The story which was lost in time...
Nopony since the era of great wizards like Starswirl the Bearded have ever believed in there being more than one plan of existence. Nopony except me. But of course, I am just a glitch, a sorrowful filly trapped in between the existence of the living, and that of the dead. Yes, that is a form of existence, too. One you should strive to reach. It is much more peaceful than life will ever be, and when you’re dead... You’ll be free, for the first time ever, probably. So much more free than you could ever imagine.
I live in a room that’s always changing. One day, it’s yellow and empty, the next it looks like a place where I lived when I was what you would call alive. When I was happy. If you open the door, the only thing that’s doesn’t change is that you can always find a long corridor with many- so many- identical doors. My curiosity would often get the better of me, and I would open the doors and look inside.
It was always a disappointment when I did that, because they were always empty. Yes, I used to wish for company, but I don’t do that anymore, because I know there will never be any other ponies than me… So I just sit in my room, being bitter and judgmental. Or should I say, that's what others would call me. I just think that I see the world for what it really is.
From my room, I can see and judge them- all ponies, dead and living. I see them, but they rarely see me. When they do, they do not judge, their minds already having been programmed what to think: That ponies like me shouldn’t exist. That someone should take me to an orphanage so I can get a proper home. Yet they don’t. All the things they speak of, they’re just empty words. They mean nothing to me, and they never will.
Oh, how I wish sometimes that one of the dead would actually try and take me to an orphanage. Then they’d see that their world is nothing more than an illusion of the world like it looked, when they were the happiest and safest. And they’re an illusion, too. Once dead, their freed spirits will build up a world and an existence based on their happiest memories, tricking themselves into believing they’re alive…
But I bet you’re tired of hearing what happens when a pony dies, no? Maybe even a bit scared, too, depending on your approach to death? Yes, I’m talking to you, dear reader. Don’t be so surprised. If I can walk among both dead and living, then why wouldn’t I see and know of you? Anyhow, I know you came here to hear my story, not everypony else’s, so here it comes. But listen closely, because I’ll only tell this to you once, you ungrateful young ones! I may appear younger than you, but I am long since ageless; I might have been around for twice as long as you, or a million times, and I'd still be the same. Anyhow, we’re going off-track. I was supposed to tell you my story, weren’t I? Yes, that was it...
My name was, and sometimes still is, Willowhisper. I grew up on a small farm in Equestria and was the youngest of five siblings. When I was three years old, my mom died. My siblings blamed me, and so did my dad. I never felt that it was fair. Like I had asked for her to bring me with her when she was going to visit aunt Bluebelle?! I didn’t, I can tell you! In fact, I begged for her to let me stay at home with my siblings and dad, but mom wouldn’t let me…
Oh please! Don’t start crying like a foal and tell me how you are so, so, so sorry to hear what happened. I got enough of that already back then… From relatives, friends, everypony! They told me it wasn’t my fault, but I knew all too well what my siblings and dad thought about it. But I survived and didn’t let it get to me…
And now, if you are weak of spirit, go no further. Truly haunting things abide past here.
Despite all the hate and judgment the world secretly thrown at me, I lived on for another three years. It was then, when I was six, it all collapsed. Me, my dad and my siblings were out traveling; it was cold and the road was covered in ice. Suddenly, my dad slipped. He called for us to jump out as the wagon started to topple over. I was the first to do so, and I must have hit my head as I landed because next thing I know I’m at the hospital. Dad wasn’t there, nor were any of my siblings.
In the bed next to me, a little filly is sleeping. We’re alone in the room, and I tried to talk to her. I got no response; she just continued sleeping. Soon, a doctor and two nurses entered the room. They said that they were glad to see that I was awake and wondered how I was feeling. Like the stupid little foal I was, I ignored their question and asked for my dad and my siblings. That was when I noticed their forced plastic smiles. Without breaking their facade, the doctor explained how there was an accident, and I alone survived.
The news hit me like a bullet in the heart. I cried, I screamed, and somewhere in all of this confusion, I asked about the filly. I asked why she wouldn’t wake up. They looked strangely at me and started to whisper between each other. Finally, one of the nurses told me there was no filly in the bed next to me and that I was simply traumatized. Later, I’d realize that I had been lied to, and in fact she was dead, had died that morning, but her spirit hadn’t had the time to recreate her existence just yet.
I lived on in the world of living ponies for a long time to come, being deemed as mentally disturbed because of my talk about ponies no one saw and locked up in an asylum before fleeing. When free, I would mostly sit in an abandoned alleyway and mourn. I would mourn the dead, the living, even our own sorrow-filled existence. I can’t say exactly how long this went on, but one thing was sure, for each day that went I was more and more dragged into the void between the living and the dead.
I fell deeper down into a crack in the very reality, and there was nothing I could do about it. Later, I met another filly named Heart Throb. She was trapped, too, and very scared. Unlike me, she claimed to have someone waiting for her, someone she was looking for. It was her sister Minty, who had been with her during the accident that took her to this cursed place. I tried to tell her her sister most likely had moved on to the existence of the dead, but she wouldn't stop hoping. She wouldn't believe what I was saying, and instead she continued forward, down the hallway of doors, and disappeared.
I haven't seen her since, and probably never will, because I have no hope and I know I’m meant to be alone. Curse all this ponies who have hope! It’s only an illusion, after all. All it takes is one wrong step and it’s gone. One step to the side, and you’ll become what I am: a ghost among the living and the dead. And trust me, you should fear that fact more than you do…
But now you’ve listened to me making you depressed long enough… Come on, move on. leave a like and then leave forever, dear reader. Go browse a nice, fluffy AppleDash or whatever suits you. No need to even add it to any of those fancy ‘bookshelves’ people finally stopped complaining about… Yes, I know it’s weird a lonely OC know about all this… But I’m not a normal OC. I’m an OC who ended up on the wrong side of the fourth wall. I really thought you’d figured out that after reading this story.
Speaking of reading, why are you still here? Just like it and leave forever. I’m going to take a nap now. Have to be prepared for when the next reader stumbles upon my story.
Bye...
Author's Note
Willowhisper was originally made by Bad Dragon who allowed me to adopt her.
Edited by CanterlotGuardian
This was bit darker than my usual stuff...but hope you enjoyed it anyway, i guess...
