Tom sat there. Dust swirled around him. It's been days since Rarity left him. Or was it months? Years? It was getting hard to tell. Time flew past Tom without even giving him a passing glance. A downside to being immortal.
Sand blew past him. As it went, he tried to count it. 1, 2, 3... He always lost count at 3. The number 3 haunted Tom. 3 seconds for him to be thrown out of the library by that brute Twilight. 3 hundreds of years of waiting. 3 diamonds on Rarity's flank. He dreamed of that flank, you know. Never forgot it.
Tom's 4 foot stature was half buried in sand. He wondered why he was even there. Tom thought back through his timeline.
He was a boulder, long ago. A large boulder. He wasn't one for long, mind you. No, he wasn't born and raised on the traditional rock farms in Equestria. He was a freak, a child of Discord. Tom was spawned with the turn of a hand of the Draconequus, no care or love that the Pie's would have given him. Tom remembered the walls of the bush-maze surrounding him. Green, but not too green; probably less green than that on the other side, but Tom didn't know that phrase yet.
Where was I? Oh, yes, a boulder. Tom was just a normal boulder. Nothing special. Simple, robust. But she saw differently. She saw him as a beautiful diamond, something to be loved, cherished, and kept safe from all the troubles of the world, not that he needed protection. She loved him, and he loved her. But, like all things, a "diamond" has to stop being loved sometime...
She left him. Just abandoned him and went back to pointless things like harmony and generosity. She could have spent an eternity with him. But she just said no, and left. 300 years now. What was the average life span of a pony? Tom didn't know, and he didn't care.
Her beautiful, long hair was the most brilliant shade of purple. Her fur, short and trimmed, was the whitest white you could imagine. Her lithe body was the epitome of womanhood. Her selfishness and greed was fantastic. She wanted him only for herself, and he would've gladly been only hers, but the elements of harmony sealed away his creator and left him to die. Tom swore that day that he would never love again.
But Tom was semi-wrong. He wouldn't love another like he loved Rarity, but he would care again. For two people, in fact. All he had to do was wait.
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The dirt felt different. His roots still felt strange in this foreign earth. It was all shifty, and his roots didn't like it at all. The sun beat down upon his leaves, nourishing Bloomberg. But he was thirsty, so very thirsty. It hadn't rained in months, and his water reserves were running low.
A thought passed through Bloomberg's branches: what if the tree was going to die? Bloomberg bristled his leaves. Dying is a ridiculous prospect. He came here on the Friendship Express and he will leave on the Friendship Express. He was certain of it.
Bloomberg send out a pulse with his roots. See, trees have a special ability they can do with their extremities - by sending out an electro-magnetic pulse from the tips of his branches and roots, he can sense what is around him in a 360 degree radius. Still nothing but ruins.
Old buildings of Appleloosa stood there, decaying and crumbing. The roofs sagged, and the slates fell off. Chimneys collapsed and fences toppled. Time wasn't nice to Appleloosa. All the citizens of Appleloosa were long gone, having left for the more fertile lands to the North, leaving all the trees to rot and die. Bloomberg was the last one. He had only hope that the train would come to bring him back to Sweet Apple Acres to his family and friends.
300 hundred years had passed since he was brought to Appleloosa. A lot had changed, but Bloomberg kept up hope. It was getting late. He sent out one last pulse to see if a passing lizard would be his friend.
It wouldn't.
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The walls of Sugar Cube Corner had peeling wallpaper. Cobwebs had been spun in every corner, and most things in the sweet shoppe were covered in a layer of dust at least 3 inches thick. Most things. One lone muffin sat on the counter top, above all the dust and cracked glass. It had not a speck of dust on it, and although it was 30 decades old, it was still as moist and delicious as the day it was baked. This was the perfect muffin.
Cooked by famed baker Pinkamena Diane Pie shortly before her departure from Ponyville to the high-class baking shows filmed in Manehatten, it was owned by a Ms. Derpy Hooves for an extended period of time. Derpy, a large muffin fan, purchased the pastry for a mere 5 bits, equal to today's $50,000,000,000. Neither baker nor buyer knew of the muffins perfectedness, but Derpy dared not eat it. Instead, she treasured the muffin, treating it as though it were her own child. She took it for walks, changed it's diaper, and burped it after meal time.
Skip to 20 years later, and Derpy was the final citizen in Ponyville. Knowing her death was coming fast, Derpy returned the muffin back to where it all started. The muffin has been sitting on the broken glass counter top in an abandoned shoppe of an empty ghost town for almost 300 years. The perfect muffin.
Suddenly, magic enveloped the muffin, and teleported it away. Meanwhile, down the street, taking a few turns (left, right, left, left), and in the middle of Ponyville, the same thing happened to a small boulder by the name of Tom.
