A Gift: 1View OnlineThe Cursed little DollA Gift: 1Author's Note Junii's POV A Gift: 1 . I open the door to my own room, before I am stepping into the room; closing the door behind myself, only to see a large package on top of my bed. ”Yay!” I exclaim, as I lay eyes on the gift. The box had been wrapped in glossy and glittery paper, just as a gift is supposed to. It even has the bow on the top. Otherwise, it is basically just a large box, on the top of my bed. My bed is neatly made, by my mother in the morning; with deep green bed-linen, fresh and clean. She does this every morning, for me. I have to step over the green Linoleum floor, in order to get to the bed. It’s just a short walk, a few steps into my fairly small room. My bed is to the right. The wall is covered with semi dark, greyish blue wallpaper. Once I reach the bed, I stop, leaning over the package; just ogling at it, for a moment as I am savouring the moment. It is not every day, I am given a gift; even if I have them at the few special occasions, like my birthday. This is none of these occasions. After a moment, I am lifting it up into the air before me; giving it a slight shake, before I am putting it back on the top of my bed. Now I am examining it, for the seams; and how best to open it, by myself. After all; I do have no pair of scissors, or any other sharp object with which to open the package. ”I will have to rip it up, in order to see what they gave me!” I ponder. Sometimes, the sheer surprise is part of the fun; and the anticipation, of what is inside is part of the experience. I am trying to prolong the moment, just a little bit further; before I am ripping the first flap open, in order to see what is inside. Once I have ripped the first one up, I continue to rip the next; before I continue, by turning the package around. Flap by flap; until I can unfold the wrapping paper. A store-front box is soon revealed; a Pony, by the looks of it. ”Pinkie Pie” the label reads. ”Pinkamena Diane Pie” is the Pony, I had been given. ”She is large!” I ponder; as I am looking at the box, in obvious wonder. ”Of course; this is the original package, she had been sold in!” I mumble. While it is indeed the original package, there is no sign of what it had cost; just as well, I don’t need to know the price. It is the thought, that counts; and the joy I will have, playing with the toy I had been given. Even I know that. ”This is by far, the biggest toy I have ever been given!” I ponder, as I am looking at it’s casing. After a moment, of ogling the package; I start examine the box, in search for how I am supposed to open it. It will take me some time; but I try to make this moment last, just enjoying to be given a gift. Based on the design, of the package she is stored in; I have to open it, by pulling up a flap on the top of her containment. It feels, almost as if it had been a prison. With just a bit of effort, on my part; I manage to pull the flap up, opening the package. Inside, I find another package; comprised out of two halves, a back and a front. She is kept in place, by the halves pressing together. A moment later, I am pulling the inner package up, out of the outer casing; finding the two halves splitting apart, just as I had been expecting. This is a fairly standardized package, I have before me; for most dolls, and similar toys a girl could like to play with. As I am pulling the inner package out, a slip of paper is falling out. I notice a stern warning, printed onto the slip of paper. ”Feed her a Muffin, a day!” the label reads. ”Because Cup Cake” is the subtitle. ”A Muffin?” I ponder; ”How do I get her a muffin, and where do I get the muffin from?” I consider. Maybe, I could ask Mum for one. Still; I will have to come up with a muffin, each day. ”Cup Cake?” I ponder; ”What does that even mean?” I consider. Of course; maybe I should have seen the clip on the You Tube, but I had not seen it yet. I have in fact never even heard of the reference before. I could have thrown the slip of paper away, and flatly ignored the warning. I could have, yes. For now, I keep it; leaving it on the night-stand, by the side of my bed. For now, I am focusing my attention on the pink plastic Pony before me. Of course, it is Pinkie Pie; Pink, and with the tightly curled up mane. She is smiling, from ear to ear. ”How could a Horse smile this wide?” I ponder, as I look at the Pinkie Pie doll before me. I had split the inner casing; before I had picked her up, placing her on my bed. ”Whoa!!” I exclaim. The doll is not feeling like plastic, and she is quite warm to the touch. Not exactly burning hot; but hot enough to stand out, scaring me. Besides; it isn’t as if it was heat generated from a faulty circuit or battery, either. It’s more of an overall heat, from a living and breathing being. As if she had been a pet? After a moment, I imagine I see her wink at me; almost as if she is recognizing me, as her owner. I take a step back, considering the situation; trying to make sense out of everything, that is going on around me. Just as I am looking at her, she is once more winking at me; I am sure I am not mistaken, she is winking at me directly. It is, as if she is saying something, to me. Just that she can’t speak, in words. ”How do I even respond, to this?” I ponder. I could always pretend I had not seen it, but somehow I don’t think I have that option. Not with her, not with Pinkie Pie. It isn’t that I know her, Pinkie Pie all that well; but something just makes it clear, there is no pretending it is raining with her. I feel a shudder, running down my spine; just as her message is hitting home, and I know I can’t ignore it or pretend I had not heard her. ”Am I imagining things?” I ponder; ”I know I am a little girl, and that I am supposed to play pretend as I play with my little dolls!” I consider. Only this, is no ordinary little doll. It is in fact not a mere little doll at all. I look into her blue eyes. I see something in there. It’s not a painted on eye, or even one of these pretty glass eyes you sometimes have on dolls. She is watching me, and I know it. ”The eyes are the mirror, to the soul!” I consider; half by half believing it, and half by half questioning it now. If I were to say, that she is smiling; it is not merely painted on, or the moulded plastic she had been made out of. Somehow, for some reason; she is actually smiling at me, but more as if she had been laughing with me than at me. ”Does she understand?” I ponder, and she just nods. While the heat of her body had initially been discomforting, I guess she is growing on me; bit by bit, and making me feel more and more comfortable with having her in the room. Is it just the warm smile, on her face, or is it something more? Something less tangible and hard to put a finger on? Nonetheless; she is smiling, not grinning. ”These innocent, big, blue eyes; the kind of eyes, a girl could be drowning in?” I find myself pondering, as my gaze slowly is drawn towards her. She is looking directly at me, clearly recognizing me. How, or why she is recognizing me; is beyond me, but it is obvious, nonetheless, she is recognizing me. For now, she is staying silent, quiet; saying nothing, at all. She is just looking at me, with these huge, blue eyes of hers. A smile spreading out over her face. ”Why does she need a Muffin each day?” I ponder; and she is winking at me, as if she had been knowing what I was thinking. How could she? I had not even spoken, or pronounced the words. She just knew, as if it had already happened before. ”I guess; I will just have to ask Mum, for that Muffin!” I put forth, and she is nodding. ”Did she just try to say yes?” I ponder, and she once more is winking at me, distinctly; as if it had been a conscious response, to something I had said, or in this case thought. There is it again; the shudder running down the entire length of my spine, just a very cold chill this time. I am not used, to my toys actively reacting; to what I say, do or think. Some more fancy toys may speak or sing; on specified commands or stimuli. This is not anything the likes of that. She is acting, as if she had understood something I had said. It may be in a very limited fashion, but the intent is clear as the light of day. All my toys are more regular dolls and figurines; possibly with a few accessories, coming with them. Some wear clothes, and some have something else like a home with them. I guess, I would love for one of them to have a voice of her own, but for now I am not holding up much hope for it. To me, the doll is a physical representation of a character; to which I can apply fantasies, with which I can interact as I am playing with the doll. Most of my dolls are intended to play with, in the open; while a few seems to be intended more as decorative pieces. Of course; these are the figurines, I have on a shelf. These are quite pretty. None of the toys I have can measure up; comparing with this Pinkie Pie, standing on my bed. It is not just the beautiful eyes and the expressive smile on her face; but I do love the tightly curled up mane and tail, both in a deep pink. ”Wonder if I will need to comb or brush her mane and tail, or if I dare to, afraid I will ruin them?” I ponder. This is when the impossible happens. It is not just that she is moving the tail, but I can see the mane move, as if the hair is reaching for something. ”Whoa?!” I exclaim, quietly. I did not see, what I think I just saw? This is, exactly when she is winking at me. It feels, almost as if she had been laughing at me. ”Does today count, or do I have a full day?” I ponder; a day is considered twenty-four hours, not just until the sun goes down. All of a sudden, I notice her ears flopping; in something akin to a Morse code, as if she had been trying to speak. She tried to convey a message; more complex than winkings and nods could deliver, to me. Somehow, she looks frustrated, with how she could not yet speak the words. I guess, I could not blame her. ”Are you missing, the ability to speak; so you could explain something, to me?” I inquire, hoping she would respond. She nods, vigorously. ”I could ask her specific questions, and she could confirm or deny my assumptions?” I ponder. ”Maybe, I should start from the beginning!” I ponder; ”Do you understand, what I am saying?” I inquire. She winks, giggling; then she is nodding, quite vigorously. ”Your name, is Pinkamena Diane Pie?” I inquire, she nods; ”Okay, I knew that!” I ponder, giggling. ”Are you a strawberry farmer?” I inquire; she shakes her head, emphatically and frowns at me. ”Baking muffins?” I inquire.
The Muffin: 2View OnlineThe Cursed little DollThe Muffin: 2Author's Note Pinkie Pie's POV The Muffin: 2 . Apparently; she had managed to get her hands, on the Muffin I require. How and why, but she had presented me, with this one Muffin. Before she had gone to bed. While she had asked me numerous questions, she had told me very little. Why she had asked these questions, one could only guess; though I know she had seen the instruction, and chose to make sure I had what I need. Now, the Muffin is standing on a clean, white plate; peeled, and ready for me to enjoy. It does indeed stand before me; where I am standing, as she is going to bed. Just the one small detail, I am just a doll; until the time, as the bell is starting to toll its sentence. “That does look good!” I ponder, as I am ogling the Muffin before me. Since I can not move, I can but ogle the treat before me and mentally lick my lips. I can’t even do as much as lick my lips, as I am waiting for the time. I hear the clock, as the seconds are ticking by; one by one, as the time is approaching. “Tick, tock; tick, tock!” I hear, the seconds peeling in my head. An hour before the time, of Midnight; I notice a shoulder Angel popping into existence on my right shoulder, and a shoulder Daemon on my left shoulder. The Angel is looking exactly like Rarity, for some reason. I can see the radiant, white coat of fur covering her entire form. Her brilliant blue eyes, fixing me in her gaze. “Just a little bit more; the Muffin is right before your very muzzle, in less than an hour it is yours!” she points out. “Forget the Muffin; you can take the girl, instead!” the Daemon is cooing, seductively. ”..And give up everything she could offer?” the Angle retorts; “This one sweet end delicious Muffin is just the first of many!” the Angle continues. “This is just one Muffin, but you can’t expect her to hold up the deal!” the Daemon proclaims, maintaining its position. I am shaking my head vigorously, in flat denial of this one latest claim. While I can not answer directly, bound by the spell. At least, I had found this one outlet; I can respond, even in this very limited fashion. “If she would fail to deliver, on the promise; I am forced to do, what I have to do!” I ponder, knowing exactly how horrific the deed would be. At least, I still have time. This Muffin does look delicious to me; knowing it should stay fresh and viable to me, for at least a few more hours. “If only she could see me, eating the Muffin!” I ponder; “if she could see, just how much I am enjoying her gift?” I consider. Yet; I am held in place, rigid like the doll I am. I can not escape, the bounds the spell had placed upon me. Each second, counted; as if it had been a grain of rise or a speck of gold, measured on scale belonging to a Queen or Goddess? I am trapped within its grip. As a Doll, I stand rigid and firm in place; incapable of doing anything, but waiting for that instant as the spell is temporary broken. “The Ghostly hour; between midnight and one o’clock in the morning!” I ponder; “Or, maybe; it is the hour of the wolf, when everything is revealed, but far too late to do anything about it!” I then add. This, is one of the critical instances; just like twilight, is the instant between what is possible and what is not. I focus on that one Muffin, before me; ignoring the squabbles, between the right and the left. If I fall pray for the temptation; then who am I, am I still the one I had prided myself to be? “Maybe, just maybe; this is my Twilight, as my fate is about to be set?” I ponder, trembling before what is about to come. “The Muffin does smell delicious!” I mumble, to myself. The closer to the set time, exactly at midnight I come; the stronger I sense the scent of the muffin, set before me. While I can not yet move, or even truly speak; I feel, how my skin is growing softer. “Tick, tock; tick, tock; tick, tock!” I hear the seconds, as if they had been the thunder striking the ground where I stand. The ominous sense of the time, how the instant is growing closer; is rapidly changing everything, to me. I feel, how it is growing closer, closer and closer. “I am Pinkie Pie, the Element of Laughter!” I tell myself; “I love sweet and sugary treats; this Muffin is currently at the top, of my list!” I point out. I feel the Angel and Daemon, slowly growing desperate; as the time is slipping them by, as if I am waiting, for the promised price. Of course, I am waiting, I can do nothing else right now; but I guess it is that price before me, the Muffin I am still waiting for. “By Celestia, that Muffin does look delicious!” I point out, a few minutes before the time is before me. As I am affording the Angel and the Daemon a side-glance; I notice how the peeling of the time, is taking its toll on them. Had I been a lesser Pony, maybe I would have found amusement in this; but as it is, I can’t quite bring myself to laugh at their fate now. I want to laugh, with them; not at them, as the case would have been now. Oh, well; I can do nothing for them, now or at any other time. I am trapped in my position, still a frigid plastic doll. “Maybe I could have asked them; how I came to be here, or how they came to be who and where they are right now?” I ponder. Maybe it is for the better, not to know. The seconds continue to tick by, and I stay rigidly in place. Just as Midnight is upon me; the Daemon and the Angle is exploding and evaporation. Their task completed, whether they succeeded, or failed. They did, what they could. Now, the choice is mine. My eyes, locked upon the price before me; the Muffin, she had managed to place before me. It is indeed still looking just as delicious, as it had as she placed it before me. A moment later, I feel my body no longer rigid plastic; I take a step forwards, towards the Muffin before me. I take another step, and another; until I am reaching the Muffin before me, stopping to enjoy the scent of the Price before me. Would they come back, tomorrow; by the time I am promised, a new Muffin? Or, does the quality of this muffin, determine their fate; in more ways, than one? I have no idea, and I do not afford them an instant of thought; as I stand before the promised Muffin, enjoying its last moment. No. I do not intend, to merely swallow it whole; I intend to saviour every single bite of it, for as long as I can. “Why waste this one moment?” I ponder; “it is my first Muffin, and it is looking delicious!” I ponder, with a final sniff in the air; “I am going to enjoy this moment, for all it is worth!” I conclude; as I lower my muzzle, towards the surface of the Muffin before me. I take a measured bite, out of the Muffin before me; chewing it down, slowly. Then I take another one, and another, and another. “Oups, I have nothing to drink!” I realize, a few minutes in. My throat is starting to grow dry; but I continue eating, until the entire Muffin is devoured. I lick my lips, as I swallow down the last of my Muffin. “That was a Feast!” I conclude. With my belly full; my hunger, is quenched. I am free, to move around and play all night. “Maybe, just maybe; I should show her my appreciation, in some way!” I ponder. I feel so alive. For now, I am no mere plastic toy. I am warm, in the manner a living Pony would be; not an internally heated toy, or doll.
A Sweet, Sweet surprise: 3View OnlineThe Cursed little DollA Sweet, Sweet surprise: 3Author's Note Junii's POV A Sweet, Sweet surprise: 3 . I thought; I had heard some strange and unexplainable, squeaky noises. I just could not quite put a finger; on how and why, these noises had been in my room. I know I am alone in the room. ”My Mother would not sneak into my room, quite this early?” I ponder. As a matter of fact, she never sneaked into my room; she only entered the room, if and when she needed to speak to me or wake me up. “Wait; what was that?” I ponder. “Whoa!!” I exclaim; as I realize the warm body belongs, to the doll named Pinkie Pie. Only now, she is lying partially under my quilt; affectionately nuzzling me, where she lies. I feel the even warmth, I would have felt from a little cat; not the internally heated doll, I had seen the other day. Now I scan the room, for where I had left her the other night; both the Muffin, and the Doll had vanished. Not as much as a single dry crumb of the Muffin remains. Someone had enjoyed the Muffin. “Thank you!” she mumbles, in the high-pitched voice we all know as Pinkie Pie. “Uhm..” I exclaim; “But, how did you even get into my bed?” I inquire. “I trotted over; and jumped up, onto the bed!” she promptly concedes. “Oh!” I respond. “I love the Muffin!” she points out. “She talks?” I ponder, as it had finally hit home; “I will not have to put more effort, into devising means to communicate with her; since she can talk to me, from now on!” I realize, in relief. “I love muffins..” she now points out; “and I am so glad; you managed to give me one, just in time!” she adds. “Anything, for you, Pinkie!” I respond; “Though I guess it would have been fun; to see you enjoy it, if you do not mind?” I inquire. “I could not be up, at that late hour, even if I had wanted to; had I been told, about this!” I point out. “I know!” she points out; “Maybe it was for the better; just in case, you had seen what came just before!” she then tries to console me. “What happened before?” I inquire. “Yes!” she points out; “You see; I was tempted, to do something I could not bear doing...” she points out, now sniffling, at the thought, of what she could have been doing. “If it is that horrible; maybe it is better; you don’t tell me!” I respond. “Yes, it was; at least, to me it was terrible!” she explains, emphatically. “I chose the Muffin; not just because I love Muffins, but because I want to be your friend!” she offers. “As your friend; I can give you a Muffin, tomorrow and every day!” I offer; “I just need to come up with; how to get my hands, on a Muffin I can offer you!” I continue. “I could have baked a ton of Muffins, if only I had a kitchen, and the required ingredients!” she offers. “The ingredients, would be the easy part; I could have bought these, all by myself!” I conceded; “Even if I guess some would wonder, why I was buying them!” I continue. “Eggs, sugar and flour?” she puts forth; “I can see, how you could buy these hooves down!” she continues. “Yes, just regular food-items; nothing strange about them!” I respond; “Just that I am to young, to be expected to need these!” I point out. “Oh yes; I would not send a filly, to buy these!” she points out; “Even if, I guess there is nothing; preventing her, from buying them!” she continues. “On second thought; maybe I could buy a package of frozen Muffins, if they have them specifically!” I mumble, to myself; “I just don’t know, if they have Muffins; or how I could store them for the last one to still be good, to be presented by the last day!” I continue. “A Muffin only lasts, edible; for a few days, at best!” she explains. “That is, what I was afraid of!” I respond. “Letting the Muffins go bad, is not good; but what is good, is to hug a Friend!” she points out. “Yeah; you do get me, there!” I respond. I just could not quite shake, that I had seen her as a plastic doll. Now she is a living Pony, moving around on my bed; talking to me, as if she had been alive and fully sentient. Maybe I could imagine, that it had all been a weird dream; either seeing her as the doll before, or as a Pony now? At least; either would have been easier on me now, but I can’t quite wrap my head around it all. She moves, like the Pony I see before me; speaking to me, as if she had been there all along. I just can not quite compare her speech, to anything I know. Ponies does not speak, at all; not in terms I can understand, at least. How old or mature is she? At least, her size had not changed; significantly, at least. When she is touching me, now; she is soft to the touch, and warm. She genuinely wants to hug me, like a friend. Or family? “Whoa?” I ponder, as I feel her flesh against me; I feel bones under muscles, in place of the plastic I had previously expected. She just giggles, as she notices my reaction; knowing exactly how I feel, instinctively. I can’t even start to imagine; how it is, to know my friends on the level, she apparently does. It feels, as if she knew me; better, than even I know myself. It is a curious sensation, and feeling; I can’t quite put a finger on. She may be just a bit too small, even for me; to make an actual hug, embracing her as I wish I could have. Yet, she manages to get close enough, to me, to embrace me with confidence and comfort. “How does she even do this?” I ponder.
Close: 4View OnlineThe Cursed little DollClose: 4Author's Note Pinkie Pie's POV Close: 4 . Of course, I had been close to her; while I had been eating, and enjoying the Muffin. The very one, she had given to me. I had enjoyed it, once I had been free to move. As I ate the Muffin, something had changed. I had developed a relation, a bond to the girl who gave the Muffin to me. Maybe she had not known it, at the time; but I had felt it, most certainly. The fact, that I had been given the Muffin changed something within me as I ate it; but it is in the close proximity, to the girl creating the bond with her. The Muffin merely sated my hunger; while her presence made her my friend. She had made an effort, into becoming my friend; even before she knew or understood. Now the bond is sealed; though breaking it, would have even more serious repercussions. While I had consumed the given treat, the Muffin; I had become flexible, but the effect never wore off as expected. Mainly due to her presence, and the bond between the two of us. “Is there another, like me?” I ponder; “If so, who is or was she?” I continue. I had to acknowledge the fact; that the other or others like me could have been destroyed, because of who and what they are, as well. Just as they could have been destroyed, by unrelated circumstances. Such is life. If the next one, like me is in the same image and out of the same mould; she will respond to the same stimuli, and require the same treat as I require. Since I am Pinkie Pie, I require my daily Muffin; just as I am responding favourably to friendship, while unfavourably to a broken promise. Each of us, comes with a set of rules; hidden or overtly explained. While I had been asking, for only that one Muffin; it did specify little else, as to the flavour and quality of the Muffin. Just that Friendship stipulates; that you give something of the quality, you yourself would have enjoyed. Her friendship had set me free, at least temporarily. At least, for now I am free to move; for as long as she is close by, and my friend. I knew, the package I had arrived in is still very much intact; even if she knew nothing of its significance, or what it is or what it could potentially do. With me, and to me. However, I knew; even if I am not actively thinking of it, and am consciously unaware of this. I can as well ignore it. Can’t I? Just as she enjoys my company, I enjoy the company she is offering me. I had not changed, physically; maybe I never will, but who is to say? The muffin, asked for in my name; I had been given, and one of flesh and blood. Maybe not quite literally, but in a figurative stance. Just as the real muffin it had been, before I had eaten it; it had been baked out of sugar and flour, like actual pastry an adult may give you as a treat. She is not an adult, but am I? I may have been seen as a toy, a doll for a little girl; would this logic have applied to her, if she had seen the image before she gave me that muffin the other day? I can not say, yet I guess I would have been curious; had the thought crossed my mind, that is. To a little girl, her doll is real; playing with her doll, a plastic muffin could have been real pastry to her doll too. Did I live in a world of make-believe? A world, where one’s imagination turns plastic into real life. As a toy, life can be cheap as the plastic one had been made out of; but it can be as warm, as the little girl who is playing with you. This world can be cold, it can be cruel; but if I have a say, it will be a warm place for fun and game. There should also be pastries on the side, just to ensure the game is indeed fun. My name is Pinkamena Diane Pie, but call me Pinkie; I throw parties right and left, for any and every friend in sight. Betray a promise, and you are on your own; a broken promise, is the fastest way to break trust and kill your friend. Okay, friendship. While I am seen smile, heard giggle; but I can roar, and beware my bite. Just as I may be pink, I can be cuddly; yet, I can crush a boulder as easy as that. Do not be that bolder; you will have no time to change your mind, or to regret the mistake.
Muffin, turned Cup Cake: 5View OnlineThe Cursed little DollMuffin, turned Cup Cake: 5Author's Note Junii's POV Muffin, turned Cup Cake: 5 . For some reason, I am finding myself reading the news paper, just after breakfast. Maybe it is for the better, I am reading this article after breakfast. Maybe it is the cover-image, that drew me in; the image of a pink little doll, a miniature of Pinkie Pie smiling. If only this had been the true story, of this particular article. Sadly, it isn’t. The image, portraying Pinkie Pie, with a cupcake before her. She is still smiling like always. Why shouldn’t she? She is after all Pinkie Pie. Isn’t she? As I read, I follow the link down to the article within the paper. The link, to where they will be revealing the real news; after they hooked you, on the colourful image, and a short depiction intended to make you want to read. ”Muffin, turned Cupcake” I read; ”Page 05” I continue, flipping the pages to the specific article. Maybe it is the word Muffin that caught my attention, first; the word Cupcake causing me to follow the link. Maybe, just maybe; I do not know, but I had just followed the link to the specific article in the paper before me. At the top of the article, is a photo of a doll; just like my Pinkie Pie, but I can’t make out the size of her in the image. Of course, just as expected; there is a large chunk of text, in several sections of text. Naturally, the following image are inserted into the body of text, lighting the mood. I guess, this is a trick; made up, to make the text easier to digest. It works, I think. I notice a picture of a muffin, delicious looking; just like the one, I had given my Pinkie Pie last night. She had enjoyed it, or so she had told me. Though Pinkie Pie isn’t the pony known to lie. What would be the fun, in that? Another picture is depicting a large, not quite so delicious Cupcake; with its frosting, looking like something in between ketchup and old and dry blood. The final picture, just too horrifying for me, to consider; so I avert my gaze instinctively, before it has the time to sink in. It’s a graphic depiction; of the home of some poor girl, who apparently failed to deliver the Muffin one day. One very fateful day. Why did I have to see this article? Today, of all days; just the day, after I had been given a doll just like the one in the picture. Who, or what could possibly have orchestrated the scene; perpetrated the acts, creating such grotesque horror? I put the paper away, for now. Not in the mood to read what the article had intended to say. While I may have seen a horror movie or two; but even these feel dwarfed, in comparison with what the article suggested. Or, tried to suggest. Maybe it is, because the filter of make-belief had been removed; since this supposedly happened to real people, not just a scene in a horror movie. I can laugh at the horrid scenes, in the movies; knowing full well and beyond the shadow of a doubt, this had never happened. I had been presented with a choice, and how I react upon what I had been presented with; can and will change my life and the relation I am just forming to Pinkie Pie. The doll in my room, known as Pinkie Pie. Who had given me the present, the day before; did they even know, who and what she truly is? If I ignore the warning, or push it away; it could, and would change our relation to the very core. Even if I tried to deny it. There is no point in denial. What had been presented to me, is real; I can’t ignore it, and I am reacting upon it in any event. If I am aggressive, accusing her; she will be hurt in the process, making her sad I am rejecting her. If I do and say nothing, I am just setting myself up to fail. Does she know, what that doll supposedly did? I can’t know, even with Pinkie Pie. If I ask her, if she had a bad night or a nightmare; would she admit, confess to what may have happened? How would she react, if I ask her? I do not know, but I still need to talk to her; ask her if she knew anything. As a friend, you do ask, trying to help; it is the only way, you can help. Even I know this much. After seeing the images, and adding the article, I can’t help but thinking of her. Pinkie Pie is my friend, after all. It is the Pony and person she is; everything, she had ever strived to be. How could I betray her now? She will need me now, more than ever; just as I need her, as the friend she is. Could one ever get too many friends? She certainly had not managed that feat, even with the effort I knew she had put in making friends. Big, and small; makes no difference to her. Borders, made no difference; more than the colour of one’s skin. She only sees, the potential of friendships; what she is seeing, the persons she is facing. It is a lesson, everyone should learn; since we are bombarded, with notions conflicting with what we should know.
The Element: 6View OnlineThe Cursed little DollThe Element: 6Author's Note Pinkie Pie's POV The Element: 6 . I hear steps, outside the room; knowing exactly who it is, the girl who is my friend. She gave me the delicious Muffin. Now I am sitting in the chair, behind her desk; I had pulled it out, so that I can sit comfortably. The handle is turning down, before the door opens up; the girl enters the room, before she is closing the door behind herself. I can see it in her eyes, there is something bothering her; but I wait, for her to say what it is. Her eyes downcast: betraying her worries, doubts and fears as bright as day. ”Something is bothering you?” I inquire. ”Yes, Pinkie!” I respond; ”I read the news, in the paper; and it seems, as if you were there..” I continue. ”Oh?” I respond. ”Yes..” she offers; ”There is a reason; for the message, that came with the package you were in!” she suggests, almost as if she knew something was wrong. ”There is, and I fear; it’s not of the brighter notes, in my nature!” I concede. ”Why does this sound so ominous, and threatening?” she inquires; as she is looking up, trying to look into my eyes. ”Life, is not just rainbows and sunshine..” I offer, as I reach in into my mane, pulling out a necklace with a balloon pendant; ”believe it, or not; that is not true, even for me..” I continue, as I put on my necklace; ”I am afraid, there is a dark cloud, in my past; one I regret to acknowledge, even as I am facing it..” I conclude; as I reach into my mane, once more, pulling out another necklace, matching my own; handing it over to her, in the hopes she will be accepting the token gift, of our friendship. ”That dark?” she inquires, as she sees the image from the paper before her eyes; ”What is it?” she inquires. ”I was reminded of this, last night; while you lay fast asleep, and I was waiting for the moment I could finally accept the Muffin you gave me..” I explain. ”The Cupcake is a sign, of how I became what I am now; a cursed doll, given to little girls as a bright gift..” I point out; ”That cupcake is the back of the coin; a sign of the curse..” I continue; ”The Muffin is the sign, of who I was; throwing parties left and right to cheer up my numerous friends, and a pastry I baked back in the village of Ponyville!” I explain. ”If the tale known as: Cupcake is real in any possible reality; but even the bare notion is a stain to me and a pain I may be forced to live with!” I explain; shedding a single, dark tear. ”Even I do not know how the curse came to be, or how my consciousness and essence ended up in the doll I am now; but it is who and what I am now!” I concede. Was the doll a mere plastic object, an image of me; or is it something else, something much more dark and sinister? I observe the girl as she is experiencing a chill moving down the length of her spine; as she learns, what she barely dared to suspect or believe. ”By the way, I could help you; putting the necklace on, if you want!” I propose, as I notice how she is fumbling with the clasp. ”Oh, thank you, Pinkie!” she responds, before she even has the time to consider; ”Can she even open the clasp?” she ponders. Just because Pinkie Pie had been the doll, I had pulled out of that package the other day; does not mean that she is a plastic doll, with little to no dexterity, or capable of handling small items. The original Pinkie Pie had demonstrated surprising, unsurpassed abilities and dexterity; in ways that surprised her fellow Ponies back in Ponyville. Just that this is not Ponyville, or even Equestria at large. ”This is the kind of thing, you ask a nearby friend or loved one to help you out with; if they had not already offered to help you, already!” I explain. ”Thank you, Pinkie..” she responds; ”Just that I did not realize, you could perform the task; with a pair of equine hooves, like yours!” she concludes. ”Oh, yeah..” she responds; ”I guess that is a common reaction; I sometimes get, from Unicorns expecting me to write with my mouth!” I offer. ”Does it make you feel, as if they are treating you as if you had been handicapped or disabled; for being an Earthpony, who can not cast spells or fly?” she suggests, in earnest sympathy. ”From a human perspective, I guess that comparison does make sense..” I concede, albeit partially unwillingly so. ”You have neither wings nor horn, so you shouldn’t be capable of performing either..” she puts forth; ”That fits the description of every Earthpony!” she adds. ”Aside from the rare cases, of Pegasi, who can’t fly; but flying is a breeze, I think!” I point out; ”It’s just the walking on clouds; I need a Unicorn’s help with, commonly!” I point out. ”On the other hoof, I am a Pony; not a Horse, like the once I imagine you have experience of!” I point out. ”While my experience of Horses may be limited; but I have never seen a pink Horse, talking to me!” she responds, giggling at the mere notion. ”If you turn around, holding up your hair; I could put the necklace on, for you!” I offer; returning to the original topic, at hoof. ”Sure..” she responds, thinking she had nothing to lose; ”but, where did you even get a necklace from in the first place; one, fitting a Human like me?” she inquires. As she is turning around, she manages to hold the hair over her neck; thus making it easy, for me to reach. I place her necklace around her neck, with the clasp open; closing the clasp, only once the necklace is resting comfortably around her neck. ”There, how does it feel?” I inquire. ”It is quite comfortable; thank you for asking, Pinkie..” she responds; ”but I think, mom will wonder; where I got the necklace from, since she has not seen me wearing it before!” she promptly adds; with just a hint of worry, on her voice. ”I guess, that could be a bit of a problem to explain; since she can’t accept, that I gave it to you?” I respond. ”If the chain had been stainless steel, and the pendant had been plastic; I guess she would have accepted, that it had been part of the accessories you came with..” she concedes; ”But it does neither look, nor feel; as if that had been the case!” she considers. ”No, it most certainly is not made out of such cheap materials..” I confirm; ”this is basically a replica, of my element; but designed for a human to wear, comfortably!” I point out. ”So the crystal is in the shape of your balloon?” she inquires. ”Yes..” I point out; ”On its own, I guess you could consider it a friendship necklace!” I add. ”A friendship necklace?” she ponders; ”I love that!” she then adds. ”Under the present circumstances, that would be quite appropriate..” I point out; ”and as long as the friendship holds, the necklace will not break!” I conclude, with a wide grin. ”How can you say that, and how can you know?” she inquires. ”Because..” I point out; "friendship!” I respond, skipping all the science, I know would just go over her head. The rest, I just can not tell her; not now, and not ever. A promise, as they say. ”Friendship..??..” she utters, the implied question, simply hanging there in the middle of the air. ”Yes! I respond. ”Friendship!” I point out, pointing a hoof at her. She blushes. ”Oh, friendship!” she then mumbles, giggling.
Going Out(Sunshine and Rainbows): 7View OnlineThe Cursed little DollGoing Out(Sunshine and Rainbows): 7Author's Note Junii's POV Going Out(Sunshine and Rainbows): 7 . It is warm, and Sunday afternoon. “It is sunny, outside..” Pinkie exclaims; “you think we could go out?” she inquires. “Yes, it is..” I respond; “Sounds like a good idea; Mom always tell me, I need to get out in the sun more!” I respond. Pinkie is jumping up and down; bouncing like a rubber ball. “They always say that, don’t they?” Pinkie inquires; “but right now, it is a good idea, to go out for a moment!” she concludes. “Yes..” I respond; “I guess it is; looks as if it would be nice, to step out in the sunshine!” I respond. With that, I am walking up to the door, opening it; half by half expecting Pinkie to remain in place; yet, I soon realize she had followed me to the door. Almost like a little Dog, she is staying just a step behind; without even a collar around her neck, or a command. However, she is not trotting; bouncing like a rubber ball, true to herself. “Squeak, squeak, squeak..” is heard, as her diminutive hooves hit the floor. Just that it is a cute and cuddly little noise; not the loud thumps, one would have been expecting from a Horse of any size. “Mom!! I exclaim; informally, without the diminutive; “I’m going outside, for a while..” I continue; as I walk through the house towards the back-door in the living room. “Oh?” she responds; “Okay, Dear..” she continues; “just put on some clothes for the current weather outside?” she inquires. “Yes, Mom..” I respond, as I continue walk over the floor, in the living room. Since it is so warm, and the sun is beaming down; I don’t feel like putting on more than I had to. She does complain, if I overdress too; not just if I under dressed, or forgot to put clothes on like I sometimes did as a little girl. “Squeak, squeak, squeak..” is heard, as her diminutive hooves hit the floor. Just that it is a cute and cuddly little noise; not the loud thumps, one would have been expecting from a Horse of any size. “Mom!! I exclaim; informally, without the diminutive; “I’m going outside, for a while..” I continue; as I walk through the house towards the back-door in the living room. “Oh?” she responds; “Okay, Dear..” she continues; “just put on some clothes for the current weather outside?” she inquires. “Yes, Mom..” I respond, as I continue walk over the floor, in the living room. Since it is so warm, and the sun is beaming down; I don’t feel like putting on more than I had to. She does complain, if I overdress too; not just if I under dressed, or forgot to put clothes on like I sometimes did as a little girl. “Squeak; squeak, squeak, squeak..” is heard; as Pinkie bounces around, following me towards the door. “The cerise cotton skirt and short dress; matching the skirt should be just right, for this weather..” I ponder. “At least, I don’t have to wear anything in the sun; but I don’t really own clothes, anyway..” Pinkie prompts, as she hears me. “Maybe I could add something fitting, for you to wear; for my wish-list, next time?” I inquire. Of course; I had been assuming they had given Pinkie to me, since the gift had been placed on my bed. What if they did not know, of her; because they had not bought the gift, for me? How were I to know? Am I too assuming a little girl? “You could..” she responds, snickering; “just make sure to have my measurements, just in case; so what they give me, actually fits me!” she suggests. “Probably for the better..” I mumble. I open the door, stepping out in the sunshine outside. Pinkie follows me, a mere step behind; still bouncing, enthusiastically as ever. I close the door, behind me; before she had the time, to make a point out of it. If she wanted thresh air; she could have opened the door, or a window by herself. Couldn’t she? I have no idea, but I guess she could. I could ask, later; couldn’t I? For now, I just enjoy her company; as she continues to bounce her merry bounces, just a mere step behind me. Just as she had, before we went out, outdoors. Why would go out, outside change anything? Well, unless it is just in my fantasy she is actually moving; and going out, would break the spell. Once outside, I am challenging my imagination, with the cold logic of others. Including stuffy and unimaginative Adults. Not that I mind Adults, particularly; my Parents are Adults, and they do take excellent care of me. Well; they have taken care of me, this far. It may be their duty to care for me; but at least I think, they do it out of Love. I continue to walk outside, hearing the squeaking noises from Pinkie Pie. Maybe the hard wooden floor should permit her squeaks to propagate? Well, it does. And why not? After I had taken several steps, outside; I turn around, only to catch her mid bounce. “Oh!” she exclaims, as she is stopping in the middle of the air, before she continues the bounce. “Squeak, squeak, squeak..” is heard, as she continues to bounce. “That..” she announces; “was fun!” she concludes; smiling at me, beaming a bright smile at me. “Wait..” I exclaim; “you can do that?” I inquire. “Yes..” she responds; “silly!” she puts forth. All of a sudden, she stops bouncing; as if her hooves had been glued to the floor, while she still moves up and down for a moment. Like this, she is giving the impression of a jiggly Pudding, if you place the plate down on the table too hard. A moment after she stopped, she stretch her neck forwards, almost as if someone invisible had been pulling her ears. Just that her ears appear to be unaffected. For a moment, she is nuzzling my belly; before she is moving her head up to face me as if she had been the same height. Curious. Okay; this is Pinkie Pie, after all. She stands still, for a moment; before she starts to move her feet up and down as if she was applauding, then ogles me intensely before she is pulling her head back. While she is still moving her hooves, she is otherwise back to how she stood just a moment before. She stops, before she starts to bounce once more, giggling. “Wonder, what Mom is doing, right now?” I ponder. . “Hmm, this is the article my daughter was reading?” Mom ponders, as she is fetching the paper I had been reading before I went out. “Oh.. oh!!” she exclaims, as she is reading the article I had been reading. “If she read this, there is a reason behind her reaction to what this article states!” she is realizing. “I can not permit her, to experience that fate!” she breathes, taken aback by the intensity of her reaction to what the article says. “How do I protect her, from this?” she ponders. “Do I take the doll from her?” she ponders, soon realizing this would be no good. “I could bake a few Muffins on a weakly basis, then freeze six of them; heating them up, before I present her with the daily treat!” she considers. “If only I knew, what flavours she prefers!” she ponders; “I guess I could make seven different flavours, based on the base recipe; confirming the reaction on the Muffin, the day after!” she concludes. “She does not have to know, I read the article; but she does need the Muffin, to feed her new friend!” she declares. With that, she sets off, preparing for the task ahead; baking a set of Muffins, in order to present them. . “Would you like to go out, for a walk?” Pinkie inquires. “Yes!” I respond, as I lead Pinkie around the house. From there, I continue to walk towards the street. Pinkie is still following me; only now, she had moved up to half a step before me. As if she had known I may worry about her. Now I can see her, as she is bouncing by my side. If she stopped, I would know it instantly; rather than be forced to turn around, in order to confirm worries and suspicions. “I can still see you, even if you are a few steps behind me!” Pinkie explains. Of course; what I had not expected, is to see her wave at everyone passing us by on the street. “Hi..” Pinkie exclaims, as she is greeting one passer-by; “Hello..” she exclaims to the next one; “Hiya!” she exclaims, to the next. In surprise, I notice people waving back, to her, pronouncing their own greetings, in return. While it may be the polite way, to go about it; but still, people rarely make the effort of greeting or waving hello to anyone around here. Or, at least I never saw it before today. Maybe this is Pinkie Pie herself, or it is in the genuine warmth of her greetings. Who’s to say? I don’t know. What if this is a trend, created by Pinkie Pie, as she is greeting any and everyone she can see on her way along the street. I guess I couldn’t complain. If she is lifting the spirit in the neighbour hood, making it a nicer and friendlier place to be; how could I possibly complain, as I am living here. “Pinkie is being Pinkie..” I ponder, as I smile at everyone greeting us, as they wave back; “Hello!” I respond, in turn. In the end, I can’t help, but smile; as I continue to wave and greet people as we go. Good Night -
Good Night: 8View OnlineThe Cursed little DollGood Night: 8Author's Note Pinkie Pie's POV Good Night: 8 . “Good Night, Junii!” I exclaim, just as she had slipped in under her quilt as she was closing her eyes. “Good Night, Pinkie..” she responds, stifling a yawn. “This was fun..” she ponders, thinking back at everything that had transpired. Of course; she could not just forget that her Mother had supplied her with the required Muffin, just before bedtime. She had been baking it, while we were out. “So many friends..” I ponder; “and we had so much fun!” I conclude, as I watch her fall asleep before me. It isn’t as if I could complain; it is late, and she certainly do need her sleep. This time, I had chosen to lie with her in her bed, to share the last moment of her day. I had opted not to lie at the foot end of the bed, like a dog; but by her side, like a companion. “I am her friend, not her pet..” I ponder; “she gave me the Muffin, and took me outside!” I consider. If she had forgotten, or just did not have one; but she had never even stopped, considering to put a leash on me. She offered me, to walk by her side; even if I had bounced by her side as I tend to do when I am particularly happy. I had been happy, today. She had been kind and caring, like a true Friend. At least, in my eyes. She yawns, and I yawn with her. Maybe I am tired and sleepy, after all. Yet; I can not quite fall asleep, even if I try to close my eyes. Sleep has to wait. It is not yet time. I feel the girl by my side; even if I had chosen to lie on top of her quilt, rather than under it. She is relaxed, relaxing by my side; everything is right with the world, I am happy and content with myself. Of course, I sense a fly; buzzing around the lamp, even if it is dark and cold since it had been turned off. Time is slowly passing by, I can almost count the seconds as if they had been lice walking on the carpet. What a silly image, but I guess it is what came before me. Still, it is what it is. The Moon rices, a pale silvery yellow glow to it. Not quite the cold, Silver Moon; since there is so much joy in the air, from the day almost at an end. With the Moon up, and the girl fast asleep; I jump up to my position, where I am waiting for the Angel and the Daemon to take their place upon my shoulders: right and left, respectively. “So delicious!” the Angel whispers in my ear; “just like the one, she served you the night before!” she continues. “Forget the silly Pastry, when you can feast on her warm blood..” the Daemon growls; “then you can lick her dry, enjoying the rich flavours all night!” she continues. “Oh, yeah..” I respond, “I guess you could be my Appetizer, then?” I inquire. “At least, you would leave Junii alive..” the Angel proposes; “I am certain, she will offer you another Muffin, just as delicious and the one the night before!” she supplies. “You wouldn’t Dare!” the Daemon yells. “I will..” I promise; “and then you will come out on the other side; as a pink, cute little Filly I can care for!” I explain. “Nooooooo..” the Daemon yells, in desperate rejection. “Trust Pinkie, she will do it..” the Angel points out. “Eeeeiiiiiiiiih!!!” the Daemon bellows at the top of her lungs. “Not exactly quiet..” I concede; “But this should keep her in line!” I conclude. “And at least, she did not wake Junii up, either!” the Angel supplies, with a bright smile. “Yeah..” I respond; “but, at least I will only have to wait for the Price for a little while longer!” I supply, snickering. . If the Daemon will return, to appear on my shoulder again; but at least for now, she is quiet. . I can feel the time grow near, when I can finally have my treat. The one, I had been waiting so long for. The scent of the delicious baked good is slowly moving towards my nostrils; teasing me, enticing me with what is to come. As the time is finally upon me, I stop; only to take the final step, snatching my price. I know what I had been waiting for, all day; it certainly have been worth it, I already know it. Just as I am snatching my price, the Muffin; the Daemon evaporates, leaving nothing but a thin trail of mist and dust on the air where she had been. Not as if I am mourning her disappearance. I had finally staved off her temptations, one more night. . "Bon Appetite!” the Angel muses; “You’ve earned it!" she puts forth; before she is vanishing into the mist, from which she had appeared. “Thank you..” I respond. I am taking the final sniff, before I am starting to devour the Muffin, one bite at the time. “This is Delicious!” I proclaim, as I am taking the first bite. With all four Hooves planted securely on the chair upon which I am currently standing; I am taking my time, chewing the Muffin down. Just a single small bite at the time. Maybe not quite the dainty little Bites Rarity would go with, but small, measured bites all the same. After all I want the Muffin to last me the allotted time, I had been given. While I can still move, even after the bell tolls, and the clock strikes one; I have to consume my Muffin well before that. I can not take the chance, to risk what I have been given. I know the Consequences, brutally Grim as they are. I take the time, chewing. With no drink, it takes me a bit longer than it otherwise would; but that is fine, by me. In the end, the Muffin is wholey consumed. . With the Muffin securely in my Belly; fully enjoyed, I turn to the bed. The one Bed, where my Friend Junii is already sleeping. I jump back to the bed, quietly settling beside her. I slip in under the Quilt, the one formerly hers alone; now shared with her new friend: Me. I snuggle up to her, taking my place beside her as I am closing my eyes. I pretend I am trying to sleep. Or, is it just pretending? Either way, I do feel rather tired, and content. Sleep Tight