Sunlight's Saccharine Sack of Sufferable Sour Soundsby Sunlight RaysChaptersCocktailsFalling OutWe Are RobotsThree Tenses of FriendshipAll NighterOne is Better Than NoneLifePrice You PayRageCocktailsAuthor's Note Date of Creation: August 14th, 2020 "Danger" reflects upon her nightmares of the war as she is called to combat duty once more. Written for Quills and Sofas' Writing Contest 67: Pegasus Contest. Written in 1 hour and 7 minutes, with 10 minutes to edit. The prompt was 'falling out'. Falling Out From my peaceful slumber I fell out of the sky, And I huddled into a ball as the clouds froze my fur. Six miles from earth, detached from my blissful peace, I woke to death rays and the monsters from nightmares. When they got me, I fell to Hell, my resting place. — Death of a Fighter, Unknown Poet — “I can’t shake him, Danger!” “Just keep turning, Fury, I’m coming for help!” “I can’t keep this up, Danger, I— Aaaarrgghh!” “Fury!” I scream as I sit up in bed, my body covered in sweat. I gasp profusely for breath as my heartbeat thunders in my ears, the frantic rhythm going faster than a pegasus doing a Sonic Rainboom. It was the same nightmare all over again. As my eyes adjust to the dark and I take in my surroundings, my heartbeat slows and so does my breathing. I’m in the barracks, down in the safety of my cot and my fellow pilots. I look to my right and see my wingpony sleeping away in her bunk bed. It’s been years, silly. Just get it over with, I berate myself internally as I pull myself out of my bed. I stretch my wings and limbs, the stiff joints popping and cracking into place as I stifle a yawn. I look at the clock on the opposite wall and check the time: 5:02 a.m. I cast one last look at my wingpony before I leave the barracks. She’ll be able to wake herself up on time, anyway. I finish my routine morning exercise by spiraling down towards the lake before pulling up at the last moment. Every pegasi I’ve met was horrified by the stunt I pulled every day, but that’s because they don’t know the feeling of falling through the air from three thousand feet above the ground. They don’t know the feeling of falling through the clouds, the thick, cold mist sticking to their fur and cooling off whatever tension their body built up during the night. They don’t know the feeling of their wings grazing the water, the tip of their feathers picking up those magical particles and leaving a spray of rainbow behind as the sun shines down upon it. I circle above the lake, appreciating the majestic colors from the mist left in my wake before turning around and gliding towards the headquarters. Commander Spitfire is going to throw a fit at me for being late again. “Briefing room. Now.” Commander Spitfire’s words leave me no margin for argument. I dutifully give her a salute before walking inside, where my fellow squadmates are having their usual morning chatter. I find my seat and sit down as the Commander follows in and closes the door behind her. She steps up to the front of the room, and immediately silence falls upon the room as all eyes and ears turn to her. “High Command just gave us orders. Suit up, head out towards east. Search for any sign of the rebel air force, and if we find them, destroy them. This mission is part of our bomber operations, so don’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Remember, every bogey down is a bomber saved. Now, move out!” With that, all of the pegasi rushed from the briefing room and towards the lockers. Falling OutAuthor's Note Date of Creation: August 26th, 2020 Fluttershy recounts on her memories with Rainbow Dash. Unfinished entry for PANIC FICTION 47 held at Quills and Sofas. Written in 25 minutes, edited for 5 minutes. The prompt was 'Emotions'. Rage Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. — Do not go gentle into that good night, Dylan Thomas — Rage is simple. Unlike love, which appears in many forms and comes from many places. Unlike happiness, something that becomes further and further away from you the more you pursue it. Unlike sadness, which creates the dilemma of one weeping while another laughing like a maniac while looking at the same scene. No, rage is simple and consistent. Rage is anger evolved into its final form. Without an exit to vent its pressure, the scarlet explosive gas of anger builds inside the container of one’s mind, increasing in pressure and temperature. The container is flexible, able to bend to accommodate the excess pressure building up, but it has its limits. Eventually, the anger, the droplets of clouds that have coalesced and condensed over the years, become a ball of red mist, seeking for the tiniest of sparks to ignite itself and let it out in a massive explosion that would dwarf the Sun in its heat. Hence the reason rage is so dangerous; not only because of its volatility but also because of how few danger signs it shows before the final explosion. Rage, like any other grandeur, builds up from the smallest of things. I knew Rainbow Dash ever since I was a filly. We went to the same flight school and took flight lessons together. I was shy and timid, even more than I currently am, and was unable to fly very well. Because of that, there would always be foals who bullied me. And Rainbow Dash, like the loyal friend she was, would always stand up for me. Then, one day, just to stand up for me as usual, Dash started a race with the bullies. But when the race started, I fell from Cloudsdale all the way to the ground, while I uselessly flapped my small wings to get myself to fly. Just then, when I thought I was about to die, a group of butterflies came and caught me. They set me down on the ground, in a small town called Ponyville. It was at that moment when Rainbow Dash successfully pulled off a Sonic Rainboom, and so I gained my cutie mark. I soon became attached to the small town and got a small cottage for me to live in. I was content with living in Ponyville since caring for animals turned out to be my talent, and there were a lot of animals that needed my care. So even though I didn’t get to see my family or Rainbow Dash that often, I was satisfied with it. Needless to say that Dash and I no longer talked to each other that often. Time passed, and although we sometimes wrote between us through the mail, we weren’t as close as we used to be. Looking back on it, that might have been the first danger sign that could have been noticed. We Are RobotsAuthor's Note Date of Creation: October 10th, 2020 Twilight writes to Celestia about her upcoming abdication of the Equestrian throne. Written for Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group's PANIC FICTION 62. Written in 30 minutes, edited for 10 minutes. The prompt was 'Friendship is Magic'. Story expansion can be found here: Three Tenses of Friendship Three Tenses of Friendship Dear Princess Celestia, They say that friendship is magic. And as the Princess of Friendship, I can attest to that. From the day until I arrived in Ponyville to this very moment, I never forgot how much my friends meant to me. Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie. The five best friends I could have ever asked for. They are still my best friends, and they will continue to be. It was what I said when time itself set us apart, it’s still what I tell myself today, and it’s what I’ll continue to tell myself far into the future. After my friends passed, I’ve made lots of other friends. I met the next generation of the Element bearers. I made friends with all sorts of species, from dragons to yaks, from griffons to hippogriffs, and from zebras to deers. During all that time, thanks to the legacy of my five best friends, friendship continued to be magic. Time continued to flow after that. The second generation of the Element bearers passed away, and I met the third generation. My friends, my nonpony friends from all over the Equestrian continent passed away too. But I made new friends. After a handful of expeditions, we discovered a new type of creature on the other side of Equus that resembled frogs, except that they were sentient and could talk. Needless to say, we became friends fairly quickly. More time passed, and now the Elements themselves were no longer needed. Thanks to the ideals and lessons of Friendship spreading throughout the nation, the creatures of Equestria stood united more than ever before. Most problems could be solved without having to rely on the elements or having to wait for me to intervene. When a massive forest fire bigger than anything that was recorded in Equestria history burned through the Whitetail Woods, pegasi quickly stormed to gather rain clouds to put out the fire, while the unicorns used their fine-tuned magic to prevent the fires from spreading further. The Earth ponies worked to rescue any poor creature who was trapped within the burning forest. Thanks to their efforts, the fire was put out in record time. When an earthquake devastated Manehattan, creatures, both ponies and non-ponies, rushed to and fro as they worked to pull out others from under demolished buildings, treat the critically wounded, or put the fires caused by the earthquake out. They celebrated together when long lost families found each other at last, and mourned together when they dug up the bodies of their loved ones. Their combined efforts brought Manehattan back up from ashes, keeping it the most prosperous city of Equestria. When an eldritch monster threatened to level Ponyville to the ground, its citizens rushed to fight off the monster that had invaded their hometown. Once again they gathered their wisdom, sympathy, and bravery together, and with their combined strength they drove the horrifying figure back into the Everfree. By the time I had arrived, the situation was over, save for ponies greeting me as they began to go back to their lives. And now, I feel like I finished my job as the Princess of Friendship. My ponies, no, my subjects have achieved so much without my help. They have learned the power of friendship, and with it, they have cleared so many obstacles without relying on the Elements or their princess. They know how to deal with problems without my help, so I feel like I’m no longer needed. Therefore, I have made a very important decision. I am abdicating the throne and giving the rulership back to my subjects. No, this is not a decision that I made lightly. I put my thoughts into it for many days and nights, and have arrived at my current conclusion; I can put enough faith in my subjects for them to rule themselves with fairness. Celestia, remember the five Elements of Harmony aside from magic? Honesty, Loyalty, Generosity, Kindness, and Laughter? When I left the palace while thinking about abdication to clear my thoughts, everywhere I went was full of those five traits. No one lied to each other, nor did anyone betray each other in times of difficulty. Creatures generously gave what they had to each other, and they almost never yelled at each other first. Laughter filled the air in every alley and every house. That was enough for me to make my decision. Equestria was finally ready to move on without someone to guide them. For friendship was, and is, and ever will be, magic. I’ll visit you sometime after I come down from the throne. Tell Luna I said hello, and I hope to see you in Silver Shoals. Your Always Faithful Student, Twilight Sparkle Three Tenses of FriendshipAuthor's Note Date of Creation: November 18th, 2020 Lyra Heartstrings spends the night up preparing for her concert scheduled in the morning. Written for Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group's PANIC FICTION 65. Written in 30 minutes, edited for 10 minutes. The prompt was 'Overworked'. All Nighter My heart was beating. I chugged down my mug of coffee I was gripping in my telekinetic grip, then put the cup back onto the table. I let out a sigh as I brought a hoof up to my eyelid, rubbing my eye as I mused to myself: “Guess I’m pulling another all nighter.” I shuffled the music sheets in front of my eyes, organizing them into a neat pile before setting them on the stand in front of me. I turned my head to the instrument sitting before me, its gracious lines and its healthy, taut strings enticing me to start playing. Reluctantly, I lit my horn and lifted the instrument closer to me before carefully setting it on the ground. I took in a deep breath, and said to myself, “Just one perfect round, Lyra. Just one round, and you can go to bed.” I took a deep breath then let it out, then began to play. Soon the soft, soothing notes swirled around me, wrapping me in its warm embrace that always made me feel at home. I closed my eyes and let my magic flow with the music and resonate with the song floating in the air. Slowly I rocked back and forth on my stool, riding the smooth rhythms like waves on a warm summer beach. A smile floated up to my face as I pictured myself lying on the beach on an airmat, the waves splashing at the edges drowning out the music as bright sunlight gently warmed me to sleep, enough so that I started to doze— Something bumped into my head. My eyes flew open as I jolted myself back into reality, gasping and frantically looking around for the object that hit my head. There was nothing but my harp and me, both of us sitting beneath a lone electric lamp that was bright enough to light up just beyond where my music stand and harp stood. I let out a sigh as I vigorously shook my head, trying to chase the sleep away. I looked towards where my coffee pot was sitting. After a brief moment of feeling around with my magic, I finally found the pot, only to discover that, to my dismay, it was empty. But I couldn’t go and boil another pot of coffee. I would have to turn on the lights for that, which would inevitably wake Bonbon up. I wasn’t going to disturb her sleep, not when she herself had overworked during the past few days trying to match the insane demands of her brand new candy. I carefully moved the harp away from my stool and stood up. Slowly, I took a step forward, careful not to make the floorboards creak. Then I took another step. Then another. Slowly but steadily I crept to the door and slowly turned it open, revealing a pitch black hallway beyond. I took a quick glance behind me, first at my music stand and my harp, then at my bed that sat right next to me. The warm covers and the soft pillows looked so enticing, as if they were calling me to take a nap in it. Don’t worry, they whispered in my ears, it’ll be fine. You can take an hour or two to catch up on your sleep. All this is going to be meaningless if you’re too tired to properly practice. I stared longingly at the bed, at my gateway to the dreamscape. But, eventually, I shook my head and walked out into the hallway, straining to ignore my mind’s desire to slip into those blankets and just take a quick snatch of sleep. I couldn’t afford to take a nap, however, and I knew that better than anyone else. For the moment I slide into my bed, I would most certainly end up sleeping until the Sun shone upon my face and ruin my concert scheduled in the morning. As I hobbled out into the hallway, my legs threatening to give out as if they were made of jelly, I breathed out. I could feel the exhaustion crawling through my body, filling my insides and my muscles, intoxicating them with a dose of sleep I longed for so much and yet couldn’t allow myself to have. I came to a rest against a wall, putting a hoof against my heart. I could feel the organ, my one and only source of life, thrumming madly against my ribcage, trying to beat its way out of the constricting prison it had found itself in. My eyes stung, giving me an unpleasant feeling despite me profusely trying to blink out whatever dust that got into them. I groaned as I dredged up the last of my willpower to stand back up, and once again I began hobbling down the hallway. Heart beating madly and eyes stinging like a flock of bees, I finally reached my destination after what felt like an eternity. I swung the door to the bathroom open before flipping the light switch. I squinted my eyes as I tried to shield my vision from the invasive bright lights that made my eyes water. For a moment squeezing my eyes shut was all I could do. But slowly the vision returned to me, and I carefully opened my eyes. There she stood, a half-dead looking pony in the mirror. Dark bags hung beneath her bloodshot eyes while her mane and coat, usually a mint green color, was now thin and showing patches of grey here and there. I turned on the tap and splashed some cold water onto my face, the half-dead pony briefly disappearing from my vision as I ducked towards the sink. After rinsing my face and wiping the water off with a towel, the half-dead pony reappeared in the mirror. I stared at her, and she stared back at me. We stared at each other for several minutes before we both broke into hysterical laughter, the half-dead pony mimicking my every move and every laughter. And so when our laughters died and we calmed down, I whispered to her, “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.” All NighterAuthor's Note Date of Creation: January 19th, 2021 A short poem about the Mane 6 and their friendship. Written for a Quills and Sofas Panic Write, this poem was originally what I was going to write. However, I ran out of time and had to submit this instead: One is Better Than None One is Better Than None Every truth tell’d Be better than every lie Brave honesty held Be the apple of my eye Every friend kept Be one never to be given up Even if inept Together into skies we’ll soar up All laughter blasted Be the sugar in their lives Like cupcake freshly baked May sweet jollity be in their jives Patience be blessed Hope to be the one to alleviate The sorrow from those tossed To the ground by who obliterate Those I possess Also belongs to thee Like silk of fine dress May I give what you wish to see Best Five Friends I could’ve ever met From world’s both ends Nothing else I would get One is Better Than NoneSomething has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.LifeSomething has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.Price You PaySomething has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.RageAuthor's Note Date of Creation: September 8th, 2020 Maud thinks about herself and her two younger sisters while toiling on the rock farm. Written for PANIC FICTION 53 held in Quills and Sofas. Written in 20 minutes, with 6 minutes to edit. The prompt was 'Robots'. We Are Robots Robot: Term coined by Czech writer Karel Capek in 1920 in his play R.U.R. The term originated from the Slavic term robota, which was used to indicate peasants forced to work under the feudal system. Limestone let out a grunt as her pickaxe fell hard on the rock. Thunk. She raised the pickaxe in her mouth and brought it down again. Thunk. She toiled away in the hot summer sunlight, not minding the sweat pouring down her face as she brought the pickaxe down another time. Thunk. A few feet away from her, Maud and Marble were doing the same thing, bringing down their pickaxes on the unforgiving earth. Thunk. Thunk. They, too, were sweating profusely, yet neither of them uttered a word as they brought their pickaxes down once more. Thunk. Thunk. After watching them for a few seconds, Limestone went back to her work and brought down the pickaxe upon the rock. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. As she toiled away, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, a thought wormed its way into Limestone’s head. We’ll be stuck here for the rest of our lives, won’t we? We’ll just toil our lives away in the scorching sun, trying to make a living out of rocks. ROCKS. Just then, a sharp voice rang across the rock farm towards Limestone’s ears. “Limestone Pie! Get back to work, or you won’t be having dinner tonight!” Limestone grunted as she shook her head and got back to work, the heavy iron pickaxe falling upon the hard, unyielding surface. Thunk. Hours later, the unforgiving sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, and so did the Pie sisters from the rock field. As they headed towards the shack they called their house, walking side by side, none of the sisters uttered a word. They were too tired and exhausted to utter a single syllable. When the three sisters stepped into the house, they were immediately led into the kitchen where a small piece of bread and a bowl of soup was waiting for them. Silently, the sisters took their pre-determined seats and began eating without saying a word. The bread was hard and dusty while the soup was cold, but the sisters did not complain. They knew better than that. After all, all three of them were robots, whatever that term meant. But one thing was clear: they were not meant to complain or meant to have breaks. They were meant to work for eternity.
CocktailsAuthor's Note Date of Creation: August 14th, 2020 "Danger" reflects upon her nightmares of the war as she is called to combat duty once more. Written for Quills and Sofas' Writing Contest 67: Pegasus Contest. Written in 1 hour and 7 minutes, with 10 minutes to edit. The prompt was 'falling out'. Falling Out From my peaceful slumber I fell out of the sky, And I huddled into a ball as the clouds froze my fur. Six miles from earth, detached from my blissful peace, I woke to death rays and the monsters from nightmares. When they got me, I fell to Hell, my resting place. — Death of a Fighter, Unknown Poet — “I can’t shake him, Danger!” “Just keep turning, Fury, I’m coming for help!” “I can’t keep this up, Danger, I— Aaaarrgghh!” “Fury!” I scream as I sit up in bed, my body covered in sweat. I gasp profusely for breath as my heartbeat thunders in my ears, the frantic rhythm going faster than a pegasus doing a Sonic Rainboom. It was the same nightmare all over again. As my eyes adjust to the dark and I take in my surroundings, my heartbeat slows and so does my breathing. I’m in the barracks, down in the safety of my cot and my fellow pilots. I look to my right and see my wingpony sleeping away in her bunk bed. It’s been years, silly. Just get it over with, I berate myself internally as I pull myself out of my bed. I stretch my wings and limbs, the stiff joints popping and cracking into place as I stifle a yawn. I look at the clock on the opposite wall and check the time: 5:02 a.m. I cast one last look at my wingpony before I leave the barracks. She’ll be able to wake herself up on time, anyway. I finish my routine morning exercise by spiraling down towards the lake before pulling up at the last moment. Every pegasi I’ve met was horrified by the stunt I pulled every day, but that’s because they don’t know the feeling of falling through the air from three thousand feet above the ground. They don’t know the feeling of falling through the clouds, the thick, cold mist sticking to their fur and cooling off whatever tension their body built up during the night. They don’t know the feeling of their wings grazing the water, the tip of their feathers picking up those magical particles and leaving a spray of rainbow behind as the sun shines down upon it. I circle above the lake, appreciating the majestic colors from the mist left in my wake before turning around and gliding towards the headquarters. Commander Spitfire is going to throw a fit at me for being late again. “Briefing room. Now.” Commander Spitfire’s words leave me no margin for argument. I dutifully give her a salute before walking inside, where my fellow squadmates are having their usual morning chatter. I find my seat and sit down as the Commander follows in and closes the door behind her. She steps up to the front of the room, and immediately silence falls upon the room as all eyes and ears turn to her. “High Command just gave us orders. Suit up, head out towards east. Search for any sign of the rebel air force, and if we find them, destroy them. This mission is part of our bomber operations, so don’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Remember, every bogey down is a bomber saved. Now, move out!” With that, all of the pegasi rushed from the briefing room and towards the lockers.
Falling OutAuthor's Note Date of Creation: August 26th, 2020 Fluttershy recounts on her memories with Rainbow Dash. Unfinished entry for PANIC FICTION 47 held at Quills and Sofas. Written in 25 minutes, edited for 5 minutes. The prompt was 'Emotions'. Rage Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. — Do not go gentle into that good night, Dylan Thomas — Rage is simple. Unlike love, which appears in many forms and comes from many places. Unlike happiness, something that becomes further and further away from you the more you pursue it. Unlike sadness, which creates the dilemma of one weeping while another laughing like a maniac while looking at the same scene. No, rage is simple and consistent. Rage is anger evolved into its final form. Without an exit to vent its pressure, the scarlet explosive gas of anger builds inside the container of one’s mind, increasing in pressure and temperature. The container is flexible, able to bend to accommodate the excess pressure building up, but it has its limits. Eventually, the anger, the droplets of clouds that have coalesced and condensed over the years, become a ball of red mist, seeking for the tiniest of sparks to ignite itself and let it out in a massive explosion that would dwarf the Sun in its heat. Hence the reason rage is so dangerous; not only because of its volatility but also because of how few danger signs it shows before the final explosion. Rage, like any other grandeur, builds up from the smallest of things. I knew Rainbow Dash ever since I was a filly. We went to the same flight school and took flight lessons together. I was shy and timid, even more than I currently am, and was unable to fly very well. Because of that, there would always be foals who bullied me. And Rainbow Dash, like the loyal friend she was, would always stand up for me. Then, one day, just to stand up for me as usual, Dash started a race with the bullies. But when the race started, I fell from Cloudsdale all the way to the ground, while I uselessly flapped my small wings to get myself to fly. Just then, when I thought I was about to die, a group of butterflies came and caught me. They set me down on the ground, in a small town called Ponyville. It was at that moment when Rainbow Dash successfully pulled off a Sonic Rainboom, and so I gained my cutie mark. I soon became attached to the small town and got a small cottage for me to live in. I was content with living in Ponyville since caring for animals turned out to be my talent, and there were a lot of animals that needed my care. So even though I didn’t get to see my family or Rainbow Dash that often, I was satisfied with it. Needless to say that Dash and I no longer talked to each other that often. Time passed, and although we sometimes wrote between us through the mail, we weren’t as close as we used to be. Looking back on it, that might have been the first danger sign that could have been noticed.
We Are RobotsAuthor's Note Date of Creation: October 10th, 2020 Twilight writes to Celestia about her upcoming abdication of the Equestrian throne. Written for Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group's PANIC FICTION 62. Written in 30 minutes, edited for 10 minutes. The prompt was 'Friendship is Magic'. Story expansion can be found here: Three Tenses of Friendship Three Tenses of Friendship Dear Princess Celestia, They say that friendship is magic. And as the Princess of Friendship, I can attest to that. From the day until I arrived in Ponyville to this very moment, I never forgot how much my friends meant to me. Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie. The five best friends I could have ever asked for. They are still my best friends, and they will continue to be. It was what I said when time itself set us apart, it’s still what I tell myself today, and it’s what I’ll continue to tell myself far into the future. After my friends passed, I’ve made lots of other friends. I met the next generation of the Element bearers. I made friends with all sorts of species, from dragons to yaks, from griffons to hippogriffs, and from zebras to deers. During all that time, thanks to the legacy of my five best friends, friendship continued to be magic. Time continued to flow after that. The second generation of the Element bearers passed away, and I met the third generation. My friends, my nonpony friends from all over the Equestrian continent passed away too. But I made new friends. After a handful of expeditions, we discovered a new type of creature on the other side of Equus that resembled frogs, except that they were sentient and could talk. Needless to say, we became friends fairly quickly. More time passed, and now the Elements themselves were no longer needed. Thanks to the ideals and lessons of Friendship spreading throughout the nation, the creatures of Equestria stood united more than ever before. Most problems could be solved without having to rely on the elements or having to wait for me to intervene. When a massive forest fire bigger than anything that was recorded in Equestria history burned through the Whitetail Woods, pegasi quickly stormed to gather rain clouds to put out the fire, while the unicorns used their fine-tuned magic to prevent the fires from spreading further. The Earth ponies worked to rescue any poor creature who was trapped within the burning forest. Thanks to their efforts, the fire was put out in record time. When an earthquake devastated Manehattan, creatures, both ponies and non-ponies, rushed to and fro as they worked to pull out others from under demolished buildings, treat the critically wounded, or put the fires caused by the earthquake out. They celebrated together when long lost families found each other at last, and mourned together when they dug up the bodies of their loved ones. Their combined efforts brought Manehattan back up from ashes, keeping it the most prosperous city of Equestria. When an eldritch monster threatened to level Ponyville to the ground, its citizens rushed to fight off the monster that had invaded their hometown. Once again they gathered their wisdom, sympathy, and bravery together, and with their combined strength they drove the horrifying figure back into the Everfree. By the time I had arrived, the situation was over, save for ponies greeting me as they began to go back to their lives. And now, I feel like I finished my job as the Princess of Friendship. My ponies, no, my subjects have achieved so much without my help. They have learned the power of friendship, and with it, they have cleared so many obstacles without relying on the Elements or their princess. They know how to deal with problems without my help, so I feel like I’m no longer needed. Therefore, I have made a very important decision. I am abdicating the throne and giving the rulership back to my subjects. No, this is not a decision that I made lightly. I put my thoughts into it for many days and nights, and have arrived at my current conclusion; I can put enough faith in my subjects for them to rule themselves with fairness. Celestia, remember the five Elements of Harmony aside from magic? Honesty, Loyalty, Generosity, Kindness, and Laughter? When I left the palace while thinking about abdication to clear my thoughts, everywhere I went was full of those five traits. No one lied to each other, nor did anyone betray each other in times of difficulty. Creatures generously gave what they had to each other, and they almost never yelled at each other first. Laughter filled the air in every alley and every house. That was enough for me to make my decision. Equestria was finally ready to move on without someone to guide them. For friendship was, and is, and ever will be, magic. I’ll visit you sometime after I come down from the throne. Tell Luna I said hello, and I hope to see you in Silver Shoals. Your Always Faithful Student, Twilight Sparkle
Three Tenses of FriendshipAuthor's Note Date of Creation: November 18th, 2020 Lyra Heartstrings spends the night up preparing for her concert scheduled in the morning. Written for Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group's PANIC FICTION 65. Written in 30 minutes, edited for 10 minutes. The prompt was 'Overworked'. All Nighter My heart was beating. I chugged down my mug of coffee I was gripping in my telekinetic grip, then put the cup back onto the table. I let out a sigh as I brought a hoof up to my eyelid, rubbing my eye as I mused to myself: “Guess I’m pulling another all nighter.” I shuffled the music sheets in front of my eyes, organizing them into a neat pile before setting them on the stand in front of me. I turned my head to the instrument sitting before me, its gracious lines and its healthy, taut strings enticing me to start playing. Reluctantly, I lit my horn and lifted the instrument closer to me before carefully setting it on the ground. I took in a deep breath, and said to myself, “Just one perfect round, Lyra. Just one round, and you can go to bed.” I took a deep breath then let it out, then began to play. Soon the soft, soothing notes swirled around me, wrapping me in its warm embrace that always made me feel at home. I closed my eyes and let my magic flow with the music and resonate with the song floating in the air. Slowly I rocked back and forth on my stool, riding the smooth rhythms like waves on a warm summer beach. A smile floated up to my face as I pictured myself lying on the beach on an airmat, the waves splashing at the edges drowning out the music as bright sunlight gently warmed me to sleep, enough so that I started to doze— Something bumped into my head. My eyes flew open as I jolted myself back into reality, gasping and frantically looking around for the object that hit my head. There was nothing but my harp and me, both of us sitting beneath a lone electric lamp that was bright enough to light up just beyond where my music stand and harp stood. I let out a sigh as I vigorously shook my head, trying to chase the sleep away. I looked towards where my coffee pot was sitting. After a brief moment of feeling around with my magic, I finally found the pot, only to discover that, to my dismay, it was empty. But I couldn’t go and boil another pot of coffee. I would have to turn on the lights for that, which would inevitably wake Bonbon up. I wasn’t going to disturb her sleep, not when she herself had overworked during the past few days trying to match the insane demands of her brand new candy. I carefully moved the harp away from my stool and stood up. Slowly, I took a step forward, careful not to make the floorboards creak. Then I took another step. Then another. Slowly but steadily I crept to the door and slowly turned it open, revealing a pitch black hallway beyond. I took a quick glance behind me, first at my music stand and my harp, then at my bed that sat right next to me. The warm covers and the soft pillows looked so enticing, as if they were calling me to take a nap in it. Don’t worry, they whispered in my ears, it’ll be fine. You can take an hour or two to catch up on your sleep. All this is going to be meaningless if you’re too tired to properly practice. I stared longingly at the bed, at my gateway to the dreamscape. But, eventually, I shook my head and walked out into the hallway, straining to ignore my mind’s desire to slip into those blankets and just take a quick snatch of sleep. I couldn’t afford to take a nap, however, and I knew that better than anyone else. For the moment I slide into my bed, I would most certainly end up sleeping until the Sun shone upon my face and ruin my concert scheduled in the morning. As I hobbled out into the hallway, my legs threatening to give out as if they were made of jelly, I breathed out. I could feel the exhaustion crawling through my body, filling my insides and my muscles, intoxicating them with a dose of sleep I longed for so much and yet couldn’t allow myself to have. I came to a rest against a wall, putting a hoof against my heart. I could feel the organ, my one and only source of life, thrumming madly against my ribcage, trying to beat its way out of the constricting prison it had found itself in. My eyes stung, giving me an unpleasant feeling despite me profusely trying to blink out whatever dust that got into them. I groaned as I dredged up the last of my willpower to stand back up, and once again I began hobbling down the hallway. Heart beating madly and eyes stinging like a flock of bees, I finally reached my destination after what felt like an eternity. I swung the door to the bathroom open before flipping the light switch. I squinted my eyes as I tried to shield my vision from the invasive bright lights that made my eyes water. For a moment squeezing my eyes shut was all I could do. But slowly the vision returned to me, and I carefully opened my eyes. There she stood, a half-dead looking pony in the mirror. Dark bags hung beneath her bloodshot eyes while her mane and coat, usually a mint green color, was now thin and showing patches of grey here and there. I turned on the tap and splashed some cold water onto my face, the half-dead pony briefly disappearing from my vision as I ducked towards the sink. After rinsing my face and wiping the water off with a towel, the half-dead pony reappeared in the mirror. I stared at her, and she stared back at me. We stared at each other for several minutes before we both broke into hysterical laughter, the half-dead pony mimicking my every move and every laughter. And so when our laughters died and we calmed down, I whispered to her, “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
All NighterAuthor's Note Date of Creation: January 19th, 2021 A short poem about the Mane 6 and their friendship. Written for a Quills and Sofas Panic Write, this poem was originally what I was going to write. However, I ran out of time and had to submit this instead: One is Better Than None One is Better Than None Every truth tell’d Be better than every lie Brave honesty held Be the apple of my eye Every friend kept Be one never to be given up Even if inept Together into skies we’ll soar up All laughter blasted Be the sugar in their lives Like cupcake freshly baked May sweet jollity be in their jives Patience be blessed Hope to be the one to alleviate The sorrow from those tossed To the ground by who obliterate Those I possess Also belongs to thee Like silk of fine dress May I give what you wish to see Best Five Friends I could’ve ever met From world’s both ends Nothing else I would get
One is Better Than NoneSomething has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.
RageAuthor's Note Date of Creation: September 8th, 2020 Maud thinks about herself and her two younger sisters while toiling on the rock farm. Written for PANIC FICTION 53 held in Quills and Sofas. Written in 20 minutes, with 6 minutes to edit. The prompt was 'Robots'. We Are Robots Robot: Term coined by Czech writer Karel Capek in 1920 in his play R.U.R. The term originated from the Slavic term robota, which was used to indicate peasants forced to work under the feudal system. Limestone let out a grunt as her pickaxe fell hard on the rock. Thunk. She raised the pickaxe in her mouth and brought it down again. Thunk. She toiled away in the hot summer sunlight, not minding the sweat pouring down her face as she brought the pickaxe down another time. Thunk. A few feet away from her, Maud and Marble were doing the same thing, bringing down their pickaxes on the unforgiving earth. Thunk. Thunk. They, too, were sweating profusely, yet neither of them uttered a word as they brought their pickaxes down once more. Thunk. Thunk. After watching them for a few seconds, Limestone went back to her work and brought down the pickaxe upon the rock. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. As she toiled away, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, a thought wormed its way into Limestone’s head. We’ll be stuck here for the rest of our lives, won’t we? We’ll just toil our lives away in the scorching sun, trying to make a living out of rocks. ROCKS. Just then, a sharp voice rang across the rock farm towards Limestone’s ears. “Limestone Pie! Get back to work, or you won’t be having dinner tonight!” Limestone grunted as she shook her head and got back to work, the heavy iron pickaxe falling upon the hard, unyielding surface. Thunk. Hours later, the unforgiving sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, and so did the Pie sisters from the rock field. As they headed towards the shack they called their house, walking side by side, none of the sisters uttered a word. They were too tired and exhausted to utter a single syllable. When the three sisters stepped into the house, they were immediately led into the kitchen where a small piece of bread and a bowl of soup was waiting for them. Silently, the sisters took their pre-determined seats and began eating without saying a word. The bread was hard and dusty while the soup was cold, but the sisters did not complain. They knew better than that. After all, all three of them were robots, whatever that term meant. But one thing was clear: they were not meant to complain or meant to have breaks. They were meant to work for eternity.
