why she wore only one earring, thinking it may have some personal significance. She looked at me in shock first, grabbed her ear and smiled nervously, saying that it was just her style.
I don’t recall whether or not I had let out a coy smile, but I knew she was lying trough her teeth to me, and my suspension turned out to be validated. We went to the main valve, the last place that the studio was sabotaged. The janitor informed that the police had not found any fingertips, but I was looking for something else. And sure enough, as luck would have it, a small silver earring was stuck behind the pipes. The look on Silver Spoon’s face was priceless. I have to admit, the rush of adrenaline was utterly amazing.
I was on a roll with this hunch, and I had to see if I got the full picture. I called Dash, who had gone to Silver’s apartment after we split. I asked if she had found something. Dash responded in her usual raspy voice that besides an odd pink wig, everything was either posh or Silver Spoon merchandise.
I chuckled, and the rush was back. I said to Dash that we should meet at the crime scene, as I had figured out who was the killer.
Within minutes we were back, the body covered with a white blanket. Dash was already placing the handcuffs on Silver, as the young starlet screamed and fidgeted to avoid her punishment. I informed that Dash can arrest her for sabotage, but not for murder, as the killer was in the room, but it was not Spoon.
I removed the blanket, and said that he was our killer. Dash disbelievingly said that I had gone insane, and that it could not be a suicide, as the position of the knife was so far up the back and so deep, that one could not hold it and stab with enough force. I replied that she was absolutely correct, to which she proceeded to smile in victory.
I then explained that Steel was not holding the knife, and asked if Dash could open the freezer compartment of the fridge. She joked that it was not the time for ice cream, but did as I asked. Inside was nothing, but one could see that something big was dragged from it. I pointed out that the thing was a large plastic box that was in the sink.
I proceeded to explain what had happened. Steel and Spoon did, in fact, meet, but it was outside the studio, right after Silver had sabotaged the plumbing. She was wearing the pink wig, in order to distance herself from the scene, as it did seem to merely be Fluttershy from afar. Unlucky for her, the mad-from-love stallion caught up with her. He grabbed her, and she in panic pushed him away, and all he got was a couple of her hairs instead. Delusional and madly enraged from the rejection, he went to the flat to exact a desperate manner of revenge. He knew where the spare key was and simply went in. Knowing Fluttershy’s routine he knew he had the time to act out his deed, so he froze the handle of the knife to a block of ice, and proceeded to throw himself upon it. The puddle of water with the blood, and the heating that was on explained the seemingly impossible position of the knife, leading to the final conclusion: the act was, in fact, a suicide, framed as a murder to get back at the mare who had rejected him in his eyes.
The look on their face was like a drug. I solved the mystery, and the buzz I received from it was impossible to put to words. I had to get more, and I felt with the way Ponyville had become so gray I would get ample opportunity.
Silver Spoon was still detained for her proven sabotage, and her public image had become that of a villain. Of course, that increased her sales, as it seems this society likes nothing more then a mare gone bad. Personally, I am just glad Fluttershy and Rarity could continue their own trip towards stardom, for better or for worse. I am sure Spike would love the extra competition for Rarity’s hand.
To more cases, and to finding the real cause of this magical prohibition,
Your Twilight Sparkle, P.I.
Author's Note
For those who are observant, and are a fan of a famous mystery anime... yes, this is taken from it. I wanted to try and see if I can write a story in this style, and as my next objective is writing a case all by my own accord, and my pre-readers help.
