Never Dream

A sharp pain stabbed into the back of her eyeballs from searing white light that filled her vision. She flailed her hooves, scrambling onto all fours, sleep-induced numbness still clinging to her burning hot fur faded into memory as she whipped around blindly. Sight slowly came back into focus. A small, dusty, barren room with books scattered about and light spilling in from a lone window where she had been laying was all the greeted her—no fake room, no colorless everything, no Fluttershy.

She was alone.

“To excel is to fail,” Starlight’s voice blared in her ears like nails on a chalkboard.

Dash’s fur stood on end starting from her tail all the way up to her neck and she shuddered. Hooves pressed to her ears, she screamed, “Shut up!”

“Accept your limitations, and happiness will follow,” the now muffled voice continued.

She grit her teeth, grinding back and forth, and pinching her eyes closed as tight as she could. I’ve got to get out of this place, was the only thought running through her throbbing head.

Dash peeked from her eyelids, finding Applejack staring back at her from outside the window. A horribly wide grin plastered on her face as she beckoned Dash with a hoof.

“Help me!” Dash called out to her friend, but Applejack only cocked her head, and planted her ear against the window.

“Help me!” she yelled again.

Applejack shrugged. “You’re on your own, Sugarcube. Can’t help those who can’t help themselves.”

A sudden caress of a hoof on her shoulder caused Dash to snap her neck back around.

“It’s only you Rainbow,” said Twilight standing behind her, shaking her head.

“Where did you—”

“You have to get out.” Twilight opened her eyes, tears brimming over her bottom lids and flashing a big, bright grin. Suddenly her fur lightened, hair folded back into a loose curl tucked behind her head with colors morphing to purple and blue. Finally eyes changed to a spine-chilling, soul-piercing purple. “And the only way to get out is by getting rid of that nasty ego of yours!” Twilight—no, Starlight—said with a bright, chipper tone.

Dash swiped at her, shattering the mare into dust which was all swept away on a wind she couldn’t feel.

“You’re no better than your friends,” Starlight’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker once more as Dash collapsed onto her belly.

She placed her hooves over her ears and pinched her eyes tight. “Stop,” she whispered.

“Rainbow, I said, ’You’re no better than your friends.’ Make sure that sinks in,” Starlight’s voice—now a whisper—delicately placed in her covered ear.