Isolation

by Nightwhisper

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Death, Sad
Length: 4516

Twilight is in an unknown place, seemingly with no light until a flicker catches her eye.

After being in the dark for an undetermined amount of time, a light bulb turns on revealing a bare room. Exiting the room Twilight explores the vast, dilapidated stone halls which sit in silence; broken only by Twilight's speech as she roams the halls.

Published 2018-05-28 17:40:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-05-28 17:40:06 UTC

Flickering Lights (Rewritten)

Complete darkness. I could see nothing. Absolute black.

Bright flash—eyes covered. I squinted beneath my hooves to catch a glimpse of the room. The light dissipated, no reasonable image could take place. I stood up. Another flash emitted from the ceiling. I recoiled from it, and shadows smothered it to nothingness. Apprehensive for the light to return, I stood still and waited. Again it shined, and its glare pushed, but buckled under the weight of shadows.

For a final time it shone and faltered, but settled in a unified glow and pushed the shadows away. I blinked as the blurry room came into focus. Slowly the details revealed themselves. Smooth, gray stone made up the walls, and a yellow stripe ran through the middle of them. A rusted metal door in front of me served as the only exit to the room. I stumbled about, and drank in each detail as my parched senses found relief.

The stripe caught my eye. It reminded me of the sun, so bright and warm. I sunk back into endless memories. Above the trees and grass on calm summer days. Images of green leaves as they fell at the end of summer passed my mind. Some leaves fall down, and wilt, and rot away on the ground. I thought. I kept the memory alive to counteract the thought. Green, healthy trees with birds chirping a nice melody. The breeze was cool, as it ruffled the leaves that still hung. I touched the stripe. No warmth.

Anxious to leave I turned to the door, and tugged its handle. Nothing. It would not budge. I frowned, took my hoof off the handle, and enveloped it in my magic. I pulled it down and back, and the door groaned in protest, but I kept on. Rust scraped against stone as the door began to relent. A screech emitted as it swung to, nearly hitting me on its way to the wall where it stopped to rest. Disturbed, dust awoke in response, and flurried around briefly before the mass dispersed to the floor.

I stepped outside the room, my hooves clopped against the chipped stone floor. A dim hallway stretched to my left and right; few lights operated on the ceiling and many flickered or had a weak glow. Uncounted words were scribbled on the wall, much of the writing was illegible, but a couple lines could be made out.

A cheery, Bright day.

The six petaled flower Opens today,

But, careless hoof plucks Away;

The flower wilted and became Grey.

Cheery days don't Stay.

I tried to understand, but the more I focused the less I could see until no meaning remained. Without the will to study the words any longer, I looked left and saw a bright orange glow emit from a doorway. The glow did not flicker, it moved in an erratic, unpredictable motion. Crackles swayed in the air with a vague sense of familiarity. Is this what she saw? Sways of light, dancing with smoke?

I turned, and started hurriedly down the opposite way. The sound of my hooves echoed, clip-clop, clip-clop. Lights flickered occasionally above my head, but they weren’t a cause for concern. It was getting harder to breathe, How did she do it? Was it on purpose?

I could hear the crackles louder now. Its heat grew steadily behind me. My breath quickened, and I coughed roughly. I did not want to turn around. Curls of smoke brushed my nostrils, and hooked in the sensitive flesh, my lungs attempted to dislodge them to no avail. I did not want to look—claws of gray ash tore at my throat—but self preservation won out. Flames licked at the dry concrete, and slid across the floor. I ran, but my snout ran headfirst into an obstacle. Something blocked my path—Did somepony block the way?—was it a door?—a wall?—is there no way out? Is this how trapped she felt, mangled under gray plumes? I reared up, my hooves smashing against the object. Shattered glass scattered everywhere, it tore at my hooves as I tried relentlessly to bring down the obstacle. The fire belched out ash and black smoke, and my eyes watered in an effort to see. Desperate I enveloped the object in my magic, and forcefully bent it inwards. I teetered, my legs faltered and collapsed. Sharp metal pieces tore her wings to shreds. Who’s fault was it? I felt the fire sneak closer as I crawled away. There has to be a “who”. My coat blistered as the fire feasted on it, and I screamed in agony. It leaped around my body consuming it slowly from the outside. I didn’t see the danger soon enough.

I started and opened my eyes. No blisters or burns marred my coat. Not a single inch of me singed? How? I wondered, perplexed, but I could provide no answer; my mind remained murky.

I stood up and inhaled sharply; a twinge of pain sparked from my front hooves. Two battered doors lay below me with shattered glass spread on top of them. Drops of blood spread across the door's metal surface. The object that was stopping me. I looked behind me, but the hallway was scar free. No blackened stone. I stepped off the door, being cautious of any nearby glass, and winced as I landed on my cut hooves. A ripped up suit lay on the ground near me, and I tore out a piece of it. The blue fabric ripped easily, and I wrapped it around my front hooves. Blood stained the makeshift bandage, and darkened it.

The blue plaster walls peeled away at times, and revealed rot. Faded posters hung on the walls. The posters were blurs of color, and pony shapes. Disorganized piles of blueprints, placed on and off a table, depicted sketches of flight suits with sloppy writing in the margins. Small gray clouds floated aimlessly near the ceiling, and silently coughed up dust.

A clatter sounded behind me. I swerved around, and stumbled as my injured hooves complained. A light pink tail disappeared around the corner of the door frame. I took a couple testing steps forward; the cuts grumbled, but it was not enough to warrant rest.

“Hello?” My voice, dry with disuse, did not put her at ease.

“Please, leave me be,” she whispered. She sounded close. Hoofsteps echoed down the left hallway. I followed with caution down the winding passageways.

“You sound familiar,” I said. “Why do you want me to stay away?”

“Go away please,” she said. “That’s all I want, nothing else.”

“What about my name? Would that help?” I asked. My pace increased in order to catch a glimpse of her, and before she did the same I saw her tail disappear around a corner.

“I—I already know your name,” she said. Stutters creeped into her speech, and strangled assertiveness out of her words. “Stop f—following me. Y—You’re not right; you won’t understand.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I—I told you already, y—you don’t,” she started to run. “listen!” I turned the bend in time to see yellow hooves close a metal door. “Leave me, a—alone. Go away.” I scrambled to think of a name, I know her, and she says she knows my name. Nothing. The memories akin to burned film reels played over and over again, the dark blotches covered important details: faces, names, places, and words. Keywords and points, lost to natural scarring.

The cracked concrete floor allowed dirt and plants to seep through, and small languished bushes hugged decrepit walls. Loud clangs sliced through the air. Bolt locks. Quiet followed, creaks of wood and bracken permeated it. Hoofsteps, quiet and paced. They become louder then softer as she moved around inside the room.

The faded yellow frame of the door had slight rust and showed signs of wear. The door itself remained bare of any emblem or mark and had only orange rust and curious dents. The orange flakes fell away, as if on an unseen breeze, like a fire the flakes flew away, and left only black splotches behind them.

I knocked on the door, and it rattled and shook before it became still. She stopped.

“I—I told you to go away, I even said…” she mumbled. The words barely reached through the metal.

“I know, it’s just…” I have to know for sure, “I know your voice, but not the name—can I see you? Just a glimpse of your face, and I’ll know.”

“No, I’ll not o—open the door,” voice shaking, she continued. “Go away, p—please.” Her voice pricked at my heart, but I needed to know. A quick glance, nothing more, it won’t hurt. I thought affirmatively.

“I’m going to open the door now, alright?” I said. My horn lit up as I started pulling the locks back. It was difficult work, each lock had to be felt out without sight or physical touch. She cried out in despair. My concentration broke at the sudden noise.

“No!—stop, stop! Stay out, please—please—please!” I heard frantic movement as she tried desperately to keep the locks in place. Focus renewed, I started to push back locks one at a time. “Go away, go away, go away! Stay away, I told you to stay away!” Each time I undid a lock she pushed it back in place. I gritted my teeth.

“Let me open the door! This is not serious or scary, a glance is all, I must know who you are,” I shouted, my frustration boiled over. I gave up with the locks, and enveloped the door in my magic and began to bend it inward. The metal screeched under direct pressure, and finally collapsed under it. I walked through the entrance expectantly, but only extensive flora populated the other side on the edge of death. I took a step and unknowingly crushed something under my hoof. A pink flower lay on the floor, its stem severed from it.

“Where are you?” I rushed around the room, and found an entrance blocked by collapsed ceiling. I scrambled up to the top—there, through the small gap I could see her not far down a hall, a lantern in her mouth which threw light around the room. Her teal eyes dilated as she looked back. Without a word she turned the corner, and went out of sight.

I stumbled out into the hallway. Is that what I achieved? Fear? No, no. I would never do—but such a thing was possible. Maybe, but surely it didn’t apply to that situation? My thoughts raced past, each countered and conflicted the rest. What of the—? That has no relation to anything. She ran, and hid, why? It was her that caused this. Not possible, I should have known. Maybe—

I fell as vines wrapped around my legs, the thorns tore and ripped at my coat. Alone, here in that place, is that how it happened? Horrid howling rang in my ears, and I heard loud crunches as merciless wooden teeth assaulted me. She couldn’t scream loud enough through the trees, or I could not hear good enough. The vines silenced me by entangling themselves around my mouth. Pain twisted by time and malnourished thoughts of level-headedness. Light must have been beyond her eyes, covered by those awful vines. Green filled my vision only to blot itself out to absolute blackness. I felt myself—that’s how it happened, because of me—drift away in the grasp of unfeeling appendages.

My mind yanked itself back to its proper course, and I saw a light, a flickering light, apt to abrupt failure. I thought. I pulled myself off the floor. Neither bite marks nor thorn scratches were on my body, and no pain persisted from the attack. The cuts from the glass had been aggravated, and the colors of the cloth further darkened as red hues overtook them. I grimaced, but with difficulty paid it no mind.

The hallway split off, one side led back, the other went forward. The natural shapes of plants, and deterioration gave way to rigid, set lines and unbesmirched walls. On the edge between the two, I found teal saddlebags, the markings on them long lost. I grabbed them with my magic, and opened the flaps. Nothing but dust. My ears perked: hoofsteps. Careful, throughout, and elegant.

“Who—?”

“As much as it pains me—” she started. Recognizing the voice I cut her off.

“No, it’s still possible to find her.” I put the saddlebags on my back and started down the hall, my ears listened to find out where she was.

I heard a sigh. “Niceties don’t seem to work with you anymore,” she said. “To be more curt than I’d like: is it unlikely she will return.”

“You’re giving up,” my voice shook in disbelief.

“No, I do hope she returns, and if she happens to I will be overjoyed, but,” her hoofsteps stopped, “as I said before, it is not likely.”

“You are, don’t deny it! She’s out there, and your doubt does not help.” I increased my pace. She can’t be far, after all she stopped moving.

“Do not twist my words, Twilight.” I started at the mention of my name. “Calm yourself. I recommend writing a letter, this curious obsessiveness of yours has gone on too long.”

“I will calm down when she’s found,” I said sourly. The sound of a sewing machine came from a door left ajar. Ornate designs had been carved into its metal surface.

“Come in,” she said.

A disorderly mess of a room greeted me. Haphazardly arranged tables sat close to the walls. One table in the center of the room had a sewing machine, and the rest had various cloths strewn about. All sorts of notes littered the tables with elegant writing telling of vague measurements or abstract concepts only their writer understood. Pony mannequins sat near the tables, and proudly displayed unfinished pieces. She sat working on an article of clothing, her white hooves deftly fed the cloth under the needle.

“She’s lost,” she said.

“Lost? No,” I said. “We can find her.”

“You already said that, saying it again will not make it so.” she temporarily paused in her work. “I do have hope, but with each passing day there is less than before.”

“You aren’t listening to me. You just keep batting the subject away, this is important.” I took a step closer.

“I am hearing you, and understanding, but the importance has long since ceased.” She increased the speed of her work. “You may leave now.”

“No. Look at me! So, I can tell you why this is still imperative,” I urged. She did not move. I stepped closer. “Clearly you can’t see from where you are sitting!” She started to work at a feverish pace.

“I have no mind to look, leave this topic to rest,” she said. “I do not wish to speak about it any longer. Go away.” Another step taken.

“You—” A shout of pain interrupted me, and she turned to face me, her blue eyes ringed with weariness. I eyed her with concern.

“Oh, dear,” She looked at her hoof, small drops of blood dripped from the tiny wound, “it's just a prick, nothing more.” her hoof swung across the table, knocking a rounded blue crystal to the floor. A shatter sounded. “See, just fine. Now I must go, we can talk later, but please do not bring this up again. The day would be more cheerful without it.” She got up, and walked out the door. I listened as her hoofsteps faded.

I moved toward one of the tables, sudden weariness and obligation dragged me there, as if lead weights held me down. She never stopped, did she? My shoulders sagged as I slumped on the table. Day after day. Heaps of cloth surrounded me, notes stuck to every surface—did they only serve to remind her?—and mannequins sat eyeless pleading with me to do something. She’ll stop today. My heart beat faster and faster; could she not stop? No, not after the other two—too much… yet I could not see it soon enough. I could only hear as my vision failed, and I slipped farther away into empty peace.

I opened my eyes. Darkness. Panic began to fester and build. Not here, not again. My eyes swept the room until they caught light. Breathing came easier, but my heart was not yet at ease. Shards of a blue crystal were spread across the floor, spotlighted by the light.

“Are you there?” I asked. The shards sparkled, but she did not speak. I shut the door on my way out. A distant pain from my hooves made itself known, but I didn’t shout or yelp. A small tear fell to the floor.

The air grew lighter, and the wind danced around as blooms flourished and apples fell. Green leaves hung from healthy boughs of great trees swished side to side, and their trunks shook with invisible blows. Thud.

“It’s been tiresome, hasn’t it?” a voice asked. “Especially on somepony as young as you. Come on. Speak your mind, there isn’t anypony else out here.”

“I’m not—” Thud. Jaw snapped shut, I listened.

“Well, it’s…” the filly trailed off. “...just not easy to explain: like on the inside things are spiraling out of control, and the thoughts just keep bouncing around and don’t stop. Even when I’m around Applebloom and Scootaloo, but it gets worse when I’m alone. I don’t know how else to describe it. What do you think?”

“It’s hard to say, but I understand what”—Thud—“you’re saying. Have you been to Sugar Cube Corner? I know a certain pony who might be able to cheer you up.”

“She was distracted this morning,” the filly said.

“That’s not unlike her.” the voices grew fainter as they walked away. “I do have to work—” I walked closer, and almost tripped on the rough undergrowth. “—but, if you want to—” This is too close, they’ll hear me. I slowed my pace. “—I’ll keep you company while I walk you home.”

“You know my house isn’t that far from here, it won’t take long,” the filly said.

“Then we’ll be slow going,” she said.

Wilted trees crackled as a wind ordered them to sound music into the still air, and branches swished their twigs to conduct the leaves in melodic harmonies. The hallway opened up to a massive area. Gnarled and twisted trees grew along the cracked stone path I walked on, they stood in weariness among the sound of their leaves, and creaked and groaned under the weight of themselves. In the distance, a filly and mare walked down the path, and I followed quietly.

“W—Well, I never thought anything would, could happen to my sister like that, maybe...” the filly’s voice quavered, and she halted. I stopped too. This is too open, they’ll see me. I walked off the path and closer to the treeline.

“You don’t have to say.” The mare stopped and put her hoof on the filly’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll take you to Sugar Cube Corner, how does that sound? I’m sure Pinkie has some sweets for you.”

“I’m not sure she wants to, I went to Sugar Cube Corner this morning, and she wasn’t there.”

“Not there? Now that’s not like her at all.” I had to get closer, I could not see well enough. Just a glance.

“No and yes—well, I mean, she was there, but as I was walking up—after the last customer left—she waved after them with a smile before slumping down on the counter. Her smile was gone, and she put one hoof on her cheek and dragged the other idly across the counter,” the filly explained.

“Oh.” The mare glanced back at me. Taken aback I froze, my guilt reflected off her green eyes and projected back towards me. The mare looked away, and walked around the bend down a different path. I continued; pain emitted from my front hooves.

Fatigue grabbed my legs and steadily pulled them down, I didn’t know, and my hooves numbed. Dark rings formed around my eyes, but I stayed my course. The summer sun beat down cruelly, an invisible whip snapping against unprotected coats. I kept on—no stopping for her, it’s not my—it is, but—I heard loud creaks around me. It changed nothing about her resolve. Deafening noise surrounded me, and an immense weight pinned my back. I wasn’t there, I didn’t… My weary body allowed no screams to emit, I tried to use my front hooves to drag myself out, but invisible weights pulled me back to the ground. My eyes shut to lightless comfort. I heard distant voices, too late, and they faded slowly into the background as my mind wandered far away.

I got up, my head still spun. The trees behind me had collapsed onto the path and entangled it with innumerable boughs and branches. Near the wreckage lay a fiddle, worn and dusty, its days when it could play fast tunes long gone. The strings, worn by use, were still wound tight at the neck. I picked it up in my magic, and placed the fiddle in my saddlebags; the wooden neck poked out of the corner of the flap.

I traipsed onward into the smaller hallway. My eyes examined the small fractures and crevices driven into the stone floor. No wind blew through, no complaints from the decrepit hallway, the air stood rigid and on the verge of suffocation. Near utter silence surrounded me, and my hoofsteps could not break up the long stretch. I could not stand it. I put pressure on my steps in order to break it, I kicked loose stones around to shatter it, but the created noise withered away to nothing. My own steps were not enough, I wanted something, anything else: creaks, snaps, whips, clatters, crashes. Anything.

I can feel thoughts gnawing on my skull.

Could I have done better? No, I tried—But was it enough? No, I didn’t—Yes I did, because—maybe it was both?—It’s so quiet here. Stop thinking! Why can’t I stop thinking—for once I would like—oh, so now you think of yourself, how selfish—that’s not what I meant, I—here, of all places—sometimes it would be nice—wrong, completely and utterly—I’ve lost track—Yes—No—it would be better to not think at all.

I turned to look at the fiddle. I know a couple basic notes, but how to play them? I took the fiddle, and the bow out, and placed the bow on the strings. In uncertain motions I slid the bow back and forth. The first note formed nicely; the air shivered. Again, the bow moved across, but the note came out sharp; the air shuddered. I played an aimless tune, the notes swirled through the air not free of mistakes. The air rushed about, and the terrible silence dissipated. I increased the tune’s pace, and it’s discord. The broken notes assaulted and tore down what the melodic notes built and fixed. A snap broke the discordant melody as the strings split and curled toward their respective ends. I jumped at the harsh sound, and almost dropped the fiddle. I put it and the bow back in my saddlebags; my mind clear though inexplicably saddened.

There was a door at the end of the hallway. I expected it to be locked, but a light push sufficed, and the door opened. The lightly dusted room had few amenities: a stove, little used, with a pan on it; a neatly made bed with a faded blue blanket and sheets both had patterns sewed into them; and an open dresser—notably empty. A rug sat adjacent to the bed and dresser. “I’m sorry,” I said. The dust swirled about the room.

“You can’t hear me anymore,” I whispered. The pony in the bed stayed quiet, her eyes stared off, directionless.

Gently my hoof tapped hers to let her know my presence, she started in surprise, and shifted away. “Who’s there?”

I tapped three times. She fidgeted.

“I don’t know.” her face scrunched up. “Three taps means... Twilight is that you?”

I tapped once.

“It’s silly, I can imagine you talking, and your mouth moves funny.” She giggled, but it turned into a cough.

Six taps. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Me? You’re not me, unless: you want to talk about me?”

Two taps.

“No? What do you mean?” she asked. “You’re difficult to understand sometimes.”

Four taps.

“A.J.? You want to talk about her?”

Tap.

“I don’t think you want to,” she said. “Not after so long. Don’t stay here, I can tell you’re not smiling, this isn’t fun for you.”

I didn’t respond. How could I?

“Go away, today is cheerful, don’t waste that,” she said.

Two taps. She chuckled lightly.

“Don’t drag this out, it hurts enough as it is for you,” she said. “Leave.” She turned away from me.

Six taps.

Quiet.

Six taps.

Silence.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Nothing.

I could see nothing, and hear nothing. Is this how she felt? Pains, once vibrant and uncompromising, numbed to nonexistence. Peace and quiet, at last. As each second passed I felt myself ebb away, and what remained of my faltering senses distanced themselves further. Away, away, far away. I inhaled deeply to feel my chest rise and fall, to feel for a second the life in me I could confirm. Not in death. I felt a sense of joyous sadness at this. A ghost smile appeared on her face.

I opened my eyes to darkness, and my heart beat faster. I frantically looked around for the tiniest shimmer. Where is the light? It can’t have gone, not again. Not again. I thought as my breathing quickened. A bright flash lit up not far away, and settled in a unified glow. I saw a door behind it. I walked forward, but the saddlebags weighed heavier each step and halted me.

My heart twinged when I realized I couldn’t take the objects with me. I pulled out the broken fiddle and the bow and placed them both on the ground. I tried to continue, but I was still weighed down. I took the saddlebags off and set them down next to the violin in slow, reluctant motions. Yet weights still dragged at my hooves. The blue and yellow cloth, I had them wrapped around my front hooves; I took them off, and placed them next to the saddlebags. I grasped the string and pulled it down. The only light came from the door. I turned toward the door and enveloped the handle in my magic. Relief filled me, and a sense of lightness lifted away my heavy thoughts. A smile appeared on my lips as I pulled the door open and walked out to see the dawn.

Author's Note

It took a considerable amount of time to craft this story, and I hope you enjoyed it. I did my best to root out errors and ensure clarity, but there are many I might not have caught. Criticism is appreciated. :twilightsmile: