Anonymous in Nu-Questria

For five more nights, you slept without food.

You began to have dreams that shook you to the core with their terrible lucidity. You would wake up in a panic and bang your head against the low ceiling of your dwelling.

You were in Twilight’s library. Her large purple eyes rolled around and around in her head like spinning wind-up toys. Her mouth kept flapping and saying words but you couldn’t pick any of them out. You focused on her lips, her jaw wobbling up and around. There was a voice but no words.

Spike, who was holding exactly two eggs, put them in your lap and said “Come on home to roost, my guy.”

Suddenly, you put a hand on Twilight’s hoof. You smiled and said, “Thank you Twilight, I needed that.”

She smiled at you, then her face started to change in slow motion. Her face pulled backward, gaining more wrinkles than you had ever seen before as it morphed into a look of abject horror.

You were chewing something. It was gummy and tasted like grapes. You swallowed, then sunk your teeth into Twilight’s hoof again to take off another large chunk. You left a perfect, sticky bite mark in her hoof. It stuck to your teeth and you wiggled it around with your tongue.

You rub your head as the dream film is rinsed off your brain.

You crawl out of the pile of dead leaves and grass that you collected in a desperate attempt to add more warmth to your shelter. Your limbs feel taut and stiff as you raise up to greet the faint light of dawn. You already feel drained, both physically and mentally.

You crouch down and look over your collection of materials and go through it one more time.

You have a lot of string. Enough to make another snare, but what was the point? They always turned up empty with the bait missing when you checked them.

You consider trying to whittle a fishing hook again, but it took you so long that last time. You followed the brook all the way to that pond, and for what? Just to see your hook get taken by that huge swampy frog thing. The string snapped right in your hands.

The spear sits without a head. No more glass shards. All of them sit in tiny pieces now. Not a single one hit.

It’s strange. Somehow the animals, whether they be rabbits, goats, hedgehogs, or birds, all see it coming. It’s almost like the animals are protected by some special sixth sense. Like Celestia is watching over all of them to make sure you don’t commit the unholy sin of eating some fucking meat.

You put your head in your hands and rub your face. Your fingers are raw and swollen with blisters. Your feet ache from the constant walking. Your dream of the comfy cabin in the woods feels like a sick joke to you now.

You sigh. Well, if this is how you die, it’s better than living a lie. Maybe you’ll wake up back in the real world. Maybe this is what’s supposed to happen.

Starving to death really sucks though. So you decide to whittle a new point to the spear. You shave it down and blacken it with fire until it becomes hard. You visualize how well it would sink into flesh. You long for it.

You keep the bracelet wrapped around it, a little ways down from the point. You shake the spear when you finish and it rattles.

Rattles. Rattles. Rattlesnake.

You hear the hiss. You flail in surprise. You spin and jump up onto a nearby boulder. Your head whips around. Fuck! Where is it? Your heart is pounding and you scan the tall grass.

You see nothing. You realize you threw the spear thinking it was a snake. A hallucination. You clench your eyes and rub the bridge of your nose.

Fucking hell. You hop down and pick up the spear.

You walk further north than you ever walked before that day. Beyond cliffs and the summits of the rocky hills, you find an overlook and survey the land beyond. The foothills continue into the distance, all covered in dense forest. The tops of snow-capped mountains stand like ghosts on the hazy horizon. You notice a dense cloud of fog is pouring its way into the forest valley below. The hills are brimming with mist.

You make your way down into the valley. The vegetation is even thicker here, and the air feels much more humid. Thick vines snake along the branches and the trunks of nearly every tree. Spindly blue-green moss hangs in clumps from everything. You hear the sounds of rustling and movement more frequently in the bush.

The sky is getting darker earlier than usual today. No, that’s not it. The air is getting harder to see through. The sunlight dims to a soft, pale light. You find yourself straining to see as the world is enveloped in gray fog.

You poke your spear ahead of you, tapping to feel for the tree trunks or any sudden drops you might encounter. Suddenly, you get to a void in the trees. You swing the spear in a wide arc and feel nothing beyond.

You step into what you think is a small clearing. Your feet touch cool grass laden with dew.

You step forward again. Then again.

Soon you do not see any trees around you. You can’t remember how far you are from the treeline.

You feel eyes upon you. You hear a faint whisper from your right.

“Anon” it says. You look at see nothing but swirling fog.

“Anonymous.” It says from a different direction. Nothing there.

You tense your body, slowly turning in place, spear outstretched. Your grip is sure. You want it to come. You are ready.

“Have you really forgotten, old friend?” You hear the voice ring true and clear this time. It sounds deep and vaguely condescending.

The fog clears a bit as you turn to the center of the clearing. There, a large, slender tree sits with an impossibly voluminous canopy above. There are only powdery pink petals on the twigs and branches. No leaves. Their mass forms a strange shape that looks like a cascading wave. The petals float off the tree in an endless stream.

Below the tree, blending into the pale gray bark, sits a figure. It has an old, gray cloak on. You notice a pair of mismatched horns jutting out of the hood. A pair of red, gleaming eyes are fixed on you from the darkness inside.

“After all this time, you still don’t know...?” The figure says.

You drop your spear and it silently falls to the grass. You gawk at the sight. He is clutching onto something with his talon-like hand. It’s a golden pocket watch. It swings methodically like a pendulum. There are three symbols on the clock’s face. A sun, a moon, and a star. They spin around and around inside the watch at dizzying speeds. His hand seems more bony and gnarled than you remember. The bright yellow now has a tinge of gray.

“What is the one thing you need in this world, more than anything else? Hm? What is that one ingredient you’re missing?” the figure of Discord questions.

You stand silently and lower your head. Somehow you can hear the whirring of the watch as if its right in your ear.

“Discord...” you finally say, “If you are...”

“Behind all this? Oh, no... what you see all around you is not the work of chaos, my splendid human friend.” He says. “Chaos is neutral. Chaos is fair. Oh, this is something much more sinister, I’m afraid. Something no pony or man can stop, no matter how hard they try. Oh dear... what a crying shame.”

He sounds older than you remember. Another joke? He isn’t supposed to age. You can still feel those burning red eyes.

“I... know you won’t help me. Or answer my questions...” you say, “But I still have to try to ask...”

You fall to your knees. You bend forward and press your forehead to the cool grass. You clasp your hands above your head.

“P-Please tell me if they are alive.” You say, choking back tears.

“Hahahah!” Discord laughs. You raise up your head slowly, tears streaming down your eyes. He laughs again.

“Oh Anon, you were always one of my favorites, you know.” He says.

You slowly sit up on your knees.

“You had such a natural talent for sowing disharmony. Such endless amusement. Hahah, it was truly divine! I think maybe you should be the god of chaos now. Hahahah!” He laughs.

You simply just look at him.

Slowly, Discord raises up to his hooves. His hand still outstretched, the watch never leaves its rhythm.

“Yet you always had that little ‘problem’ didn’t you...?” He says.

Suddenly, the watch stops moving. The pink petals flowing from the tree freeze in midair. The sounds of the forest stop completely. Discord releases his grip. His withered fingers pop and crack as he flexes them.

“Ahh... much better.” He says. “My hand was getting so tired...”

He tugs back on his hood. To your surprise you are met with soft, faded eyes and a warm smile on his face.

“It was good to see you again, Anon.” He says, a surprising amount of sincerity in his tone. “I mean that. Honestly, I do.”

Your eyes widen as his talon raises up, his thumb pressing against his middle finger. No. Shit! No!

He snaps.

The watch begins to fall. It falls incredibly fast, yet at the same time doesn’t move at all. Your eyes are fixated on it. The dials and symbols spinning faster and faster, all out of control. Its falling so fast. You need to catch it. You need to stop it from hitting the ground. Something terrible will happen if you don’t. Your body screams to move forward, yet you are completely still. The watch is a golden blur now, a streak in the air. In the next instant it will hit the ground. It will shatter into pieces. It will never be-

You wake up.

You hear the soft noises of birdsong and leaves rushing in the treetops. The morning light is cresting the canopy of the forest. You grunt and struggle to lift up your face off the grass. It feels itchy and your neck is very sore.

You slowly get up, your stiff limbs popping as you rise. You feel incredibly groggy. You rub your eyes and blink.

You are in a small, grassy clearing. There is no tree. There is no Discord. Just a small mound of dirt covered in grass.

You pick up your spear and walk towards the mound. Carefully, you prod around it with the blunt end. It feels like earth does. Then you hear a small, metallic tap.

You bend down and feel with your fingers. You pull up some tufts of grass and scrape away dirt.

There’s an old pocket watch buried in the soil. It is broken and incredibly tarnished with age. You decide to leave it sitting there.