Empty Halls and Long, Slow Falls
The canvas showed a crowd of ponies in some sort of town, standing stock still and frozen forever in time. It seemed like they were in some sort of older town, judging by the older-style huts and the dirt roads. A few carts were by the market stalls, loaded with colorful fruits and vegetables.
It reminded Rainbow Dash of something, even if she wasn’t quite sure what. She tilted her head and squinted, trying to make sense of it all. Looking around the empty hall, she wasn’t surprised to find that she was alone. It was still strange to be standing here without a curator keeping a watchful eye out, shooing visitors away from the paintings.
Rainbow leaned in to get a closer look. She made out the details and brushstrokes of the artist, one “Write Flyer,” and admired the work. Rainbow never really had an appreciation for the arts, but something about this painting just drew her into it.
With a carefree shrug, Rainbow stepped back and sighed, her eyes drifting down the hall at the other paintings. The tiles felt cool underneath her hooves, and reflected the lights perfectly.
Paintings lined either side of the wall, with little placards giving a short description about the work and the artists mounted next to them. It almost felt like they were watching her, in a strange sort of way. Rainbow moved on to the next painting, one that appeared to show the front of a shopping mall. Cars filled the parking lots and ponies headed in and out as the sun broke through the clouds above them. This painting looked simpler, and almost rustic to her, and the shades of brown and yellow seemed dulled by age.
It seemed very strange to Rainbow, but again, she couldn’t place it. The next painting wasn’t any better. This one showed a jam-packed freeway, filled with cars of every shape and size. Yet instead of being inside of their vehicles, the drivers were… dancing. They stood on top of their cars and in the lanes, engaged in some strange dance that Rainbow couldn’t understand. The shades of white and purple still shone with a bright hue, but Rainbow could see the color was faded.
A chill ran down her spine. She turned around and locked her eyes on a security camera mounted on the ceiling. For a brief second, Rainbow wondered if someone was watching her. She blinked, then laughed, waving at the camera and imagining that someone on the other side was waving back.
Rainbow proceeded down the hall, ignoring the paintings that didn’t quite catch her interest. Classical music played from some hidden speakers; the violins and trumpets rising and falling in some strange tempo that was far too slow for her tastes.
She came across a split in the exhibition halls, leaving her with a choice. On a hunch, she decided to go to the right hall. Upon entering, the first thing she saw was a massive painting on the wall of a crowded store. Ponies were crawling over each other in some sort of desperate struggle, reaching for unseen items on the shelves. Yet the mood of the painting seemed to be weakened by the bright, fun, pink colors. They burned with an intense hue, though the painting had aged. It made Rainbow smile.
She turned her head and admired the next work in line. This one was actually a photograph of an airport, as a jetliner descended through the night sky. The runway lights shone brightly, their soft yellow lights making her nostalgic for something she couldn’t quite place. But, like the first painting, this photograph seemed worn out and faded.
Rainbow sighed and turned quickly, leaving the hall. She couldn’t take it anymore.
Finally, she made her way over to the left hall. The first picture that caught her eye was one of a beautiful painting of a park. Ponies played and relaxed by a lake, enjoying what Rainbow guessed was a warm summer’s day. With a wistful sigh, Rainbow gently put a hoof on the frame, feeling how aged and rough it was. The purples weren’t quite there anymore, but they weren’t completely gone either. In fact, Rainbow thought she had seen this painting before, a long time ago. It hadn’t changed much.
As Rainbow entered the next room, she felt a strange wave of hope wash over her. The first painting in the room was a strange one. It showed a junkyard of some sort, with piles of trash lining the entire foreground. But at the center was an airplane, one of the older ones with propellers at the front. The plane however was missing it’s wings, and was sitting on the back of a large flatbed truck as the sun started to set in the horizon.
This picture made her feel sad. Something about it just seemed so off to her. Maybe it was the coloration of the skyline, or the atmosphere of the piece, but something about it seemed to stab her with pins and needles.
Her heart began bouncing up and down as if it were on some sort of super trampoline, and it wasn’t long before she had to look away. The last picture showed some mountain range behind a large lake. But before she could really analyze it, someone behind her cleared their throat. “Since when were you a fan of art?”
Rainbow turned around to see not a pony, but a dragon leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest and a smug grin on his face. “Spike?”
“The one and only,” he confirmed, pushing off the wall and walking over to her. “What brings you around these parts? I thought you didn’t care much for paintings.”
“I don’t. Well, I didn’t,” Rainbow replied, glancing at the plane painting again. “Not normally. I don’t know, Spike, these are just… weird.”
“Like they’re telling the story of your life, huh?” Spike asked.
Rainbow frowned. “No, not really. Almost like they’re telling the story of… everything. Everyone else, I guess.”
Spike nodded sagely. “Here, follow me.” He led her down several pristine halls and paintings, but it wasn’t long before the paintings became blank canvases. “This place, these frames, a lot of them are empty,” Spike pointed out, “but it’s not going to be like that forever. Somewhere, somehow, someone will make a painting and it’ll get hung up here.”
The halls seemed to go on and on forever, Rainbow noticed. “But how are you so sure?”
“Because that’s how life is. Twilight used to say that life doesn’t just start and end. It just goes on and on and on. Sort of like her when she’s lecturing.”
That made Rainbow smile. “Yeah, I guess so. Heh, Applejack used to hate that.”
Spike nodded. “Well, it’s what made her her. Sort of like how persistence is what makes you you.”
Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“You don’t give up. I always admired that about you.” Spike stopped, pointing to a picture on the wall.
It was a portrait of herself, standing on a cloud and staring up at the sky.
“You get what I’m saying?” Spike asked.
Rainbow tilted her head. She could have sworn that the clouds in the painting were moving. “Sort of, yeah.”
“You all did a lot with your lives. Heck, you probably did more than you really realize. But that kind of stuff doesn’t just disappear, Rainbow,” Spike continued.
“Well, I guess, but it’s… it’s hard,” Rainbow said, running a hoof along the painting’s frame. “It’s hard not to wake up one day and say to yourself ‘this is how I disappear.’ Especially after everything that happened. Like, how can I convince myself that this isn’t the end?”
“You don’t really have to, I guess,” Spike replied, tapping a claw against his chin. “I mean, you’re here, aren’t you?
Rainbow closed her eyes and imagined herself standing on that cloud. “I am, Spike. I am here.”
And when she opened her eyes, she was there. On the cloud, staring up at the sun with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face. Somehow, she knew that she was being watched, and that she was being loved.
