Author's Note

This is meant to give some background to the colt and why he’s so traumatized. I wanted to do a few more chapters like this and keep switching back and forth from the present and the past. Kinda like the show “Ounce Upon a Time.”

If anyone is willing to help me write in there spare time please PM me. Or if you want more chapters to come out sooner you can support me on patreon. https://www.patreon.com/Luckyfanisaac?fan_landing=true

Memory Dream Sequence 1

A Broken Flame

By Luckyfanisaac and Jubal

Dream Sequence 1

There were no windows in the building as he ran down the hallways. This meant that ‘behind’ looked the same as ‘forward’, spinning an unyielding front of confusion crafted by an endless blend of concrete, wood, and stone for those who weren’t familiar with the correct path. But he was determined in his pursuit, regardless of his state of lostness. So engrained was the drive to succeed that it almost seemed to guide him as if divine intervention. All he had to do was follow the sound of music, after all.

The frantic clop of his tiny hooves on the floor betrayed the otherwise peaceful aura of the building. He knew what was coming and that knowledge brought forth a mind-numbingly heavy responsibility given by his teacher—he had to warn everyone inside of their impending fate.

He could still hear the air raid sirens screeching their air-piercing warnings, like broken klaxons in their dutiful repetition.

He had heard about the war from the soldiers he would pass—seen the censored images that had been provided in the newspaper. But it was like reading a book. He could immerse himself in what was shared as soon he was informed but he could put it aside—he could get up and leave. This was real. The war had spread even further and he couldn’t put any book down—he couldn’t leave and that scared him more than he could possibly imagine.

The door to the filled party room burst open, letting through a distressed red-coated earth pony colt clothed in a dirty red hoodie and long red pants. “You all need to evacuate the building! I need all of you to follow me!” Nobody heard him, the music and loud conversation drowning out his squeaky but deepening voice. They all continued on with their business without a care in the world.

“Hey kid, what’s got you all riled up?” His eyes turned towards a stallion in a fancy suit. The stallion had a blue coat and a classy red mane, brushed finely in cascading locks down the side of his head. He held a small glass of something in his hoof. It stank of alcohol. The stallion held him with a semi-professional gaze—if not slightly drunken—that almost perfectly veiled the ocean of annoyance beneath them but he saw right through it and he didn’t care. There was no time for any of that.

“You don’t understand—this place is a prime target! We need to leave immediately.” He huffed out, still recovering the air lost from his hurried run. The future of all the ponies inside the building were balanced on a knife’s edge. He could only hope they would listen.

The stallion’s visage hardened in its annoyance and he leaned forward. “Look kid, I don’t know what you're going on about.”—He pointed towards an earth pony family in the corner, all dancing branzely in tune with the beat—“Go have some fun, make some friends and all that.”

With equal resolve, the colt ran to the stallion, resting his hooves on his chest. He said the only thing he could think of that would get his point across. “The war is coming here!”—he paused, letting his words settle—”and if we don’t leave now, we are all going to die.”

Anger flared within the stallion’s eyes. “Alright kid, that's enough. We’re going to go find your parents and have a little chat with them about your behavior.” The stallion grabbed his left forearm and he was dragged through the energy-charged crowd, all the while trying his best to escape. He barely heard the icy mutterings of the drunken stallion and those around him but young ears prevailed as they always did.

“What is he talking about?”

“The enemy can’t be here… they wouldn’t let them get here. It can’t be.”

“Surely he is mistaken.”

“Honey, maybe we should take his advice and leave.”

“We’ll be fine dear. Our army is big and strong... the enemy won’t get this far.”

Other murmurs were heard around him but no one left the building and continued to enjoy the party. He knew he had to do something and he had to do it fast. Closing his eyes, he brought his muzzle to the offending appendage and bit down. The stallion grunted in pain, releasing his grip enough to allow for quick escape. Wrenching his foreleg from the stallion’s grasp, he quickly improvised his next plan of action.

His eyes scanned the crowd and eyed his prize: The stage, where a singer and her band provided the atmosphere for the entire party. With his course already determined, he scrambled through the legs of startled ponies, all the while losing the fancy stallion in the crowd. He leapt up onto the stage, startling the singer and the band. The music stopped, lending him the brief lull he needed to be heard.

“The enemy is coming! We need to go—everypony needs to leave now!”His high-pitched proclamation was met with confusion, anger, and more than a bit of fear.

“Who let the kid get on the stage?” asked a musician. “Someone get him off.”

“Don’t listen to him! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!”

“Yes, just enjoy the party!” said another, “the night is still young!”

“No you all don’t understand!” He screamed as he felt tears well up. “You all need to leave!”

“Somebody get him off. He’s disturbing the party,” a snotty mare said, waving a fan in her face while sticking her nose up.

“Yeah, get him out of here, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“Somepony find his parents! They need to give him a stern talking too.”

“He probably doesn’t have parents with how he’s acting. Look at how dirty his clothes are.”

“He’s probably looking for attention.”

The voices continued to build upon each other, rising into a deafening crescendo of argument. This wasn’t working. They weren’t listening. He couldn’t spend more time arguing, he had to get them all out.

“No, please listen to me!” He pleaded, banging his hoof on the stage, trying to get the crowd to settle down. But still the crowd kept chatting and ignored him.

“Go home!”

“Honestly, kids these days.”

“Could someone pass over a new glass? I’m gonna need a few more shots.”

“Everypony please listen to meeee—” He was cut off as he was picked up by the scruff. A white-coated mare with a blonde mane and emerald green eyes glared back at him. She was not happy.

He wriggled about violently in an attempt to break the ironclad grip on his neck but he had all the success expected from a pubescent colt fighting against an adult, so he tried Plan B: Beg.

“Please miss, you have to understand! We have to go—please listen! Please!” He felt the pull of tears at his eyes. PLEASE LISTEN!

For a brief second, he saw a flash of sympathy in the mare’s emerald eyes. I’m sorry, they seemed to say. Then they hardened and the sympathy evaporated as if it was never there to begin with.

“Get off the stage.” She walked him over to the side of the stage and dropped him, where he was met by the bouncer/guard he had evaded when he had entered the building.

The bulky stallion was the visage of contained anger, towering over the colt. He felt tears matting the soft fur on his face. The endless determination he had possessed earlier was starting to fade and in its place, he felt only the icy grasp of bleak depression.

Why is nopony listening? he thought. I’m trying to save them!

“Please listen, you're all going to die if you don't leave now!” He cried out once more.

“That’s quite enough out of you,” said the bulky stallion. “You’ve caused enough trouble already.”

“Yes, finally—take him outside.”

“Good riddance.”

“Wait! Listen—do you all hear that?” The distressed voice of a stallion rose over the din of the crowd, barely heard but heard nonetheless. He strained his ears to hear what it was the stallion had heard. The bulky stallion had stopped to hear as well. Then he did: The deep thump and thunder of artillery in the distance.

“The kid was right! The war is here!” And so began the spread of unrest and fear in the crowd. It was as if somepony had shouted Fire! Some gathered their families around them, some looked for the nearest exit, and some didn’t move at all, uninterested in the commotion around them.

“See! We have to get out of here!” The colt exclaimed, the bulky stallion having dropped him in the commotion.

He met the eyes of many others and he read the emotions of every single pair. Annoyance, anger, frustration, but one above all others—fear. So he summoned all the courage within him and said one thing. “Anypony who wants to live, follow me. We have to go now and for those that don't, you will only have yourself to blame when you die.”

A simple statement, but the possibility of death spurred action from many of the ponies around him. His eyes met with the people that remained and he felt an emotion akin to sorrow bubble up within him.

He turned back to the door he came through, a large group of ponies in tow. He ran, without looking back. Even as the ground rumbled its empathy to the approaching explosions, he ran and the others ran with him. Towards ‘outside’—the realm of the living.

The street outside was flooded with a large wave of ponies. Not a moment too soon as the middle of the building erupted like a volcano as it was hit by an enemy projectile. Screams of confusion and fear resounded in his ears painfully as he scraped his way to the other side of the street.

His gaze turned back to the exit, watching as more and more ponies rushed out from the building. A familiar fancy stallion caught his eye, galloping as fast as he could. The explosion compounded on itself, throwing shards of concrete and wood everywhere. He watched as he was swallowed by the flames along with all those unfortunate enough to be behind him.

He didn’t move from his spot, collapsing on the floor, panting heavily as recently arrived guards evacuated all of the civilians in the vicinity. He didn’t move when a strong hoof prodded at his shoulder and he didn’t react when that same hoof wrapped around him and threw him over its owner’s back.

They were led past a tank escort and then loaded onto an army transport vehicle. Once he was on board he was placed in a seat along with several other survivors. The soldier who was carrying him dropped him off with a quick parting of - “It’s all going to be alright.” A lie.

He could lie too, so he responded with - “I know” as he pulled up his hood to bring himself some comfort and hide his face somewhat.

A soldier climbed in and shut the doors to the vehicle. A few quick bangs on the closed door was enough to alert the driver that it was secured. The transport pulled away a few moments later, following the tank escort.

A light shown in the transport as it rumbled along. It illuminated all the dirt in the air. The air was thick and heavy in the quiet atmosphere. Everyone was simply glad to be alive as they talked quietly.

“These ponies say that if it wasn’t for you, they would all be dead.” A soldier comforted him with a pat to the back.

Recognizing the soldier as one he met before in the reserves he gave a forced, tired smile and leaned onto the soldier on his right.

“What you did was very brave.” The guard pressed his muzzle up to his ear. “I don’t think I could’ve done that.”

“But there were still some that didn’t make it.” His voice was strained but his eyes were clear; he had run out of tears to shed some time ago.

“But look at all the ponies who did.” The guard waved his hoof around the vehicle. “And there’s even more in the other transports.”

He looked around at the hoofful of ponies he had saved, all of them having relieved smiles on their faces; the smiles of those who had seen the face of death and escaped with their lives. A few foals were sitting on their parent’s laps. A few couples were leaning against each other for comfort. Some were simply happy to be alive.

But as the transport rumbled along, he couldn’t help but think back to the ones that didn’t make it. The flames had burned themselves into his mind. Even though many had heeded his warning, those that hadn’t… they were dead now. He couldn’t help but feel as if he had inexorably doomed them to a fate they hadn’t deserved.

So with his task done, he buried his head in the broad back of the soldier and sniffled, having a moment of silence for the ones that were dead. For the ones that didn’t make it; for the ones he didn’t save.

They arrived at the entrance to the underground bunker and were led off the transport and into the fortification.

The reek assailed him the second he had stepped hoof into the bunker. The concrete sanctuary had little in the way of ventilation, leaving the sickening smell of close-packed, healthy and injured ponies alike to hang in the air. It was completely unfamiliar and unwelcome.

All the rooms he had passed were filled to the brim with ponies, all huddled around each other. He felt the press of bodies around him as he and the surviving party goers were herded further into the facility, the ground shaking around them. Occasionally dust would fall, completing the atmosphere.

The bunker smelled, he smelled, everypony smelled. So his nose shutdown, just like most of his other senses had done earlier. Touch was meaningless and sound was constant in its tedium—the thumps and blasts of artillery and projectiles along with the rumble of heavy machinery from above began to blend together with the cries of distress from foals and the constant shouting of orders from the guards.

Now here he was, lost with strange ponies in a stranger place. A place that would undoubtedly become their coffin once the doors were shut to the outside. If the enemy didn’t kill them, they would run out of food and kill themselves from within.

As he strode down the corridor with his head down, he eyed the ponies around him. To his left was a family with a quartet of rascous foals, all frolicking around their parents legs like a war wasn’t happening outside. Behind him were several different mares and stallions who were chatting in quiet tones with one another and to his right was a familiar face. His teacher, the one that assigned him to save those party goers.

They exchanged brief nods with each other before being escorted into one of the many pony-filled rooms they had passed, on their tour through the facility.

He settled onto his haunches, back nearly pressed against the cold concrete wall. He looked at the stallion sitting across from him, waiting for something, anything. Searching for some sign of his teacher’s normal verbosity. Then he got it.

“A little birdie tells me you didn’t save all the ponies. I faintly recall asking you to save all of the ponies in that building did I not?” His teacher didn’t miss a beat, not waiting for any sort of response. With all the grace of an ursa major, his teacher settled in across from him.

“Sir, I tried to tell them—”

“Ah ah ah,” the stallion said, shaking his head in ‘mock’ admonishment. “I don’t want any excuses. I’m just trying to understand why you didn’t follow my directions. Maybe you are hard of hearing? I said all of the ponies—not some, but all.” The stallion waved his hoof around the room of ponies. “Does that look like all to you?”

More ponies were escorted into the room, each face different than the last but all of them were fearful; he was sure his face looked the same as theirs but for an entirely different reason. “They wouldn’t listen. They wouldn’t listen.” He nervously repeated as he looked into the eyes of the much larger stallion next to him. “I tried to tell them, and they wouldn’t listen.”

No forgiveness was found in his teacher’s eyes. The red irises hardened. A muzzle pressed itself against his ear. “You failed me and this is not the first time. Your ‘best’ was not good enough. It never has been and never will. You’re lucky the masters want you alive or I would have disposed of you a long time ago!”

His body shivered involuntary, his throat constricting painfully as his voice got caught in his throat. Tears begin to form in his eyes for once again thinking of the lives he didn’t save. His head bowing in shame as tears ran down his face.

“Lay off of him!” A white hoof entered his vision. He heard a grunt from his teacher and his eyes widened. Then there was a beautiful pair of emerald eyes staring back worriedly.

“Are you alright?” He barely heard the whisper but he nodded in reply regardless.

A whisk of blonde away and he was staring at the barrel of his savior, the mare straddling over him protectively. He recognized those eyes. It was the singer. He closed his eyes and listened.

“What the buck is wrong with you!”

“This doesn’t concern you, citizen.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, we are both citizens and adults. And you're damn wrong this doesn’t concern me! You were just yelling at a colt—one that saved half of the ponies in this room!”

“There would be more ponies in this room if it wasn’t for him!” He felt the mare huff, her body pressing closer to the ground.

“If it wasn’t for him, there would be no ponies in this room! What kind of sick, pathetic stallion are you!?”

“I’m his teacher.”

“Helluva teacher you turned out to be!” said a squeaky voice.

He looked around for the new speaker and to his surprise, found one of the foals he saw earlier; a filly, with a blended beige coat, interspersed with splotches of brown.

“Oi, Cunt look at me when I’m talkin’ to you!”

If his teacher was angry before, he was positively enraged now. His red eyes darkened and a faint black mist poured from them. “You best watch your tongue filly, lest you lose it—”

“Head down!” A spear entered his vision, pressed to the head of his teacher. The wielder was a guard, clad in the typical shining platinum armor representative of the order.

His teacher’s horn flared up, grasping him, the singer, and the filly. It was short lived, the butt of a spear slamming into the side of his head. The large unicorn collapsed, cradling his head before glaring up at the guard.

“I don’t want any horse dung—lets go!” A hoof wrapped around his teacher, hoisting him to his hooves. Crimson eyes met green eyes in a battle of wills. Crimson won, promising a world of pain the next time they met before his teacher was led out the door.

Only when he looked around did he realize all of the ponies in the room were looking at him. The filly walked up to him and the mare got up off of him.

“You alright mate?”

He wiped at the corners of his eyes as he rolled onto his stomach and faced the filly. He was in for it the next time he talked to his teacher. He brought his gaze up to the concerned states of the mare and filly in front of him.

“I’ll be okay. Thanks for the assist.”

The filly scoffed. “Assist. Puh-lease, me and my aunt did all the heavy liftin’. What was that bastard's problem anyways?”

The colt eyed the filly suspiciously. She acted older than her age but that didn’t mean she was older. “He’s my teacher; that's unfortunately the only one I have.”

“What’s he supposed to be teaching you then?” asked the singer, concern mixing with the anger in her voice.

He pondered this for a second on how to best answer her. “Organizing evacuations and creating revolutions,” he answered as his best summary. “But my teacher Elktrona never tells me how to communicate to people in the best way possible so I just have to hope for the best; that they will listen.”

“But sometimes that doesn’t work out like today and some ponies die and he would yell at me for it.” He went on, stomping a hoof. “Even though I try my best.”

His memory started to plague him with his teacher's menacing eyes as they glow a dark red color. A black mist waving in his eyes. The white and purple tear streaks cascading down his face started to glow a darker purple. The white turning to black.

His teacher’s voice repeated in his head from other times beforehand.

“That’s not good enough!” He would shout. “You should have done better.”

“I did my best!” He would argue to his teacher, “A lot of ponies still made it out.”

“But still not all of them!” His teacher boomed, “you should have tried harder.”

“What was I supposed to do? They weren’t listening so I only took the ones that were.”

“You should have been able to get them all out!! Now it’s your fault they are all dead. It’s your fault they all died in that building. It’s your fault they all burned to death. It’s your fault you weren’t smart enough to save them all.”

“But I did the best I could Elktrona sir.” He said his voice cracking as he started to break down.

The colt having been stressed out enough already started breathing heavily.

“Your best wasn’t good enough to save those citizens and now they’re dead.”

“It’s your fault.”

“It’s your fault!”

“IT’S YOUR FAULT!!”

“IT’S YOUR FAULT!!!”

The colt coming out of his trance rested his forehead on his legs and cried into his hooves, his tears renewed.

“What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?” He asked out loud to himself but no one responded.