Icaron's Vignettes Vol. 1

Sylvan’s hoofsteps echoed about the storied halls of the Cloudsdale Museum of Art, though they were growing a little lethargic in pace. The stallion yawned lightly, he’d been browsing the masterpieces within for several hours at this point, his focus wandering from painting to sculpture to pottery, even to a curious exhibit of antique chairs and tables. The light outside had begun to fade as sunset approached, the stallion stopped momentarily to look out at the beautiful hues high in the clouds as sleepiness was overcoming him.

He figured it would be best to start looking for the exit of this place… but it was a veritable labyrinth to him, with long snaking corridors, split levels, and little rhyme or reason about the placement of doors and hallways; as was often the case with Pegasus architecture. He huffed, blowing his mane out of his face as he spots a comfortable looking bench across from an empty plinth in the statuary hall, shuffling over to it and sitting himself down with a contended sigh, deciding to rest his hooves for just a few moments. As he sat he felt the weight of his eyelids drooping shut, and before he knew it, he’d inadvertently fallen asleep on that bench, somewhat hidden in the shadows by a column.

The museum staff checked the list of entries and exits of ponies who had signed in and found no discrepancies as they locked the doors for closing, sending a short announcement over the loud speakers just to be doubly sure there was nobody left inside the museum. What they hadn’t realized was that Sylvan had forgotten to sign in, and as such was unknown to the staff, the docent having been on a brief break when Sylvan came in earlier that afternoon.

After a few hours Sylvan blearily rubbed his eyes and stretched as he stirred from his sleep on the bench, blinking rapidly as he looked around. Most of the lights were off, only the dim sconces above the statues and plinths nearby were still illuminated. He leans out, gazing around until he spots a window, groaning as he notices the starry night sky beyond and the dim glow of Luna’s moon through the frosted glass.
He hops to his hooves and shuffles back through the museum to find the exit, but when confronted with the door he sees that it is completely locked… jiggling the handle made little difference with the old mechanical lock that the door was built with, it seemed he was well and truly stuck in the museum until somepony came along the next morning and opened it up for him. Sighing deeply the pony turns and forlornly wanders the halls, forgotten in the museum.

Syvlan went from exhibit to exhibit, reading all the cards over that he had seen earlier that day to pass the time, but finding himself growing more and more bored with every passing minute. He didn’t like being locked alone in the museum with nopony to talk to and nothing to do. Eventually he finds himself back where he had been napping earlier, back in front of the empty plinth.

The Pegasus noticed something he hadn’t seen before, a small stone block sitting atop it, square in shape with sloped sides. It was of a curious marble with purplish tint, quite unlike any he’d ever seen before, and interspersed throughout it were glistering veins of what almost looked to be gold. It couldn’t be real gold, could it? He leans in closer to examine it, poking it with a hoof.

With a grin and a giggle he gets an idea, perhaps to fulfill some fantasy that he’d had on his mind for many years. While he knew for sure he was alone, he still glances twice over his shoulders before stepping up onto that plinth, firmly planting one of his hind hooves onto that square of marble. He rears onto his hind hoof, precariously balancing upon it as he lifted his other hind hoof and posed himself into an artful position, imagining just what it would be like if there were a statue of him in the museum. He laughs lightly, feeling a strange contended sensation washing over his being as he lets out a sigh, it was almost easy to maintain the pose he was holding, finding very little strain upon his muscles. He pulls a foreleg up to his chest, raising the other up and out, completing the pose.

An odd tingle began to follow, bubbling up within him like soda-pop as a latent enchantment within the stone he stood upon activates fully. He didn’t notice it at first, finding himself growing relaxed in his pose… but something didn’t seem quite right. He could move his limbs, but it almost felt like he was encountering rubbery resistance to the motion. He’d stretch his hooves back down, wiggle them about, but some magical force sprung them right back into the pose he’d made when he stepped atop the plinth and the square. “Wha… what’s going on with this thing?” He groans, glancing downward toward his hoof, only tobe met with a startling sight. With a yelp and widening eyes he sees the purple tinted color of the stone rising up into his hoof, the bottom of that hoof seeming to have fused with the marble, sinking down a millimeter as it smooths up over his hoof and creeps onto his leg.

It was cold, tight, and filled with that bubbly tingle as the magic worked into him, squeezing his hoof and compacting it in a stony embrace as he felt the life and motion draining away from the limb. He jerks and twists, the rubbery pose keeping him from bending too far as the cold hug of the stone rose up over his leg and onto his crotch, causing him to gasp in shock, blush rushing to his cheeks as he felt the stone squeeze him in curious places, fur smoothing down into polished stone that took on the veined hue and golden glister of the square he had fused with.

He forces his forehooves down, turning his back to look himself over as his tail succumbs, all motion from his waist down slowing to a halt with the tentative sound of grinding stone, watching in a mixture of horror and pleasure from the unfathomable sensations that had befallen him, wriggling his hoof tip as it creaks and crackles, forming into its permanent pose.

It felt almost like being submersed in cold liquid mercury, a tremendous weight squeezing him in from all sides and a tight chill rushing up over the affected parts of his body as the stone crept ever onward.

The elasticity of his pose pulling his hooves back up to where they had been artfully placed minutes prior. He scrunches his nose, blushing deeply as the wave of stone crackles over his belly, compacting his fur into veined marble as he feels his joints and spine grinding, the elasticity vanishingand being replaced with rigidity, squirming and flexing as much as his body would allow as he rocked precariously on the plinth.

It was not long before he was up to his neck and his motion settled, his spine fused into stone leaving him with just his ears, expression, and the tip of his forehoof left mobile. With a crackling pop, the tip of his forehoof vanished into the encroaching purple and gold, which was striped all over his shining body like a carved, polished zebra of stone and gold. He gasps, the thick weight of the stone reaching inward to his organs, air expelled from his lungs as his chest became a solid mass of marble up to his neck. Blushing furiously he flicks his ears, mute now, unable to call for aid; not that there was any to come to his rescue...

He steels his resolve as the spell works onto his chin and over his lips, the feeling of his jaw fusing shut and the cold tight grip of stone overtaking his muzzle inside and out with the alien sensations of inanimate existence overwhelming his mind. Sylvan furrows his brow as the stone reaches over him like a rising tide, capturing his eyes as it swept over his face, smoothing his features down and leaving him in mere moments an anonymous statue of stone and gold. His eyes were locked forward, still able to see, but dimmed in his vision, the grain and veins of stone a transparent hue over what he could see.

He could hear too, but muffled, as if through a thick stone wall; not that there was anything to hear in the silent museum. He felt the last crackles as the stone settles into his body, one last shiver shuddering through him before all went still, the magic spent. The Pegasus was stuck, his mind reeling on that fact, unable to fully comprehend what it meant. Try as he might, not an inch of him responded to his mind’s desperate attempts to move, feeling the tenseness of his muscles vanishing away, his pose permanently forced upon him.

It felt oddly comforting, feeling his body settle into the form and his temperature equalizing over the hours that followed until the last of his body warmth had dissipated from the cool stone he had become. Nopony gave him a second glance the next morning as guests and staff alike walked past him. None could hear his mental pleas for help and attention as they walked by, admiring him, some taking pictures. The staff never questioned the arrival of a new statue in their collection, while nopony admitted to being the one who set it up, they figured it was just one of the many pieces of the museum’s collection that weren’t documented in their catalog; it often seemed like artifacts appeared from nowhere in their collection, so it wasn’t unusual to them.

Without his name on the sign in sheets, it was never known to look for him here, and even if it were there was little left to indicate that the statue he’d become had ever been a pony, his features smooth and polished over. After a few days the trapped pony stopped pleading for help, knowing it would never come. He resigned to finding the positives of his permanent predicament. He’d never age, never ail, never die… he was appreciated too, albeit as a work of art, merely an inanimate object and nothing more. Every so often he was polished by the staff, the touch and interaction filling his stony heart.

He’d have all the time in the world to get used to it, all the time to think…

… Perhaps it isn’t all bad.