Author's Note

hi :) im not a writer so this might be really bad or messy, idk. there was no draft for this :P i dont plan on continuing this or writing more (i mean maybe if i get really positive feedback) also yes there was some inspiration from "and hell followed" cuz i really adored that story❤️

hope u enjoy!!!!

The End

Twilight couldn't remember how long ago it was that the end of Equestria had started. She'd spent her hours, days, months, maybe even years, toiling away in her tree house, skimming every book in her library & basement over and over, thinking about every word of each section carefully. It was some sort of disease that had taken her life & friends.
It began somewhere in Canterlot with an odd new restaurant. the chef had been lazy preparing the food - hell, the food itself may have been illegal. An illness popped up. Ponies began to complain of extreme thirst, insomnia, fatigue, and vomiting. Of course, the restaurant shut down soon after for not meeting health requirements, and every pony knew that was the source.
Soon after, it spread like wildfire. fights broke out in the street from restless ponies who were angry over being denied treatment at the already packed hospitals.

It's not like a hospital could've helped anyways. This illness wasn't skin-deep. Not physical, or emotional or mental, or even magic-related. Ponies began to bite into each other's flesh in their daze, tearing wet and gooey bits of muscle from the bone, ripping apart the soft tissue. Their saliva seeped deep into their being, transmitting the illness to them, dooming them.
It was unlike anything any pony had ever seen, not even Celestia and Luna themselves. They didn't know what they could do, and that caused more riots as they disappeared from the public eye. The disease spread to them either way, they had let their guard down and waited too long, expecting another magical solution to pop up and fix all their problems, like they so commonly did, but that wouldn't solve this one.

When it got to Ponyville it was already too late. Basically zombies, mares, stallions, and foals were dropping like flies from the disease, their throats searing hot when they tried to drink anything, and their eyes too painfully bloodshot and sore to close. Their minds were numb, practically melting from the torture that was existence while infected. They suffered long weeks, up to months of hunger and thirst, clammy skin, shaky and aching bodies, and delusion. As their minds dulled, they began descending into madness, their consciousness fading in and out, brains spasming, thoughts racing.
They were disoriented and in horrible pain, dragging their hooves along sluggishly, tired but refusing to stop walking to a destination that doesn't exist anymore.

At times, there would be glimpses of their past selves. Remnants of who they used to be resurfacing. Twilight's friends would gather at her door and attempt to usher her out with talk of a party, or an adventure, or anything else they could remember. Anything they used to do together. It was almost like a cry for help, trying to show that they're still in there.
Despite the pain of hearing their tired and scratchy voices, Twilight didn't open the door. She knew that if she opened it, they'd just charge her in a confused and angry, maybe even desperate mania. It wasn't that they were evil, they were just too sick to know any better. They existed merely as shells of who they once were, hoping for rest without remembering how rest feels, repeating the same things over and over as they descended further into their madness.

They couldn't rest, they couldn't close their eyes, they couldn't stop moving. They were stuck in this loop of dragging their thin, cumbersome bodies around, dry heaving. Their minds and bodies were decaying with every moment that passed.
The stronger ones suffered longer. They were resilient, and that meant they would be released by death in what could be years, decades even. They were even more confused and angry than the rest.
Rainbow Dash was one of them. Twilight was sure that if she could, if she had enough energy to, Rainbow would fly through her treehouse and maul her like a dog that's been provoked far too long. She was animalistic, violent, and her mind was lost in her impulses. Though she felt guilty, Twilight was grateful for this.

While Rainbow Dash, and the rest of her friends were in agony they couldn't comprehend, their slowness had allowed Twilight to survive for as long as she did, living on rations in her basement, and trying to grow her own garden.

Twilight wouldn't give up on finding a cure for this. She was the Princess of Friendship now, afterall. She had dealt with magical curses and such before, and she was almost certain she could do it again. Almost. Her hope and sanity would falter with every second, watching the moon twitch and sway in the air every now and then. She couldn't bear the thought of Luna as one of these creatures, thin, dirty, scared. Trying her hardest to move the moon, perhaps in a flash of her regaining the consciousness she had before, or whatever might be left.

And Celestia. Oh, Celestia. Her dearest mentor, almost like another mother to Twilight. It'd break her if she saw her like this. But Twilight knew she had to keep going, to find a way to heal her friends. Keep going. Keep going. Suddenly, a knock hit her window gently, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up and it was Pinkie, dragging along a Party Cannon. It was dirty and cracked along the sides, as well as chipping in the front. She nudged the windowsill with it, wordlessly pleading with Twilight to let her in.

Twilight ignored her, but her chest tightened. She couldn't not acknowledge Pinkie. Pinkie was frail and bloodied, fur matted and hairless on some patches. Her hair was wild, tangled and messy, unevenly torn and cut in some places too. She was thin and shaking, her ribs visible. Her eyes were sunken, red, and uncanny. Twilight felt this was her fault. She had lost everyone.

She swallowed thickly and stuttered out a no, her voice scratchy from not having talked in a long time. She almost forgot she could. Pinkie began rambling, it was near completely unintelligible. She was babbling with random growls and pauses, mentioning parties every once in a while. She dropped her party cannon and paused, confused as to what just happened. She gazed down at its dull blue, cracked sides.

Twilight looked on, both her heart and gut wrenching at the sight. Pinkie began tearing up, her eyes less foggy and clueless than they had been just a moment ago. Her tongue hung out, long, cracked, and covered in a moist-dry brown slobber.
Pinkie could evidently no longer control her movements, she was in the final stage of the disease. She stepped back and in a burst of energy, charged at Twilight's window. She hit it with a loud thud and crack. A light splatter of blood dripped down, and Pinkie hit the floor.

Twilight looked down at her notebook, numb. It was filled with not the studies she thought she had been going over, but unreadable scribbles and torn out pages. Her mind was racing but she held it in, too tired to freak out at this point. She closed the blinds and continued writing, still looking for a solution.