The End

I sighed and gazed at the padded walls. Just the same old, bland colour of whitish grey. They could really use an upgrade and cleaning. I stopped thinking about that before I sat down and thought.

How’d I end up in a place like this? I could’ve had a good life, but instead I choose to obsess over books, over everything had. Doesn’t sound silly, right? Me, Twilight Sparkle—Princess Celestia’s protégé—the one who hatched Spike’s egg with a spontaneous burst of magic, which got me into Celestia’s school for gifted unicorns—and the one who became the Princess of Friendship and librarian since moving to Ponyville—becoming obsessed with books? It’s probably not hard to believe, but it’s true. I’m obsessed with why all books have an ending. Textbooks, plays, novels, and even the Daring Do novels. All my friends tried to convince me otherwise, but I wouldn’t let them. I told them they were all bullheaded for trying to get me to believe that I couldn’t be consumed by books. Yes, it’s true, that, at one point, I loved being the town’s librarian, bookworm, and egghead. Eventually I stopped caring. Claimed I’d rather be locked up with all the books ever written.

I made jests about how I wish I never became the things I became, after coming to Ponyville, the same way ponies make jokes about things that frighten them, yet cannot be gotten away from. I even made sneers that books were the only things ponies should ever consider in their day to day lives.  Everypony said I was “non compos mentis”, but they were the blind and ignorant ones. The only pony who seemed to agree with me, at the time, was my brother, Shining Armour—probably because he felt bad about everypony thinking there was a new crazy in town.

But for the ponies who actually sat down with me, listened to me, the humour dwindled to nothingness as I spoke. Somehow, I had managed to convince twelve ponies, none of them being my friends or family, that books shouldn’t end , as they were the one thing that kept this world in tact.

But I wasn’t insane, I promise.

I got up from the floor and made my way over to my bed. It, too, was padded. The only thing that could probably hurt me in this room were the four short rods that barred the small, rectangular window on the front door to my cell; but even then I’d have to go way out of my way just to get something I could use to hurt me. By then, I’d more than likely be in a straightjacket or be inflicted with a binding spell, leaving me paralysed for twenty-four hours. Yes, that long.

I stared at the ceiling. There was a magical orb of light flickering aloft, and it was the only sense of light I had in this forsaken cell; all the other times it’s only darkness.

I sighed.

I guess this is the time when I tell you how I got here, and how my so called friends decided to put me in this place so I could get better. But while I tell you everything, promise not to interrupt me. I don’t like it when the stories I tell come to an abrupt end.

Here’s my story…