The Mare That Time ForgotView OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndThe Mare That Time ForgotThe sun had stopped rising on a new day. The birds were not singing. The wind was not rustling through the grass, causing the morning dew to fall. Not a single soul was breathing, or even moving, for that matter. Except for just one… ...and so, it begins. Start the clock. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 0 HOURS, 0 MINUTES, 0 SECONDS. Twilight’s eyes at first failed to open. She felt an internal struggle for her immediate fate at hand. Eventually, her pro-activeness prevailed and she lofted herself out of bed. Stretching and yawning, she slowly pulled her eyes open. A longing desire to remain in bed stayed with her for a few fleeting moments, but she had such a busy day ahead of her, much like any other. She motioned toward her window, and froze for just a moment as her hooves touched the floor. Opening the blinds, Twilight failed to notice the impossible spectacle that had overtaken her front lawn. She calmly gazed over to the clock, still displaying the early morning with its hands. Reaching with her magic, she pulled it close to her ear, listening quietly. Silence was her answer. She quickly made a mental note to make a physical note to purchase a new alarm clock for her bedside, as evidently, her current one of several months had broken. She turned toward the stairs, and tossed it behind her onto her bed. Spike, completely silent and unmoving, caught her eye, and she softly chuckled to herself. Oh Spike, you love your sleep almost as much as you love your gems! She innocently thought as she slowly paced herself down the steps, two at a Time, careful not to wake her assistant. She casually glanced at each bookshelf, searching for something new, as she made her way to the foyer. What she failed to notice, however, was the clock. As if by some act of rebellion against its owner, it simply stayed in the air. Floating above the floor, exactly at the last moment Twilight had touched it; several feet above, and in front of, its intended target. As she gradually made her way through her humble abode, she gave a cursory thought towards the day’s events, both planned and unforeseen. Maybe she and her friends would perform and amazing act of friendship, or if a new villain, bent on destroying the fundamentals of peace and love, would rear their ugly head. This would, evidently, force Twilight and her friends to perform and amazing act of friendship regardless. It didn’t quite matter to her, as she treasured every moment she had with her friends. Almost as if each one were its last. That’s when it became unignorable. Twilight was surprised she hadn’t noticed it sooner. The ambiance; atmosphere, rather, the lack thereof. No hustle and bustle was audible from the outside, not a single snore or sigh from Spike, not a single stair creaked beneath her hooves. Absolutely nothing. Silence. Not as if nothing was making noise, but as if nothing could make noise. As if each and every single thing in the universe had been muted, for good. Twilight brushed the idea out of her head in the same instant it had entered. It was silly, downright childish even. A logical conclusion could be drawn from the abundance of information available to her, she was just letting her imagination get to her. A little bit of fresh air was all she needed, that was all. And yet, the slight sense of dread refused to evacuate her mind, and Twilight found herself slowly accelerating to the door, approaching a full gallop almost all at onc— SLAM! Twilight had bumped into a small side table in her dramatic rush to vacate. It was almost cathartic to hear something, amid the deafening silence surrounding her. Even as the pain began to grow over her foreleg, a small part of her was relieved. She mentally berated herself for acting so carelessly; honestly, so quick to jump to the most terrifying conclusions. She rubbed the sore part of her leg with a free hoof, and turned toward the table, and was about to use her magic to pick the table off the ground. However, the table was not on the ground at all. Nor was it erect, being the other possibility. Instead, the table had remained at the precise angle at which she had shifted it with her contact. Balancing on just a single leg, the several knick-knacks on top unflinching, as if glued to the top. A performance of such an egregious disregard for the laws of physics that Twilight sat perfectly still, in shock for several seconds before moving to examine its perversion of common logic closer. “What in Celestia’s name…?” she queried. She slowly lifted up a hoof, an pushed the table the opposite direction, hoping its innate balance would seem to fail, and tumble to the floor. It moved exactly as far as Twilight’s sudden impulse displaced it, then returned to its stillness, frozen as it was moments before. She grabbed a small potted cactus from the table, a gift from Celestia when she had visited the Marejave Desert. Releasing all care for the little souvenir, she lifted it high above the table, over her hardwood flooring, and released it from her front hooves. She didn’t know what to expect, but she definitely wasn’t expecting the plant to remain stuck above the floor, exactly where she had released it. Despite the circumstances, this outcome was beyond her thought process. Then sat down, and pondered. Some cruel joke? A prank? Am I still dreaming? What exactly am I looking at? As she remained there, only for a few seconds, a thought equally as disturbing as the picture in front of her manifested. What if it’s not just the table?! She immediately, and at full speed, turned and darted toward the stairs, She practically tripped climbing them up to her room. Within inches of banging her head on the clock previously thrown, she turned toward Spike. “Spike?” she asked. No response. “Spike?!” she moved over, her voice raising. “Spike! Wake Up! Something weird is going on! Are you okay?!” she shook him, not a single acknowledgment came from his body. “Spike?! SPIKE?!” she ran her hoof along his arm and neck, struggling to find a pulse, and then found exactly what everything else had given her. Silence. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 0 HOURS, 27 MINUTES, 32 SECONDS. Almost immediately, panic had set in. Twilight’s brain flooded with adrenaline as she began to piece together everything around her. She had been still, sobbing for a half-hour, desperately attempting to wake her closest friend. Her mind had spent most of the Time looking for answers where there were none, and eventually she fell to the floor, almost catatonic. Spike was as still as the room, not a single sing of life. No. No. No No No. It can’t be true. Twilight thought to herself. This isn’t normal. There’s something else at play here. Something else… It was the same something that prevented the table and the clock from falling. A force, or something similar. Gravity, inertia, the entire book on Classical Mechanics had seemed to have been thrown out the window, taking reason with it. She seemed unaffected, whatever that was worth, but this did little to aid her situation. In the back of her mind, amid all the shock, a little voice warned her that she needed to move. She had to find out what was going on, and get help. Twilight managed a whimper before remaining still. Her mind was still stuck in a loop of grappling with Spike’s apparent death, and denying it. However, soon after, she managed to pick herself up, began moving toward the exit. If she could get her neighbors or even Derpy to help... Then it clicked in her head, and her pace immediately increased to a full gallop. She raced through her foyer, and almost tore the hinges off her front door getting outside. The image that greeted her was oddly compelling, and completely quashed Twilight’s fear in an instant, despite what it actually was. Derpy, at some point during the, now evident late morning, was in the middle of a mail run when she had accidentally crossed paths with another pegasus. Twilight couldn’t remember the name, but was delighted to see her stuck mid-air, screaming with a look of half anger/half terror. This led her to logically deduce that, due to the similar loss of kinetic forces and total stoppage of all momentum, the situation in front of her and the one inside had the same root cause. If this was true, then Spike couldn’t be dead, since Derpy and the other pegasus were still very much alive, if not simply frozen. Just to be sure, Twilight calmly pulled a book from a shelf, and levitated it toward Derpy. She then slapped her across the face with it, and immediately let go. The book remained in contact with Derpy’s snout, now awkwardly skewed to the left. Identical to the table, the clock, and the cactus. Twilight laughed almost manically now, and jumped for joy at this revelation. This wasn’t a simple as she thought, and was instead much bigger, almost as if the entire town were under… A Spell. Twilight abruptly stopped her celebration. The likelihood of this possibility was too high for a coincidence. Somepony must have done this, there was no other clear explanation. Somepony with an axe to grind. As a result, this meant there most likely was a way to reverse its effects. She could still move objects, that much was clear. She had access to her books and her basement, the entire town, incidentally. What she lacked, however, was help. This served more as a motivator than as an inhibitor. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 9 HOURS, 18 MINUTES, 23 SECONDS. Hours spent pouring over her entire library, methodically searching every crumb of data in her vast catalog, had led to a near nothing to show for it. Book after book, page after page, more and more information until it at last collapsed like a house of cards. Twilight thanked whatever sick twisted sorcerer did this that she could still eat. Her faucet obviously didn’t work, but she was able to break into her emergency supplies. She could still drink from a well. Starvation and dehydration were not concerning. What was, however, were her quickly expiring answers. At first, it seemed relatively optimistic, with simple questions having simple answers. Derpy’s work schedule was easy to procure from the post office, and cross referencing this with her route, she narrowed down the actual “freeze” to somewhere between 7:12 and 7:43 AM. This matched her clock’s Time, confirming her original suspicion. Following this, she conducted a few preliminary tests to feel out for any lasting static energy fields, only to find nothing of the sort. This was either something of so grand a scale Twilight couldn't really find a border, or it was something that lacked a field at all. Either way, this narrowed things down. Twilight even dug up some old books on Temporal Analysis, using them to finally conclude the exact nature of the spell. No specifics were given, but what was happening to her now made sense. They weren’t simply frozen. It seems Time itself had actually slowed for everyone but herself. This is why Twilight’s movements weren’t causing objects to fall or move. The forces weren’t negated, they had simply been postponed until she resolved this whole mess. This now presented entirely new problems, however. The book gave no explanation on whether or not this phenomenon had previously occurred, and consequently, how to resolve it from the affected end. Additionally, her potential list of suspects had shrank considerably. The amount of energy to theoretically slow everyone else down, or even simply to speed Twilight up to this degree was astronomical. Only someone with the power on the order of Luna or Celestia would be able to do it, and keep the subject in a this state for a prolonged period. It couldn’t be Discord either. Aside from the fact that he had just been re-imprisoned, this change was, orderly. Everyone, all at once, halted in the exact same way. They couldn’t run away screaming, or cause more chaos by going insane. They just sat there, statues, unaware of their own condition. No chaos at all. Nothing. So, her few remaining options were a relic that amplified magic to this level, or something she wasn’t familiar with. She shook herself out of her thoughts, and stood up. She needed a break. Just a quick one, a walk, and then she’d return. No one was going anywhere. “It just doesn’t make any sense!” she mumbled to herself. She unlocked the door and turned to lock it, then turned again, not bothering. “Why would someone do this?” The endless silence afforded her no solution, nor anything additional to work with, aside from an unending amount of Time with which to work. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 16 HOURS, 43 MINUTES, 54 SECONDS. The strain of solitude had truly begun to weigh on Twilight’s mind, and was not by any means lessening on its own. Still, a mare of indomitable fortitude and boundless will had not even shown a crack in her façade at this point. Each moment reminded her why she was doing this, and only redoubled her efforts. Despite this, Twilight had exhausted every conceivable resource at her disposal. The library’s entire archive had been poured over twice, and not a single drop of additional information could be garnered from books she had already torn through. At this point, Twilight figured that her best efforts were to go about this like any other problem. She needed rest, and to be calm and collected. Go through her daily routine and solve this the same way she would any other puzzle. She really did need a routine, and tomorrow, she would make one. She moved into her bed, closing the blinds. She almost chuckled to herself, imagining that this is what an “evil-version” of Celestia would have done in an alternate universe. Eternal Morning… sounds like a book title. She almost thanked the silence that allowed her to retreat to her dreams quickly. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 3 DAYS, 1 HOURS, 7 MINUTES, 37 SECONDS. Twilight had elected she needed a hobby, something to keep her mind off the world around her, keep her focus where it needed be. So, she began a journal. If I don’t make it out of this, but they do… she morbidly gave herself the answer. …at least they’ll know what happened to me. It had taken her longer than expected to actually develop a routine. Perhaps she expected this would all be over on its own. Or perhaps she didn’t want to admit this was the life she was now confined to. Either way… Wake Up. Eat. Study. Eat. Study. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Study. Eat. Study. Walk. Sleep. This was all it took. Already, Twilight was feeling more like herself. She even noticed and overlooked a footnote in one of her books, and managed to follow the trail of bread crumbs to her reference section. Closer… closer, yet closer… She went to sleep that night a little happier, a little more hopeful… …a little less quickly. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 6 DAYS, 4 HOURS, 22 MINUTES, 9 SECONDS. She couldn't teleport. Somehow, for some reason, her teleportation attempts weren't working correctly. It was a miracle she noticed it now. She idly attempted to teleport a book over to her while following footnotes and references. Not a thing stirred. She didn't notice for quite a moment, until she realized Didn't I just teleport a book over to me? There was no tome on the desk in front of her. She calmly turned around, the book wasn't on the shelf either. She scanned the room, almost worried. Then she made contact with the new object on the floor. She screamed. A mangled, shredded lump of ink and paper now sat in her waste bin. As she cleaned up the mess, her thoughts became quick and flurried. How did I not think to teleport to until now? It's almost second nature to me and if I had at any Time attempted to teleport myself anywhere and oh Celestia I almost thought about teleporting home and if I had no no no no no... She silenced her thought process. It was luck, really. She thanked whatever power had saved her and ensured the picture of the mass the created stayed imprinted in her head until this was all over. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 9 DAYS, 0 HOURS, 4 MINUTES, 7 SECONDS. Twilight soon found a unintended positive by-product of her predicament. The silence, despite its often dampening nature on the spirit, afforded Twilight the opportunity to read. She randomly pulled an unread tome off her shelves, and sat and read to calm her nerves. Almost instantly, its final page graced Twilight's vision, and she began another. It wasn't often that Twilight was allowed such a perfect lack of noise. An immaculate silence like this was probably never going to come again, so if she had to be here, perhaps it'd be best if she took whatever advantage she could. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 15 DAYS, 13 HOURS, 46 MINUTES, 17 SECONDS. Wake Up. Eat. Study. Eat. Study. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Study. Eat. Study. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Study. Eat. Study. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Study. Eat. Study. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Study. Eat. Study. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Study. Eat. Study. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Study. Eat. Study… A fortnight. A full fortnight. Heaven help me… She had explored a little past the town limits, and found everything else just as it was in the town proper. This confirmed what she already believed from the start. It’s just me… I’m the only one free? Her trail hadn’t gone cold, thank god for that, her reference section had revealed several books that might contain information she was looking for. Unfortunately, these books were low-print order, meaning the only free copies were at her other library. In Canterlot. Of Course. Of Course Of Course Of Course Of Course Of Course Of Course Of Course Of Course! OF COURSE! Why wouldn’t this be as hard as possible?! Twilight groaned, and slammed her head onto the table. She mumbled from her new position. “Why can’t anything ever be just easy?” she lifted her head, eyes still closed, and breathed an indignant huff. First, sleep. Then, tomorrow, a plan. Her sleep didn’t come as fast, but came as sharply. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 16 DAYS, 20 HOURS, 3 MINUTES, 1 SECONDS. Over the course of the past week, she had taken random objects and attempted to teleport them a short distance to and from her house. Never anything organic, of course, just rubber balls, blank journals and the like. Each Time, an identical result. She grew tired of cleaning up the mess. As far as she could guess, whatever spell was responsible was affecting matter down to the molecular level. The process of teleportation was precise and delicate. The fundamental change to the way matter seemed to move must be hampering the movement from Point A to Point B. What was supposed to be a simple pattern of break-down, move deconstructed matter, re-build, had now been morbidly corrupted. Regardless, Teleportation was not an option to get her to Canterlot. But could she even make it that far on hoof? She wasn’t actually familiar with the ground routes to and from Canterlot. The train lines were obviously safe to follow, but she could only carry so many supplies. With this odd warping of physics following her around, if she were to be injured, what exactly could she do about internal damage? And she would need to head through at least a few kilometres of tunneled track, and that could be dangerous. If a train had stopped somewhere in the tunnel, it might be difficult to actually make it through. But Twilight needed to get to Canterlot, it was the closest town that had the tomes she was searching for, and the only place that had a library stocked with potentially other useful information. She could squeeze past the train, regulations provided at least several feet from the tunnel walls to the rail edges, and she was confident her careful nature would reduce the risk of injury to a negligible, manageable number. She had made up her mind even before she deliberated her plan. She borrowed a small kart from the apple’s farm, and stocked it with medical supplies, food, water, some books, and her logs, now taking up almost half a book. She entertained the thought of actually bringing Spike, but insisted on focus. She figured with a medium consistent pace, only a few stops to sleep, and no detours, she could make the trip in only a few days. Provided the worst-case scenario wasn't at play. She went to the train station, turned toward Canterlot, and began trotting. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 1 MONTHS, 17 DAYS, 3.5 HOURS, 7 MINUTES, 0 SECONDS. Her trip to Canterlot had been, eventful. Not on the way there though. She had made good Time toward Canterlot the entire way. As expected, a train had been en route, but closer to the entrance, so Twilight had little difficulty managing. The tunnels were easy to follow, and she even managed to enjoy herself along the way. It was almost like a road trip. Once there, she winced at her first sight. The guards, unflinching, were at first reassuring. Upon seeing their vapid expression, Twilight reassessed her first thought. Town square, the museum, even just outside the old library, all the same. All of Equestria? She entered her library, unlocked, she noticed. She gazed across the room carefully from the door, just in case. Empty. She gathered all the books she could, and set them aside. She was tired, as before, and decided she would remain in Canterlot that day, just to get some rest. For what it was worth, she was proud she had journeyed this far, all in the name of her friends. And the nation, at this point. Sleep came easy that Time, and the next. And the next. And the next. The days began to tally, as Twilight, in the middle of exploring the city, vainly hoping to find another lost soul such as herself, realized she had suddenly spent at least a week here. Sleeping, eating whatever she could find, admiring the art, anything to distract herself. She tried a spa. Not the same. She tried a gallery. Not the same. A museum. A garden. A park. Nothing was the same. Her logs slowly filled with the same distorted experiences. She explored the palace on day nine, and remained in the throne room for several hours. She was moderately displeased, but really, she couldn't be much more as she had always know. If Celestia had been unaffected, I would have been one of the first she would have gone too. Or she would have been able undo this from the start. This was stupid. I need to stop idealizing and get back to work. Rather than read and study in the city, Twilight loaded up her cart, placed her new books carefully on the top, and left without another word to any of the frozen denizens of a now-defunct capital. Halfway down the mountain, an axle snapped in two. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 2 MONTHS, 2 DAYS, 2 HOURS, 2 MINUTES, 2 SECONDS. Twilight now finally understood her situation. She had been sped up, not vice versa. It had taken a while too, the books she brought were entirely too esoteric for her at a first glance, so she left them to gather dust for a few days as she relaxed after her trip. She had broken an axle halfway back, and didn't notice until she pulled the two pieces apart after panicking from hearing the snap. She sighed. Any sign of sound in a train tunnel immediately brought a terrifying thought to her mind. She had set up camp in the dimly lit annex, and settle there for a few hours, as she attempted to fix the splintered wood. Eventually, out of frustration, she teleported the entire chunk across the rails, which ended up fusing the two parts together into a roughly cylindrical piece she could use. Perhaps all was not lost. Eventually, she was able to crack and understand the meaning of the complex diagrams and strains of new interpretations of physics to get an answer. Someone had increased the speed of her entire form to near superluminal levels. Twilight at first didn’t understand how this was possible for an organic being, and survivability to remain an option afterward, but she had a decent hypothesis. The increased speed had left the body itself to power the spell. The minute vibrations of her body were comparatively faster than the world around her, so their marked energy increase was plenty enough to keep a spell running. Twilight either had to disrupt the spell’s connection to the body, choking it from its power source, or somehow slow herself down to the point where the spell would dissipate on its own. At this point, it didn’t matter. Twilight had actually figured it out, and just needed to begin testing different interactions to see which solution would work best, and eventually this would all be over. Finally, after this long nightmare, she could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Sleep came easy that night, for the last Time. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 2 MONTHS, 23 DAYS, 3 HOURS, 1 ½ MINUTES, 8 SECONDS. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Test. Test. Test… Once again, Twilight woke up to the sounds of silence. The morning looked exactly the same, and, as she assumed, everything had remained the same. Including her results. Another failure. She checked off the parameters, and tried again. Each Time, she changed intrinsic elements of her efforts. Her wave-form frequency, her energy output, her stance, her position relative to where she was at the hypothesized zero hour, even her goddamn emotions at the Time of the casting. Each Time, it seemed she had the exact same result. Utter and complete failure. She had decided she'd only write in her personal logs the results of every dozen or so. She was running out of space. Sure, elements of the failure were different, but too subtle to really garner any worthwhile data from. Maybe she could try more drastic changes? Maybe even put a ful— She stopped. This was beginning to really piss her off. Always, no matter what, she wasn’t even being given enough information to tell what was failing, let alone how to fix it. She couldn’t take this anymore. She snapped. Not today. “Not now. Not today. Today, I’m taking off. I’m just going to….” She paused. A little idea had taken root in her mind. Surely... surely she was jesting herself. Yet, it would have its uses. No one would notice, really. She could explain. Absolutely. They would understand. For science, to save the world. Of course. She peeled out into the street. She remembered the address. It was there, everyday, almost mocking her at this point. She'd show it. A small little abandoned duplex in a lonely square. They were going bring the building down soon, make room for another store, or maybe turn it into a park. Twilight didn't remember the specifics. They didn't matter. She placed her back two legs slightly off, she dug her front heels into the solid dirt. She looked down at the ground, aimed her horn. Everything all at once came to her. She summoned up all her anger, her regret, her hatred, her fear. She charged up the most deliberate sense of destruction she could. For all you've done to me. For all I could've spent this Time doing. For Spike, for my friends, for Celestia... She boiled over, and let loose the most explosive force of her power she could possibly think of. A massive burst of brimstone, salt, fire, and sulphur. It struck the building rather quickly, and she braced herself for the resulting back-wave of energy. Much as she expected thought, it didn't come. She opened her eyes slowly, and the picturesque score in front of her, was breathtaking. Beautiful, even. The fire, iridescent in its still form, had torn through the front of the building, and collapsed part of the front façade. The structure had been converted to a work of art. The remaining edges of the building were perfectly capturing the light from the fire at an angle, and the building walls were slightly peeling away from the center. A flower, frozen mid-burst, now struck Twilight's vision with a sense of pride. In that moment, despite everything, Twilight was glimpsing pure beauty of her own creation. Then, she realized what it had taken to actually create the spectacle in front of her, and she collapsed on the spot, only partly from exhaustion. She sat there, desperately attempting to keep the image in her head, as its affects began to wash away, and the image slowly became a grim reminder of her current state of being. She slowly picked herself off the ground. She went home. She moved up to her room. Gave a casual glance to Spike in his little bead. Smiled that melancholy smile one gives when at a loved one’s grave. All for you, Spike. Every little piece, I promise. I will hear you laugh, you cry, you, again. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 4 MONTHS, 2 ¾ DAYS, 0 HOURS, 3 MINUTES, 16 SECONDS. Twilight had spent the previous weekend as industrious as ever. She targeted “hot-spots” across town. A couple areas relatively free of other ponies so she could reflect on other things without being constantly reminded of her current status. She figured, if she was really in for the long haul, this was needed, and was a little irked at herself for not coming up with it sooner. It was difficult, the town was becoming a derelict shell to her, and only a relatively few spots were empty. In the park, a lone bench facing the mountains laid no view with other ponies. This weekend, Twilight had been here, still, for almost an hour. She had her eyes closed tight, and her ears perked up. Whenever she did this, and stopped listening to the silence, she could swear, she could hear it. The slight breeze wafting through her mane. The idle chatter of the town’s inhabitants. The creak of the bench beneath her. She could tell. The minute she opened her eyes, the sun’s resplendent rays would allow her to bask in a calm glow. Or the argent moon would reassure her ofTime’s passing. The fillies around town would be playing and flying kites, and Spike, next to her, would be calmly napping, just like before. All would be right with the world. She slowly displace Spike from the bench's seat, and they would head home. It almost was a shock when Twilight revealed her own lie. Almost. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 4.3 MONTHS, 2 DAYS, 13 ¼ HOURS, 47 MINUTES, 36 SECONDS. Twilight grabbed Spike and hugged him tightly. Not a stir, but Twilight at this point fully understood. It was up to her to fix this. This wasn’t to go away by itself. She pulled him up to her bed and tucked him in next to her. She curled around him and stayed there. Then, for the first Time, she cried. Her tears drenched the blanket beneath her. It took too long in this state for her to feel herself drift off. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: █ MONTHS, ██ DAYS, ██ HOURS, █ MINUTES, ██ SECONDS. And just like that… it was over. Finally, the grip on Twilight's soul had loosened, and she was free. Spike woke her up from her bed. She felt herself shudder at his incessant shoving, but eventually, she realized how happy she was to feel his touch again. She bolted upright, and glomped Spike onto the floor. Understandably confused, Spike voiced his objections. “Hey! Twilight?" Twilight was too busy squeezing Spike to reply. It's him! It's really him?! I can hear him talk! I can feel his scales ruffle underneath me! My No. 1 assistant, always faithful, back again! "Uh, I love you too and all, but is this really necessary? I mean, it’s almost like you haven’t seen me in forever!” She paused. Rather cliche, don't you think? She refrained from saying it. Cliche was good. In fact, she wouldn't rather have it any other way... “You have no idea…” she hugged him tighter. There was a knock at her door. The girls? She rushed down the hall and through the foyer. The table tipped over. The cactus was shattered on the floor. Her books strew about. A mess had never looked so comforting. She pulled open the door, and was met with the alabaster eyes of her friends. They smiled at her. She immediately resumed her ardent personality. “Girls! You’ll never begin to understand what I’ve been through! I could never even begin to explain what happened! Everything was frozen! But not in a icy-cold sense, like in Time and there was this deafening silence that wouldn’t go away and…” she trailed off. Something was wrong. The girls continued to stare. Smiles that were now menacing began to soften Twilight’s grin. “Girls? Are you al—” Suddenly it became obvious. No. No. No no no nononononononono. Not again, please anything but this! Five minutes, that all I want. Please just a little Time, let me have them back. PLEASE! She turned, and Spike stood in the doorway. “Spike! Spike you’re alright!” Unblinking, and unmoving, a warped vestige of his former self, Spike slammed the door shut. A lock was heard clicking into place, like a nail into a coffin lid. Twilight banged on the door. “Spike? SPIKE PLEASE LET ME IN! PLEASE!" She slammed harder, desperately trying to recede back into her bunker that had for so long kept her from directly facing the world around her. She turned again, her friends’ smiles were growing and getting closer, despite their static bodies. Again and again she turned away, only to find the smiles growing in size, sharpening in teeth, almost laughing. The laughter. It would not stop. It grew louder and louder, Twilight couldn’t bear it. She prayed for the silence back, she prayed to go back to where she had been day before. It was better, it was so much better. They grew closer, opened to swallow her whole. Bared teeth revealed a deep and endless void, one that threatened to snuff out her very being. Remove her from existence herself. Closer and closer, she felt the pull on her mind. She was going insane. She was disappearing. Her reality was unwinding around her. Finally, she screamed. It carried over out of her dreams. She woke with a start in her bed, and almost fell out of it. Spike remained on her bed, the morning sun was still in the sky, and her clock, still sat above her bed. She wept for the second Time. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 5 ¼ MONTHS, 14 DAYS, 3 HOURS, 12 MINUTES, 0.1 SECONDS. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Test. Test. Test… Failure. 112 to date. Again. Try again. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 6 MONTHS, √11 DAYS, 2 HOURS, 1 MINUTES, 0.1 SECONDS. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Test. Test. Test… Failure. 246 to date. Again. Try again. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 7±0 MONTHS, 18.00 DAYS, √0 HOURS, 11 MINUTES, 37 SECONDS. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Test. TEST. TEST! FAILURE. 302 to date. Again. Try again. Always again. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 9.1 MONTHS, 14±5 DAYS, 3 ¼ HOURS, 12 MINUTES, 0 SECONDS. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Die. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Sleep. Wake Up. Test. Cry. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Cry. Test. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Wake Up. Die. Plan. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Test. Test. Test. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Test. Test. Test. Test. Test. Test. TEST. TEST! FAILURE. 999 to date. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Each step down the stairs had caused Twilight more stress. Each stairs quietness had burned its way into her mind. She wanted a creak, she wanted annoyance, she wanted anything. Anything at all. Each step reminded her how life was like now, and how it would never change. again. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 1? YEAR, 0 MONTHS, 1 ¼ DAY, 13 HOURS, 2√11 MINUTES, 98 SECONDS. Twilight had entered into a cautionary relationship with the stairs. They seem nice, even though they continuously give her the cold shoulder. Her cactus has informed her of how dangerous the outside world can be. She has elected to stay inside for the Time being. Failure. Failure. FAILURE. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: √1 YEAR, 3±3 MONTHS, 12 DAYS, 1? HOUR, 19 MINUTES, 7.999999999999999 SECONDS. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Test. Sleep. Die. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Test. Sleep. Die. Test. Cry. Plan. Eat. Test. Test. Cry. Wake Up. Die. Plan. Eat. Test. Test. Cry Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Eat. Test. Test. Cry. Wake Up. Eat. Plan. Cry. Test. Eat. Test. Test. Cry. Die. Die. Plan. Eat. Test. Test. Cry. Test. Test. Test. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 1.7 YEAR, 0 MONTHS, 3 DAY, 1±1 ½ HOUR, 19 MINUTES, 13? SECONDS. Twilight had a tea party with her cactus. It was nice, a sharp wit on that one. She is no longer on speaking terms with the stairs. She tried to fix them. She pulled up the boards and desperately dug underneath to find anything that could make noise. Than she nailed new ones down. They won’t talk to her anymore. It doesn’t matter, she has her cactus. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 2±¼ YEARS, 1? MONTH, 14 DAYS, 18 HOUR, 1.9 MINUTES, √2 SECONDS. Wake Up. Eat. Test. Eat. Test. Test. Sleep. Die. Eat. Test. Eat. Test. Test. Sleep. Die. Test. Cry. Test. Eat. Test. Test. Cry. Wake Up. Die. Test. Eat. Test. Test. Cry Wake Up. Eat. Test. Eat. Test. Test. Cry. Wake Up. Eat. Test. Cry. Test. Eat. Test. Test. Cry. Die. Die. Test. Eat. Test. Test. Cry. Test. Test. Test. Eat. Test. Walk. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 2√2 YEARS, 4½¾ MONTHS, 1.11111111 DAY, 1.111111 HOU, 76 MINUTES, 49? SECONDS. Her cactus really is an inspiration. Talking everyday has really helped her calm herself. No more book burning, no smashing pots and pans together in an effort to break the silence. Just focus. Keep focusing and everything will work out. Focus on fixing this. Just, focus. Focus. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 2.52525252525... YEARS, 5 MONTHS, 1?7 DAYS, ¾±¼ HOUR, MINUTES, SECONDS. Failure. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 2 YEARS, ? MONTHS, ? DAYS, ? HOUR, ? MINUTES, ? SECONDS. Failure. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 3 YEARS, ? MONTHS, ? DAYS, ? HOUR, ? MINUTES, ? SECONDS. Failure… <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 3 YEARS, ? MONTHS, ? DAYS, ? HOUR, ? MINUTES, ? SECONDS. FAILURE. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 3 YEARS, ? MONTHS, ? DAYS, ? HOUR, ? MINUTES, ? SECONDS. FAILURE! FAILURE! FAILURE! <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 3 YEARS, ? MONTHS, ? DAYS, ? HOUR, ? MINUTES, ? SECONDS. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure… <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 3 YEARS, ? MONTHS, ? DAYS, ? HOUR, ? MINUTES, ? SECONDS. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Die. Cry. Test. Cry Cry. Die. Test. Test. Cry No… Test. Test. Die. Please… Cry. Test. Test. Die. Die. Test. Cry. Die. Cry. Cry. Test. Cry. Cry. Die. Die… No more… please. ELAPSEDTIME: Failure. Failure. Failure. why. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. 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Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Time. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. too many to count. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. . Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. 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Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure.) Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure.Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. failure. i give up. you win. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 3 YEARS, 6 MONTHS, 19 DAYS, 15 HOURS, 3 MINUTES, 27 SECONDS. And so, began the end of the tragedy of Twilight Sparkle. There it was. Here again. Twilight noticed it mid-way through her second year. The cold. The dauntless, ever-piercing cold. A walk into town was punctuated with her stopping every few blocks, shivering, staring dumbly into someone else’s face. She couldn’t leave, no more. She remained inside, trying to keep herself sparked, trying to finish this. It never came. Each day, once more, on command almost. Her logs were beginning to fill with incomprehensible gibberish, as one might expect, but the very end was filled with more, incendiary information. It wasn’t until her mind finally snapped that the truly fell apart. The End. Ignorance had kept her mind from facing it thus far, in a state of insane bliss. She was heading up the stairs, slowly, two at a Time. She moved toward her bed. Inches from the covers. I will never see my friends ever again. It was such a simple thought too, an errant recognition of a random possibility. But it was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. It sent waves of terror through her mind. At first, it just rippled through her, and she allowed it to consume her. Paralyzed. Almost content by not having to move. To think. To convince herself to do anything. Then she screamed. She screamed as loud as she possibly could. And then she ran out the door, into the streets, still screaming. As her mind descended through the loops of sorrow, fear, hatred, and even disappointment, she trampled around town, begging some to speak. "PLEASE! SOMEPONY SPEAK! SAY SOMETHING!" "I NEED HELP! CAN ANYONE HERE ME?!!!" "SPEAK NOW! STOP SITTING THERE AND JUST MOVE AN INCH!!" "SOMEPONY JUST SPEAK TO ME!" “PLEASE ANYPONY! I BEG OF YOU! LET ME GO. JUST PLEase… no more… I can’t take it any more…” Her flood gates had opened, and her last drops of rationality were quickly slipping away. Her psyche shattered into an uncountable number of pieces, as she began full-force striking her hooves into the chests and snouts of those around her. Lashing out like a child with a uncontrollable temper. This truly was hopeless. She had gone far past that word now. The math, the science, the forces, physics, helping herself, Spike, her friends, everything. Nothing. Something somewhere in between. She tired herself out, and she fell to her knees. She just wanted an end to the biting silence. A silence that seemed to scream back at her, endlessly. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 3 YEARS, 6 MONTHS, 19 DAYS, 17 HOUR, 31 MINUTES, 7 SECONDS. Twilight had spent far too much Time wandering around town, and eventually ran out of energy, anger morphing back to depression, and hatred moving back to fear. She collapsed in the middle of the street, and began to cry once again. It's not fair... It’s not fair… It's not fair... It’s not fair… It's not fair... It’s not fair… IT’S NOT FAIR! I had so much to live for, my friends and I defeated Nightmare Moon, and Discord! WE resolved countless problems! We went to the gala! I traveled in Time! WHY DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME?! She looked up at a bystander. Why not him?! Why not anyone else?! WHY ME?! The cold silence grew. She sat there. Endlessly. Her mind racing. Thoughts ran through her mind faster than she could process them. She was broken, a former shell of the mare she once was. It was racing closer and closer. An end. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: 3 YEARS, 6 MONTHS, 22 DAYS, 1 HOUR, 31 MINUTES, 7 SECONDS. A terrible solution. But a solution. Twilight had made the ultimate decision, the last decision she would ever make. About a mile out from the city limits, a large cliff overlooks a small expanse of the Everfree. Better yet, Ponyville can be seen in all its glory from the top. Also, it now serves as a monument to the most terrifying story to ever end. Twilight passed by Sugercube Corner. Goodbye Pinkie Pie. I'll miss your parties. Service my funeral please. She passed the Carousel Boutique. Goodbye Rarity. Make sure I look good in my coffin. Apple Family Farm. Goodbye Applejack. ... For the briefest of instances, the suspense covered the area like a fog. It almost seemed that Twilight was content with this so far. She would turn right around, take her silent eulogy with her, and sleep. Tomorrow she'd return to her attempts. She'd fix this after all. Right? Right? It didn't take her long to ascend the cliff, but it took her even less Time to descend. She had recognized that gravity still affected her, in the exact same way, but this information was of course used for an unfair purpose. As she climbed, her mind battled with the last of her rational thought, and by the Time she reached the top, she did not hesitate. She jumped, and the entire world let her go. <><><><><><><> ELAPSEDTIME: no more. The fall killed her almost instantly. Needless to say, there was not a thought that came out of Twilight's head afterward, and the entire world became silent once more, never to hear the sound of her voice again. <><><><><><><> Still. Ever so still. Silent, still, peaceful. ? <><><><><><><> All at once, the world seemed to shrug ~~one day~~, and everything began to stir. In an instant, Time had returned to its world, and everything continued, once again. Derpy’s crash finished itself on Twilight’s lawn. As she fell, she could have sworn the front door had been closed. They both landed, and the mare screamed at Derpy for her carelessness. Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, and all others woke from their endless slumber, and the entire town resumed once again, a clock finally repaired from its ailments. This clock however, was missing one very important cog in its inner workings, and it didn't take long for anyone to find out. A loud crash from the foyer awoke Golden Oak Library's one remaining occupant. Spike slowly opened his dozing eyes. The clock next to him on the bed was ticking silently. He slowly got up, and realized his change in position. He figured Twilight had something to do with it. He slowly moved down the stairs, and gasped at what he saw. The foyer was a mess. Tables were overturned, books were askew, and the small cactus he had come to like was in a heap on the floor. The door was wide open, letting the cold autumn air in. Spike was terrified of what might have transpired last night. All across town, ponies were reacting to the day’s strange events. Several ponies reeled backward, claiming they had been attacked by a mysterious force. Echoes of someone seemed to flow throughout the town for milliseconds, some swore it was a cry for help. No one could place any calculated answer on the occurrences. Then, a billowing of smoke rose from the east quarter. A fire had spontaneously broken out in an abandoned shell and was in danger of spreading to the nearby buildings. Perhaps fire was inaccurate. An explosion at first, then it calmed to a blaze. The fire department was able to quickly mobilize and put the fire out, but couldn't actually pin down a cause. The investigation into those shortcomings were quickly snuffed out when incredibly shocking news came to light. Twilight had gone missing. Her house was a mess, signs of a struggle, and her door was wide open. Needless to say, the police were quickly involved. Baffled at first. Before a formal search party could be formed, before a true investigation could be opened, before the princesses could even be contacted, a body was found. A poor mare had flung herself from a nearby cliff. It was, of course, a short Time before her identity was discovered. As soon as it was confirmed, the police struggled to stymie the information’s spread to the public. The media eventually found a foothold against the censoring, and the papers printed it before anyone even knew what was happening. The theories quickly began to fly. Murder! Some insolent fool took away our spark! No, there were no drugs in her system, no physical signs of a struggle, but an autopsy strangely found parts of her body much lower in fat content then an average mare of her age. The mortician even swore, she looked much older than he thought she actually was. Yet, the report found damage consistent to the hypothesized fall. Mind Control! This is how she was brought to this extent! No, we’d be able to tell. Even the best mind control spells leave ‘subconscious residue’ on parts of the brain. Physical signs that can be seen. Extra strain as the brain resists, or even certain axons disturbed. All signs point to suicide. This quickly became a shattering event for the rest of the town, as one of Ponyville's greatest heroes, and friends, had so quickly been taken away from them, without another word, or any explanation. The news of course hit Spike the hardest, who spent a week without eating anything, and simply sat near Twilight's bed, wondering if he could have, nay, should have done something. Should he have asked Twilight if anything was wrong? Should he have spent more Time paying attention to Twilight's demeanor? Would this even have mattered? He began to thin out, and at the behest of his friends, moved in with Rarity, who was eager to offer residence to the broken dragon. Surprisingly, this did little to ease his pain. His life was changed forever, with no hope of recovering. He couldn’t remove her pallid distorted face from his head. The friendship that Twilight had started between the Elements of Harmony quickly began to fade, as depression turned to fear, fear turned to anger, and anger turned to hatred. Aimless blame began firing from one to the other, and each had their stake in shifting the responsibility to another. Without the pony in question to fix this friendship problem, they were shattered, and went their separate ways. It seems that she was a focal point, one that quickly removed balance with her unTimely demise. Their friendship had gone bankrupt. The rest of the town quickly fell prey to lapses in judgement, error's in reasoning, and broken friendships. Without Twilight to play her role in their lives, the town faced an uncertain future. When news of her protege's death reached Celestia, the guilt in her heart returned akin to that of Luna's banishment. She spent weeks recovering from the information, spending days in her room. With help from Luna and her staff, she was eventually able to return to her duties as princess, but no longer searched for an apprentice, for fear of replication of the levels of stress that might have caused Twilight's death. Soon enough, the entire nation was grappling with the news. Not just that it had happened, but the fact that nobody truly understood why. The entire concept of her death was rife with mystery, and some didn't believe that it was a suicide. Amid it all, there were question that no one seemed willing to deal with. Two years later, they had their answers. <><><><><><><> The inflammatory documents had been discovered in Twilight basement, buried under the floorboards. The place had since been abandoned, the books relocated, and it had become dilapidated. A few foals had run inside to play hide and seek. The weakening structure gave way under them, and they crashed through the floor, discovering the cache. A massive pile of unbound pages, only some fully decipherable. Twilight’s logs. Upon review, the full nature of her predicament came to light, and the first thought gave a breath of relief. Perhaps somewhat selfish, but more positive towards the nation’s outlook. It wasn’t anyone’s fault… Unfortunately, this came too late to truly affect anyone of Twilight’s main group. They had already said things best left unspoken. Insults had wrung so harshly they hadn’t even spoken to one another since they originally had discovered the incident. This didn’t stop the rest of the nation from chiming. From those honestly trying to calm everyone, those with honest curiosity, and those with deep-seeded greed, Twilight’s story then became as famous as it ever could be. Philosophical discussions, fictional retellings, even scientific studies. It became known as ‘The Impossible Year,’ and no end to the outcroppings from its inception were in sight. It didn’t matter. It really didn’t. No one really felt any better. The world was still reeling from this event. The light of so many ponies’ lives had been extinguished, so quickly. She was gone, no bringing her back. Gone. Gone… Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
Excerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 16-21View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndExcerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 16-21III I sent my love to my sweetheart in a little brown box the next morning I recived a little package my box marked "return to sender" How sad. -Ink M. Blot Perhaps the most distressing concept brought about by this is tragedy6. Tragedy, by definition is "an event [or events] causing great suffering, destruction, and distress, such as a serious accident, crime, or natural catastrophe." Of course, we may skim off the obvious from this entire series of events and leave with that. That is an entirely predictable and valid course of action. Even persons with an uncountable stake in this may simply like to leave well enough alone, or rather, "be content that we have our answers, and not ask any more questions."7 However, to those of us with a pervasive, curious nature, and perhaps those of us with a rather untamable thirst for answers, may find this to barely be a drop in the bucket compared to what this all really tells us as a whole. Yes, the logs of the late Princess Twilight Sparkle are of course filled our aforementioned definition of tragedy, but further dissemination may lead to grander findings. Tragedy is four-dimensional. It takes up physical space that we can measure using finely-tuned instruments and strict units, but it also takes up a sense of Time. This is where we derive our meanings that go beyond the confines the physical and classical sciences can even hope to comprehend. Space8 gives us the where, the who, the what, and quite possibly the why. Time, on the other hand, gives us the infinitely more important when. Not just the when of the tragedy, but the whens of before and after. This has, of course been turned over and over by countless others, with even Time Turner chiming in with "let us not forget the whens of the whats, [...] these precious little moments are when we get a glimpse of us at our rawest, most vulnerable."9 Obviously, Time is of great importance to these events, as Twilight's logs show us at their fullest extent, our perceptions and assumptions of Time can often be morbidly wrong. However, all of us at Times neglect what Time really means. To put it bluntly, Time is where we can derive the figurative segment of Tragedy. Everything that physics, chemistry, mathematics, genetics, topology, acoustics, memetics, and everything in between can't tell us, our innate metaphysical presence in this universe helps uncover. Memory. This is the crux of our perception of Time. Just as a freight train may roar past us faster than we can think, Time continues to churn through us at even our most oblivious. And yet, we still have this ability to "pull the moments we find important from this roaring stream, placing them into a setting more fitting, and keeping them tightly kept in place, always to look back on."10 Perhaps we have control over what we remember, perhaps we don't. Maybe still, we merely 'steer the boat' and we really pull what we like, but no control over the specifics. An unknown ancient poet likewise stated very eloquently his thoughts on Memory: Had I all the Time in the world Then I would oft lose part of myself Every second Every minute Every Eon Eventually lost for I could not count them My mind is only large enough for one lifeTime Forsooth, I see only one outcome for the infinitely experienced. Loss of everything they thought they could hold dear As Time goes on, we gain, we lose, but we always hold onto Enough Time, though Everything is lost Everything stays Nothing stays And I am left with embers to cradle, but no ashes to remember them by Regardless, the logs would cease to function appropriately without memory. Twilight's main motivations for writing is even stated as "so I don't forget why I'm doing this... for them..."11 These motivations end horribly disfigured by year 2, but even the memory of these motivations seemingly surface ominously: "I know. I know why, I just don't care anymore. I can't care... it's too hard anymore." Memory seems to be the last thing that may hold Twilight to her sanity as she enters year 3. What even really is Memory to us? Psychologist Dr. Dream Searcher ventures a guess. "Memory is a razor-thin cord, it holds the mind to the past, which in turn, allows a grip on the present. After all, how can we truly know about now without knowing what gave rise to it?"12 So it seems Memory is our way of designing a framework for which we may understand and observe Time itself. Or perhaps, as some put it, quite the opposite. "Memory it what keeps us from having to truly face Time. It protects us from the untempered schism that forcibly divides the past and future. It squeezes us into a single point at the center, and allows us to coexist with Time, without having to truly explain it. As we evolved, our perceptions sharpened to potentially dangerous extents. Time is vast, complicated, and worst of all, unpredicated on us at the center of our world. We, with our egocentric societies, as peaceful as we can be, still, at the best of Times, care about ourselves. An over-powerful force that exacts its toll without even a second glance at our whims, would scare us to death (which, in it of itself, is one of Time's responsibilities). Memory helps dilute our perspective, and change Time from this omnipresent dynamism to a clock with a crudely drawn face that explains seconds and minutes to foals."13 Even if we cannot agree, we must concede that Memory and Time are intrinsically linked in some way, evidenced not just by Twilight's logs, but by history itself. Or perhaps, the lack thereof. Considered fringe science by most, and "conspiracy" by those less inclined to formal debate, Last Thursdayism regardless can give us an interesting perspective on Memory. "Last Thursdayism is a philosophy in which proponents claim that the entire universe, us, the gods, the stars, everything, were not created billions of years ago, or even thousands. They claim that everything was brought into its current state, all at once, last Thursday. Everything we've done, everything we've written, everything we've said, eaten, built, destroyed, laughed at, cried with, all of it, if occurring before last Thursday, is false. Fake recalling that were brought into being just as much as anything else. Everything we remember is an illusion, and the universe has been around for at most, a single week."14 Supporters like to say that since technically we can't disprove any of it (as any evidence could simply be a manifestation of said sudden appearance), is must be true, or at least have some validity. Ignoring the obvious Ad Ignorantum and taking everything with a grain of salt, we can use this as a lens to tactfully examine Memory as a whole. What if Twilight's plight really did never happen? What if she never existed, and we woke up one day, fresh as the universe, and the first thing our new little society discovered organically was Tragedy? Not fire, not the steam engine, not math or science, nor language or even the moon. Where would this truly put our society as a whole? Our first real Memory of the death of somepony who we didn't even see with our own eyes? Of an entire false tragic accident? Of somepony who never truly existed? Now this, is a positively terrifying thought...15 Footnotes: 6Ironically, this chapter goes little into the tragedy in specifics. This topic is more carefully considered in Chapter V 7Rarity, in her article "How Little We Know" in The Daily Hoof, v. 132, 1005, p. 7-8 8A subject more thoughtfully examined in Chapter IX 9Time Turner, M.Sc., On Time, and Loneliness (Ponyville: Ponyville Publication, 1002), p. 215 10Stacked Deck, Marshmallows at the Thanksgiving Dinner Table (Manehatten: Random House, 1001), p. 46 11Stated in the 4th log publicly released 12Dream Searcher, Ph.D., "Memory Lane" in Psychologist's Digest, v. 32, 1002, p. 17-18 13Mr. Minute, Thank You For Wasting My Time (Fillydelphia: The Invisible Pen, 1001), p. 396 14International Encyclopedia of Philosophies (Manehatten: McColt, 997), p.762 15See The Art of Being Afraid (Manehatten: McColt, 1003) and the subsequent I Don't Want To Die Anymore (Manehatten: McColt, 1004) for more information. Both written under the pen-name "R." Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
C.R.P.S. Report of Investigation, Incident Number 000086143, Time of Completion: 06-11-1003View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndC.R.P.S. Report of Investigation, Incident Number 000086143, Time of Completion: 06-11-1003Formal Report of Investigation Form#: 0078-9b ("Cover-Up") File Date: 06-10-1003 Incident#: 000086143(-1) Lot Number: 3 Incident Date: 04-10-1003 Incident Type: ~~Suicide~~ ~~Murder~~ Suicide Location of Incident: Outside City Limits of Ponyville; base of cliff known as "Applewood Vista" Overseeing Administrator: ~~Covert Op~~ ~~Celestia~~ Covert Op (Provisional) Primary Investigator: ~~Blank Page~~ Silent Night Secondary Investigator(s): Dr. Twist, ~~Silent Night~~, Shining Armor (Provisional), Red Eye, Flash Sentry Note: Blank Page is on probation following his actions during Incident 143-a; Silent Night served as Primary Investigator following Summary of Investigation: Day 1 (10-10-1003) Recovered Autopsy Report for follow-up Preformed Type-B analysis of death location: Nothing to Report Preformed Type-B analysis of Twilight's residence: Nothing to Report Day 3 (13-10-1003) Formal Interrogations of the following: Spike, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Mayor Mare: Nothing to Report Formal Interrogations of the following: Pinkie Pike, Lyra, Daisy, Fluttershy: Nothing to Report Day 4 (14-10-1003) ~~Investigation Finished, Determined Suicide Designation to be accurate~~ Day 7 (17-10-1003) Staff changes (See Below; Note 141-U-1) Re-Investigation Ordered; preparations for Type-A analysis Day 11 (21-10-1003) Preformed Type-A Analysis of death location: Residual Magics Detected Preformed Type-A Analysis of Twilight's residence: Residual Magics Detected Day 17 (27-10-1003) Following discovery of magics in both areas of concern, Administrator made formal request to declare suicide designation false, and open a formal Homicide Investigation. Day 18 (28-10-1003) Preliminary motions made to declare findings made. Possibility of Homicide Investigation considered Magic Analysis Reports Completed (See Documents 143-M-1, 143-M-2) Day 20 (30-10-1003) Reports of analysis prove inconclusive Administrator declares case "Murder" Day 23 (2-11-1003) After much deliberation, Administrator is overturned by C.R.P.S. council (8-3) Administrator is removed from position by council, previous Administrator re-instated (See Below; Note 141-U-2) Further investigation reveals analysis reports to have no bearing on case decision Case re-declared suicide, formal Homicide investigation denied. Day 24 (3-11-1003) Investigation Finished, Determined Suicide Designation to be accurate Day 27 (6-11-1003) Case formally closed, Incident resolved, group presiding disbanded. Special Notes: Note 143-U-1 Letter from Overseer Pen. on 17-10-1003: Following repeated requests from Celestia herself for increased deliberation from this team, and a lack of communication to and from our current administrator, I have made the executive decision to place Celestia as Administrator for this case. This is a special exception given the circumstances, and will not be repeated. Despite this, I expect all of you to follow her commands to the letter, and show a little more focus from now on. Following Blank Page's decision to [REDACTED], he has been removed from the team, and I have made Silent Night primary investigator for the Time being. --Overseer Penblade Note 143-U-2 Notice from Overseer Pen. on 2-11-1003: After decisions from the council, it has been reluctantly decided that Celestia bee removed from this case permanently. This was, of course, a special exception, and need I remind everyone that this is part of the reason Celestia was to be barred from heading investigations in the first place. Covert Op has been placed has provisional head as this case winds to a close. The council would also like to remind everyone that "personal stake" is not a valid reasoning behind changing a case designation. --Overseer Penblade Note 143-U-3 hey. are you seeing this? i don't know if they'll remove this because it's not "formal" enough, but maybe someone down the line has a heart, maybe just leave this part alone. red-tape can stop even me. look, i get it. i really do. it must hurt, so much. i understand. you're not the only one whose lost someone this close to you. but you can't keep doing this. if the guys in black say there's nothing there, we have to say there's nothing there too. we have to trust them. if you start claiming there's a "massive conspiracy" and someone "took your shining star" away from you, they'll start to think you've gone crazy. i know you aren't. do you? i don't want to see a psychiatric analysis because i know there doesn't need to be one. do you? ~~i still love you.~~ sorry, that was weird. i can't actually get it out cause i'm writing in pen. i could cross it out completely. cross it out with more ink so you can't see it. i'm not sure if i can. ~~i can't~~ it doesn't matter, does it? she's gone. you really think it's your fault. that's why you're doing this. you know as well as i do it wasn't. stop blaming yourself. let it go. i'm sorry, i really am. but you have to stop. please. you have a job to do. people are taking after you. they are looking to you for answers. you have to give them the answers. even if you don't like them. i'm sorry. i'm sorry i'm so sorry. --█████████████████ Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
Excerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 221-246View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndExcerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 221-246XXI Though I walk through the land of the dead, I fear nothing, I leave nothing, for I am nothing... -Silent Quill And often overlooked aspect of Twilight's predicament is fear. Not in the classical sense, obviously. Twilight's fears in the moment are clear to us, her fear of never returning to the real world64, never seeing her friends, never being able to tell me65 never being able to say "I love you" to those she thought deserved it. Also, Twilight's fears book-ending those already discussed. Her lack of understanding what is, what has, and what will happen. Of course, much more potent is the lack of "others."66 "Every sentient being on this planet requires companionship. As much as some refuse to admit it, absolute solitude is a weight that cannot be borne by any single person. Even the sanest of us can, and will, crack under that weight. At first, denial. Then frustration, anger. Last comes the fear. It's so quiet, one doesn't even notice it until it's all they can notice. You become afraid. Too long without others becomes unbearable much the same way darkness can. An inability to remember what it is truly like, to not be alone."67 Yet, perhaps there is a more, enigmatic element to the composite form of absolute terror that can be derived from the events surrounding Twilight's mysterious experience. Twilight's fear primarily forms from the event's themselves. But perhaps we must consider events that failed to transpire entirely to fully consider the breadth of this subject. At first, Twilight "made a cup of tea"68 and simply sat and read as much information she could to attempt an easy solution. A quick spell, and then she'd be back to normal, fast as you like. However, the anomalous behavior of the world around her slowly becomes clearer as she attempts to unravel the web of complexity that now dominates her very existence. Twilight's first real showing of true fear came from what some are calling the Book Incident, (If I may make a quick side note, constant break downs and delineations of each and every event, then giving all of them names to distinguish them from each other is pointless. It is the analysis of the whole which gives us our true answers, not breaking it into barely recognizable crumbs then haphazardly sticking them back together with paper clips and chewed gum.) in which she teleports a book across the room, and it fails to appear to where she designated its new position to be.69 Further investigation leads that any and all teleportation attempts results in the chosen object being brutally mutilated and destroyed abruptly. This is where fear of what hasn't happened is best shown. Had Twilight chosen to teleport herself over to the book, or even teleport herself closer to the shelf, her story may have been much shorter. Perhaps maybe there is a possible commensurate for Twilight's fears. Perhaps something more powerful we can't see that keeps her going for an entire three and a half Once upon a Time, I looked upon the stars Upon the sky they sat, laden with their scars Then, I learned, how far the deep void lets And I screamed, for I could not forget No. I need a break. I need to just vent for a second, alright? Just.... Bear with me for a single red second of your tiny insignificant life, okay? Someone just fucking died and no one really gets the gravity of it all. Do you even understand what happens? Do you care? You're still reading, so I think, somewhere, you know you don't care enough. We already talked about this back in Chapter V, but I don't think I really got my point across, and I honestly don't think any of you were listening. Or reading, I guess. Just, go back and read the goddamn chapter again, I mean really read it for Celestia's sake, so maybe you can truly understand what I'm trying to say. That chapter is pretty much a prerequisite for understanding the point of this entire forsaken book. Finished? Good. Now, this chapter... I am afraid. There, I said it, wrote it, erg. I just. I'm too afraid. I can't help but pour of over those logs again and again and again and again. It terrifies me. again and again and again again and again and Every single day. Why? Why did it happen? I've become obsessed. This book is my last hook on reality. My friends are telling me it's crap and I know it's crap, and my publishers are calling it crap and it's crap and I know I know I know. again and again and again again and again and But I can't stop. Just, think about it. Why? why why why why. It's not fair, it really isn't. again and again and again again and again and A year ago I picked up a news paper for a bit on the corner, than I went home and read it. I wasn't stirred by the obituaries, death after death, some more gruesome than this one. Why didn't I care then? I turned the page and I saw it. Twilight's logs had been publicly released. I started reading them and.. again and again and again again and again and Aw god, what have I done? I can't stop now. I can't sleep, and I can barely keep my breakfast down each day. But I have to finish this. I don't know why, but I have too. If not for me, if not for you, if not even for her. It still has to be done. again and again and again again and again and I'm finishing here, please tell me you read this. I'm done with this chapter. This was more for my sake than for your fucking learning experience. Stop reading and move on. Turn the page. again and again and again again and again and again and again and again again and again and again and again and again again and again and again and again and again again and again and again and again and again Turn it. turn the goddamn page.65 Footnotes: 64"Reality", a subject further examined in Chapter XL 65Split Second has chosen not to comment on these struck passages, or why he insisted on their inclusion. 66See Do I Know You? (Ponyville: Ponyville Publication, 1004) 67Alto Clef, Lonely v. Alone (Manehattan: Hoofsfield Consolidated Press, 1002), p. 113 68Stated in the 1st log publicly released 69See An Analysis of Teleportation: 3rd Edition (Manehattan: McColt, 1005) for more information. Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
The Manehatten Times Front Page, Volume LVII, Issue 283 (Addenda Included)View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndThe Manehatten Times Front Page, Volume LVII, Issue 283 (Addenda Included) TWILIGHT SPARKLE FOUND DEAD DISCOVERED AT BASE OF CLIFF; MODE OF DEATH CURRENTLY UNKNOWN Ponyville, Oct. 4--Twilight Sparkle, hero of the Canterlot wedding fiasco, leader of efforts against the release of Discord, and personal protege of Princess Celestia, was found dead outside Ponyville early last morning. Early reports indicate Twilight has suffered major lacerations and other injuries from a fall taken from a cliff outside the city limits in Ponyville. Formal autopsies have been postponed due to interference from Celestia as she overtakes the case personally with the Canterlot Royal Protectional Agency (CRPA). The Ponyville Police Department reports signs of "possible foul play involved" as Twilight's house show signs of a struggle, including her front door, which was damaged and found open upon investigation. Possible suspects and witnesses from around the town have been brought in from around the town, including Twilight's personal assistant at the time Spike, and the other Elements of Harmony at the time. As of right now, this of course now begs the question. What will happen to the Elements of Harmony in the future now that the current Magic element has sadly passed? What does this say about the future of Equestia as a whole? Who will protect us from the forces that Celestia and Luna are unable to grapple with? and most importantly: Who is responsible for this? Night Light slowly placed the paper onto the table. Calmly, incredibly calmly, he clenched his jaw. He didn't hear his coffee cup fall from his grip. He didn't hear the smash against the floor, or the sudden knock at the door. What immediately grabbed his attention was the abrupt sound of teleportation right behind him. In a fit of rage, fear, and self-preservation, he whipped around and fired a flare from his horn. It burned, almost, letting loose so much so quickly, but it was quickly quashed when he saw who was in front of him. The flare harmlessly bounced off Celestia's instinctive shield she had put up, and blasted into a picture onto a wall. The family portrait burnt into two pieces as it fell to the ground. Neither noticed it. "P-princess?" Night Light timidly voiced. "Mr. Sparkle, we need to talk." ...while witnesses at the scene describe the body as "bloody, broken, and morbidly disfigured." Twilight's body was reportedly rushed to the Ponyville Hospital, where doctors did everything they could, but soon found out they were unable to save her. She was pronounced dead at 9:36 AM. Celestia then made eye contact with the paper on the kitchen table. She took a step back. "You've read the paper..." Night Light paused. He turned back toward the table, and read the headline again. Then he read it a second time. He payed attention to those three little words at the top, written in large, bold print, that sold the edition to the publishers. There, at that moment, on top of black and white tile, in a kitchen in a lonely flat in Canterlot, Night Light felt his heart shatter. He fell onto his hind legs, and looked at the floor. He didn't cry, he didn't whimper, he didn't speak. He just sat there in absolute despair. Celestia uneasily broke the silence. "I... I am so sorry." For about 15 seconds, not an additional event occurred. The entire room froze, and Celestia wondered if Twilight's father had gone catatonic. Then he mumbled something under his breath. "Excuse me?" You don't get to cry first. She took a deep breath, and reiterated herself. "I'm afraid I can't understand you." Night Light stood up and all at once fired another flare at Celestia. This one took her by surprise, she side-stepped and looked back at him. "YOU DON'T GET TO CRY FIRST!" he bellowed. ...coming at a most inopportune time, as, allegedly, Twilight was expected to make a second appearance at this years Grand Galloping Gala... "I must be dreaming. This can't be true by baby, my sweet little girl is gone. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO!" he slammed his head onto a table. It splintered a little. "Wake up, please, just let me wake up, please just let this all be a DREAM! PLEASE!" he continued for a few more times before Celestia gathered herself enough to restrain Night Light from further hurting himself. "Mr. Sparkle please, were all hurt from this but you need to calm down and—" "DON'T USE THAT NAME! YOU. DO. NOT. USE. HER NAME." he screamed. He struggled vainly to escape his bindings but slowed his pace a little. He lessened his voice. "You are to blame! You understand me?! This is your fault!" ...possibly as a result from stress relating her current position as personal apprentice to Princess Celestia. Celestia has neglected to comment on these accusations or... Celestia fell to her knees. She flashed back to the first thirty seconds of the news. Anger, fear, and guilt. This really is all pinned on me, isn't it? I did my best, didn't I? She remembered several of the events that Twilight had lived through leading up to this. She winced. What have I done?! WHAT HAVE I DONE?! She pulled herself back to the present. That was something she would deal with at a later date. She needed to help this broken colt in front of her before fixing herself. ...we are, as of now, unable to locate Twilight's parents for comments at this time, and we are unaware of their feelings about the claims made by some witnesses... Finally, Celestia recognized the situation in front of her. "Why do you get to know first? When I have to find out from the fucking trade papers?! You get called down to the site of her death, and over the course of a day didn't bother to let her parents know what happened before the press did?!" Celestia stopped. She dropped Night Light and remained still. He's right. She did her best to formulate a response. "I-I'm sorry. I, I just. I couldn't think straight, a-and I just needed to find out what happened, and I wasn't thinking and..." Celestia sat down. This was the first time in centuries she had truly felt overwhelmed. It was not a pleasant feeling to return to. "Does Shining Armor at least know?" Celestia was reluctant to give an answer. Another tear streamed down her face. "How many people did you think to tell before us?" ...Celestia has reportedly formed a personnel composed of 40 members to investigate this under special permission from the CRPS council... He interrupted himself. "Velvet. Velvet's going to see this before I can get to her. She's going to see the headline and everyone at work is going to try to talk to her about it, and she's going to panic, and I'm not there to help her..." ...found dead... "What are we going to do? What am I going to tell her?!" ...found dead... "How am I going to tell Shining? Will he be able to do his job after this?!" ...found dead... Night Light slowly turned back toward Celestia. "What are we going to do?!" ...FOUND DEAD... "...I don't know..." Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
Excerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 53-76View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndExcerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 53-76IX "It is utterly devoid of everything except a vast emptiness. Space itself ebbing and flowing in twain, allowing not a moment of peace, nor an eternity of war." --Anonymous Now that we have fully dissected and pulled apart Time, it's time we discuss how Space plays it's hand with respect to the event's surrounding Twilight's sad departure. Previously mentioned, Space gives us the what, the who, and the where. While maybe not as important as when as aforementioned, it, they, in turn, provide a vast part of the story behind the entirety of what has taken place. Let's, for now, focus on where? There are several places that others have tried to claim as the focal point of all of this, including Labyrinth's egregious claim that "it really all is in her head, nothing more, nothing less."42 More thoughtfully, architectural analyst Keystone offers his thoughts: "Her house isn't enough of a staging ground to fully seat this story. It's an old relic from the Eco-Vedic43 style of construction from the early days when we thought nature had to be bound to everything we did. Her trips to the eastern districts allow a much more varied style to process her thoughts. Especially her apparent destruction of an old warehouse that, if I recall, was late-Bauhaus, constructed late 1002. Her outright demolishing of this building, followed by her continued presence in her household following, allow us to see her refusal to give up her old traditions, and her clinging to what she holds dear, no matter how outdated and obsolete they it be."44 Perhaps we can look at this in a new way, perhaps █████████45 can provide us with a rather, unorthodox perspective on the matter. "████████████████████████████████████████ or two?"█ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ as well as ███████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ but tragically, to no avail, the careful space she has attempted to craft for herself, betrays her soon after. However, we can clearly see ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████ perhaps this doesn't quite connect with Space at first, but it indeed makes sense after careful analysis of █████████ will reveal all. █████████ in turn can help us further pin down Twilight's absolute dependence on Space as a whole. It confines her, which in this case, is more about keeping █████████ out, instead of keeping herself in. Her study, cubic in shape, results in a rather slim ████ cubic feet to hold all of herself in. █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ supposes an answer to this mathematical impossibility. "Rather than simply looking at the raw numbers, we should be looking at Twilight's notions of these numbers. They become distorted and █████████████████████████████████████"46 ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ Then let us go then, you and I, when ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ Chapter V. Then of course, you might run into more problems, and then the entire point is lost to the static anyway. Suppose we instead ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████ What then? We may very well ███████████████████ into an unavoidable ██████ or even worse, ████████████ ████████ ███ ████████ █ ███ ████ ████████████ ████████ ██ ███████ ████ ████████████ ████ ███████████████████████ ███████ thirteen. or perhaps not...? Because if we are forced to █████████████████████████████████████████ Further more, we are faced with █████████████████████████████████████████████ to an unalienable extent. In fact, maybe we need to look at ███████████████████████████████████████████ for a better discourse on the subject. It would be rather impertinent of us to not include ██████████████████████████████████ in our discussions, wouldn't it? ██████████████████████████████████ or ████████████████████be damned, I say we crack it open, and delve into some answers. So here we go. 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Footnotes: 42Labyrinth, Right There In Front of Me (Manehatten: Random House, 1002), p. 327 43See Architectural Styles of South-Eastern Equestria (Manehatten: McColt, 1000) 44Keystone, "Her Little House of Leaves" in San Franciscolt Tribune, v. 176, 1006, p. 4 45Due to Dr. Second's explicit use of sensitive information, we have been force to redact a majority of this chapter. We have left in the blocked text for the sake of formatting, and have attempted to leave in as much as we can. ████████, ██████████████████████████ (██████: █████████████, 10██), p. ███ 46█. █. █████████, Mathematical Mysteries (Fillydelphia: ███████████, 99█), p. 216-███ 47Again, we would like to apoligize for the majority of this chapter being redacted. Dr. Second's continued referencing of ████████████ has forced us to leave most of the rest of this chapter unreadable. Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
Radio Transcript of "An Interview with Rarity," Broadcast Date: 01-03-100█, Broadcast Frequency: 97.3 MHz (FM)View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndRadio Transcript of "An Interview with Rarity," Broadcast Date: 01-03-100█, Broadcast Frequency: 97.3 MHz (FM)The Equestrian Broadcast Channel Radio Transcript Broadcast Date: January 3rd, 100█ Series: Candid, Indeed! Season No. 3, Episode No. 64: “An Interview with Rarity” Interviewer: M. Phone (A.K.A., Mike), Show Host, Record Producer, Author of bestseller "Music to My Ears" Interviewee: Rarity Belle, Fashion Mogul, Current Caretaker of Spike (Post-"Incident") Notice: Transcript is only partial; significant parts have been lost due to damage to physical files. Time-stamps have been left in places to help with reader analysis. 11:00 PM: Announcer: From downtown Manehatten, here for your undivided attention, and submitted for your approval it's our seasoned host: MIKE! MIKE: Hello everyone, thank you all for tuning in, and for our lovely in-studio audience for taking Time out of your busy schedules for this very special episode, of Candid, Indeed! [Audience Applauds] MIKE: Tonight, we of course, have our very special guest Rarity Belle, here from Ponyville just to say hi to us, fancy that! [Audience Laughs, then Applauds again.] RARITY: Thank you so much for the entrance Mike, you know I do appreciate a little accouterments from Time to Time. MIKE: You folks at home couldn't see, but she came in here on 5-inch heels swinging in from a chandelier screaming about how she had always wanted to come here to meet me... [Audience Laughs, Rarity gives a pained chuckle.] MIKE: So, Rarity, let's cut the cheese... [Fart sound effect plays, audience gives an uproar of laughter] MIKE: Heh, I mean, to the chase, and get down to brass tracks. [Swerving sound effect plays, audience laughs again, louder] MIKE: Tacks, brass tacks. RARITY: Yes, please, let's do. MIKE: I suppose I should just start with the obvious, your new fashion line, Salt and Ice, just debuted in Canterlot this week, how has that gone? RARITY: Oh just marvelous darling, the show we did last Tuesday has already proven that this will be my most successful launch since- [Rarity trails off, 37 seconds of silence before Mike chimes in.] MIKE: Rarity, are you ok? RARITY: Hmm? Oh yes, I was just meant it's been a while since I've had success like this. MIKE: Well the road to success is paved with failure, right? RARITY: Indeed it is. MIKE: And you must know all about failure, am I right? [Audience laughs, a 'boing' sound effect plays, more laughter] RARITY: Excuse me, what do you me- [She's interrupted by Mike] 11:02 PM: MIKE: So, why the name Salt & Ice? RARITY: Um, but you- [Rarity is silent for a moment, then continues] RARITY: It's a reference to ocean-life, of course, but I feel the two-fold title helps divide the harsh frigid northern-inspired pieces from the cool, sensual tropic-themed ones. MIKE: Interesting! RARITY: And, of course, it rolls of the tongue quite well. MIKE: 'Salt & Ice, Salt & Ice,' it actually does, hey, that's solid. At least you can do something right? RARITY: Excuse me?! 11:07 PM: MIKE: Ooh, now it's on to my favorite segment! The "call-in, fall-out!" RARITY: What, is that? I'm afraid I've never heard of this part of your show. MIKE: Hmm, I think you're going to like this. We go through our records and find a frequent-caller with views opposing our interviewee, and let them duke it out, one v. one, in a battle of wits! RARITY: That, doesn't sound very healthy for either of us. MIKE: Oh, please. It's all very safe. We'll cut the debate off if the two of you begin to start using, choice words with each other. Not that that'd be beyond you, huh? RARITY: What on earth do- [She's cut off by a dial tone, followed by several rings. A crisp, male voice asks for her name.] RARITY: Oh dear. 12:01 AM: [Audience 'oohs'] MIKE: O... k! I think we need to cut it here, let's just... [Dead signal tone] MIKE: I, apologize to our listeners, I honestly had no idea you had quite a relationship with him. RARITY [Holding back tears]: It wasn't always this way... It wasn't... MIKE: Moving on... let's get back to the hay and potatoes of this... RARITY: Can I have a moment, please? I need to recompose myself for a moment. MIKE: Are you sure you deserve it? RARITY: ...no. 1:37 AM: MIKE: And so... you thread here... and here. RARITY: Yes, but don't overlap this and... oh. There it goes. MIKE: Well, this has been informative, I suppose I'll need to practice more but, I think that'l end this segment, for now. RARITY: Yes, well, thank you for affording me this opportunity to relax, I needed it. MIKE: Well, that's more than we could say for Twilight, right? RARITY: W-what did you just say? [Large buzzer sounds, audience cheers] MIKE: Ooh, and that means we are out of Time, which of course, means we get to do our last-second segment! RARITY: No. NO! I thought you cancelled this! MIKE: It's Time for a revitalization! You know what it's Time for! [The audience chimes in with Mike, screaming 'Candid, or DIE!'] RARITY: Mike, please. Skip this. You don't need to dig any deeper, I-I've got nothing to hide. MIKE: Cut the [Expletive Removed]. I'm sick of this. [Audience goes dead silent.] RARITY: Wh-what do you...? MIKE: Stop this whole "I'm innocent, oh woe is me, look at how cute and sweet I am" I'm [Expletive Removed] sick of it. RARITY: [Silent] MIKE: Just, explain to me, in no dishonest, sweetheart gimmick jargon of yours, how on earth you can come here, look me in the eye, and talk about some goddamn clothing. RARITY: As opposed to what?! MIKE: You know exactly [Expletive Removed] what. RARITY: No, I think not! [Audience boos.] MIKE: Don't lie to me. Don't lie to them. And don't like to yourself. RARITY: I honestly have no idea what you're talking about! [Audience boos, harsher this Time] RARITY: Would you all kindly be quiet?! MIKE: Stop changing the [Expletive Removed] subject, and tell me the truth. RARITY: Clearly, I am. I have no clue what on earth you could be referring to. MIKE: Then allow me to spell it out for you. 122:37 AM: MIKE: What did you do to Twilight?! RARITY: I didn't do anything to her! MIKE: Well, quite obviously, you MUST HAVE. Someone as stable and hard-working as her, doesn't just off herself out of nowhere, without some [Expletive Removed] reason as to why! RARITY: And what makes you think I had anything to do with it?! MIKE: So, it's just a coincidence that you happened to offer your residence to Spike after her death? RARITY: No! I was just being a good friend to someone who was dealing with loss! MIKE: Yes, of course. Likely story. RARITY: What on earth are you on about?! I don't even understand how you're drawing these conclusions! And how DARE you speak about Twilight and Spike like that! They deserve your utmost respect and courtesy in these trying Times! MIKE: You know what I think?! I think your outright ignorance to Twilight's mental state is what caused their 'trying Times' in the first [Expletive Removed] place! RARITY: [Silent for a few seconds] Wh-what? [Audience boos, almost deafening at this point.] 000000000000:37 RM: MIKE: And it was your general incessant behavior, your unwillingness to just listen to her when she needed it, and perhaps your intolerable attitude describing every aspect of your [Expletive Removed] relationship with her! RARITY: [Silent] MIKE: Oh, now you're suddenly quiet. Maybe because you've finally realized your part in all this? Your role in this tragedy? RARITY: [Silent] MIKE: No. No you don't get to be quiet now. [Expletive Removed] admit it now. Tell me, tell them, admit to yourself, do it. Do it now. RARITY: [Silent] [A rousing call from the audience begins, slowly growing in volume] MIKE: Tell me. [The audience's crescendo accelerates, beginning to rattle the room.] MIKE: Tell. Me. [The sound of something falling over, feedback distorts the audio for a moment.] PM: MIKE: TELL ME. [Rarity's lip quivers. A single tear falls from her eye, and she begins to breakdown.] MIKE: TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. [It's coming now.] MIKE: TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. [There is now stopping it now.] MIKE: TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL THEM. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. [The audience joins the chanting. A mug falls, shatters, but doesn't. Rarity falls from her chair, no she doesn't.] MIKE: TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL THEM. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL THEM. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. [The room begins to fracture. Rending itself into several pieces. The geometry fails to make sense, and life is becoming meaningless. Help.] MIKE: TELL. ME. PLEASE. OH. GOD. TELL ME! TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL THEM. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL THEM. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. TELL ME. [Rarity can't take this much longer. It's beginning to show on her face. Her hair is stark white. Her bones are tough and brittle. She hasn't seen the sun in so long.] MIKE: TELL. INFORM. NOTIFY. APPRISE. LET KNOW. MAKE AWARE. ACQUAINT WITH. ADVISE. PUT IN THE PICTURE. BRIEF. FILL IN. ALERT. WARN. CLUE UP. RELATE. RECOUNT. NARRATE. UNFOLD. REPORT. RECITE. DESCRIBE. SKETCH. WEAVE. SPIN. UTTER. VOICE. STATE. DECLARE. COMMUNICATE. IMPART. DIVULGE. [How long has she been sitting on this secret? The walls are caked in blood. Whose?] MIKE: Tell. [The table is no longer there. Neither is the audience. MIKE: [The chairs, the drinks, the staff, the radio, the electrical wires, the bricks, the mortar, the fuse-boxes, the vents, the A/C, the pianos, the clocks, the motherboards, the doctors, the men, the suits, the guns, the houses, the rear windows, the movies, the dances, the hammers, the ponies, the kites, the beds, the apples, the drums, the curves, the controls, the parents, the payments, the shelves, the diseases, the sticks, the copies, the libraries, the roofs, the couches, the scents, the calculators, the afterthoughts, the discussions, the cows, the snails, the records, the walks, the carpenters, the towns, the beetles, the channels, the stitches, the hours, the minutes, the days, the months, the years, the decades, the centuries, the millennia, the eras, the eons, the periods, the epochs, the chains, the lessons, the veins, the balances, the wrens, the distributions, the hobbies, the birds, the drinks, the slaves, the canvases, the whips, the beliefs, the rays, the prices, the friends, the drawer, the cushions, the tempers, the brains, the hills, the eggs, the summers, the sums, the attacks, the bears, the shades, the selections, the arches, the teams, the sidewalks, the drops, the competitions, the legs, the meats, the flowers, and the tragedies. All gone.] MIKE: [But also the ranges, the kisses, the crooks, the nuts, the fathers, the stores, the reasons, the bombs, the captions, the anger, the baseballs, the cups, the alarms, the robins, the acts, the farmers, the tricks, the carriages, the eyes, the visitors, the tomatoes, the folds, the leads, the pollutants, the rates, the homes, the hatreds, the wishes, the laces, the rains, the creams, the coals, the forks, the calendars, the hairs, the hooks, the muscles, the things, the buns, the pots, the necks, the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W's, the organizations, the liquids, the roses, the directions, the judges, the impulses, the frogs, the marbles, the umbrellas, the wrists, the forms, the debts, the kicks, the goldfish, the breakfasts, the signs, the moments, the airports, the hats, the ices, the bikes, the mothers, the hopes, the vessels, the woods, the spoons, the animals, the coats, the starts, the ends, the sizes, the silks, the numbers, the letters, the bands, the oranges, the cans, the apparatuses, the stones, the protests, the borders, the animals, the pests, the icicles, the sciences, the fans, and the rails.] MIKE: Tell, please. Get this over with. End this torrid broadcast. I just made up a word to describe it. End this. GET. US. OFF. THE. AIR. [But also the one you cared for.] MIKE: We'll just sit here in silence. ~~We~~ You have all the Time in the world. [Gone. All of it. Just the silence. And] MIKE: [You.] ∞:∞ AM: MIKE: [It's the end. It always came down to this. Your body; it's dissolving]. MIKE: [Death is coming. All is returning to void. You need to release this before everyone else suffers.] [Hurry. Time is running out.] [Silence for 1,000,000 years.] [Silence for 1,000,000,000 years.] [Silence for 1,000,000,000,000 years.] [Silence for ???? years.] RARITY: Tell me. <><><><><> 3:26 AM: As far as Rarity could tell, there had never been an "M. Phone" or a program called "Candid, Indeed" on the EBC rosters. In fact, she had no clothing line, planned or extant, called "Salt & Ice." That didn't stop the ear-shattering scream from escaping her lips as she barely escaped another night terror. It was happening twice a week now. Spike burst into the room, just like last Time. He was growing smarter, he already had her slippers, and an aspirin with a little glass of water. They exchanged wordless glances, Spike knew not to speak of it, Rarity wished to keep it to herself. Spike almost walked out before Rarity whimpered. He turned to see tears welling in her eyes. He quickly jumped up t o the bread and embraced her. He couldn't stifle the tears, but he was there, just as every night, taking care of her. When Rarity had finally calmed down, Spike was quietly sleeping at the end of her bed. She stayed so, very still. Confusion was now the predominant feeling. Why? Guilt? It didn't quite make sense. Rarity didn't feel guilty about all this. If anything, she was the only one who cared for Twilight's mental health the entire Time they were here! Right? Doubt? She looked at the end of the bed. Spike still had a worried expression on his face. He cared so much for her. Why did he put up with her? Surely he could get his own place and leave her to her own problems, right? Fear? She urged herself under the covers. She was still shivering. The dream was fading now, she could barely remember the details at all at this point, but they still held an icy grip on her heart. She slowly paced her breaths. She never had more than one a night, that was a fact. She could rest easy now. She knew, tomorrow would be another day. Tomorrow night, would be another nightmare. Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
Compiled Psych Report, Manehatten Institute of Science, Dr. ████████, M.D., Date: 01-27-1007View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndCompiled Psych Report, Manehatten Institute of Science, Dr. ████████, M.D., Date: 01-27-1007Report of Psychological Assessment Patient Name: Split Second Date of Birth: 5/8/976 Chronological Age: Thirty-One (31) Years, Six (6) Months Parents: Atom Split, Light-Second Date(s) of Assessment(s): 02-02-1007, 02-08-1007, 02-15-1007 [The remaining dates are illegible] Referral(s): Recommended by his primary care physician to assess current cognitive and emotional status Split Second's editors personally requested he take a 'break' and get himself 'checked-out' given his recent 'episodes' during the drafting of his current book. Split Second's parents have attested to his poor social life and current relationships [Illegible] Informational Source(s): Background information gathered by his primary care physician Recent events given by preliminary interview with his parents Old psychiatrist gave all current medical records concerning the events in question His [Illegible] has elected not to comment, despite [This part of the page seems to have been torn out...] Background Information: Dr. Second has long since been struggling with an indeterminate and irrational feelings of grief, anger, and sadness. His relationship with his co-workers has since slowly degenerated, and his parents are increasingly worried that he may harm himself [Illegible] More pressing, is Second's continued aversion to leaving his office at [Torn out] and continued working on his book. His editor's tell me they have entered a stalemate; Second only agreed to undergo therapy if they agreed to publish his book. He spends upwards of 12 hours a day, without eating, sleeping, or exercising, and he refuses to share progress. Method(s) of Treatment: ✓ Observation ✓ Interview(s) ✖ Intervention ✖ Recordings ✓ Medication (see below) ✖ Emergency Care ✓ Other: [Illegible] Assessment Procedure(s): Medication: Prescription: Drexataloprene; 25 mg Tablet(s) Manufacturer: R & K Pharmaceuticals Take 1 tablet each day, after dinner, by mouth. Possible Side Effects: Drowsiness Dizziness [The remaining ones have been scratched out. You can make out a "D" and an "R" on one line.] Interview #1: Our first meeting. Split almost didn't come in, but he was coaxed by his parents. We didn't say anything, I let him just write in a journal. We'll take it slow at first. He's formed an obsession with the death of [Illegible] in a way I cannot fathom. His entire book seems to be an analysis of it, which seems innocuous at a glance, but, if I'm not mistaken, he feels almost, responsible for her death for some reason? Interview #3: Split Second again refused to speak, and instead scrambled nonsense words onto a napkin. After about 15 minutes, I moved to talk about his book, and he immediately opened up, answering questions, allowing reviews on excerpts, etc. I think I may have a way around his paranoia. Interview #5 We've made significant progress today. Despite Split's obsession with a so-called "Chapter V," we managed to change the topic of today's discussion from his book to his editors. He shared his feelings of hope and self-worth thanks to them, and may have expressed romantic attraction to one of them. He's getting better, just as I knew he would. Interview #9 His parents apparently didn't like his choice of profession, this is new. They told me he supported him in his career choice, despite it's obvious financial difficulties. This posits a new cause for his afflictions. I called in his parents to discuss this, they didn't pick up, even though I used his phone. I think they may no I've discovered they're deception. Interview #13 Split confessed to one of his editors today. I didn't recommend that, but he did it anyway. He's to volatile right now, and I knew, I just knew he wouldn't understand. Split didn't talk, he just cried. I feel so bad for him. He thinks everything is his fault for some reason. Interview #17 Split came in today with an air of... confidence? He was wearing a new tailored suit and spoke with almost a, regal tone. I think he may be recovering at a faster rate now that he's [Illegible] I'm glad. Soon enough, I can get him releas [The remaining section of the page has been edited out crudely.] Interview #19 no no NO whAt hAApEENed Interview #20 [Illegible] Interview #?? eensadlka no pleeeeeeese strossksad i can.t hlp me pleseeeeee i can i don dnt read chptr V no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. no more. [The rest of the page has been burned away...] Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
Excerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p.View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndExcerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p.0 "Quote" --Person Introductory sentence. Topic in italics. Definition of topic. Discussion of definition, followed by quote taken from someone else.# Instruction to look beyond definition and/or attach a new definition to topic. Yield on small agreement, then refute common arguments for/against topic. Add new definition. Take a long, winding paragraph to explain something that nobody cares about. Another quote.# Continue topic discussion, get off-track and move to new topic. Topic in italics. Crudely attempt to link current topic to last topic. Quote new person#, move on without acknowledging subject change. Poem that loosely connects topic (without providing title for some reason): Let's play a numbers game. It’s very very. Something which is good. Nothing isn’t and some of you! You think that I’m not impressed. Me, you, and math, and all of us aren’t is in not. My, my, my, we are but strong enough to escape from our distraught senders. Yet still, suit yourself. But don’t forget: not you’ve but the other one is obviously not proven. Of course that isn’t the opposite. Doesn’t the and they scare you? Out of mine? No matter, you haven’t seen the way you run from the light again. Alright it’s very. Now the Well of the Saints. Let’s go again you and I, down and out. We move to, on and on, and then the stars shatter at once. Shall to we? And yet, there’s something (but not something else), to which we stare towards. It is not hidden but on edge in "the": the shadow of the pen. An author’s horrid biography. On the page, within our books. A monster will awaken to roam the god’s great impossible code, and I may be spared. Think on, little one. Please don’t find out this. Those, Them, and They, will not send their regrets. Yet in the end of our Time it may in or out. At a glance you need to be private. Don’t message. Moreover, you to I in him. His grace shall not fall. No more from a watcher’s account. But at the end, we exactly need to see the next five. Nine O’clock. But move on! Hark! If my any more needs to see you: any day but your Thursday. And you’ll need to avoid find or seek. Until we meet the place next? Our last piece of days' glass. Of terrible dresses and delicate touches. Of mice and men. Your next puzzle doesn’t exist. But there, lies the truth: we say "godspeed" but "friend". Do not discuss poem further, onto similar topic. Quote someone irrelevant.# Quote a magazine or newspaper, for something different.# Loooooooooooooooong quote.# End chapter with something completely nonsensical. Don't finish final sen- Footnotes: Name Title (City: Publishing Company, Year), Page Number Name Title (City: Publishing Company, Year), Page Number Name Title (City: Publishing Company, Year), Page Number Name Title (City: Publishing Company, Year), Page Number Name Title (City: Publishing Company, Year), Page Number Name Title (City: Publishing Company, Year), Page Number Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
Excerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 548-9999View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndExcerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 548-9999You were warned. V22 "Perhaps, in the end, all it would have taken to save her was a little more Time..." -??? I may have gotten a little off track, and I apologize. Memory and Time, constituents of said topic, often require they're own attention, and I have a terrible habit of incorrectly prioritizing when left to my own devices. Perhaps I have an aversion to the topic. Perhaps you do. However, being an entire third of this books title, as well as the reason for it's entire creation, should earn an entire chapter's focus as soon as possible. So, then, let us look at the entire point of reference for this tome. Tragedy. "Tragedy, by definition is 'an event [or events] causing great suffering, destruction, and distress, such as a serious accident, crime, or natural catastrophe.' Of course, we may skim off the obvious from this entire series of events and leave with that. That is an entirely predictable and valid course of action. Even persons with an uncountable stake in this may simply like to leave well enough alone, or rather, 'be content that we have our answers, and not ask any more questions.'23"24 Oh, I'm sorry. There I go again. I have to go back. As we have previously discussed, nay, dissected, Tragedy is made of of many constituent parts. Memory, Time, Space, Beauty, Perversion, Passion, Fire25, Nonsense, Insanity, Love, Hate, etc. Well, it's Time we take it in it's totality. What does Tragedy mean to us? Now? What does it mean to her? Or me? Twilight met her demise far before she fell. Before she talked to her cactus. Before she went to Canterlot and confirmed her worst fears. Before she burned, before she wept, before she wished, grieved, tore, destroyed. Even before she wrote those damned logs. "This is how you tell a story. Not just how we write a story, but how we tell stories. This uninterrupted stream of consciousness that bleeds out from us all at once. [...] Sadly, to write often means diluting this, rendering it palatable for others who fail to share our visions."26 The birth and death of her story, all at once? Construction and Destruction, simultaneously? No, I think we'll skip that. Before anything she even did, her entire tragedy can be summed down and distilled into a single instant. Less than. A tiny fraction who did it of a moment, where she, dreaming of idyllic pastures, was blissfully unaware of the trying Times that awaited her. No, actually. I withdraw my comment. That is not where the tragedy began. It began with me. It began the moment after we came back. After she had already made her terrible story come to a grim and abrupt end. The fraction of a second we had before her story melted into ours. No no, not because of our suffering, our grief, but from what she may not have done yet. This is where we derive the true value of Tragedy. This is where we can see, in it's full volatility, how damaging Tragedy is. Through "it's utter destruction not of the now, not of the then, but of the what could have been."27 All the things Twilight couldn't have done, because of these actions. Some demon in a real creature's clothing came in and took her away from us. From me. He took her. She's dead. She's dead.She's dead.She's dead.She's dead.She's dead.She's dead.She's dead.It'smyfaultit'smyfaultwhywhywhywhywhy. Why couldn't he just And yet... Perhaps we needn't be so focused on one thing at a Time. Tragedy is, as we said, multi-dimesional. Perhaps, just this once, I'll give some respect to those of us outside the cone of terror. Those of us, affected by, but not involved in, Tragedy. You're in danger, all of you. What about the concept of others? It is such a simple thing at a first glance, but, regarding this situation in it's totality, renders a new complex, composite image one must sift through entirely to fully get how much tragedy there actually is. Let us, from now on, ignore the obvious. We've already beaten the proverbial concept to death now, and clearly, any more explanations on the obvious won't garner any new, original reactions relating to these events. I am, of course, referring to the tragedy itself, Twilight's 'Impossible Year'28 as some are calling it. So many have talked and talked, some without having any idea what they're talking about, and some have written and written, some without understanding how far this goes, and everyone has thought and thought. But has anyone given a thought to one question that may allow us an entirely new perspective? "Not WHAT is the tragedy, but WHO is the tragedy?" I know it might not seem like it, but yes. I have personal stake in this tragedy as well. Clearly, this is absolute absurdist nonsense. A farce to garner attention. A rhetorical question mocking any care the families affected have and a sociopaths statement on society as a whole. But listen for a second you irredeemable cur. I disagree. First and foremost, because you most likely haven't even seen or thought of this question until I posed it. This query, and I have made sure, has been left unasked until this book. Secondly, and I think you might find this pertinent... ...you are the tragedy. ...we are the tragedy. Now, I don't, entirely, mean that we are responsible for this tragedy. Though some of us know what we did. No, I mean that, in the aftermath of all this chaos, and nonsense, we have been all hurt in ways we cannot fathom. In ways we are to afraid to face. Face me, you coward. "... a dangerous question, yes. No one want's to answer this one, but we all need to ask it. Is this a pattern? Are we doomed? Will society slowly burn as each of stand idly by unable to do anything about it? Will the world itself crumble as a result of the innocent bystander? I dare to hope, and hope to dream again, of calmer Times."29 Fear. We are so scared after this. Looking past the hatred, the grief, the anguish and strife. Deep down, we are resorting back to the most basic of our instincts. Fear. I am so afraid, so so very afraid. This, of course, being the simplest, most carnal 'self-tragedy' we can look at. Something more, distressing to those of us not experiencing it can be summed up very deftly. "The worst of us, in these Times of crisis, are they're own tragedy. Tragic, because they refuse to believe she even went through it at all."30 it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts come back I believe, we now face another basic emotion. Pain. Anger. Two types, actually. The first, are angry in a sort of banal attempt to throw off the other feelings. They are recklessly denying the tragedy happened at all. Any and all casualties and liabilities are merely circumstantial. This was faked for media attention, and as such, they have every right to be angry about it. The other type is in reaction to the first. It's the majority, obviously. Why? All of this really trickles down to the simplest of conclusions. This tragedy has, all in all, changed the way we look at ourselves no it hasn't changed a thing and the way we view the world around us. But then, now, we come to the next step. Not Tragedy, but what comes after. "Even those of us at the very top. The ones in power. The ones with authority. The ones who command the very forces of nature that let this planet thrive. Even they aren't immune to the horrors that befall others."31 How does one prevent Tragedy? Can you CHEAT DEATH? Can we, as a nation, as a proud nation founded my magic and science do the impossible and ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████32 Footnotes: 22We have elected to move this chapter to the end of the book, but have left the chapter number identical. This was not a printing error; Dr. Second insisted we leave this Chapter "V", despite it's new position. 23Rarity, in her article "How Little We Know" in The Daily Hoof, v. 132, 1005, p. 7-8 24Split Second, Ph.D, Tragedy, Time, and Twilight (███████████████), p. 16 25See Burning Bright, by Flare 26Felt Tip, The Power of the Pen (Fillydelphia: Quiet Cold Press, 1007), p. 123 27S█████ S██████, My Past is Not Today (Manehatten: Random House, 1006), p. 89 28First coined by Cogwheel in a lecture at Canterlot University, c. 1002 29Mr. Pen, Who's Next? (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 1 30Press Extra, their article, "Doubt County" in The Manehatten Times, v. 152, 1006, p. 2-3 31Snow Flake, Significant Figures (Cloudsdale: Wind & Sky Printing Co., 1001), p. 99 32Regretfully, Dr. Second has refused to cease his incessent discussion on ██████, and has once again forced us to redact a majority of this chapter. After much deliberation, we have decided to edit out the reams and reams of additional text, and end this chapter here. Goodbye Second. We won't miss your ass. i just want you to give her back to me. please. why did you take her? please just give her back. give her back. 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BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK GIVE HER BACK Good Luck Enough... Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
A Final NoteView OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndA Final NoteTo my lost little star, and to my bright moon. To my sweet summer sun, and to my vast night sky. To the one I never was enough for. but to the one I may soon see again. It's been so hard. I can't sleep, I can't eat. I keep telling myself to move on, get going. I can't let myself go so easy. It's my fault, I know it is, despite everything they all tell me. It doesn't matter. Tomorrow, I'll fix it. Tomorrow the pain will end. I don't know what I'll do. You have been paying attention, right? This isn't the end. Obviously, this is a mislead. If you haven't already, I'd go back and check those reams of text in Chapter V. They may have your first clue. You're smart, you found this, right? You'll solve this, I know you will. Maybe there's a happy ending buried somewhere here, if you're willing to look. I won't forget you, ok? Time to sleep, little one. No, time for you to wake up. Now. And from all of us... ...Goodbye. Of course, just please remember: goodbye. Goodbye One Word Goodbye Five Letters RARITY: Goodbye. A name. Farewell, Twilight Sparkle. Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
The End?View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndThe End?XXII - The Author XXIII - The Reader One year. One entire year. Of waiting. Of lurking. Stubbornly banging heads against walls to resist a relentless, insatiable curiosity. Was it patience that kept him? Anger? Fear? Perhaps he merely forgot, like everyone else. He was holding back, ensuring the time was right. And now, it was time. It begins. No.... now it ends. It was time for some goddamn answers. XVI - The Tower On an unnamed street in an unnamed district in the Southern Sprawl of Manehatten, sat an unnamed hill. Rumors had been spread about the hill itself by the children of the impoverished neighborhoods nearby. "It contains the ghosts of the cities founders!" screamed an urchin to another. "No, it contains the demons that lurk under the city. They wait for ponies to fall asleep, then take over their minds!" They spoke for hours each day, making up stories about the hill to try and scare those who had recently joined the ranks of those who lost it all. The small group of a dozen or so clustered near a dead tree, long since wilted as the wealth (and charity) had shifted towards the city's center. To stock markets, factories, and businesses not quite big enough to threaten the others. A crunch of leaves startled the youngest, and he turned, looking back at a tall, thin stallion who looked to be not quite the monster from their stories. He didn't smile, and he didn't raise his voice, but he did speak. "No. It holds an unspeakable evil, who feeds on the words of little fillies and colts who tell tales about the hill." The group turned, and watched with interest as he continued. One in the back shivered a little as a crisp breeze broke the silence between lines. "And then, it waits for the little ones to come back the next day..." he took a step forward, eyes widening a little. He paused. "...a-and he eats th-them?" One questioned, abruptly. He looked almost... unimpressed. Scared, yes, but still a note of disappointment in his demeanor. He turned, and didn't speak this time, instead waiting for a moment. They looked back at him, curious, fearful, but unwavering in their stubborn interest. "No." He simply stated. "He calls out for one of his assistants. Someone tall, always wearing a nice suit." They eyed his tie with a sudden need to run. "And then HE EATS THEM!" He punctuated the final phrase with a cackle, and the group echoed with an even larger one. They scattered, running in seemingly random directions leaving him alone with a single remaining one, slightly older than the others, but only just. This one was smiling. "That was a good story." she said, turning away. Blank Page stayed at the tree for a moment, muttering to himself. "No... it really wasn't. Foals these days are getting too smart, noticing the predictability of our stories. One day, they'll just look to reality for their entertainment. Then where will we be?" He watched as she left, then continued up the path. Onto an unnamed street in an unnamed district in the Southern Sprawl of Manehatten, towards an unnamed hill. Rumors had been spread about the hill itself by the children of the impoverished neighborhoods nearby. These rumors, in turn, pale in comparison to the speculation spread by every-pony else about the building that sat atop this hill. Speculation so dense, twisted, and toxic that calling it the "Manehatten Rehabilitation Hospice" doesn't carry enough weight. They all call it an "asylum" now, despite the city officials denying that distinction. It was a monument to the insecurities politicians and affluent families have for their roots, their voting bases, and anything that might blot their otherwise spotless record of superiority over the rest of the word. A gilded cage crafted to house the less than innocent, but more than guilty. It hides all those lurking in-between the thin grey line that splits the criminally insane from the scandalously deviant. Because the easiest way to keep your prey ensnared, of course, is to create a trap they don't want to leave. As Blank Page walked towards it's immense double doors, he knew full well the circumstances allowing his arrival, and potentially preventing his departure. He winded through his thought process every second, willing his hooves to halt in place, but they wouldn't. He tried to close his eyes, but they were jammed shut, unable to spare himself from the massive iron sign above the door. With his last thought before entering, he repeated the phrase he had learned from the paper's discussion of this cursed place. The motto whispered across tables and through alleyways during the night. The scary story that keeps even the working mare up at night as she dreams of a full table for her family. Manehatten Asylum is where the rich and famous go to die. X – Wheel of Fortune ...3rd floor... ...3rd floor...? The door had been left ajar for him, as was expected. The door knob was half-turned, and there were claw marks along the door jamb, where the hinges had been bent. The door splintered inward. It looked as though someone had been here. The gilded letters above the door were pristine, untouched. Not all of them were there, however. T E O ICE O D OR SP T S CO Everything in the building was coated in a thin layer of dust, and a tattered mess of old police tape scattered the hallways. The entire block had been sold off as "stigmatized property," and was overdue for an appraisal. By 6 weeks. He calmly pushed the door inward, looking around the room. Vases were shattered, the window has broken, desk overturned, books strewn about. All of this was ignored, as he moved over to the windowsill. As instructed, he lifted it slowly… listening for the tell… Click… click… click… snap! Nine. He moved over to the second one. The pane had shattered a long time ago. Click… snap. Fourteen. And the last one, rusted shut. It didn't budge. He tired again, pushing upward as hard as he could, swearing under his breath. Footsteps... in the hallway. He turned, squinting and watching the door with an assassin's focus, maintaining a protective stance at the window. Silence. He tried again, and it shrieked, slamming upward and filling the building with the echos of something that shouldn't be there. The building groaned for a moment in return, the foundation resettling. The entire floor beckoned the intruder to leave. Click… click… snap. Three. The hatch underneath the carpet slid open with a solid thunk. 0 – The Fool “I’m sorry, do you have an appointment? Can I have your name?” Blank Page shook himself out of his stupor. Someone had walked by the desk in a coat and hat. They seemed eerily familiar. Had he seen them in a dream? A photograph? During the... "Sir? Your name? Please?" He turned, not missing a beat, unaware he had even been daydreaming. “Uh, Blank Page.” The orderly gave a raised eyebrow. He froze, perhaps his name carried a different kind of weight now. Even though it had been... what... 11 months? A year? No one forgot. Forgiveness? Maybe, but not forgetfulness. He stared at the orderly for almost too long. He felt the cold buckles of the straight-jacket already. “Uh, I apologize. My name is November.” He had almost forgotten that little detail. A costly mistake. Yet, the orderly’s grim demeanor vanished, and she gave a sly smile. “Oh, of course. You’re here to see him, correct?” He nodded, after a moment. This was tough, after walking through that door. What was left of his credibility, and his dignity, were hanging delicately in the balance. In other words, not much was at stake insofar. She perused through a clipboard, slowly. They exchanged annoyed glances at each other, as she purposely took her time. She wanted to sink the dagger just a little further. It would hit bone soon. She wasn't quite cruel, wasn't quite kind, and wasn't very subtle in her attempts. He did his best to ignore them. She tapped her hoof on a nondescript slice of data. “Room 17-D, he’s been waiting for you.” He winced, not fully sure what that was supposed to mean. A careful step forward, and then another. He ignored the rooms as he passed them; following close behind the orderly. What lied within each cell would boggle his mind to the point he just might stay locked in each room, a little misshapen slab of himself trapped behind each door. Up stairs, past windows, a left turn, right, left left, right right right. He had read somewhere that the architects had purposely designed this place to be as confusing as possible, using impossible geometries in the blueprints, and painting the walls so they merged together at corners so one could easily be list. Perhaps the staff purposely led visitors in circles so they couldn't find their way back out without help. Perhaps some of the visitors weren't supposed to. He slapped, snout-first into the door as the orderly laughed. His thoughts dissolved as anger sparked in his heart. For just a moment before everything went cold and dull again. He hadn't felt something like that in so long, it felt... nice. It was... ...warm. For just a moment. A fireplace in a cold home left on for guests who would soon snuff it out themselves. He turned to the orderly and smiled. A real smile. One that convinced the orderly that there was a chance, however slight, that everything would work out at the end. However dim, there was a light. There were no parting words, they didn't need them. The unspoken rules of this forsaken place had been etched in his mind already. The staff didn't tell you what to do, because they were the last to know. Visitors were responsible to figure it out themselves. Even still, through research into the seedy underbelly that was the underground market for information, he had learned of a few, "guidelines" that should be followed when talking to him. 1.) Don't use their full name. 2.) Don't ask questions beginning with "Why did you...?" or "How could you...?" 3.) Don't make any sudden moves, and don't shine a bright light. If the windows are closed, leave them. If open, close them. 4.) Don't mention anything involving the fictional works dated from 1004 to 1007. 5.) Always say "please" and "thank you." 6.) DO NOT maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time. 7.) Listen for the ticking of the clock. If it's more or less accurate, turn away and leave the room. Otherwise, continue speaking. 8.)If you break any of the above rules, AND/OR any of the facility guidelines for visitation procedures, turn around, count to ten, apologize, and leave immediately. 9.)Finally, DO NOT BRING ANY FOOD OR DRINK IN THE ROOM. They were especially adamant about this one. Blank Page took a long deep breath, did his half-hearted prayers in the name of those he betrayed, and opened the door. Upon which, his eyes met with the sight that no amount of rules could have prepared him for. XXI – The World Everyone knows exactly how today goes. A frigid autumnal spell had overtaken Canterlot. It was the type of chill breeze that failed to welcome in the new season. It didn't lazily drift from corner to corner, caressing leaves as the fluttered to the ground. It didn't kiss the cheek of passersby as they milled about the city to prepare for the winter. No, this... this was the kind of weather that gutted a city, sliced it into neat sections of mania, and then drowned the whole thing. The kind of weather fit for a funeral. The inclement conditions had laced the entire block with a sense of melancholy, as the date that no one wanted to remember had again struck the city. With no sense of patience, or caution, the calendar had once more brought forth today. Time waited for no one, as the citizens had now come to morbidly realize. In a single visceral hour, any passion, joy, and wonder had been drained from every square mile, as parties became vigils, laughs became weeping screams, and walks became slow marches. An entire city, drained of color, as every watch, clock, hourglass, and timepiece in the city was reverently stopped at the given time, set underneath a soft white cloth, and left alone for the day. The clock towers across the districts were The Day That Shouldn't Exist. Once again, October 7th was here. First, across the nation, newspapers, magazines, radio shows, and every form of media imaginable carved at each other to show remorse. Each one did their best to out-shine the others in respect that was supposed to be wordless. Moments of silence became moments of cacophony. Advertisements rang out from every page, every station, and every salesman shrewd enough to eschew whatever common decency they had left. The country was feeding on itself again. Then, those who where left sat in their homes, looking at the wall, wondering if this was the year where everything fell apart. Where the darkness underneath their hooves finally reached out and devoured them, bringing an end to the quiet madness no one could drown out. The country was gorging on itself again. There were several more towards the center of this issue, now as far apart from each other as could be, that risked an outward glance at the leftovers scattered about. None dared exit. 5 heads reared out windows for just a moment, and all but one quickly shrank back inside. One, however, looked at the sky, at the grey clouds, and screamed. The country was feasting on itself again. Finally, every city did their rites. Anything to stave off the fear. Anything to distract, while selfishly convincing oneself they cared enough to stop. To think. To learn. All at once, Pyres where risen, then fell. Song were sung, then forgotten. And, of course, names were spoken, then left unsaid. The country was starving itself now. A gathering, a funeral service, a slow march to her final resting place, anything they could do to halt the advance of the guilt that anyone could and probably would feel. Just like the last year, the day was over before anyone really had the chance to find peace. The lasting scar had scabbed over, been scratched and rent apart, then left to improperly heal. Just like last year, nightfall. Nightfall, and a fresh wave of ignorance over the population, had arrived at last. They could forget, again, what had occurred. They could ignore the fact that the society they had put everything they loved into, was in the slow act of crumbling around them. Until debris had collapsed on top of them, that is. This doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. This, as one could probably guess, is not the point of today. Because, it was a lie. No one knew how today went. There was something that only one single soul knew about today. The defining factor that made it different from today. The cause to this effect. The reason that Equestria was falling apart. I - The Magician The grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed, right on time, the second hand never missing a beat. A coffee, a glass of wine, and a large bagel sat in the middle of the desk. And, for almost a minute, they hadn't broken eye contact. Something was wrong. But... not in the right way. There was something... off about the way things were off. A crookedness to the crookedness. Expectations that were simultaneously disregard and exceeded. Because, as far as Blank Page could tell, the one in front of him was slowly dipping a small section of cake into his coffee, and staring at him with a look that didn't read correctly. Everything about his actions thus far, his countenance, his gestures, even his tie were off, but not enough. This was the kind of thing that everyday ponies who just weren't quite ready for a meeting had done, thousands of times before. As far as Blank Page could tell, Dr. Split Second was perfectly sane. And this scared him more than anything else. How on earth could he be- "Well, are you going to take a seat?" Blank Page continued to stare. The look they shared was the one two shared when neither could tell who belonged where in this situation. Blank Page briefly wondered who really belonged in here. "Take a seat." he said, with force. This actually confirmed Page's suspicions. That was not the kind of force a patient used when they wanted something and didn't know how else to get it but to grow angry. This was the kind of force ponies use when they need something, and know exactly how to get it. Now his fear had manifested as full-blown terror. His hooves shook, and his eyes darted around the room, watching for cameras, wondering if his entire life up to this point had been a sick joke. Split Second put a hoof on his forehead, placing the food down on the table, and taking a deep breath. "Blank, I thought you were better than this. Sit. Down." He did. Wordlessly. Split Second looked up, and they shared another glance. He turned back to his food. "Let's start with something simple, eh?" Blank nodded. Split Second shook his head. "You can't do this. We have to talk, that's... that's how this has to work. If you don't ask me questions, if I don't answer them, and if I can't tell you..." he stopped, coughing and covering his mouth with a napkin, taking another deep breath. "How on earth am I supposed to do any good?" Blank nodded again, taking a deep breath. "H-how did you....?" he stopped, feeling it was enough. Split Second nodded back, speaking slowly, as if he expected notes to be taken. "How did I do... all this?" He gestured around him. "How did I fake insanity and hide away from the rest of the world? Took the last shreds of my dignity and ran them through a paper shredder? How I escaped the accusations?" "How I pulled of the greatest disappearing act of the century?" Before Blank could idly nod his head, Second continued. "Allow me to, partially, answer that question, with a question." He stood up, and walked over, slowly, one step at a time, to an empty bookshelf. "When did I go insane? Before? Or after I wrote that book?" Blank remained still for a moment, charging some internal battery of thought as he scrambled to wonder what the hell that question even meant. Second had brought him here. Why the game? Why the silly questions? Why this whole mess instead of just... just answering.... Then it clicked... and he smiled. Fine, Second. Let's play the game. Now that I know the rules. XIII - Death Twilight had been buried in a public graveyard, next to her grandmother. She, like anyone with a timeless sense of humility, wanted to be remembered not for being connected to royalty. Not for her actions as the "element of harmony." Not for her career, or even for her deeds; as a normal pony, with faults, memories, wants, needs, emotions, and mistakes. Just like everypony else… Even her epitaph was blank. The crinkle of the leaves underneath the calm steps of the graveyard’s only living resident was the only sound left. Nature was silent, no hums from the groundskeeper, and certainly no lively shouts from the bar three blocks over. It was quiet. Still, almost… This one stopped exactly three feet from Twilight’s solid gravestone, and leaned down, leaving a single red rose, and then turned, quickly, out of sight almost as fast as it had come. Uncaring, as suddenly, the sound of an owl’s call echoed from the distance. All was now right again, as the world slept, unaware anything was wrong in the first place. At last... the night slowly faded into the twilight of the final day the mystery would remain uncovered. V - The Heirophant "Having asked that... here... in these circumstances. I think you've answered your own question." Page sheepishly retorted. Split Second raised an eyebrow. "Because, I think you're the sanest person alive for being in here." Split Second was surprised. Or, confused, perhaps a mixture of both. "Why do you think I'm here?" Blank Page was silent, now. Not for lack of an answer, for lack of a way to phrase the answer. As it comes up often enough in his line of work, understanding something doesn't necessarily make it easier to describe. He lowered his hooves from his face, and stared straight ahead, talking slowly, allowing his instincts to catch up. "You've locked yourself away, right? Clearly, with all this pomp and circumstance, you did this to yourself, right? Your, editing staff..." He gestured to the door. "...are playing along, right? This is all just a media stunt, for-" Split Second deadpanned. "Come now, you think you can just get me to give you the answers by faking ignorance? Try harder. You do know the answer, you just... you just can't quite articulate it." Blank shook his head. "Fine, clearly something... something important is happening. Something big, but I can't..." Blank remained still. "You're... afraid." Split nodded. "You're afraid of...." he paused. "It can happen to anyone, that's why you're scared. If you really did believe you were safe... you wouldn't be here, right?" Split nodded again. "So... what happened?" "In this great and sprawling universe, one can tell maybe what has happened, or who was involved, or when, but rarely all at once. It’s just, how information tends to stay compartmentalized, weather by nature, or by force. However, these walls, these… unspoken rules as to what pieces of knowledge go where, they can be broken." "What do you mean?" Split Second laughed. "Think long and hard about everything that's happened. Really, truly think about it. Pay attention to the dark corners of the world." Blank Page didn't waver in his confusion. "So... all this... there isn't really an answer at all? Is this... is this all a waste of time?" "Well... perhaps the universe just... has a hiccup sometimes. There's... there's a lot of hubbub about very little. When we finally step back and look at the whole picture, we realize that... life isn't a story book with a moral at the end. There isn't a wrap-up, or a where-are-they-now segment that will just spell out what we want to know. Even all the brute force and work we put in can't make it so." "I'm not sure I understand." Second sighed. "If I gave you a... a... a detective novel, right? And I explained everything without giving you anything to stew on yourself, wouldn't you think that was a poorly written book?" "Depends on the book." "No, listen. You're not listening. Everything you've been doing, everything you've been up to, all the work, all the time, the effort, the enemies and friends you made, the bonds you broke and forged, the head-scratching moments, all of it.... ...ALL OF IT. Do you understand?!" "It... it leads to nothing?" "Even now, in these four cold walls, hear, talking to me. You solved my puzzles, you came here... and... what now? The big, resounding conclusions you made." Second stopped. "You know I'm afraid, but... none of us, no one, knows what I'm scared of." Split Second and Blank Page looked at each other for almost an hour, realizing the ending they had just stumbled on. The sum total of everything that had been worked toward, the strife, the nightmares, the letters, the codes, the books, the graves, and even the all the wonderful answers... all left it... "Who killed Twilight Sparkle?" Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
AcknowledgementsView OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndAcknowledgementsAcknowledgements Toxiclay - "The Patient Messenger" The Collapsed Library - "The First Responder" Paul Asaran - "The Curious Critic" Lanigiro - "The Nimble Wordsmith" RB_ - "The Puzzle Master" Present Perfect - "The Rapt Observer" dartagnan401 - "The Incumbent Solver" The Cynical One - "The Discreet Inquirer" Everyone Else - "The Reluctant Audience" Y█u█ A██w█r - "The Final Problem" Author's Note Goodbye()
Autopsy Report, Case No. 21717-1003, Examination Date: 07-10-1003View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndAutopsy Report, Case No. 21717-1003, Examination Date: 07-10-1003Office of The Canterlot Medical Examiner 6700 Eagle Watch Ln. Canterlot, Equestria — 01970 REPORT OF INVESTIGATION BY OFFICIAL ROYAL MEDICAL EXAMINER Decedent: Twilight Sparkle Species: Pony Sex: Female Age: 19 Current Address: Golden Oaks Library, Ponyville Occupation: Librarian; Student of Princess Celestia Discovery: Found Dead Comment(s): Vehicular Accident: No If Yes, provide type/details: Notified by: Ponyville Police Department (1st Precinct) Investigating Agency: Canterlot Royal Protectionary Services Ongoing Investigation: No Clothes: Unclothed Clothing Description (if any): Eyes: Purple Hair/Mane: Purple with magenta/lavender streaks Facial Hair (if applicable): N/A Weight: 67 kg Height: 1.6m Rigor Mortis: No Lysis: No Marks/Wounds: I. Mild to Moderate Lacerations Lacerations along back and forelegs Deep cuts along back, move from back forward, terminate at sides Forelegs suffered shallow cuts from hoof to knee Major lacerations to forehead and cheeks II. Severe Contusions Major contusions on neck and head Minor contusions along back legs III. Mild to Moderate Abrasions Moderate Abrasions on back and sides Mild Abrasions all along body < Internal Damages Recorded: I. Internal Puncture Wounds 3rd Left Rib punctured Left Lung 5th Right Rib punctured Myocardium 9th Left Rib punctured Fundus (stomach) II. Intestinal Rupture Herniated Tissues in Duodenum III. Major Internal Hemorrhaging As a result from punctured organs, major internal blood loss Stomach puncture resulted in leakage of high-concentration acids into abdominal cavity IV. Concussion Severe concussion from posterior impact < Toxicology: Samples Collected: Three (3) 100ml vials of blood, one (1) 100ml vial of urine, one (1) 200ml tube of bile, and one bag containing decedent’s liver. All specimens were cold. Results: I. Basic Drugs Blood – None Detected Urine – None Detected Bile -- None Detected II. Alcohol B.A.C. – 0.000 Urine – None Detected Bile – None Detected III. Carbon Monoxide <1% Saturation in Blood IV. Other Caffeine tested Positive No other positives found < Thaumicology: Samples Collected: Two (2) 30mg samples of bone collected from base of horn, three (3) 40mg samples of skin/fur collected from lower leg, chest, and back, one (1) 20mg sample of hair, taken from scalp. Results: I. Basic Spells Residual energy patterns discovered on bone samples are consistent with teleportation spells of up to 50ft. Usage of low-level levitation spells also concluded from energy samples. II. Mind-Altering Post-mortem analysis of brain-scan shows no active spells were placed on decedent’s brain. All behavior was of decedent’s own volition. III. Spatial Manipulation No usage, nor application upon decedent, were detected. IV. Conjuration No usage, nor application upon decedent, were detected. V. Elemental ~~No usage, nor application upon decedent, were detected.~~ Subsequent analysis of bone samples reveals several immolation spells directed outward. Temperature estimated in excess of 3,500°C1 VI. Other Upon further review of taken samples, a large amount of energy ( >10 Gigajoules) was detected being used on an, as of now, undetermined spell. Following analysis find that said spell was attempted at least 400 Times. Success of said spell(s) unknown, and intended effect(s) are unknown at this Time.2 < Probable Cause of Death: Decedent voluntarily jumped off cliff, fell 200 feet accruing moderate lacerations and mild abrasions, and impacted the ground, causing total structural collapse of rib-cage resulting in puncturing of left lung, heart, and stomach. Decedent entered comatose state immediately upon impact, leading to total organ failure and death after approximately seventeen (17) minutes. Manner/Type of Death: Suicide Estimated Time of Death: 7:56 AM Case Type: Autopsy ~~Requested~~ Ordered for Investigation 1Follow-up investigation is currently ongoing as to ascertain possible connection with the outbreak of spontaneous fire in Ponyville's eastern districts. 2Upon further inspection, it has been discovered that this spell was self-targeted Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
Excerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 316-345View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndExcerpt from “Tragedy, Time, and Twilight” by Split Second, Ph.D., (Baltimare: Axis Press, 1007), p. 316-345XXXVI "An iridescent flame carries more value to me than all the world's gold. But I'll still take the gold." --August Wind An interesting turn of phrase to note at this juncture is boiling point. It is, of course, the temperature at which a substance in the liquid state will move into the gaseous state in the process of vaporization. However, it also has several figurative uses common in today's literary society. We use it to describe the harrowing endpoint of anger or anxiety. We use it to signify when a battle has reached it's climax, or when a person has reached their limit. SomeTimes, however, the literal and figurative meanings merge, and form a composite image of both emotion and physicality. Twilight reaches both in a stunning display revealed late in her tenure. After reaching her emotional boiling point, she then reaches her physical boiling point by an immense release of pure energy, subsequently causing the fires102 in the eastern districts in Ponyville the following day.103 (Editor's Note: This was really stupid. Did you run out of ideas at this point? Boiling point, really? What the hell are you on about here?)104 It becomes ever important to note, then how much of an impact on Twilight's perceptions of the world around her are affected by105 Footnotes: 102See PPD Incident Report #3301 103"Day" being a relative term here. See Chapter II for more insight and explanations on the usage of terms of or relating to the passage of Time. 104It should be noted that Dr. Second did not use follow any of the advice given to him by his ████████████, but did insist we leave in this personal remark, construed as an "Editor's Note". 105Dr. Second has stated he purposefully left this chapter unfinished. He has not disclosed why. Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
Recovered Correspondence From Princess Luna (Receivers Unknown) (Dates Unknown)View OnlineThe ̶M̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶T̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶ EndRecovered Correspondence From Princess Luna (Receivers Unknown) (Dates Unknown)Dear XXXXXXXXX, In regards to your idea-- Yes, I think we can make that arrangement. After all that she did for us, and all that she went through, I think it's only just that we give her a proper send off. A 'posthumous coronation' may be a little much, but we can certainly grant Twilight the title of 'Princess' in this bleak aftermath. Perhaps it will give people hope. Or closure. One thing, promise me, promise both of us, you will never contact us again. Are we understood? I will make the arrangements soon. -Princess Luna please don't leave me Author's Note -DATA CORRUPTED- ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
