This story is dedicated in memory of Robert Morrison, aka MythrilMoth, 1979-2019. Rest in Peace.
The sky was dark and grey that morning, as the clouds hung low over the city of Canterlot. It was a truly sad and tragic day, and as Celestia pulled herself sadly out of bed, she found it heard to supress tears. Of the two of them (herself and her sister, Luna) she was always the more emotionally reserved, but this whole incident over the last few days had affected her very badly.
A well regarded member of the town's population had passed away only a few days ago, and in a community like Canterlot, everybody knew everybody else, and news travelled fast. As a result, this loss rocked the tightly knit community, and nobody emerged from it unscathed. Celestia had lost track of the times she had almost given in to grief, but she had to proceed on, present a brave face, for if she fell apart at this crucial juncture, what would hold the school together? Indeed, the community of Canterlot? Although the highest public official was the Mayor, in many ways Celestia, as Principal of Canterlot High School, was the public face of the town, and she was a highly regarded person throughout the town.
She gathered her things, and took a shower, the water pouring down her body like a veil of tears. She got changed into her usual attire of golden heels, purple pants, and a white and purple T-shirt with a golden jacket over the top. Her hair, a dazzling mixture of many colours, including blue, green, turquoise, and pink, flowed down her back the way it usually did, accentuating her pink skin and purple eyes. She crossed the threshold of her bedroom, and headed out of the door, to find Luna already standing at the streetcar stop. Neither of them had stopped for breakfast. Recent events had robbed them of any appetite. The rain was thundering down now, washing down the streets like a tidal wave. The streetcar rattled in, and the two sisters climbed aboard, neither saying a word to one another.
The situation was the same in the school halls, as they arrived and walked down the corridors. On the way, Celestia passed Cheerilee, who's normally cheerful face was sunken and reserved, her eyes looking down and her mouth locked in a permanent look of sadness. Her daughter, Scootaloo, was no different, looking down at the floor with a sad face. The same could be said of Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, the normally chirpy preteens being quiet and generally miserable. Celestia couldn't really blame them. These events had rocked the town pretty badly, so nobody was in the mood to be cheerful. The same was true of the girl's sisters and their friends. Gone were the cheerful looks on the faces of Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rarity. Not even Sunset Shimmer looked happy, and the normally cheery Pinkie Pie had a sunken face, looking down at the floor with sadness in her eyes. They talked in hushed whispers. Some of them cried. The member of their community they had lost was missed very much.
Celestia got to her office, and unlocked it, stepping inside and closing the door behind her before flicking the light on. She preferred working in the day, unlike her sister, who seemed to work best in the dark. As she switched on her computer, she turned on the school's intercom system, and began to speak, her words robbed of any emphasis.
"Good morning students," she said, fully aware that the morning was about as far away from being good as was possible. "I wish to thank you all for pulling together in this difficult time. I appreciate that this not been an easy time for any one of us, but we will pull through and carry on. It's what he would have wanted."
She then paused. "I am sure you are all aware that the funeral is this afternoon. As a result of this, I am giving you all the afternoon off to attend and pay your respects. That is all."
Celestia had little idea how she made it through the day, but continued onwards with her work as Principal, working almost robotically in order to stay focused on her day. But the end of the day came, and she got her umbrella ready, stepping out of the door and heading for the parking lot. The rain had begun to fall even more heavily, and the memorial service was being held in the town square. When she arrived, everybody was there. The mayor, the Apple family, the Cakes with their two twins, the Whistles (with Rainbow Dash), and even the Rich's and the Steels had turned out to pay their respects. Celestia tried her hardest to focus on the priest's words, but the emotions whirling around inside her threatened to pull her off balance. "Stay strong, Celestia," she thought to herself. "The town needs you to stay strong."
After the service ended, the coffin was picked up by the pallbearers, led by Lieutenant William Collins, the father of Scootaloo, and carried to the railway station, where the funeral train was waiting. It had been decided to send him off in style. He was being buried in a cemetery somewhere between here and Crystal City, and the only way to get there was by train. In front of the Pullman cars and MK1 coaches that had been assembled for the train was a Southern Railway luggage van, and into this the coffin had been loaded. At the front of the train, the engine pulling the train, a Bulleid Light Pacific named Winston Churchill, was backed onto the train, Rainbow Dash and Applejack at the controls as driver and fireman respectively.
The journey was relatively quick, and they offloaded the coffin and carried it over to the burial sight. The top of the coffin had his name inscribed in it, and the tombstone had already been carved, although the rain rendered the text almost unreadable. The coffin was lowered into a newly created hole as everyone said their last goodbyes, and the cemetary staff began to cover over the grave with the dirt they had dug out, as well as planting some flowers. Celestia remained with the assembled crowd, looking over the grave.
As they looked down, the words on the tombstone became clearer, as the rain washed away the dirt from the grave. And the words read:
He shall not grow old,
as we that are left grow old.
Age shall not weary him,
nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun,
and in the morning,
We Will Remember Him.
Author's Note
I'm aware this is unusually morbid territory for me, but when I learned that MythrilMoth had passed onto the next life, I was very upset. I decided then and there the only appropriate thing to do was not to wallow in grief, but to celebrate his life. And this story is part of my efforts to do so.
Rest in Peace, Morrison. You will be missed by us all.
