A single, white rose...

Stage 1: Denial

Day 1

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? Days? It feels like an eternity already, but I know that’s not possible. I haven’t been here long enough for the sun to set. I can still feel its warmth on my stone-cold skin.

Stone-cold. Heh. Literally.

I knew they’d be furious when I tried to take over Equestria. I mean, it’s not every day a filly like me outsmarts the Princesses and comes this close to total victory. But I didn’t expect this—petrified, frozen in time. A statue.

Tirek and Chrysalis are right beside me. I can’t hear them, can’t see them, but I know they’re there. Stuck like me. Not that it matters. They were just tools in my plan. But now, we’re all standing here, like some twisted lawn decoration in the middle of Canterlot Gardens.

Huh. Canterlot Gardens. I’d laugh if I could. They put me in the same place as their precious statues of friendship and harmony. How poetic. Too bad for them, I’m not staying here forever.

Any minute now, Twilight and her friends will realize how unfair this is. Maybe even come groveling for my forgiveness. They’ll beg for it, I bet. They’ll have no choice!

...Right?

Day 5

More ponies keep passing by, gawking at me like I’m part of the scenery. I can’t see much, just their hooves, their shadows passing over me. But I know what they’re doing. They’re probably whispering about how dangerous I am. How I almost outsmarted the rulers of Equestria.

Almost. That word stings.

And then there’s Twilight. Oh, she comes by every day. Like clockwork. I can hear her hooves coming from a mile away. Always accompanied by her usual entourage—Starlight Glimmer, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

I’m sure they’re here to reflect on their “triumph,” maybe to feel guilty about turning a poor little filly to stone. I don’t need their guilt. It’s temporary. This statue thing? It won’t last.

Twilight’s voice drifts through the garden. “I just… I hope she understands why we had to do this,” she says softly, almost too softly for me to hear. “I hope one day she’ll see that it wasn’t about punishment. We wanted to give her a chance to reform…”

Reform?! Are you kidding me? You didn’t give me a chance, you locked me up in stone! And now you want me to understand? Oh, Twilight, how naive can you be?

Starlight sighs. “She was… well, she was a child. I still don’t understand how she could’ve turned out like this. So young and yet so... dangerous.”

“Some ponies make mistakes,” Twilight replies. “And sometimes they need time to understand that.”

Mistakes? Please. I don’t make mistakes. They made the mistake, thinking this is going to hold me forever. They’ll see.

Stage 2: Anger

Day 30

It's been weeks. The days blur together now. The sun rises, it sets. I hear the birds, the rustle of leaves, and the distant chatter of ponies, always the same. I hate it. I hate every single pony that walks by without a second thought.

They don’t even realize what they’re walking past! Do they know how close I came to ruling them all? To making them bow to me? Of course they don’t. They never will.

But Twilight keeps visiting. She’s always so… serious. Like she thinks she can fix everything by staring at me long enough. What does she think will happen? That I’ll suddenly feel sorry? That I’ll regret my choices?

Today, she’s here again. The Cutie Mark Crusaders are with her, and I can hear them whispering. Apple Bloom’s voice breaks the silence first.

“Ah don’t know, Twilight. Maybe if we’d been better friends to her... maybe she wouldn’t’ve turned out this way.”

Friends? Friends?! You think that’s why I did what I did? I didn’t need friends—I needed power. I was so close. So close to showing all of Equestria what real leadership looks like.

Sweetie Belle chimes in, her voice soft. “We tried. I think… I think she just didn’t want to be helped.”

I want to scream. I want to shout at them, tell them they’re wrong. I didn’t need help. I had everything under control! It was Tirek and Chrysalis who failed me. They were the weak links.

This isn’t my fault. It’s theirs. It’s Twilight’s fault for not recognizing my brilliance. It’s—

“I just hope she’s not suffering,” Twilight says quietly.

Suffering? Oh, you have no idea, Twilight Sparkle. You have no idea what it feels like to be trapped here. To be unable to move, to talk, to fight. The rage I feel every single moment—it’s burning me up inside.

But you’ll never know. You’ll never understand. Because you’re still out there, free to live your perfect little life.

And I’m stuck here. Alone.

Day 100

The anger hasn’t gone away. In fact, it’s only gotten worse. Every time Twilight or Starlight or those insufferable Crusaders come by, it’s like they’re twisting the knife. They get to move on with their lives while I’m… this.

But something’s different today. Someone else is here. I can feel it, sense it somehow. It’s not Twilight’s usual group. This pony is quiet, moving with a different kind of energy.

I hear hooves softly approaching. Then something drops near my hooves—a soft thud. A flower? I can’t see it, but I know it’s there.

Who would leave a flower for me?

The pony doesn’t say anything. They just stand there for a long moment, and then they walk away, their hoofsteps fading into the distance.

It’s strange. The silence they left behind feels heavier than anything Twilight’s ever said. And for the first time, I feel… something else. Something I can’t place.

Stage 3: Bargaining

Day 200

The pony with the flower came again. They’ve been coming every few weeks now, always leaving the same white rose at my hooves.

At first, I didn’t care. I thought it was just another useless gesture. But now, it’s starting to get to me. Who is this pony? Why do they keep coming? What do they want from me?

Twilight’s visits have slowed. She doesn’t come as often anymore. And Starlight? I haven’t heard her in a while either. The Cutie Mark Crusaders stopped coming altogether. Maybe they’re finally moving on with their lives. Lucky them.

But this other pony… they haven’t stopped. They always leave the same white rose. Always in silence.

It’s not like I care. I don’t. But… what if I could? What if I had cared? What if I had done things differently?

I keep thinking about the ponies who visited me, about the things they said. Maybe Apple Bloom was right. Maybe I could’ve… had friends. Maybe I didn’t need to manipulate and lie. But how else was I supposed to get what I wanted? Ponies don’t give you power—you have to take it.

But maybe, if I hadn’t been so focused on winning, I could’ve had something more. A real life. A family. Friends.

The flower sits there, untouched. I wish I could kick it away. Or… maybe I don’t.

Day 365

A whole year. It’s been a whole year since I was turned into stone. The gardens change with the seasons, the flowers bloom and wither, but I stay the same.

I think I’ve lost track of time. I don’t even know how long it’s been since Twilight or Starlight came. But the dark pony? They’re still here. Always. Every week, they come, and every week, they leave another white rose.

Today, they stayed longer. I heard them sigh, a deep, weary sound. It wasn’t until then that I noticed… their voice. Soft, almost too soft to hear. “I wish things could have been different,” the pony said. “I wish I could’ve done better.”

Their voice cracks, just for a moment. And something about it makes my heart ache in a way I didn’t expect. It’s familiar, but I can’t place why.

They leave again, and I’m left with that single white rose at my hooves, my thoughts heavier than ever.

Stage 4: Depression

Day 730

Two years. Has it really been two years? I think I’m starting to forget what it felt like to move, to fly, to talk. To be anything other than stone.

The garden around me has become a monotonous blur of passing seasons. Flowers bloom, leaves fall, and yet I stay the same—unchanged, unnoticed. I used to count the days, but even that’s lost its meaning. I’m just… here.

Twilight stopped coming months ago. I don’t hear her voice anymore. Starlight, the Crusaders—they’ve moved on, too. They probably think they’ve done enough. How nice of them.

The only one who still visits is that same pony, the one who leaves the white rose every week. I still don’t know who they are, and I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. Their visits used to make me curious, maybe even a little angry. Now they just make me feel… tired.

What’s the point?

Today, like always, they come. I hear the familiar sound of hooves on the soft grass. The white rose drops near my hooves, just like before. But this time, the pony lingers. They speak, their voice soft and filled with something I haven’t heard in a long time: sadness.

“I’m sorry, Cozy.”

Sorry. The word echoes in my mind, heavy and hollow. It’s the first time they’ve said my name. For the first time, it feels like they’re speaking to me, not just to the statue. I want to scream at them, to ask why they’re here, why they keep coming. But I can’t. I can only listen.

The pony’s voice wavers, like they’re holding back tears. “I wish I had been a better mother.”

My mind freezes. Mother?

There’s a long pause, and the pony takes a shaky breath before continuing. “I should have been there for you. I should have raised you right. I was too focused on my own problems, on my own life, and I didn’t see what you needed. I didn’t see you.”

Her words sting, like tiny pricks against my stone heart. My mother? She’s my mother?

I hadn’t thought about her in years. I hadn’t even remembered her. But now, her voice is bringing back memories I’ve long buried. Days when I was just a filly, so desperate for attention, for love. But she was always busy, always somewhere else, always too preoccupied with her own problems. I learned early that the only way to get noticed was to take control. To make myself seen.

But now? Now she’s here, standing in front of me, leaving roses at my hooves, apologizing like it’s going to change anything.

I hate her. I hate her for abandoning me when I needed her. I hate her for coming now, when it’s too late.

But why… why does it hurt so much?

Day 750

She’s still coming. Every week, without fail, my mother—my mother—brings another white rose. She talks to me now, not every time, but more often than before. Her voice is so sad, so filled with regret.

“I’m so sorry, Cozy,” she says one day, her voice trembling. “I didn’t know how to help you. I didn’t know how to be a good mother. And now… now it’s too late.”

She’s right. It is too late. But her words echo in my mind, twisting and turning, until I can’t escape them. I want to tell her it doesn’t matter. I want to scream that I don’t care about her apologies. But the truth is, I do care. I always cared.

That’s what hurts the most.

Day 800

It’s been months since I found out the dark figure visiting me was my mother. Since then, I’ve been thinking about her more and more. The things she says, the things she apologizes for—they all feel like wounds I thought had healed, being ripped open again.

She tells me about her life. About how she struggled after I was born. How she didn’t know how to raise a filly, how she didn’t have the support she needed. It sounds like excuses to me at first. But then, one day, I realize something that makes my stomach sink: I never gave her a chance either.

She says it again, like she always does. “I’m sorry, Cozy. I wish I could’ve been there for you.”

This time, I don’t feel anger. I just feel… empty. And tired.

Day 1000

I’m starting to notice her age. Every time she visits, my mother moves a little slower, her steps a little more labored. She still leaves a white rose at my hooves, but her voice is weaker now, her breaths heavier.

Today, she sits down in front of me, her knees trembling as she lowers herself to the ground. “I’m getting old, Cozy,” she says softly. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to come here.”

Something inside me tightens. I want to tell her not to say that. I want to scream that I don’t care, that it doesn’t matter. But it does. It matters more than anything.

She looks up at me, tears in her eyes. “I never told you this, but… I love you, Cozy. I’ve always loved you. I just didn’t know how to show it.”

I can feel the weight of her words settling over me like a blanket, heavy and suffocating. She loves me? Now she says that? After all these years, after everything I’ve done, now she tells me she loves me?

I want to hate her. I want to be angry. But all I feel is regret.

Regret for the things I said, the things I did. Regret for pushing everypony away, for thinking I didn’t need anypony. I thought I was so smart, so clever. But in the end, I was just… alone.

Stage 5: Acceptance

Day 1500...?

It’s been years. So many years. The garden has changed around me, the world has moved on, but I’m still here. Still trapped in stone.

My mother still comes, though not as often. She’s older now, much older. Her once dark mane is streaked with silver, her steps slow and unsteady. But she always brings a white rose.

Today, she stands in front of me, her frail body trembling as she reaches out to place the rose at my hooves. She looks up at me, her eyes filled with the same sadness I’ve seen for years, but now there’s something else. Something final.

“I love you, Cozy,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do better.”

Her voice cracks, and she takes a deep breath, her whole body shaking with the effort. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to come. But I wanted you to know… I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

She stands there for a long time, just looking at me. And for the first time, I wish I could speak. I wish I could tell her that I forgive her. That I’m sorry, too. But I can’t. I’ll never be able to say those words. All I can do is listen, trapped in this stone prison.

She turns to leave, her steps slow and heavy, and I watch as she disappears into the distance, her figure growing smaller and smaller until she’s gone.

And I’m alone again.

But this time, something feels different. The anger, the bitterness—it’s gone. All that’s left is a quiet acceptance. I can’t change what happened. I can’t undo my mistakes. But I can forgive. I can let go.

I still can’t move. I’m still trapped. But for the first time, I feel free.

The End ?