Author's Note

Hey guys! It's me, coming at you with another story. This one is pretty personal, because this is my ponysona, and A lot of her life is based on mine. So be kind. For real.

There is abuse in this fic, as well as death, so if that's not your cup of tea, turn around. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.00. Okay? Okay.

Enjoy the start of the series!

Entry One: Ash

I guess the whole thing started when I met Ash.

I was in my twenties back then. It was the Grand Galloping Gala, and I had just come into the ballroom. I decided to get a drink. I went to the punch bowl when he bumped into me and some of the punch I was pouring got on my dress. I looked up at him.

His hair was black and coiffed for the occasion, wearing a tuxedo. His coat was brilliant white, and his jaw was strong. He was muscular, but not intimidating. And his eyes… Oh I lost myself in those pools of blue joy. He smiled at me, teeth whiter than alabaster. He said,

“I’m Asher. Asher Flame. Sorry about your dress.”

I blushed. “I’m Platinum Sparkle.” I said. “And don’t worry about the dress. I have others at home. It’s not a big deal.”

He smiled. “Would you… Would you care to dance?” He asked.

I nodded. “Sure.”

We danced, only once, but I remembered it. We waltzed. He was a very smooth dancer. I don’t recall what we talked about, only that I liked the sound of his voice. It was a rich, vibrant timbre. It made me feel safe. And then, like a shooting star, he was gone. He said he had to go and speak with the Princess. I lost him in the crowd after that.

I looked for him throughout the evening, when I wasn’t dancing or visiting the garden. But I never found him. I accepted that I might not see him again. And for a while, nothing happened.

Life went on as it always had for me. I lived in Canterlot, writing stories, and visiting friends. But I always felt something was missing, though I couldn’t place what it was. And then, one day I was taking a day off to see the museum, and I saw him again. He was the curator. He recognized me. And I went over to say hello to him. We talked for a few minutes, catching up, but I didn’t expect him to ask me out. I hadn’t been on a date since I was sixteen. But he looked so excited, eyes gleaming like the shimmer of sunlight on the ocean water. I just had to say yes.

He took me to a fancy restaurant near the castle. Apparently the princesses had dined there on one occasion, making it a hotspot for those from Canterlot and visitors from elsewhere in Equestria. We ordered some vegetable soup for an appetizer, a plate of glazed carrots with a reduction, spinach, and prench bread with onion cream dip for an entree, and fondue for dessert. It wasn’t overtly romantic like in some ponies fantasies. There weren’t any candles or white table cloths or roses, but we had each other, and that seemed to be enough for the both of us. We took a walk through the park after that, sat on the bench and watched the butterflies and birds fly. We heard the bees buzz around colorful flowers as we talked under Celestia’s sun. We talked about our childhoods, our jobs, our favorite things to do. The usual things you would give away on a first date. We talked for several hours. We never really revealed anything big about ourselves, and to be honest I don’t remember what we discussed in detail, but that was okay. Because with him, I felt like I’d just met somepony I’d known for a long time.

He walked me home as the sun dipped below the horizon, and gave me a quick peck on the lips. I blushed, not really knowing what to say.

“See you around?” He asked.

“Will I?” Looking back, the reply was so stupid. So full of doubt. But he just smiled, like a true gentleman.

“I sure hope so.” He winked at me. Then he waved goodbye and he left. And I was never the same.

After that it was a sort of whirlwind romance between us. We had dates every weekend, and spent many weeknights together. But it wasn’t enough. He was like a drug. One taste and I was hooked. I wanted- no, I needed more of him. Before him it was like the world didn’t seem quite right. Like it was missing something crucial. I thought he was that piece, that missing link. It was only later on down the road that I found out that that was wrong. But back then, I was ready to believe. To believe in him, believe in love, and believe in fairytale endings.

Our relationship escalated quickly, to the point that he ended up moving into my home. It wasn’t until then that I understood that his public face was drastically different from his private one.

I’ll never forget the first time he hurt me. We were having some small argument over what to have for dinner. He wanted carrot soup, and I was going to make a salad. Things got heated quickly, and in the heat of the moment he smacked me with his hoof, leaving a welt on my cheek. Oh, the way I looked at him. Like he had kicked all of the puppies in Equestria and hurt every foal. And for a second, his enraged expression stayed, and I wondered if it was there permanently. And then, in an instant he changed. He rushed to me, trying to cup my chin in his hooves, and I backed up enough to where I knocked into the stove. I was frightened of him, and rightfully so. He cupped my chin in his hooves, and told me that he was so sorry, that he hadn’t meant to hurt me. And for a long time, I stared at him, trying to make sense of this. I teetered for a while between forgiveness and revenge, but eventually I settled on the former. If he said he wouldn’t do it again, I should believe him. Love was about second chances after all. So I told him I forgave him and kissed him.

And in doing so, I sealed my fate.