Five hundred years ago, I was happy.
I had a wonderful wife and two beautiful foals. My house was positioned right by the sea, and each evening, I was graced with a beautiful sunset. I spent my days writing about the beauty of our world. There was no reason to be sad. Everything was perfect.
And yet, at the same time, everything was wrong.
I would be playing hoofball with my foals and would suddenly stop, a shiver running through me. Or I’d be sitting on the beach, watching a flood of colors splash across the sky, and without warning I’d be on my hooves, my ears flat and my tail lashing. Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
As time grew by, the feeling grew more violent. My wife told me I’d sometimes start screaming in the night for no reason whatsoever. Eventually I began to pay attention to when these feelings came, and the answer struck me. Every time I would glance at the sky, every time I would fix my eyes on the faraway city of Canterlot, that same sense of unbalance pierced my heart.
So I began to do research. I read up on the history of our sky and found the tale of Nightmare Moon, banished to the moon by her own sister. I researched Canterlot and discovered a creature called Discord, turned forever into stone by the same pony. And slowly, ever so slowly, things began to fall into place.
Our precious ruler, Celestia, wasn’t as precious as she appeared. Of course everypony knew the tale of Nightmare Moon. Most ponies, however, didn’t know the connection between her and Celestia. The two were sisters, sworn to protect each other after the other alicorns died out. And Discord, the spirit of chaos, was cruelly tricked by Celestia before being turned to stone. And yet our Princess kept these things hidden.
Immediately after discovering these facts, my weekly pamphlets, usually praising Celestia for her grace and majesty, took a sharp turn. I began to criticize our ruler. I said things like, “Celestia should have never come to rule Equestria,” and, “This usurper must be challenged.”
That was my first mistake.
My second mistake came months later, around the time of the Summer Sun Celebration. I decided to make my way to Canterlot Castle to have a peaceful discussion with our Princess, asking her to tell her subjects the truth. Apparently word spread fast. My family was notified that Celestia knew what I was planning.
They begged me not to go. They told me it was dangerous, asked me if I’d lost my mind. But, stubborn as I was, I ignored them.
How was I to know our Princess was prepared? How was I to know she would do what she did? The answer is simple; I couldn’t have known. So, blissfully unaware of the events to come, I traveled to Canterlot Castle to speak with her.
She turned me to stone.
I stood before her, defiance glinting in my careless eyes, as her horn began to glow. She ordered me to tell the public that everything I had said was a lie, but I held my ground.
It may sound petty, but I’m proud to say that I didn’t flinch as she trapped me in my stone prison. As everything I’d ever known slipped away, my family, my home, my love of writing, I bowed sarcastically and gave a small smile.
Now, tucked in the corner of the Canterlot Garden, I wait patiently. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. Maybe a small part of me still hopes Celestia will release me. But I know that’s illogical. Why would Celestia trap me here if she planned to let me go eventually?
Being a stone statue feels unusual, that’s for sure. I’m fully aware of everything that goes on, and yet, at the same time, I feel nothing. Wind and rain slowly wear away at my stone body, chips of me fall off, but I experience no pain. Only emptiness.
Hardly anyone ever comes near me. Even when classes of foals are given a tour of Canterlot Gardens, they’re only ever shown Discord and maybe a few of the more important statues. Nobody remembers old Mighty Quill, hidden away behind a maze of hedges. When ponies asked about me, hundreds of years ago, Celestia gave a short, simple answer: “Mighty Quill was executed.”
I wish that were the case. Anything is better than being in this small stone prison. I cannot move. I cannot speak. I can only…exist.
The only living creature that even remembers my name is Celestia. Ironic, isn’t it? The pony that I used to hate with a passion is the only pony that can keep me company. Sometimes I wonder if Celestia did that on purpose. Rather than simply letting me die, she trapped me with her for all of eternity.
I can hear her making her daily rounds of the Garden. First she checks on Discord to make sure he hasn’t escaped. Then she slowly makes her way to me, her head bowed low in silent shame.
One of the downfalls of being a statue is that I have bad eyesight. However, I do have exceptional hearing. Over the decades it dawned on me that every pony’s hoofsteps sound unique. Some hoofsteps sound soft and shy, some sound loud and arrogant. Some sound painful, aching with one thousand years of guilt.
The ruler of Equestria stops in front of me and lowers her head. Her eyes are cast upon the ground; I can hear by the way she shuffles her hooves that she is uncomfortable.
In years long gone I used to harbor fierce hatred toward her. I used to promise myself that if I ever broke free, I’d kill her. But when I realized I’d never be allowed to leave, the anger vanished, along with the regret. Five hundred years of sadness does that to a pony.
Now, the only emotion I let myself feel toward her is pity.
For the first time in a while, she shifts her gaze toward me and locks her gaze with mine. I am still fixed in a mocking bow, my nose pressed against the ground, but my eyes are cast upward toward her.
A blaze of regret flashes across her eyes. She frowns. “Hello, Mighty Quill,” she says.
It has been five hundred years since I heard her voice.
“I brought something for you,” she continues, sounding nervous. Something warm and fuzzy drapes over my back. A blanket, I assume. “I thought you might be cold. It is winter, after all.”
Is it? I think. I didn’t notice. Part of being a statue, you know? I can’t feel the cold.
Celestia clenches her jaw as if she can hear my thoughts. “I know what you’re thinking, Mighty Quill, and no, I’m not here to release you. I just…I don’t know. I realized I never give any of you statues protection from the weather.”
A brief jolt of anger rushes through me; I stifle it at once. Five hundred years and she just noticed this?
She looks away again. “It has almost been one thousand years since I banished Nightmare Moon. I fear she will return for revenge.”
I can’t imagine why.
“I have found a solution, though. Do you remember the Elements of Harmony? You used to say I was a hypocrite because of them. I practically drilled lessons of friendship and caring into my subjects, and yet I banished my own sister.” She gives a dry laugh. “I’ve located six young fillies with traits matching those of the Elements of Harmony. Already I have taken one on as my personal student. She’s smart, like you were, Quill.”
Never before has one pony been able to irritate me that many times in one conversation.
“Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I’m supposed to be punishing you, right? I feel guilty, though. Everything you said about me was right.”
Great, I think, so can you let me go?
Celestia turns away from me, her ears flattening. “I’ve said what I came to say. Farewell, Mighty Quill. Until tomorrow.” With that she slowly trots off, each step heavy with sorrow.
I suppose I anticipated this conversation to go smoother. Part of me expected her to realize what she’d done and free me, at last allowing me to die in peace. I should’ve known better. It’s true; Celestia has improved since I last heard her, but she’s still the same Celestia. As I said before, I pity her. She turned all those in the Garden to stone, yet she’s the only one with a heart truly made out of stone.
Once again, I am left alone in the Garden. At last I notice the chill in the air. Has it really been five hundred winters since I last moved on my own accord? Has it really been that long since everything changed?
Maybe one day Celestia will release me. Maybe one day she’ll approach me, her eyes sharp, an apology on her lips. She’ll shatter the rock that encases me, and I’ll fall to the ground, gasping for air. With a small smile I will let go, slipping into eternity at last.
All I have to do is keep on waiting.
