The Everfree Forest existed on the edge of Ponyville; that much everypony could agree on. But some ponies could never quite see eye-to-eye on the precise nature of the Forest’s existence. Tourists, new arrivals, and other outsiders viewed it as a passive entity—something that sat or lay at the town’s edge. But long-time Ponyville residents preferred more adversarial language: the Everfree lurked. The Everfree lay in waiting.
And occasionally, the Everfree pounced.
On this particular morning, as the winds from some distant, dusty sea blew through the trees, a figure emerged from the shadows below. It was a stallion, galloping on shaky legs and uncertain hooves. Sweat stained his beige coat; twigs and leaves were stuck in his mane. He panted heavily, his breathing loud in the morning stillness.
His hoof struck a rock, and down the stallion went, sprawling in the dirt path. “Urgh …” he said, gingerly flexing his legs. His left foreleg bore shallow cuts; he stared at the blood seeping out, unnaturally dark, nearly black. “No, no …”
“Thanks again for yer help, Fluttershy,” Applejack said, trotting through her Fuji orchard.
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Fluttershy said, following close behind. She had a dozen caterpillars riding atop her head. “I’m just glad we could save your trees without hurting any of these precious little apple moths.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Suuuuure they—” She perked her head up and looked around. “Hey, didja hear that?”
“I’m sorry. Hear what?”
“Sounds like somepony took a tumble. Over that way …” Applejack rushed towards the sound.
“Oh dear,” Fluttershy said, flying a short distance behind. “Did that come from the Everfree?”
They cleared the edge of the orchard and found the path leading out of the Everfree—and a beige stallion laying in the middle of it.
“Oh no!” Fluttershy rushed over to the stallion’s side. “Mister, are you hurt?”
He just groaned in response. But from this close, he was clearly a mess. His shoulders and two of his legs bore dozens of small cuts—and somehow, dirt from the path had been ground deep into the wounds, infecting them. At least, Fluttershy assumed that had happened: it was the most logical explanation for why his blood looked so dark.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Applejack said. “Y’think it’s safe for us to haul him to the hospital?”
“I, I don’t know.” Fluttershy’s eyes darted up and down the pony’s limp body. “If he hurt his spine, we need to stabilize him before moving, but I don’t know how to tell.”
“Alright then.” Applejack pushed her hat back on her head. “I’ll run and tell the hospital. You stay here and watch this fella—keep him safe.” Without waiting for a response, Applejack galloped away, back down the road to Ponyville.
“Okay …” Fluttershy crouched at the unknown pony’s side and gently brushed his mane with one hoof. “There, there, mister. You’re going to be alright.”
When her hoof met the stallion’s ear, his eyelids opened, revealing clear blue eyes. “Aaaugh!” he cried. “Where am I? What’s happening?”
“Shhh, shhh …” Fluttershy continued brushing his mane. “You’re near Ponyville. My friend is getting some help to take you to the hospital. You’re going to be okay.”
“No, no, no! Stay away from me!” He lifted his right foreleg—the one without blood on it—and tried to push Fluttershy away, but he was too weak to push her more than a few inches. When that failed, he tried to crawl away. “Just leave me alone! Don’t let anypony near me …”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I … I’m …” The stallion’s head fell onto the dirt, and he grew still—except for steady breathing.
“There, there,” Fluttershy said to the unconscious pony. “We’re not going to abandon you…”
Twilight Sparkle added one last brush stroke to the diagram. “There!” she said, holding up the page. “How does this look to you?”
Across from her, Ditzy Doo grabbed the page. “Hmm …” Her golden eyes drifted into alignment, then back out, as she studied Twilight’s magic chart. Both ponies were in the library of Twilight’s crystal palace, at the chamber’s very center. The tables and chairs had been cleared out, while several extra bookcases had been brought in, all currently empty. A casting circle and runes were drawn on the floor in chalk.
Ditzy shielded her eyes and smiled, as she passed the diagram back to Twilight. “Looks right to me!”
“Great!” Twilight’s horn lit up; the chalk runes glowed brighter than daylight, their light flooding the whole chamber. She squinted, then covered her eyes like Ditzy. Unseen by either pony, the magic aura surrounded those extra bookcases, and they began to move. Each slid lengthwise towards the nearest wall—and then straight through, parting the crystal like a curtain.
Once the spell ran its course and the light faded, Twilight uncovered her eyes and looked around. “Yes, it worked!” She lunged forward and hugged Ditzy as she continued, “Thank you so much! Stashing these extra shelves in higher spatial dimensions will let me keep so many more books here! Thank you thank you thank you!”
“Heh, glad I could help …” Ditzy said, returning the hug. “Besides, I barely—”
A knock on the castle’s front door interrupted Ditzy—followed by more, loud and fast.
“Uh oh,” Twilight said. “That sounds urgent.”
It was Nurse Redheart—sweaty and slightly winded—knocking on the castle door. “Thank goodness you’re here, Twilight!” she exclaimed. “We need your help with a patient. It’s some magical illness that we can’t make any sense of.”
“Oh,” Twilight replied. “But how can I—”
“We already sent for a specialist from Canterlot. But it’ll be hours, maybe a whole day, before she arrives, and the patient might not last that long. With your knowledge of magic, anything you can tell us might just save his life.”
“Okay, I’ll do what I can …”
“Can I help?” Ditzy cut in.
Nurse Redheart eyed her warily. “Wait, how would you—”
Twilight cleared her throat. “Ditzy Doo is a specialist as well. It’s a long shot, but her field might be relevant. We’re both going.”
Both Twilight and Ditzy donned surgical masks before they entered the hospital room. Inside, the curtains were closed—and in the dim light, the sleeping shape on the bed barely resembled a stallion. As the two drew closer, the cause became clear: twigs had sprouted all over his torso and legs, their dark brown bark contrasting sharply with his beige coat.
“The branches look like late-stage swamp fever,” Redheart said, stepping around Twilight, up to the patient’s bed. “But he shows no other symptoms, and a dose of flash bee honey had no effect. If anything, he’s getting worse.” She pointed to the nearest twig, indicating the buds sprouting all over. “Last time I saw our mystery stallion, these buds weren’t here.”
“Not a mystery stallion,” Twilight said, her eyes wide. “That’s Dr. Maelstrom.”
“Who?” Redheart asked.
“A researcher from Canterlot University. He was the leader of that expedition to the Badlands a few months ago.”
“The one that went missing?” Ditzy asked.
“Yes, exactly.” Twilight replied. “Which raises the question: how did Dr. Maelstrom disappear from the Badlands and wind up in Ponyville?”
Ditzy scratched her chin and leaned closer to the sleeping pony, saying nothing. As she drew nearer, the buds on his branches swelled a few millimeters larger, while his face twitched slightly.
“Well,” Redheart said. “Applejack and Fluttershy did find him on the edge of the Everfree.”
Twilight groaned. “I don’t know if that makes this clearer or more confusing.”
“Hey, Twilight,” Ditzy said, “I think this is some kind of imposter. Not the real Dr. Maelstrom.”
“Like one of the old changelings?”
“No, he doesn’t have a changeling’s aura. But he doesn’t have a pony’s aura, either.”
Twilight’s horn lit up, and a wave of her magic swept over Maelstrom, from head to tail. “That’s right! This doesn’t feel like a pony’s ambient magic at all.”
Maelstrom twitched again, his eyes moving behind their lids. The buds darkened as they grew slightly larger.
“Oh dear,” Redheart said, shifting on her hooves. “What does it feel like? Should I call in the security? Do you need the rest of your friends?”
“I don’t think so,” Twilight replied. “This magic feels familiar, somehow.”
Ditzy and Redheart both looked at Twilight.
“I know I’ve felt it before,” Twilight continued. “I just can’t remember where.”
Maelstrom’s buds were now a deep, dark purple.
“Oh! It’s not just one type of magic. He has a mixture of animal and plant magic!”
The buds opened. The flowers were such a dark purple, they were nearly black.
“In fact,” Twilight continued, “his magic feels just like—”
“He’s awake,” Ditzy interrupted.
Maelstrom had opened his eyes. They were the same color as the flowers.
“La-la la-la la-la, la-la la-la la-laaa …”
Pinkie pronked into the hospital with a song on her lips, a cake on her head, and a spring in her step. The song was a wordless version of her welcome ditty, which she had to sing a cappella—because, ever since the Pudding Incident, she was no longer allowed to bring her official Welcome Wagon inside Ponyville Hospital. The cake had one layer of chocolate and one layer of mint, and the frosting on top spelled out: Welcome to Ponyville … Get Well Soon! And she had giant, bouncy springs on her hooves because she felt like it.
As Pinkie waltzed through the waiting room and into the hall, Nurse Tenderheart at the front desk rolled her eyes, but made no effort to stop her. In just two shakes of her tail, Pinkie arrived at the end of the hall, the last door on the right.
“Okay, Pinkie Pie,” she said. “Inside this room is a brand-new friend! One who needs a good welcoming and a good cheering up! You’ve got this.”
She pushed the door open and launched into a familiar song:
“Welcome welcome welcome,
a fine welcome to you!
Welcome welcome we—”
Then she saw into the room, and the song died on her lips.
Pinkie didn’t look into the half-lit room for more than a few seconds, but they were enough. Several images burned into her memory: A bush on the hospital bed, covered in dark purple flowers. Dark red spatters on the white walls. Dark red furrows on Nurse Redheart’s white coat. Ditzy Doo’s head, her vacant eyes staring into a corner. The rest of Ditzy’s body, sprawled on the other side of the room. And in the center, a figure taller than Big Macintosh, even though it was slouching—a figure with Twilight Sparkle’s coat color, broken by patches of dark brown bark.
But worse than any of those sights was the smell: the pungent aroma of wet leaves mingled with something metallic.
And then that hulking purple figure moved. The branches along its back twisted like tentacles, as the creature turned towards the door. Pinkie glimpsed an unnaturally elongated, equine head—one with sharp fangs and Twilight’s mane—before she acted.
“No!” Pinkie shouted. “No no no no no NO! This is all wrong!” She grabbed the cake off her head and threw it to the floor. An explosion of dough and frosting filled the doorway. When it fell away, Pinkie was gone.
Far away, in Canterlot, the doors of Princess Celestia’s throne room burst apart. Each door, so thick and heavy that they normally required two guard stallions to move, slammed into the walls hard enough to crack those white stones.
“Sister!” Princess Luna cried as she rushed into the chamber. “Do you feel it? Foul deeds are at hoof, and ancient evil stalks Equestria once again!”
Seated on her throne, Celestia closed her eyes and slowly nodded. “Indeed. I believe the situation is even more dire than you think.”
“Are you implying …”
“Yes, precisely that. It has returned.”
Luna stamped a hoof. “Impossible! Nothing can escape from the Tenth Circle!”
Celestia nodded again and descended from her throne. “I don’t think it escaped. Somepony freed it.”
Luna snorted, but said nothing.
Celestia continued, “I trust you’ll inform the R.S.S.?”
Luna’s horn glowed. “I just did. The Omega Contingency has been activated.”
“Excellent. I will speak with Twilight Sparkle and her friends. Together, we will open the Hesperus Gate.”
“A risky gambit, sister.”
“True.” Celestia trotted past Luna. “But it is also our best hope of weathering this storm.”
“Very well, then,” Luna replied. “I just pray we are not already too late.”
Celestia paused at the doorway. “As do I.”
A/N: Better strap in, everypony. This is gonna be a long fic.
What a chapter, huh? I know this is a huge departure from everything I’ve done before. But I think if you stick with me for a few more chapters and keep an open mind, you’ll all like this new direction for the Alarm Clock series.
You know how some authors say their characters seem to have minds of their own, and don’t follow their original plan? I got hit with that hard in the scene with Pinkie Pie. She was supposed to be Twilight’s second victim! But somehow, her running off like that just felt right. And now I have some much better ideas for what she can do in future chapter.
Thanks for reading!
4. Story Canceled—Apology and Explanation
A/N: This just isn’t going to work. I tried—really, really tried—to salvage this fic. But my first outline for this story is scuppered, and none of my backup ideas are coming together at all.
To the critic who made me see the problems with this story: Once again, I’m sincerely sorry for everything I wrote. I’ll be thinking about this incident long and hard to make sure it never happens again. (Also, your “Apology accepted” cake tastes amazing.)
And to my readers out there who really wanted to see where all this was going (both of you!), I’m also sorry for letting you down. It would be in poor taste to share the rest of my original story plan, but as a consolation prize, I can give you the last draft I wrote for chapter 2, before abandoning it:
Morning sunlight pierced through Twilight Sparkle’s haze of unconsciousness, and a pink blur hovered before her.
“Aaaugh!” Twilight struggled, as the dregs of her dream splattered against waking reality. The dark void was just her own bed; the limbs immobilizing her were merely her blankets. And the pink blur was, obviously, Pinkie Pie showing up uninvited and jumping on the bed. Twilight calmed down and stopped thrashing—just in time to lose her balance and slide off the edge, landing with an “Ooomph!” on the crystal floor.
“Happy Breakfast In Bed Day to you too, Twilight!” Pinkie proclaimed, bouncing a few more times on the mattress.
“Morning, Pinkie.” Twilight rolled onto her hooves with a groan. “But I’m pretty sure that’s not a real holiday.”
Pinkie’s grin just grew wider. “You might say so, and the calendar might say so, but these waffles say otherwise!” From seemingly nowhere, she produced a mini-table with two plates of waffles, still steaming and topped with whipped cream and raspberries. “You kinda look like you could use a delicious breakfast anyway, Twilight. When I came in, you were tossing and turning like you weren’t getting any rest at all! Did you have a bad dream?”
“I did, actually,” Twilight said, climbing back onto her bed. “Worst one I’ve had in years.” She grabbed the nearer plate of waffles with her telekinesis. “It was so vivid.”
“But even the worst dreams fade to nothing in the light of the Sun, right?” Pinkie devoured an entire waffle in one bite.
Twilight giggled. “Good friends and good food help, too.” She took a bite of her waffle, and her face lit up as she chewed. “And these waffles are very good.”
“Aw, thanks!”
“The fresh berries make a big difference,” Twilight said, munching on another bite.
“Only the best for my friends! All the better for chasing away bad dreams about icky monsters, right?”
Twilight gulped her mouthful down. “Pinkie,” she said, setting her plate back on the mini-table. “I didn’t say anything about monsters. How did you know there was a monster in my dream?”
“Oh.” Pinkie’s eyes widened, and then her grin stretched so far, it seemed to extend beyond the sides of her face. “Lucky guess?”
With a flash of light, Twilight teleported away.
“Aw, phooey,” Pinkie said, to the now-empty bedroom.
Ditzy was midair, halfway to the office, when Twilight found her—and promptly tackled her to the ground in a hug.
“You’re okay!” Twilight cried, squeezing the pegasus even tighter. “You’re okay you’re okay you’re okay!”
“No I’m not!” Ditzy shot back, squeezing her eyes shut. “You flipping blinded me!”
“Oh.” Twilight leaped off and backed away, blushing. “Sorry about that.”
“Sheesh, warn a pony next time.” Ditzy stood back up, shaking her head. Her golden eyes, alert as always, darted every which way—except towards Twilight. “So, what’s all this about?”
“Nothing, nothing, hehe! Just glad to see that you’re doing well this morning. Anyway, I really gotta get going!” And Twilight dashed away.
Ditzy shrugged and continued towards the office, on hoof this time. “Heh. Ponies in this town …” she muttered—but she smiled as she said it.
“Good morning, Nurse Tenderheart,” Twilight said, trotting up to the hospital’s front desk. “Great to see you alive and well this morning!”
Tenderheart raised one eyebrow in response.
“Hehe,” Twilight continued. “Is Nurse Redheart available? I need to speak to her for just a minute or so.”
“You rang?” Redheart trotted by, pushing a cartful of covered platters. Her coat was pristine white, completely free of blood spatters and life-threatening lacerations. “I’m on breakfast detail right now, so we’ll have to walk and talk.”
“Sounds good.” Twilight fell into place at Redheart’s side. “So, how are you this morning?”
“Can’t complain. I barely got any sleep last night, so now my head is killing me. And I need to work even though I feel like death warmed over, because we’re understaffed this week.” She gave Twilight a wry smile. “So you know, the usual. Could be worse.”
Twilight laughed a little too hard at that. Redheart ducked into a room on the right, to deliver a breakfast platter—and when she came back out, Twilight was still chuckling.
“Hahaha … so,” Twilight said. “I don’t suppose you have any strange new patients? No mystery stallions with mystery illnesses from the Everfree Forest?”
“No.” Redheart gave Twilight an askew glance. “Should we?”
“I hope not.”
“Hmmm …” Pinkie stared at Twilight’s plate, leaning closer and closer to the uneaten waffle portions. “Hmmmmmmm …”
With a flash of light, Twilight teleported back onto the bed. “Pinkie—Oomph!” A pink hoof rammed a waffle into her mouth, cutting Twilight short.
“Twilight it’s an emergency you need to eat your waffles RIGHT NOW or they’ll get cold!” Pinkie shouted, roughly shoving the remainder of the waffles down her friend’s throat.
“Mmrph!” Twilight gulped down the rest of her breakfast, then coughed before continuing. “I should be angrier at you, but those waffles are too delicious for that.”
“Great!”
“And now that breakfast is out of the way …” Twilight cleared her throat. “Give me the key that locks your tired eyes …” Sign.
Pinkie’s ears flopped as she answered, “Brighter than painted books that make me wise.” Countersign.
Twilight cast her spell, enveloping her whole bed in a soundproof bubble. “So, once again,” she said, “you and I remember events that distinctly didn’t happen. Disturbing events, but still completely imaginary, as far as anypony else is concerned.”
Pinkie nodded and fidgeted with her forehooves.
Twilight continued, “I … wasn’t in the best condition to see how everything played out. What happened after I, uh, changed?”
Pinkie took a deep breath. “Wellllllll, after I saw what happened to you, and to Ditzy Doo, I got scared. Then I realized that I’d just lost my two best friends in the Service, and I got angry. So angry that I ran away. Far away. Really, really, really far away.”
Twilight furrowed her brows. “I don’t understand.”
Quieter, at nearly a whisper, Pinkie said, “I ran through the Wall.”
Twilight gasped.
Pinkie perked up as she continued, “And on the other side, I made a new friend! And we had a very nice conversation, once he stopped screaming and I convinced him he wasn’t going crazy. And … we fixed the story.”
“What story?”
“We fixed us. Ponyville. Equestria.” Pinkie help up her hooves, as if embracing the empty air. “The whole world! I convinced my new friend to make it so none of that horrible stuff ever happened!”
“Pinkie …” Twilight grabbed her shoulders. “You mean you used the magic from beyond the Wall?”
“No, not just me. It was a team effort. Didn’t work at all when I tried on my own.”
“This … is …”
Pinkie flinched.
“Amazing!” Twilight hugged Pinkie. “This is a huge breakthrough!”
“Oh. That sounds good?”
Twilight pulled back. “You don’t seem very excited that you’ve just single-hoofedly—”
“It was a team effort.”
“—accomplished possibly the biggest paradigm shift since the unicorns took control of the Sun and Moon.”
“Yeah.” Pinkie waved one hoof aimlessly. “But didn’t Princess Luna say that this magic couldn’t unmake anything? Did I just prove her wrong?”
“Oh. Oh.” Twilight leaned back in to hug Pinkie again. “It sure looks like it.”
Pinkie returned the embrace.
Twilight continued, “So this magic is even more powerful than we thought before, and now we know ponies can control it. Or at least you can.”
“Team effort!” Pinkie sighed. “So what can we do now?”
Twilight perked up. “Well, first of all
A/N: That's all of it.
