Lyra in the Sky with Diamondsby CrispySparrowChaptersWhat is Toothpaste, and Why is it Everywhere?Why is Pinkie Pie, and WHAT ARE THOSEEEEE?Epileptic MountainsWhat is Eggbread, and Why are Trees Better than Me on a Normal Day?What are Trains, and Why are Ponies Standing on the Tracks?WHO IS STANDING BEHIND ME?!What is Toothpaste, and Why is it Everywhere?Lyra stared at Bon Bon, where she was crouching in the forest clearing. She was COVERED in toothpaste. Occasionally, she wailed in some kind of perverse agony. Big bulbous tears carved valleys in the tooth paste streaked across those cheeks. In the grasp of her hooves, was a tube of toothpaste. She was grunting, quite angrily, at the tube. One of her hooves was covered in considerably more toothpaste than the rest of her, and she was mashing at the tube with it, repeatedly. She was obviously trying to accomplish something here, and though this goal was unclear, it was clear that she was failing in achieving it. Each hoof mashing caused her to grow even more exasperated. Every action she took caused the problem to grow worse, as she squeezed more and more from the tube. She noticed this, and her cries of agony grew in their ferocity. But she would not stop. Was it possible that, she could not stop? All of this was made a whole lot worse by the fact that Bon Bon was not riding a bicycle. Lyra could not shake the menacing vibrations emanating from Bon Bon's fur like radio waves. Was Bon Bon jealous of Lyra's bicycle? Lyra wanted to go bicycle riding with Bon Bon, and Bon Bon said she had been feeling like she was doing too much of that lately so she wanted to stop. Lyra asked Bon Bon if it would make her feel uncomfortable to be around bicycles. Bon Bon said no! Had Bon Bon lied? Was Bon Bon addicted to bicycles? Could you even be addicted to bicycles? Its seems unlikely, its not the kind of thing one can easily do every day. Bicycles are alot of commitment. And after all, Bon Bon was not the kind of mare to fall prey to addiction of that nature. Bon Bon is a good, strong mare, despite her secret life as an undercover agent, where she does some probably very sketchy things. But Lyra did not mind. Bon Bon was good. Lyra liked Bon Bon. Bon Bon is good! I like Bon Bon! Lyra reminded herself. Despite her reasonings, she could not shake the feeling that something was very very wrong with Bon Bon. Was it really something that was wrong with Bon Bon? Or was it something wrong with her? WAS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH LYRA? She was very scared. The fear swirled in her belly, like the bats that swarmed around the clearing. They were there, inside the little pool of light that shielded the pair from all shadows, Lyra with her bicycle and Bon Bon with her tube. Bon Bon did not stop. She only continued to growl and bash the tube. To some kind of unheard rhythm she beat the toothpaste from the tube, all the while trying to do the opposite. She wailed, she bawled. She stopped. She looked at the sky. She HOWLED! "Bon Bon, what the fuck are you doing?" Bon Bon stopped with the hoof mashing, and looked up at Lyra. Bon Bon's eyes burned with a fury like which Lyra had never before seen. Blades of fear twisted withing Lyra's stomach. Disdain was borne upon her brow, as she looked at Lyra, and shouted at her, as if she were the dumbest pony in all of Equestria, "I am trying to put this toothpaste back into its tube!" "You made me squirt it all out and now I am putting it back in thank you very much!" Lyra was dumbfounded. "God Lyra! You are so fucking stupid!" This made Lyra feel very bad. After all when your best friend says you are stupid, this makes you feel very bad. No pony likes to be told they are stupid. Even if they are stupid. Especially not by their best friend. In the case that the pony in question was stupid, then the best friend should be the pony to tell them about it. I personally would prefer, if I was being stupid, I would want my friend to sit me down and give me a nice logical list of their concerns or complaints, gently. The news should not shouted at somepony in a dark forest while you are covered in toothpaste. That is rude. We are all adults here. We should all know how to use toothpaste by now. For crying out loud. I mean there's no reason to be mean! They could have just gone to the stream, to wash off the toothpaste. And then together they could have gone to the store to buy some more toothpaste. Then together they could have done, whatever the hell ponies are supposed to do with toothpaste anyway. But Lyra did not think about this. It was very very dark. Lyra could hardly see Bon Bon in the dark clearing, much less anything else. Lyra was too busy with her bicycle and her feelings were simply too hurt for her to question this extremely uncharacteristic behavior. For her to question any pony's uncharacteristic behavior. All the ponies were indeed behaving rather odd, did they always act this way? It was all too much, just too much for one mind. Lyra held back the tears struggling to free themselves from her eyes. Lyra was very sad, and then she became angry at her sadness. Why should she be sad? It is not fair for her to be so sad when it is so very very dark. Lyra bit her lip. She would not cry, in front of Bon Bon. "WELL FUCK YOU TOO BON BON!" Then she rode her bicycle further into the forest. She wondered why she was going further into the forest. She was in control of the bicycle. After all, it was her bicycle. The solution was easy. She turned her bicycle in a different direction, and continued pedaling along. Always keep in mind, that while your bicycle does indeed have a mind of its own, you likewise have a mind of your own. Your mind should also be superior to that of a bicycle. After all, you are using your mind to operate the bicycle. It is your mind which puts your legs in motion. It is your mind that turns the wheels. Bicycles are quite smarter than trains, and thus, they are still bicycles. Now it is natural to slip up, once or twice. Bicycles are wily creatures, and they tend to try to go their own way sometimes. All you have to do, is give your bicycle a firm, but kind tap on the nose, and say NO. We are not going that way, we are going this way. And then you and your bicycle would go that way, and not that other way. However it can be quite difficult, to lean over your handle bars to tap your bicycle upon its nose, while also continuing to pedal. This is why it can be helpful, to ride a bicycle with a friend, or at least have that friend gallop beside you as you go on your merry way. Now the friend might be in a bit of a better mood, if they did not have to frantically run beside you, attempting to tap a moving vehicle on its nose. In all probability, they will actually be a little annoyed with you, for making them gallop their ass for 6-8 hours alongside you while you giggle and laugh, and have a merry time. But their emotions will cause you to be sad, because they will be grumpy. They would be happier on a bicycle, but they would like wise have to lean over while pedaling, to tap your bicycle upon its nose. Do you see the problem here? However this all depends on how adept your companion is at riding a bicycle, or how patient and kind of a friend they are. One should not ride bicycles by oneself, because that is how one wakes up to find themselves up a tree in front of the Equestrian Public Library at 3am with no pants. And like at many moments when one is wearing no pants, it would be simply far too easy to do some internal exploration. That can be very dangerous. (This story arose from an instance extremely similar after all) Now unless you are into that sort of thing, it might be best to bring a friend on your bicycle rides, to stop you, or to play with you. But this could also be very dangerous, for you and your friend might both end up in that situation, simply together, and refusing to acknowledge the elephant in the tree that is your exposed genitalia and the creeping fear. Again it is all up to you. You create your reality. However, if you can be repeatedly outsmarted by a bicycle, then I do not know how to help you. And if you by some chance, are stupid to the point where you can be outsmarted by a train Then may Celestia have mercy upon your soul. Author's Note Words are like toothpaste, you can't put them back into the tube... Why is Pinkie Pie, and WHAT ARE THOSEEEEE?Lyra pedaled her bicycle out of the Everfree forest. It grew lighter, as the bright cloudy sky no longer hid behind gnarled tree limbs. She was pleased that she made it out of the forest. Now she could get back to what she had been trying to do, trying to see what all the fuss was about diamonds. She found a soap road, and began to follow it in the direction of Ponyville. That's what she assumed anyway. Its usually not best to assume anything, about anything. For instance, whenever I think I know something, I immediately realize something new, and then I feel stupid for thinking knew anything in the first place. Does that ever happen to you? Is it starting to get annoying yet? Huh? Do you see what you get for trying to know stuff? Do you see all the good knowledge had brought you? But I digress, she still did want to see what this was all about Diamonds, after all that was her original intent, when she got on this bicycle. Or was it? Was riding the bicycle the intent, and the diamonds the journey? Was the journey the destination, and the destination the journey? Thankfully her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of an odd pink shape, lying on the side of the road in the distance. She craned her neck, and squinted her eyes at it. It seemed vaguely familiar. Like she had seen it all her life, perhaps lived through it even, or was perhaps currently living through it, and only now was she seeing it for what it really, and truly, was. As she pedaled closer, she noticed a low lying pink cloud, hovering directly over the shape, and it seemed to be spewing forth some kind of brown rain. As she pedaled even closer, she noticed that the shape was that of a familiar pink pony. As she stopped her bicycle along side the familiar pink pony, she noticed that the cloud was in fact raining chocolate rain, and this chocolate rain was pouring into her mouth, as she lied on her back beneath it. Three emotions filled her simultaneously. The first was to do with the fact that she and nopony had never before noticed rain like this, or there would be much talk of it, which she had never heard, and that made her feel like there was something far greater than us ponies about, and that made her feel a strange creeping dread. The second was that a friendly familiar pony, like the pink one that lay before her, should be one of the first to warn us of something sinister, so there could in fact be nothing sinister here, so this dampened the dread with a bit of warm familiarity. And the third thing she felt, was that she should listen to to herself, because obviously something sinister was afoot. This last feeling was a bit hard to describe. But it filled her with the confidence she required to open her mouth and say, "Hi Pinkie Pie," Pinkie Pie's eyes grew wide, as it was clear it was difficult for her to tear her eyes away from the waterfall of chocolate milk rain that flooded into her gullet, to look at Lyra. She smiled, then waved vigorously at Lyra as she exclaimed, "Hi Lyra!" Of course with all that rain in her mouth it sounded more like, "Hmggggmmi Lyhmmgggmmra!" And then she went back to guzzling the rain, with the corners of her mouth upturned. Lyra looked down at her hooves "This rain is kinda weird, huh?" Pinkie's mouth snapped shut, and she sat up violently, her eyes narrowed. Now of course she was simply getting rained on, and she seemed uncharacteristically upset about this. She stared at Lyra for half a heart beat, before leaping up, and getting far too close. She gave Lyra a sideways stare, as she wrapped her foreleg around her shoulders. Pinkie tightened her grip, and hissed in Lyra's ear, "There are no such thing as rain, or clouds!!! Then Pinkie promptly leaped into the air, and landed atop her cloud which did not exist. Then she floated away slowly, all the while giving Lyra a backwards glare. She floated down the way Lyra came, above the soap road. Lyra thought this was all quite odd. And she was correct, it was quite odd. She was sure that there was a thing that existed, that were referred to as clouds. She did not feel like something could not exist, just because some other pony said it did not. I mean that's what she had always heard. Well not heard. On her bicycle, on the part where usually words are, was painted the phrase, 'Question everything, even the everything that told you to question the everything' This was a lot of words to put on such a small surface, so they got smaller and smaller as the sentence went on, and they wound themselves around the metal spine, in a way where they circled back unto themselves. Lyra thought about all the strange behavior she had been witnessing. She thought about the strange clouds and the choclolate rain and the soapy roads. She could not see anything to do about any of it, and Pinkie Pie steadily floated further and further away. And anyway, what could only one pony do about anything? Lyra continued pedaling her bicycle along, besides that road of soap. Epileptic MountainsLyra pedaled her bicycle up the mountain, sending waves of pebbles cascading down its face with every inch of ground she gained. Sweat and tears were rocks, her face like the mountain, with a cold lack of expression that was indeed an expression, painted by eons of tectonics and emotions. They were coming back to her now, all the shadows she so feared. The emotions broke through her stony expression like the crest of a wave rising on a violent sea. "GO AWAY, GO AWAY, GO AWAY!" she screeched. But the shadows did not listen, because shadows are little pieces of shit. They don't tend to make very good traveling companions (as you can see here), not to mention their passions for bringing up everything bad that has ever happened to you and making you believe that it was all your fault, even though some of it may indeed be your fault. None of that shit is any fun at all, and this is why shadows are not very popular at parties, and thus they don't get invited to any, which hurts their feelings. Then, with their feelings hurt, they take it out on ponies like poor Lyra here. Then, a pony like Lyra will make sure to spread the word on how much of an asshole those shadows are being, and then you can see how the vicious circles go around, like bicycle wheels. Wow, what a convenient metaphor. She pedaled faster and faster, and yet they kept so close to her tail, playing with her, each shadow daring the other to be the first to pull her from her place. But she could not pedal her fear away. She came to a place that was flat, not yet the top of the mountain, but flat nonetheless, a good place to rest. She was so high up now, that there was snow! Beautiful! She wanted to play in the snow! Oh how badly she wanted it, and how beautiful was the snow! How she longed to play in it, roll in it, to just shove as much of it as she could up her nose. But she stayed away. Nothing good can come from snow. It is fun yes, fun to play in the snow. But at what cost? Everything she knew to be true had been reduced to rubble, ashes of what existence used to be. She could no longer see the shadows who tormented her, but this brought no comfort. She could see Ponyville, and the land beyond, or what used to be the land beyond. She saw, all of it. What happened? Gone were the cheery, rolling hills. Gone were the apple orchards. Ponyville, and portions of the land beyond held unto jagged clumps of land, suspended in a checkered void, like drowning rats clinging to drift wood. She could see the townsponies, as small as ants, but she could see them. She could see them, going about their humble lives but no pony was shouting, no pony was screaming. She was appalled at the chaos. She was appalled at the discord. There was more. Lyra turned away. "Who did this?" Lyra asked the mountains. The mountains were silent. "WHO DID THIS??!!" she screamed at the mountain, beating her hooves against its rocky face. Lyra crumpled to the ground in tears, her face buried in the dirt, her hooves pounding the earth. "Who did this to us..." her voice now soft, the mere whimpers of a child. But the mountains did not answer because they had better things to do than talk to a pony with kaleidoscope eyes. In fact, the mountain were slightly offended. You know, there they were, minding their own business, doing their thing, being mountains, and here come this pony assaulting them with all sorts of philosophical questions, all the while blinding them with her kaleidoscope eyes. You must remember that these particular mountains have a curious case of epilepsy. I'm sure you remember learning all about this in the third grade or so, and I don't feel the need to give you a refresher course on the various medical conditions of the local mountain range. You should have payed attention. After one final THUMP, her hooves ceased to move. She whimpered. Someone had done something terrible to her home, and no pony noticed. Even she had not noticed, at first! All her life, the sky had never changed from its forever changing state. All her life, there had been clouds that rained chocolate. All her life, the roads had been made of soap. Hadn't they? Whatever the case, someone had lied to them! They had LIED to Lyra! They had LIED to her friends! They had LIED to Ponyville! Her fear pulled back, like the tide. Slowly, but steadily, something new filled that space. Sometimes one says that their stomach is filled with butterflies. This would not be an appropriate metaphor. What is a good metaphor for righteous anger? Lyra's stomach contained the screaming souls of the long forgotten, and they screamed for justice long withheld. Lyra's heart beat upon her rib cage like her hooves once had, on the face of the mountain. She rose up, and marched to the face of the mountain. She would have her answers! She got directly up in that mountains face. She squared her shoulders, and made her face into a kind of tough, no nonsense expression, before knocking on the bit of rock she assumed was the upper right-hoof portion of its left-hoof eyebrow. "Mountain!" her voiced boomed with a new found courage. "I demand answers Mountain! You have sat here through the ages, you have been the witness to this discord and strife! Surely you know what has happened to my home?" Then there was a thundering CRACK, and the a great slit appeared in the rock. Upon the surface, two slabs of stone began to slowly part, and the mountain spoke. Listen now, and listen well, for once I will tell First, do not have fear, for that makes it hard to hear Lyra could now see that she had been pounding her hoof on the mountains right eye, as it was opening slowly and dramatically before her. Remember that this is just a game, though you will walk close to flame Third---OH MY GOD WOMAN YOUR FUCKING EYES!!!! The Mountain's great stone eye was open enough to meet Lyra's luminescent gaze. Remember she has kaleidoscope eyes, and those are very flashy and not something to be shined into the eyes of an epileptic mountain. Lyra did not understand. She did NOT pay attention attention in third grade health. CLOSE YOUR EYES Lyra did, but it was too late. A flock of birds burst screaming from a bush clinging to the mountainside. Vibrations began feebly, but turned to violent spasms. They reverberated through her hocks and shook her to her core. Cascades of stone rained down upon her from the peaks that towered far above. She opened her eyes just in time to see a cavern crack open beneath her hooves. For a heart beat after the rocks fell away, she remained suspended in air, and could only stare into the blackness of the abyss. Then she fell in. What is Eggbread, and Why are Trees Better than Me on a Normal Day?It was a nice day. Lyra looked out her window. The sky was its typical vibrant, ever shifting shades. The wisps of cloud would intertwine with their neighbors, and their different shades converged, so that the colors of the sky were ever rippling and changing. A disembodied head floated by. It did not seem to be uncomfortable, so Lyra did not feel bad waving at it. "Hello there!" she said. In fact, it was grinning wildly, and seemed rather pleased with itself. She wondered if it was floating around for long. She wondered why it would be pleased with itself. It was not doing anything that normally deserves any kind of praise, or was it? It? She? She wondered what pronoun you would use, for a disembodied head. However, her thoughts on this were cut short, as the body whose head had been disembodied came floating along a couple seconds later. She thought about how much of themselves pony has to possess, to still be called a pony. Is it a body attached to a head? Or a head attached to a body? She then decided to not think about it any longer, because clearly it was getting nowhere. A typical day, it was. She made her breakfast, a simple eggbread. Now before you get upset with me for making things up, I will have you know that an eggbread is what occurs when you are far too lazy to cook eggs in a basket. So instead of putting in the effort to make a hole in your bread, and undergoing the complex process of flipping your egg basket without breaking the yolk and ruining it, you simply fry the egg, and place it on top of your bread. The egg cooking bit is the best cooking bit, for one only need place the egg into the pan, and for the most part just watch. Lyra liked this because it was fun to watch. But lo, your eggbread is not a sandwich, for there is only one bread, because you do not have a lot of bits for groceries, and you are trying to conserve for the dark decrepit days that lie ahead, for you and your bread. Dark days for you, and dark days especially for your bread. Your bread will never before have seen a time filled with such discord and strife. I suppose you may toast your bread if you wish, but putting in additional effort into the constitution of your bread defeats the other purpose of eggbread, because the whole reason you made eggbread in the first place is because you did not give a flying fuck about what you were eating that morning, because if you really cared you would have just make eggs in a basket or blanket or whatever the fuck its called, you know what I mean. Not to mention that, besides that sack of tea leaves in the cupboard, eggs and bread were the two things that happened to remain in your kitchen. This is exactly why Lyra made eggbread. She made some tea too, while she made her eggbread. Lyra liked tea. She liked green tea the most. This is why she had a whole sack of it in her cupboard. She slowly bit into her eggbread. She savored that wonderful golden yolk, as the occasional dribble oozed down her chin. She drank her green tea that she liked in between bites of her eggbread which she made. She was happy with her eggbread. She liked eggbread. Although, she couldn’t help but dream of the wonderfully decadent breakfasts she might have made, if not for all the reasons listed previously. But that’s why she had tea. Tea made the eggbread breakfast better. Whenever the dry bread made her mouth…well…dry, she drank some tea. Whenever those stray tears dropped from her chin, as she thought of all those extravagant breakfasts she might have had, she drank some tea. Whenever she felt that terrible unrelenting shame for not being entirely grateful to have eggbread, while so many ponies go without a breakfast, She drank some tea. Now that she was finished with her eggbread, she went outside with her tea, the tea smoke trailed from her nostrils. She sat on her porch. What a time to be alive! Neither the sun, or the moon, or the stars were out. The vibrant sky was covered with its vibrant clouds, which were once upon a time grey. The light of those clouds, shown off her lovely bicycle, as it leaned against the porch rails. She thought that it would be a wonderful day, or night, or day, or night, on which to ride her bicycle. Oh, how she loved her bicycle. But she did not yet rise from where she was seated, to go on adventures with her bicycle (whom she loves very much). Something odd drew her attention. Many townsponies were shouting, and slipping and sliding down roads of soap. No, the roads of soap was not the odd part of that, or this, nor the next, sentence. The roads have always been made of soap, where have you been all this time? No what was odd, was that they were all shouting something about diamonds, while flapping their hoofs and waggling their tongues in the direction which they perceived as up. There was also quite a few of them on the road. So many, that they were more like one entity, as opposed to individuals. Kind of like a beach of sleeping elephant seals. They had ceased to be ponies, and were just a swarming, shouting, flailing mass. Like some kind of long, expressively vocal blood clot, being pushed down the arteries of Ponyville by some unseen heart, with its muscles woven of bad gossip and misinformation. When words ran away screaming from their muzzles, bits of spittle would gallop freely from their lips. Lyra's eyes zeroed in on the moist rain. Ew, It was really gross looking actually. The whole parade was just an uncomfortable thing to witness. It was too loud, and I can't really think of a time where I would want to observe a sweaty mass of flesh while riding a bicycle. The edges of the ponies met at the speed of a slow ooze, and mushed into each other, each pony absorbing his neighbor until they were but one large blob of a creature. But diamonds? Diamonds? thought Lyra. This could be interesting, She thought that maybe the seat of a bicycle would be a good place, from which to view the commotion. She thought wrong. She did not yet know, that she has thought wrong, until much later. But I did not hear about all this till after the fact, so she did not have me in her head, narrating her life for her, so she did not know that this would be a bad idea, until it became a bad idea. It would be weird, if I was narrating stuff in her head. But I am narrating stuff in your head, funny enough! -Insert maniacal laughter here- If you hear voices at any time, which do not belong to you, you are very sick. This includes voices in your head, but also not in your head. Hearing voices outside your head, or inside your head, which are not your own is a very dangerous thing. If this is happening to you, seek help. Although, I do not know if you even can be helped. I do not know if any of us can be. I personally have past the point of help. She decided that she would ride her bicycle to where ever the shouting ponies were sliding to, to see just what all the fuss was about. She got on her bicycle, and followed the shouting townsponies down the road of soap. Now, she did not ride her bicycle upon the road of soap. That would be dumb. Why would you even think that? God. You weirdo. They now know that you know that you didn't know! My god. Whatever shall you do now! ? ALL YOUR FRIENDS KNOW THAT YOU KNOW THAT THEY KNOW THAT YOU DID NOT KNOW WHAT YOU NOW KNOW WHICH IS WHAT THEY HAVE KNOWN BUT MOST LIKELY THEY HAVE NOT KNOWN. WHY DID YOU SAY ANYTHING? WILL THEY JUDGE YOU WILL YOUR THOUGHTS BE SAFE NOW? MY GOD THE TIME IS UPON US OUR THOUGHTS ARE NOW VIRAL THE WORLD AS WE HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN IT IS COMING TO AN END. NOW IS THE TIME FOR PANIC! Just stop. Its ok. She rode just to the side of the road, on the grass. She did not slip and slide, but just calmly pedaled along. This made her feel very smart. It feels good to feel smart. Lyra, like most ponies, liked to feel good about herself, and thus liked to feel smart. She looked at the mass of townsponies still slipping and sliding on the roads of soap. Keep in mind that at this point, they are still all shouting about diamonds, and flapping their hooves, and waggling their tongues. They are all still doing all this at the sky. There is also quite a lot of them. And they are all sort of piled on top of one another, so they are more of a giant moaning Trojan slug than anything else. Also their voiced did that thing that trains do when they go by where the noise is higher as it comes to you and then is slower later. I cannot recall what it is called, but they did that thing and it really just accentuated the whole unpleasantness of the situation. As Lyra was riding her bicycle down the side of the road, there was not one moment where she rode by an empty patch of soap road. They looked very ridiculous. She noticed that its edges were beginning to emit almost an aura, kind of a light blue trail, so the thing was like a grotesque comet. They looked very beautiful. Lyra did not know how to cope with the mixing of disgust and awe and admiration. It was a lot of emotion to feel at once. Lyra looked at them for a moment, until she could keep a straight face no longer, and was trembling with wonderful belly shaking laughter. Now, she was not laughing at them. That would be mean. No, she was laughing because the whole situation was so very very funny. In fact, laughter was the only form of expression which made sense to her. It was the only form of expression that could express this, or anything really. Words were useless to her, but will they be useless to me? Lyra was feeling this kind of vague melancholy, tinged with the grey frustration at a world so infinite and futile, doomed repeat history in a loop that would only end when everything else did. But all was still painted with the same shades of pink and silver as the grass, which left her feeling like all this couldn't possibly be so pointless and stupid, if it contained such beautiful silver grass. These words too are but the tiniest fraction, a grain of sand in the desert, one tiny star lost in a great and sparkling universe. She so longed to express this emotion in words, but every path her thoughts took led her to the same end. She laughed. But the grass was beautiful. As she pedaled her bicycle through it, the strands rose to greet her and brush against her hind legs. She felt as if she could have been riding up the back of some great earthen creature, slumbering and buried beneath earth, the grass that was its fur forever growing upward, yet not past her knees. The creature below her breathed and so did she, and the hills all around. Within her belly, it was as if she had swallowed a bright light, or perhaps a small sun. Like there was something within her that longed to spread its wings, but was still content to enjoy the ground for a little while longer. It filled her with a warmth that gradually spread its tendrils and crept out through her limbs. She wind brought to her a thing that was like deja vu, but not really. It was more like a smell from one's childhood, that for a single moment brushes the dream that was your youth across your muzzle and mind and you remember so clearly and so truely! But as quickly as it comes it is gone, and gone too are those memories. You are then left with nothing more than the fading memory of a memory in the morning, and perhaps a strange feeling for the rest of the day. You feel like you have been there before. You have been there before. Funny how you forget such important things like, where you have been, and where you are going? She laughed. You would laugh too. Especially while riding a bicycle. Bicycles make every thing funnier. Don't believe me? Well see for yourself then. Go outside. Get on your bicycle. Ride it around. Laugh at some stuff. (Ponies need to see a pony/themselves go completely insane sometimes. Its very good for you, on occasion. It makes then uncomfortable and that's very good. It reminds them that we are all actually insane but we just hide it under layers of adopted maturity, false professionalism, and scorn for our own self wrapped up in a pretty package that is hate for our fellow mare.) You probably shouldn't laugh at other ponies. That would be mean. Instead, laugh at something that either has no feelings, or doesn't care what you lot think anyway. Like a tree. Trees don't care what you think. Trees are better than you anyway. Ponies you pass on the street, or in the park might look at you funny. But to be honest, most ponies look at everything funny, including themselves, so I wouldn't worry too much about that. ~~Too busy for bicycles?~~ ~~You can never be too busy for bicycles.~~ ~~Scared of riding a bicycle?~~ ~~Then do not ride bicycles. Well that is pointless and stupid because life is terrifying, and to be honest you should be scared of EVERYTHING.~~ ~~No pony is safe. We are all going to die, again, and again and again, and again! Isn't that fascinating?~~ YOU DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR ANYTHING BUT LABOR AND CONSUMPTION AND PROCREATION. BICYCLES ARE VERY DANGEROUS. EVERYTHING IS VERY DANGEROUS. DO NOT DO ANYTHING. DO NOT LIVE YOUR LIFE. YOU SHOULD BE TERRIFIED OF EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR HOME. AVOID MAKING FRIENDS AND FAMILY BECAUSE HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW THOSE PONIES ANYWAY. DO NOT LOOK UP AT THE SKY, THE STARLIGHT MIGHT HARM YOUR EYES. KEEP YOUR EYES PRESSED TO YOUR GLOWING BOOKS FOR THE SAKE OF THE MOTHER COUNTRY! FOR THE SAKE OF THE CHILDREN! FOR IT IS YOU WHO IS THE CHILD. DO NOT DO ANYTHING. DO NOT LIVE YOUR LIFE. YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER AND YOUR LITTLE SISTER AND YOUR BIG BROTHER LOVE YOU SO MUCH. THEY WANT TO KEEP YOU ~~SAFE!~~ But anyway. Be like a tree. Trees don't care what you think anyway. But look! Now you are enjoying the fresh air, riding a bicycle (which you probably haven't done in a while, you lazy, you.), laughing at trees! And on top of all that, your shedding yourself of your prison, with its iron bars of opinions. Isn't that hilarious? Look at you! Why are you laughing at trees? Are you crazy? Get back in school! What are you doing, enjoying the fresh air and laughing at trees! You should be ashamed. Your grandfather must be turning in his grave! You're a disgrace to your whole family! Well anyway as I was saying earlier, this whole laughing business made the townsponies feel very bad. After all, for all they knew, Lyra was laughing at them. That would make anypony feel very bad. No pony likes to be laughed at. So naturally, the townsponies got a little upset. They stopped doing all their shouting, and limb waving, and tongue flapping at the sky. Now, the began doing it at Lyra. (When she looked away they had returned to the form of a pile of individuals. But now that she was looking at them, their edges again melted into each other. This happened every time she looked away.) Now, you probably have not ever seen a mob of ponies slipping and sliding and waving their arms and shouting at you, but as you can probably imagine it is very overwhelming. This was very overwhelming for Lyra. A lot of things are overwhelming. Especially while riding a bicycle. A lot of things are much more overwhelming while riding a bicycle. Think about it. Whenever anything happens while riding a bicycle, not only do you worry about the thing that is happening, you have to also not crash your bicycle. Do not crash your fucking bicycle. In your mind now, you are probably imagining a bicycle hitting a tree or something, and a pony being flung from it. No, that would be simple, and easy to deal with. No the problem is, when you crash your bicycle is not that you stop. It's that you keep going. Maybe crash isn't the best word for it. Probably not. But whatever. Also, you probably should not ride your bicycle dark places either. That is probably not wise. It is hard to ride bicycles in the dark. But Lyra did not think about this, because her only concern at the time was getting as far as possible from that terrifying shouting and flailing mob. That was really scary OK? I saw it too, and I hid in a tree for two hours. oR wAS iT tWO yEARS? Time means very little to me these days. But anyway, Lyra rode her bicycle into the Everfree forest. That was probably a bad move. I mean it ended up being OK, but still. It could have not been OK. It could have been very not OK. OK? Lyra had long since abandoned any kind of road or trail, and was now carving new paths through the dark, tall grass. The ground was rather rocky, and Lyra's bicycle went over a lot of stones, as she went on her way. This kind of hurt, as you may know, if you have ever ridden a bumpy bicycle through a dark place. Lyra heard strange bellows coming from behind the trees ahead. She had never before heard noises like these, like the guttural cries of wounded animal. She wondered what kind of terror lay behind the shady leaves. She thought about how she had not seen Bon Bon that day, and that perhaps it might be Bon Bon. After all, anything is possible in life. Lyra slowly pedaled her bicycle through the brush, and in the clearing before her was Bon Bon. She stopped her bicycle right in front of her. Lyra opened her mouth. She stared at her, mouth agape, for a few moments. "Bon Bon?" Bon Bon stopped her wailing for a moment, and looked at Lyra quizzically. "Bon Bon, what the fuck are you doing?" Author's Note Are you sexually aroused by carpal tunnel syndrome? What are Trains, and Why are Ponies Standing on the Tracks?Lyra pedaled beside the road of soap. She was starting to feel as if she were going the wrong way. She should be back in town by now, or at least see it somewhere in the distance. She did not see much of anything in the distance, just rolling hills. Train tracks intersected the soap road. Ponies stood in clusters on the tracks. Huh? Lyra stopped just off the tracks. She hesitantly waved. "Hi?" She recognized many of them. Some were Ponyville natives, a few of them she even saw on the soap road today. The ponies did not notice her. Some talked to their neighbors, some busied themselves with books. Others stood smiling up at the sky, hooves outstretched. Some seemed to be paying attention to nothing at all. None of them noticed Lyra. From the distance, the scream of a great metal monster reached Lyra's ears. The Train! She likewise screamed. She knew it would be coming. She pleaded with the ponies to remove themselves from the beast's path. They did not hear her. They only busied themselves with their neighbors, their books, and their scenery. Some of them were busy with nothing at all. The train grew nearer. At this point, for the first time today, she cast aside her bicycle. She knew that, while her bicycle could bring her to the place, she alone could complete the task that lay within that place. She galloped from pony to pony, pulling and pushing, in her struggle to get them off the tracks, but to no avail. Even when she grabbed them by their shoulders and shook them, they stayed in place flopping about. She cried, she screamed, and she pleaded. But still they remained with their noses in books, in conversation, or pointed up at the sky. The train was almost upon them. The screams were deafening. Lyra had no choice but to step off the tracks. There was nothing she could do for them, if they could do nothing for themselves. She could not watch. With trembling hooves she took the handlebars of her bicycle, and swung herself up onto the seat. She positioned her hooves on the pedals, and she was off, her hooves circling upon her vehicles machinery, back the way she came. But then, one called out to her. She paused, and turned her head. It was a stallion. His mane black, his fur tan. He opened his mouth and said, "They are behind you now," The Train came upon him. And then they were all gone. The stallion in the conductor's car silently smiled. Lyra did not see him. Neither did you. WHO IS STANDING BEHIND ME?!The train came and went, and all who stood before it were also gone, in the blink of an eye. But Lyra did not see it. She could only hear the moist thumps of the train meeting those warm bodies, and the rhythmic sounds of the cast from the tracks, like wave gliding over the surface of the sea. There was something very wrong with Ponyville. The words of the lost stallion reared up within her mind. "They are behind you," he had said. And she then felt that slow rumbling fear that grows louder, and louder, as your heart's rhythms rear up in anticipation for the coming horror, as you can feel that there is someone there, YES SOMEONE! Some one there, right there! Someone directly behind her! Someone with a slowly beating heart, getting closer and closer, until she could feel their breath on her neck. She turned her head to look. Ponies were indeed there. And she was then reminded of the horrors of trains, their terrible screams and their terrible wheels. She saw the tides of blood that were coming fast for her, the swift retribution of thousands of years of sorrow, all as blood lapping at the spokes on her bicycle wheel. But there was something else there too, something underneath the dreadful scene. It was all perfect, too perfect. The horror unfolded beautifully, and underneath all the expected feelings and assorted terrors something deep within stirred. Almost like ripples in still water, but when no stone was thrown. She opened her mouth to cry out, but no sound could escape. She pedaled her bicycle as fast as she could. Ishallgotothemountainsandfindacave!yessafethensafefromtheirmindstheirtoxicmindsidontliketheirtoxicmindsitbringsthedemonsoutinmineithurtsreallyreallyitreallydoesicanttakeittoomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoseeforlittleoldmedigaholeiwillyesyesyesawholesafeiwanttobeholyiwanttobewholeiwanttobeholyiwanttobewhole
What is Toothpaste, and Why is it Everywhere?Lyra stared at Bon Bon, where she was crouching in the forest clearing. She was COVERED in toothpaste. Occasionally, she wailed in some kind of perverse agony. Big bulbous tears carved valleys in the tooth paste streaked across those cheeks. In the grasp of her hooves, was a tube of toothpaste. She was grunting, quite angrily, at the tube. One of her hooves was covered in considerably more toothpaste than the rest of her, and she was mashing at the tube with it, repeatedly. She was obviously trying to accomplish something here, and though this goal was unclear, it was clear that she was failing in achieving it. Each hoof mashing caused her to grow even more exasperated. Every action she took caused the problem to grow worse, as she squeezed more and more from the tube. She noticed this, and her cries of agony grew in their ferocity. But she would not stop. Was it possible that, she could not stop? All of this was made a whole lot worse by the fact that Bon Bon was not riding a bicycle. Lyra could not shake the menacing vibrations emanating from Bon Bon's fur like radio waves. Was Bon Bon jealous of Lyra's bicycle? Lyra wanted to go bicycle riding with Bon Bon, and Bon Bon said she had been feeling like she was doing too much of that lately so she wanted to stop. Lyra asked Bon Bon if it would make her feel uncomfortable to be around bicycles. Bon Bon said no! Had Bon Bon lied? Was Bon Bon addicted to bicycles? Could you even be addicted to bicycles? Its seems unlikely, its not the kind of thing one can easily do every day. Bicycles are alot of commitment. And after all, Bon Bon was not the kind of mare to fall prey to addiction of that nature. Bon Bon is a good, strong mare, despite her secret life as an undercover agent, where she does some probably very sketchy things. But Lyra did not mind. Bon Bon was good. Lyra liked Bon Bon. Bon Bon is good! I like Bon Bon! Lyra reminded herself. Despite her reasonings, she could not shake the feeling that something was very very wrong with Bon Bon. Was it really something that was wrong with Bon Bon? Or was it something wrong with her? WAS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH LYRA? She was very scared. The fear swirled in her belly, like the bats that swarmed around the clearing. They were there, inside the little pool of light that shielded the pair from all shadows, Lyra with her bicycle and Bon Bon with her tube. Bon Bon did not stop. She only continued to growl and bash the tube. To some kind of unheard rhythm she beat the toothpaste from the tube, all the while trying to do the opposite. She wailed, she bawled. She stopped. She looked at the sky. She HOWLED! "Bon Bon, what the fuck are you doing?" Bon Bon stopped with the hoof mashing, and looked up at Lyra. Bon Bon's eyes burned with a fury like which Lyra had never before seen. Blades of fear twisted withing Lyra's stomach. Disdain was borne upon her brow, as she looked at Lyra, and shouted at her, as if she were the dumbest pony in all of Equestria, "I am trying to put this toothpaste back into its tube!" "You made me squirt it all out and now I am putting it back in thank you very much!" Lyra was dumbfounded. "God Lyra! You are so fucking stupid!" This made Lyra feel very bad. After all when your best friend says you are stupid, this makes you feel very bad. No pony likes to be told they are stupid. Even if they are stupid. Especially not by their best friend. In the case that the pony in question was stupid, then the best friend should be the pony to tell them about it. I personally would prefer, if I was being stupid, I would want my friend to sit me down and give me a nice logical list of their concerns or complaints, gently. The news should not shouted at somepony in a dark forest while you are covered in toothpaste. That is rude. We are all adults here. We should all know how to use toothpaste by now. For crying out loud. I mean there's no reason to be mean! They could have just gone to the stream, to wash off the toothpaste. And then together they could have gone to the store to buy some more toothpaste. Then together they could have done, whatever the hell ponies are supposed to do with toothpaste anyway. But Lyra did not think about this. It was very very dark. Lyra could hardly see Bon Bon in the dark clearing, much less anything else. Lyra was too busy with her bicycle and her feelings were simply too hurt for her to question this extremely uncharacteristic behavior. For her to question any pony's uncharacteristic behavior. All the ponies were indeed behaving rather odd, did they always act this way? It was all too much, just too much for one mind. Lyra held back the tears struggling to free themselves from her eyes. Lyra was very sad, and then she became angry at her sadness. Why should she be sad? It is not fair for her to be so sad when it is so very very dark. Lyra bit her lip. She would not cry, in front of Bon Bon. "WELL FUCK YOU TOO BON BON!" Then she rode her bicycle further into the forest. She wondered why she was going further into the forest. She was in control of the bicycle. After all, it was her bicycle. The solution was easy. She turned her bicycle in a different direction, and continued pedaling along. Always keep in mind, that while your bicycle does indeed have a mind of its own, you likewise have a mind of your own. Your mind should also be superior to that of a bicycle. After all, you are using your mind to operate the bicycle. It is your mind which puts your legs in motion. It is your mind that turns the wheels. Bicycles are quite smarter than trains, and thus, they are still bicycles. Now it is natural to slip up, once or twice. Bicycles are wily creatures, and they tend to try to go their own way sometimes. All you have to do, is give your bicycle a firm, but kind tap on the nose, and say NO. We are not going that way, we are going this way. And then you and your bicycle would go that way, and not that other way. However it can be quite difficult, to lean over your handle bars to tap your bicycle upon its nose, while also continuing to pedal. This is why it can be helpful, to ride a bicycle with a friend, or at least have that friend gallop beside you as you go on your merry way. Now the friend might be in a bit of a better mood, if they did not have to frantically run beside you, attempting to tap a moving vehicle on its nose. In all probability, they will actually be a little annoyed with you, for making them gallop their ass for 6-8 hours alongside you while you giggle and laugh, and have a merry time. But their emotions will cause you to be sad, because they will be grumpy. They would be happier on a bicycle, but they would like wise have to lean over while pedaling, to tap your bicycle upon its nose. Do you see the problem here? However this all depends on how adept your companion is at riding a bicycle, or how patient and kind of a friend they are. One should not ride bicycles by oneself, because that is how one wakes up to find themselves up a tree in front of the Equestrian Public Library at 3am with no pants. And like at many moments when one is wearing no pants, it would be simply far too easy to do some internal exploration. That can be very dangerous. (This story arose from an instance extremely similar after all) Now unless you are into that sort of thing, it might be best to bring a friend on your bicycle rides, to stop you, or to play with you. But this could also be very dangerous, for you and your friend might both end up in that situation, simply together, and refusing to acknowledge the elephant in the tree that is your exposed genitalia and the creeping fear. Again it is all up to you. You create your reality. However, if you can be repeatedly outsmarted by a bicycle, then I do not know how to help you. And if you by some chance, are stupid to the point where you can be outsmarted by a train Then may Celestia have mercy upon your soul. Author's Note Words are like toothpaste, you can't put them back into the tube...
Why is Pinkie Pie, and WHAT ARE THOSEEEEE?Lyra pedaled her bicycle out of the Everfree forest. It grew lighter, as the bright cloudy sky no longer hid behind gnarled tree limbs. She was pleased that she made it out of the forest. Now she could get back to what she had been trying to do, trying to see what all the fuss was about diamonds. She found a soap road, and began to follow it in the direction of Ponyville. That's what she assumed anyway. Its usually not best to assume anything, about anything. For instance, whenever I think I know something, I immediately realize something new, and then I feel stupid for thinking knew anything in the first place. Does that ever happen to you? Is it starting to get annoying yet? Huh? Do you see what you get for trying to know stuff? Do you see all the good knowledge had brought you? But I digress, she still did want to see what this was all about Diamonds, after all that was her original intent, when she got on this bicycle. Or was it? Was riding the bicycle the intent, and the diamonds the journey? Was the journey the destination, and the destination the journey? Thankfully her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of an odd pink shape, lying on the side of the road in the distance. She craned her neck, and squinted her eyes at it. It seemed vaguely familiar. Like she had seen it all her life, perhaps lived through it even, or was perhaps currently living through it, and only now was she seeing it for what it really, and truly, was. As she pedaled closer, she noticed a low lying pink cloud, hovering directly over the shape, and it seemed to be spewing forth some kind of brown rain. As she pedaled even closer, she noticed that the shape was that of a familiar pink pony. As she stopped her bicycle along side the familiar pink pony, she noticed that the cloud was in fact raining chocolate rain, and this chocolate rain was pouring into her mouth, as she lied on her back beneath it. Three emotions filled her simultaneously. The first was to do with the fact that she and nopony had never before noticed rain like this, or there would be much talk of it, which she had never heard, and that made her feel like there was something far greater than us ponies about, and that made her feel a strange creeping dread. The second was that a friendly familiar pony, like the pink one that lay before her, should be one of the first to warn us of something sinister, so there could in fact be nothing sinister here, so this dampened the dread with a bit of warm familiarity. And the third thing she felt, was that she should listen to to herself, because obviously something sinister was afoot. This last feeling was a bit hard to describe. But it filled her with the confidence she required to open her mouth and say, "Hi Pinkie Pie," Pinkie Pie's eyes grew wide, as it was clear it was difficult for her to tear her eyes away from the waterfall of chocolate milk rain that flooded into her gullet, to look at Lyra. She smiled, then waved vigorously at Lyra as she exclaimed, "Hi Lyra!" Of course with all that rain in her mouth it sounded more like, "Hmggggmmi Lyhmmgggmmra!" And then she went back to guzzling the rain, with the corners of her mouth upturned. Lyra looked down at her hooves "This rain is kinda weird, huh?" Pinkie's mouth snapped shut, and she sat up violently, her eyes narrowed. Now of course she was simply getting rained on, and she seemed uncharacteristically upset about this. She stared at Lyra for half a heart beat, before leaping up, and getting far too close. She gave Lyra a sideways stare, as she wrapped her foreleg around her shoulders. Pinkie tightened her grip, and hissed in Lyra's ear, "There are no such thing as rain, or clouds!!! Then Pinkie promptly leaped into the air, and landed atop her cloud which did not exist. Then she floated away slowly, all the while giving Lyra a backwards glare. She floated down the way Lyra came, above the soap road. Lyra thought this was all quite odd. And she was correct, it was quite odd. She was sure that there was a thing that existed, that were referred to as clouds. She did not feel like something could not exist, just because some other pony said it did not. I mean that's what she had always heard. Well not heard. On her bicycle, on the part where usually words are, was painted the phrase, 'Question everything, even the everything that told you to question the everything' This was a lot of words to put on such a small surface, so they got smaller and smaller as the sentence went on, and they wound themselves around the metal spine, in a way where they circled back unto themselves. Lyra thought about all the strange behavior she had been witnessing. She thought about the strange clouds and the choclolate rain and the soapy roads. She could not see anything to do about any of it, and Pinkie Pie steadily floated further and further away. And anyway, what could only one pony do about anything? Lyra continued pedaling her bicycle along, besides that road of soap.
Epileptic MountainsLyra pedaled her bicycle up the mountain, sending waves of pebbles cascading down its face with every inch of ground she gained. Sweat and tears were rocks, her face like the mountain, with a cold lack of expression that was indeed an expression, painted by eons of tectonics and emotions. They were coming back to her now, all the shadows she so feared. The emotions broke through her stony expression like the crest of a wave rising on a violent sea. "GO AWAY, GO AWAY, GO AWAY!" she screeched. But the shadows did not listen, because shadows are little pieces of shit. They don't tend to make very good traveling companions (as you can see here), not to mention their passions for bringing up everything bad that has ever happened to you and making you believe that it was all your fault, even though some of it may indeed be your fault. None of that shit is any fun at all, and this is why shadows are not very popular at parties, and thus they don't get invited to any, which hurts their feelings. Then, with their feelings hurt, they take it out on ponies like poor Lyra here. Then, a pony like Lyra will make sure to spread the word on how much of an asshole those shadows are being, and then you can see how the vicious circles go around, like bicycle wheels. Wow, what a convenient metaphor. She pedaled faster and faster, and yet they kept so close to her tail, playing with her, each shadow daring the other to be the first to pull her from her place. But she could not pedal her fear away. She came to a place that was flat, not yet the top of the mountain, but flat nonetheless, a good place to rest. She was so high up now, that there was snow! Beautiful! She wanted to play in the snow! Oh how badly she wanted it, and how beautiful was the snow! How she longed to play in it, roll in it, to just shove as much of it as she could up her nose. But she stayed away. Nothing good can come from snow. It is fun yes, fun to play in the snow. But at what cost? Everything she knew to be true had been reduced to rubble, ashes of what existence used to be. She could no longer see the shadows who tormented her, but this brought no comfort. She could see Ponyville, and the land beyond, or what used to be the land beyond. She saw, all of it. What happened? Gone were the cheery, rolling hills. Gone were the apple orchards. Ponyville, and portions of the land beyond held unto jagged clumps of land, suspended in a checkered void, like drowning rats clinging to drift wood. She could see the townsponies, as small as ants, but she could see them. She could see them, going about their humble lives but no pony was shouting, no pony was screaming. She was appalled at the chaos. She was appalled at the discord. There was more. Lyra turned away. "Who did this?" Lyra asked the mountains. The mountains were silent. "WHO DID THIS??!!" she screamed at the mountain, beating her hooves against its rocky face. Lyra crumpled to the ground in tears, her face buried in the dirt, her hooves pounding the earth. "Who did this to us..." her voice now soft, the mere whimpers of a child. But the mountains did not answer because they had better things to do than talk to a pony with kaleidoscope eyes. In fact, the mountain were slightly offended. You know, there they were, minding their own business, doing their thing, being mountains, and here come this pony assaulting them with all sorts of philosophical questions, all the while blinding them with her kaleidoscope eyes. You must remember that these particular mountains have a curious case of epilepsy. I'm sure you remember learning all about this in the third grade or so, and I don't feel the need to give you a refresher course on the various medical conditions of the local mountain range. You should have payed attention. After one final THUMP, her hooves ceased to move. She whimpered. Someone had done something terrible to her home, and no pony noticed. Even she had not noticed, at first! All her life, the sky had never changed from its forever changing state. All her life, there had been clouds that rained chocolate. All her life, the roads had been made of soap. Hadn't they? Whatever the case, someone had lied to them! They had LIED to Lyra! They had LIED to her friends! They had LIED to Ponyville! Her fear pulled back, like the tide. Slowly, but steadily, something new filled that space. Sometimes one says that their stomach is filled with butterflies. This would not be an appropriate metaphor. What is a good metaphor for righteous anger? Lyra's stomach contained the screaming souls of the long forgotten, and they screamed for justice long withheld. Lyra's heart beat upon her rib cage like her hooves once had, on the face of the mountain. She rose up, and marched to the face of the mountain. She would have her answers! She got directly up in that mountains face. She squared her shoulders, and made her face into a kind of tough, no nonsense expression, before knocking on the bit of rock she assumed was the upper right-hoof portion of its left-hoof eyebrow. "Mountain!" her voiced boomed with a new found courage. "I demand answers Mountain! You have sat here through the ages, you have been the witness to this discord and strife! Surely you know what has happened to my home?" Then there was a thundering CRACK, and the a great slit appeared in the rock. Upon the surface, two slabs of stone began to slowly part, and the mountain spoke. Listen now, and listen well, for once I will tell First, do not have fear, for that makes it hard to hear Lyra could now see that she had been pounding her hoof on the mountains right eye, as it was opening slowly and dramatically before her. Remember that this is just a game, though you will walk close to flame Third---OH MY GOD WOMAN YOUR FUCKING EYES!!!! The Mountain's great stone eye was open enough to meet Lyra's luminescent gaze. Remember she has kaleidoscope eyes, and those are very flashy and not something to be shined into the eyes of an epileptic mountain. Lyra did not understand. She did NOT pay attention attention in third grade health. CLOSE YOUR EYES Lyra did, but it was too late. A flock of birds burst screaming from a bush clinging to the mountainside. Vibrations began feebly, but turned to violent spasms. They reverberated through her hocks and shook her to her core. Cascades of stone rained down upon her from the peaks that towered far above. She opened her eyes just in time to see a cavern crack open beneath her hooves. For a heart beat after the rocks fell away, she remained suspended in air, and could only stare into the blackness of the abyss. Then she fell in.
What is Eggbread, and Why are Trees Better than Me on a Normal Day?It was a nice day. Lyra looked out her window. The sky was its typical vibrant, ever shifting shades. The wisps of cloud would intertwine with their neighbors, and their different shades converged, so that the colors of the sky were ever rippling and changing. A disembodied head floated by. It did not seem to be uncomfortable, so Lyra did not feel bad waving at it. "Hello there!" she said. In fact, it was grinning wildly, and seemed rather pleased with itself. She wondered if it was floating around for long. She wondered why it would be pleased with itself. It was not doing anything that normally deserves any kind of praise, or was it? It? She? She wondered what pronoun you would use, for a disembodied head. However, her thoughts on this were cut short, as the body whose head had been disembodied came floating along a couple seconds later. She thought about how much of themselves pony has to possess, to still be called a pony. Is it a body attached to a head? Or a head attached to a body? She then decided to not think about it any longer, because clearly it was getting nowhere. A typical day, it was. She made her breakfast, a simple eggbread. Now before you get upset with me for making things up, I will have you know that an eggbread is what occurs when you are far too lazy to cook eggs in a basket. So instead of putting in the effort to make a hole in your bread, and undergoing the complex process of flipping your egg basket without breaking the yolk and ruining it, you simply fry the egg, and place it on top of your bread. The egg cooking bit is the best cooking bit, for one only need place the egg into the pan, and for the most part just watch. Lyra liked this because it was fun to watch. But lo, your eggbread is not a sandwich, for there is only one bread, because you do not have a lot of bits for groceries, and you are trying to conserve for the dark decrepit days that lie ahead, for you and your bread. Dark days for you, and dark days especially for your bread. Your bread will never before have seen a time filled with such discord and strife. I suppose you may toast your bread if you wish, but putting in additional effort into the constitution of your bread defeats the other purpose of eggbread, because the whole reason you made eggbread in the first place is because you did not give a flying fuck about what you were eating that morning, because if you really cared you would have just make eggs in a basket or blanket or whatever the fuck its called, you know what I mean. Not to mention that, besides that sack of tea leaves in the cupboard, eggs and bread were the two things that happened to remain in your kitchen. This is exactly why Lyra made eggbread. She made some tea too, while she made her eggbread. Lyra liked tea. She liked green tea the most. This is why she had a whole sack of it in her cupboard. She slowly bit into her eggbread. She savored that wonderful golden yolk, as the occasional dribble oozed down her chin. She drank her green tea that she liked in between bites of her eggbread which she made. She was happy with her eggbread. She liked eggbread. Although, she couldn’t help but dream of the wonderfully decadent breakfasts she might have made, if not for all the reasons listed previously. But that’s why she had tea. Tea made the eggbread breakfast better. Whenever the dry bread made her mouth…well…dry, she drank some tea. Whenever those stray tears dropped from her chin, as she thought of all those extravagant breakfasts she might have had, she drank some tea. Whenever she felt that terrible unrelenting shame for not being entirely grateful to have eggbread, while so many ponies go without a breakfast, She drank some tea. Now that she was finished with her eggbread, she went outside with her tea, the tea smoke trailed from her nostrils. She sat on her porch. What a time to be alive! Neither the sun, or the moon, or the stars were out. The vibrant sky was covered with its vibrant clouds, which were once upon a time grey. The light of those clouds, shown off her lovely bicycle, as it leaned against the porch rails. She thought that it would be a wonderful day, or night, or day, or night, on which to ride her bicycle. Oh, how she loved her bicycle. But she did not yet rise from where she was seated, to go on adventures with her bicycle (whom she loves very much). Something odd drew her attention. Many townsponies were shouting, and slipping and sliding down roads of soap. No, the roads of soap was not the odd part of that, or this, nor the next, sentence. The roads have always been made of soap, where have you been all this time? No what was odd, was that they were all shouting something about diamonds, while flapping their hoofs and waggling their tongues in the direction which they perceived as up. There was also quite a few of them on the road. So many, that they were more like one entity, as opposed to individuals. Kind of like a beach of sleeping elephant seals. They had ceased to be ponies, and were just a swarming, shouting, flailing mass. Like some kind of long, expressively vocal blood clot, being pushed down the arteries of Ponyville by some unseen heart, with its muscles woven of bad gossip and misinformation. When words ran away screaming from their muzzles, bits of spittle would gallop freely from their lips. Lyra's eyes zeroed in on the moist rain. Ew, It was really gross looking actually. The whole parade was just an uncomfortable thing to witness. It was too loud, and I can't really think of a time where I would want to observe a sweaty mass of flesh while riding a bicycle. The edges of the ponies met at the speed of a slow ooze, and mushed into each other, each pony absorbing his neighbor until they were but one large blob of a creature. But diamonds? Diamonds? thought Lyra. This could be interesting, She thought that maybe the seat of a bicycle would be a good place, from which to view the commotion. She thought wrong. She did not yet know, that she has thought wrong, until much later. But I did not hear about all this till after the fact, so she did not have me in her head, narrating her life for her, so she did not know that this would be a bad idea, until it became a bad idea. It would be weird, if I was narrating stuff in her head. But I am narrating stuff in your head, funny enough! -Insert maniacal laughter here- If you hear voices at any time, which do not belong to you, you are very sick. This includes voices in your head, but also not in your head. Hearing voices outside your head, or inside your head, which are not your own is a very dangerous thing. If this is happening to you, seek help. Although, I do not know if you even can be helped. I do not know if any of us can be. I personally have past the point of help. She decided that she would ride her bicycle to where ever the shouting ponies were sliding to, to see just what all the fuss was about. She got on her bicycle, and followed the shouting townsponies down the road of soap. Now, she did not ride her bicycle upon the road of soap. That would be dumb. Why would you even think that? God. You weirdo. They now know that you know that you didn't know! My god. Whatever shall you do now! ? ALL YOUR FRIENDS KNOW THAT YOU KNOW THAT THEY KNOW THAT YOU DID NOT KNOW WHAT YOU NOW KNOW WHICH IS WHAT THEY HAVE KNOWN BUT MOST LIKELY THEY HAVE NOT KNOWN. WHY DID YOU SAY ANYTHING? WILL THEY JUDGE YOU WILL YOUR THOUGHTS BE SAFE NOW? MY GOD THE TIME IS UPON US OUR THOUGHTS ARE NOW VIRAL THE WORLD AS WE HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN IT IS COMING TO AN END. NOW IS THE TIME FOR PANIC! Just stop. Its ok. She rode just to the side of the road, on the grass. She did not slip and slide, but just calmly pedaled along. This made her feel very smart. It feels good to feel smart. Lyra, like most ponies, liked to feel good about herself, and thus liked to feel smart. She looked at the mass of townsponies still slipping and sliding on the roads of soap. Keep in mind that at this point, they are still all shouting about diamonds, and flapping their hooves, and waggling their tongues. They are all still doing all this at the sky. There is also quite a lot of them. And they are all sort of piled on top of one another, so they are more of a giant moaning Trojan slug than anything else. Also their voiced did that thing that trains do when they go by where the noise is higher as it comes to you and then is slower later. I cannot recall what it is called, but they did that thing and it really just accentuated the whole unpleasantness of the situation. As Lyra was riding her bicycle down the side of the road, there was not one moment where she rode by an empty patch of soap road. They looked very ridiculous. She noticed that its edges were beginning to emit almost an aura, kind of a light blue trail, so the thing was like a grotesque comet. They looked very beautiful. Lyra did not know how to cope with the mixing of disgust and awe and admiration. It was a lot of emotion to feel at once. Lyra looked at them for a moment, until she could keep a straight face no longer, and was trembling with wonderful belly shaking laughter. Now, she was not laughing at them. That would be mean. No, she was laughing because the whole situation was so very very funny. In fact, laughter was the only form of expression which made sense to her. It was the only form of expression that could express this, or anything really. Words were useless to her, but will they be useless to me? Lyra was feeling this kind of vague melancholy, tinged with the grey frustration at a world so infinite and futile, doomed repeat history in a loop that would only end when everything else did. But all was still painted with the same shades of pink and silver as the grass, which left her feeling like all this couldn't possibly be so pointless and stupid, if it contained such beautiful silver grass. These words too are but the tiniest fraction, a grain of sand in the desert, one tiny star lost in a great and sparkling universe. She so longed to express this emotion in words, but every path her thoughts took led her to the same end. She laughed. But the grass was beautiful. As she pedaled her bicycle through it, the strands rose to greet her and brush against her hind legs. She felt as if she could have been riding up the back of some great earthen creature, slumbering and buried beneath earth, the grass that was its fur forever growing upward, yet not past her knees. The creature below her breathed and so did she, and the hills all around. Within her belly, it was as if she had swallowed a bright light, or perhaps a small sun. Like there was something within her that longed to spread its wings, but was still content to enjoy the ground for a little while longer. It filled her with a warmth that gradually spread its tendrils and crept out through her limbs. She wind brought to her a thing that was like deja vu, but not really. It was more like a smell from one's childhood, that for a single moment brushes the dream that was your youth across your muzzle and mind and you remember so clearly and so truely! But as quickly as it comes it is gone, and gone too are those memories. You are then left with nothing more than the fading memory of a memory in the morning, and perhaps a strange feeling for the rest of the day. You feel like you have been there before. You have been there before. Funny how you forget such important things like, where you have been, and where you are going? She laughed. You would laugh too. Especially while riding a bicycle. Bicycles make every thing funnier. Don't believe me? Well see for yourself then. Go outside. Get on your bicycle. Ride it around. Laugh at some stuff. (Ponies need to see a pony/themselves go completely insane sometimes. Its very good for you, on occasion. It makes then uncomfortable and that's very good. It reminds them that we are all actually insane but we just hide it under layers of adopted maturity, false professionalism, and scorn for our own self wrapped up in a pretty package that is hate for our fellow mare.) You probably shouldn't laugh at other ponies. That would be mean. Instead, laugh at something that either has no feelings, or doesn't care what you lot think anyway. Like a tree. Trees don't care what you think. Trees are better than you anyway. Ponies you pass on the street, or in the park might look at you funny. But to be honest, most ponies look at everything funny, including themselves, so I wouldn't worry too much about that. ~~Too busy for bicycles?~~ ~~You can never be too busy for bicycles.~~ ~~Scared of riding a bicycle?~~ ~~Then do not ride bicycles. Well that is pointless and stupid because life is terrifying, and to be honest you should be scared of EVERYTHING.~~ ~~No pony is safe. We are all going to die, again, and again and again, and again! Isn't that fascinating?~~ YOU DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR ANYTHING BUT LABOR AND CONSUMPTION AND PROCREATION. BICYCLES ARE VERY DANGEROUS. EVERYTHING IS VERY DANGEROUS. DO NOT DO ANYTHING. DO NOT LIVE YOUR LIFE. YOU SHOULD BE TERRIFIED OF EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR HOME. AVOID MAKING FRIENDS AND FAMILY BECAUSE HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW THOSE PONIES ANYWAY. DO NOT LOOK UP AT THE SKY, THE STARLIGHT MIGHT HARM YOUR EYES. KEEP YOUR EYES PRESSED TO YOUR GLOWING BOOKS FOR THE SAKE OF THE MOTHER COUNTRY! FOR THE SAKE OF THE CHILDREN! FOR IT IS YOU WHO IS THE CHILD. DO NOT DO ANYTHING. DO NOT LIVE YOUR LIFE. YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER AND YOUR LITTLE SISTER AND YOUR BIG BROTHER LOVE YOU SO MUCH. THEY WANT TO KEEP YOU ~~SAFE!~~ But anyway. Be like a tree. Trees don't care what you think anyway. But look! Now you are enjoying the fresh air, riding a bicycle (which you probably haven't done in a while, you lazy, you.), laughing at trees! And on top of all that, your shedding yourself of your prison, with its iron bars of opinions. Isn't that hilarious? Look at you! Why are you laughing at trees? Are you crazy? Get back in school! What are you doing, enjoying the fresh air and laughing at trees! You should be ashamed. Your grandfather must be turning in his grave! You're a disgrace to your whole family! Well anyway as I was saying earlier, this whole laughing business made the townsponies feel very bad. After all, for all they knew, Lyra was laughing at them. That would make anypony feel very bad. No pony likes to be laughed at. So naturally, the townsponies got a little upset. They stopped doing all their shouting, and limb waving, and tongue flapping at the sky. Now, the began doing it at Lyra. (When she looked away they had returned to the form of a pile of individuals. But now that she was looking at them, their edges again melted into each other. This happened every time she looked away.) Now, you probably have not ever seen a mob of ponies slipping and sliding and waving their arms and shouting at you, but as you can probably imagine it is very overwhelming. This was very overwhelming for Lyra. A lot of things are overwhelming. Especially while riding a bicycle. A lot of things are much more overwhelming while riding a bicycle. Think about it. Whenever anything happens while riding a bicycle, not only do you worry about the thing that is happening, you have to also not crash your bicycle. Do not crash your fucking bicycle. In your mind now, you are probably imagining a bicycle hitting a tree or something, and a pony being flung from it. No, that would be simple, and easy to deal with. No the problem is, when you crash your bicycle is not that you stop. It's that you keep going. Maybe crash isn't the best word for it. Probably not. But whatever. Also, you probably should not ride your bicycle dark places either. That is probably not wise. It is hard to ride bicycles in the dark. But Lyra did not think about this, because her only concern at the time was getting as far as possible from that terrifying shouting and flailing mob. That was really scary OK? I saw it too, and I hid in a tree for two hours. oR wAS iT tWO yEARS? Time means very little to me these days. But anyway, Lyra rode her bicycle into the Everfree forest. That was probably a bad move. I mean it ended up being OK, but still. It could have not been OK. It could have been very not OK. OK? Lyra had long since abandoned any kind of road or trail, and was now carving new paths through the dark, tall grass. The ground was rather rocky, and Lyra's bicycle went over a lot of stones, as she went on her way. This kind of hurt, as you may know, if you have ever ridden a bumpy bicycle through a dark place. Lyra heard strange bellows coming from behind the trees ahead. She had never before heard noises like these, like the guttural cries of wounded animal. She wondered what kind of terror lay behind the shady leaves. She thought about how she had not seen Bon Bon that day, and that perhaps it might be Bon Bon. After all, anything is possible in life. Lyra slowly pedaled her bicycle through the brush, and in the clearing before her was Bon Bon. She stopped her bicycle right in front of her. Lyra opened her mouth. She stared at her, mouth agape, for a few moments. "Bon Bon?" Bon Bon stopped her wailing for a moment, and looked at Lyra quizzically. "Bon Bon, what the fuck are you doing?" Author's Note Are you sexually aroused by carpal tunnel syndrome?
What are Trains, and Why are Ponies Standing on the Tracks?Lyra pedaled beside the road of soap. She was starting to feel as if she were going the wrong way. She should be back in town by now, or at least see it somewhere in the distance. She did not see much of anything in the distance, just rolling hills. Train tracks intersected the soap road. Ponies stood in clusters on the tracks. Huh? Lyra stopped just off the tracks. She hesitantly waved. "Hi?" She recognized many of them. Some were Ponyville natives, a few of them she even saw on the soap road today. The ponies did not notice her. Some talked to their neighbors, some busied themselves with books. Others stood smiling up at the sky, hooves outstretched. Some seemed to be paying attention to nothing at all. None of them noticed Lyra. From the distance, the scream of a great metal monster reached Lyra's ears. The Train! She likewise screamed. She knew it would be coming. She pleaded with the ponies to remove themselves from the beast's path. They did not hear her. They only busied themselves with their neighbors, their books, and their scenery. Some of them were busy with nothing at all. The train grew nearer. At this point, for the first time today, she cast aside her bicycle. She knew that, while her bicycle could bring her to the place, she alone could complete the task that lay within that place. She galloped from pony to pony, pulling and pushing, in her struggle to get them off the tracks, but to no avail. Even when she grabbed them by their shoulders and shook them, they stayed in place flopping about. She cried, she screamed, and she pleaded. But still they remained with their noses in books, in conversation, or pointed up at the sky. The train was almost upon them. The screams were deafening. Lyra had no choice but to step off the tracks. There was nothing she could do for them, if they could do nothing for themselves. She could not watch. With trembling hooves she took the handlebars of her bicycle, and swung herself up onto the seat. She positioned her hooves on the pedals, and she was off, her hooves circling upon her vehicles machinery, back the way she came. But then, one called out to her. She paused, and turned her head. It was a stallion. His mane black, his fur tan. He opened his mouth and said, "They are behind you now," The Train came upon him. And then they were all gone. The stallion in the conductor's car silently smiled. Lyra did not see him. Neither did you.
WHO IS STANDING BEHIND ME?!The train came and went, and all who stood before it were also gone, in the blink of an eye. But Lyra did not see it. She could only hear the moist thumps of the train meeting those warm bodies, and the rhythmic sounds of the cast from the tracks, like wave gliding over the surface of the sea. There was something very wrong with Ponyville. The words of the lost stallion reared up within her mind. "They are behind you," he had said. And she then felt that slow rumbling fear that grows louder, and louder, as your heart's rhythms rear up in anticipation for the coming horror, as you can feel that there is someone there, YES SOMEONE! Some one there, right there! Someone directly behind her! Someone with a slowly beating heart, getting closer and closer, until she could feel their breath on her neck. She turned her head to look. Ponies were indeed there. And she was then reminded of the horrors of trains, their terrible screams and their terrible wheels. She saw the tides of blood that were coming fast for her, the swift retribution of thousands of years of sorrow, all as blood lapping at the spokes on her bicycle wheel. But there was something else there too, something underneath the dreadful scene. It was all perfect, too perfect. The horror unfolded beautifully, and underneath all the expected feelings and assorted terrors something deep within stirred. Almost like ripples in still water, but when no stone was thrown. She opened her mouth to cry out, but no sound could escape. She pedaled her bicycle as fast as she could. Ishallgotothemountainsandfindacave!yessafethensafefromtheirmindstheirtoxicmindsidontliketheirtoxicmindsitbringsthedemonsoutinmineithurtsreallyreallyitreallydoesicanttakeittoomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoseeforlittleoldmedigaholeiwillyesyesyesawholesafeiwanttobeholyiwanttobewholeiwanttobeholyiwanttobewhole
