Reflection

by Scriblits Talo

Rating: mature
Tags: Violence, Slice of Life, Dark, Death, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Octavia, Horror, Pinkie Pie, Suicide / Self Harm
Length: 2061

Pinkie Pie is Dead, Octavia keeps seeing her

Written for the Category Three Horror Contest

Published 2024-10-31 00:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-10-31 00:40:00 UTC

Reflection

I Scream
You scream
We all scream
For Ice Cream_Unown

It was the first real day of Autumn. I shivered, and not just because the pegasi had just blown in the first chill winds of the season.
Pinkie Pie took a massive lick at the dark swirl that perched atop her cone.

“Mmm Chocolate Cherry, what flavor did you get Octavia?”

I gave my ice cream a gentle tap with my tongue enjoying the simple yet elegant flavor, letting it melt in my mouth before responding, but by then she was already gone. I watched for a moment the cloud of dust in her wake, off she was again to perform some grand feat of kindness.
Such an odd word feat(feet), but I thought about it for only a moment… anything to keep my mind off of how nervous I was for the upcoming recital.

At this point, I fear I must apologize, as I am miffing this story all up. Quills Worth (a dear old teacher of mine) would be so disappointed, she would be turning in her grave to read this.
With respect to her memory and to you dear reader, I will start again, this time using the old form, the correct form, and I will try not to stray too far from my tale.

Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria, I was sitting on the front steps to Sugarcube Corner and having iced cream with a friend. As I said before, I was alone, left with my own thoughts and worries.
Thoughts of feet aside I again turned to consider Pinkie Pie, it was her funeral I would be performing in after all.

I… I froze.
Who…

Who had I been eating Ice cream with who had I been talking to just two seconds ago…
I looked beside me, drips of chocolate ice cream on those painted steps, like fresh drops of blood, I looked before me, hoofprints scattered across the dust.
I did what any sensible pony would do in my position, I stood up, and eyes to dirt, leaving my treat where it lay (I had dropped it in my shock) I followed the hoofprints…
Or, or that is what I would like to say that I had done… but I cannot, as I did not.
I just sat stunned shivering in the autumn breeze.

The Funeral was surprisingly tasteful.
Born on a Tuesday, the greatest party planner in all of Equestria, A member of F.R.O.W.N.(Friendship Ranger Organization of World Wide Neigh-gotiations, not to be mistaken for the facial expression of the same name, perhaps more colloquially known as the mane six) an actual war hero and an advisor to the princess, to name a few of Pinkie’s accomplishments. It was not surprising that her funeral was a huge affair. There had not been such a gathering of ponies, of creatures for that matter, since Princess Twilight's coronation.

Lady Rarity and Sir Cheese Pie had really done a splendid job with their preparations and not a thing, not a banner, not a balloon was out of place.

Weddings and funerals hold an odd semblance of similarity, the most beautiful of them share in this:

They both are an act of humility. Both are days for the one you love as much as for yourself, but more importantly perhaps, both are a day we submit ourselves to eternity, to the breath of life and time. Nothing is more humbling than eternity.
Both ask us to give of ourselves all that we are, our mortality, and our love. What is in an end but a beginning, what is in a beginning but an end?
In weddings we honor those that we love, do we not do the same for their end.

“To have and to hold from this day forward for better or for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to Love and to cherish till death do us part.”

“Memento Mori”

Those gathered there that day were in consensus about this: Pinkamena Diane Pie would not want them to be sad for her passing. There was not a dry eye, but out of respect for the deceased, neither were there any sagging faces. There was much laughter and drinking. Everypony had their story to tell, about times that were good, and about how each of their lives was just a little bit improved(more often than not a lot improved) for having Pinkie pop in, if only for a moment.
She looked so peaceful in that candy-embedded shroud as they carried her coffin down the aisle.
Loved ones showered her with as many flowers with tears, and soft whispers fell from each lip upon her still form, small kindnesses better given in life (could Pinkie ever be held still enough to share them), alas we do what we can.
Heartstrings strummed gently at her lyre as the guests took to their seats. Soon the rest of us joined in, filling the atmosphere of that sober place with music's soothing cadence. My cello moaned in my hooves; it was like a reassuring voice gilded in a sea of sadness.
We played on as they lowered her into the cool earth. We played on as every creature took dirt in hoof, in claw in order to toss upon the coffin, a tradition of letting go.
The rain came down and the earth became mud, and we played on.

I was playing into the third movement of the fifth piece when I saw her. She stood there amidst the mass of ponies, of other creatures who had all risen from their seats to pay their respects. She was veiled in black… but I knew those eyes, no other creature in Equestria had eyes like those. Perhaps I should have been scared… Her presence there was an odd comfort. Despite the body, her body, now firmly in the earth… somehow everything was better that Pinkie was here in body and soul. Besides I could do nothing but play on.

I wish I could tell you dear reader that it ended there, that I waved a hoof to that phantasmal form, and she waved back and from there we each went our separate ways. If that had just only been.

This story could have been a comfort, a boon even to all those who missed Pinkie Pie, just, a friendly spirit waving its last goodbyes… what a sweet tale (tail) that would be.

Reader, I have to tell my story, but you do not need to listen, in fact, I urge you to leave now. Let the remainder of the tale (tail) be my burden to bear.

Even baring it. Reader, I am sorry, I have to say something, to write something… or I may very well go insane…

Have I not already?

Insane, I was insane once
They put me in a room
A rubber room
A rubber room with rats
Rats, I hate rats
They drive me insane
Insane I was insane once

Dearest reader, the story going forward is not one anypony needs to hear, but it is one I need to tell, please, please forgive me.

The funeral was not the last place that I saw her.
Always silent, always veiled in black, but I knew it to be her, those eyes, that pink tuft of mane.
I see dead ponies… mostly Pinkie Pie… only Pinkie Pie.
I would be mid-conversation with somepony and I would cut them off to abruptly ask if they saw the pink pony in the crowd beyond them.
They would turn to see no pony.
I would walk alone in the night to hear a second set of hooves in my wake.

Clop clop clop clop
Clop clop clop clop

“Is anypony there”

Silence, only silence in response, a ghostly silence.
It was her, it had to be, I knew it, in the depths of my heart, by the mark on my flank it had to be her. But every time I turned around, she was gone.
Finally, one evening, as the sun slowly set, there she stood before me staring in my direction. Her veil wisped across her face in the wind. I caught just the briefest glimpse of the pink of her muzzle, the red of her mortal disfigurement.

We watched each other in momentary fettered silence.

She then turned and began to walk away.

I looked about me at the bustling market… Nopony seemed to notice, the moment we had just had, me and the dead.

They didn't and they never would, ponies just going about their normal lives. If only it could be so simple. A hundred worries burbled in my chest and all of Ponyville milled on around me, the churning earth milled on as I watched the ghost depart.

No. I wouldn’t let her just leave; I couldn't leave well enough alone. Instead, I dug my hooves in against the dusty earth, and I galloped after the ghostly form.

She didn’t run, only seeming to glide across the earth at ease. Despite this, and oddly I found myself galloping at full tilt to keep up.

I panted, snot spewing from my muzzle. My skin, my pelt was slick with foam of sweat as I struggled not to lose sight of the phantom.

At long last, and when I thought I could follow no further she stopped.

We stared at each other, her as silent as ever and me gasping for every breath.
I looked about me, briefly, trying to get my bearings and to recover my confused daze.
We sat on a hill at the outskirts of Ponyville, behind us the same, beyond us the Everfree forest.
The phantom stepped into the trees.

I, I followed.

Trees trembled overhead, a wistful breeze weaving through them all on its own accord. Heedless of my own safety I followed the phantom further into the depths of the forest.
Then I saw it. Clear as glass it loomed from beneath the shadows of a great dark castle, the Mirror pool.

There were stories about these waters, I didn’t know them well, But all the same. This place made my spine crawl... Had somepony died here?

I watched breathlessly as the phantom turned and waved, beckoning, before she stepped into the pool, and as delicately, as silently as she appeared, she vanished. Not a ripple trembled across the surface as she slipped into the glass like pond.

The air was suddenly still, perhaps no longer stirred by the paranormal, but still, I shivered.
Hooves trembling as I approached the pond.

I gazed at the pool, and it gazed back at me with eyes like mine, violet satin eyes. Searching eyes.

I hated those eyes, what they had seen, what they had failed to see, what they had refused to see.

I could have saved Pinkie, and I did not… It... It was my fault… I murdered her… no… it wasn't on purpose… it was my fault. She was dead.

Suddenly I was in the pool staring up at myself seeing the furled crease in my brow, and I was above the pool watching the confusion cross my face.
There was a splash and suddenly I felt my hooves over my own throat, and I was gasping for air and only water filled my throat, and I was above myself.
I reached up and grasped my towering form and SPLASH! I fell in as the form below me dragged me into the depths of the pool.
Suddenly the world was awash in blue and bubbles and black, I kicked at me, we kicked at each other and there was red too.
I breached to the surface sucking in only a moment of oh so sweet air before again being dragged to the depths… and we struggled and fought until only I remained, finally, the world went dark and only I remained.

I sunk to the bottom of the depths to know no more.

I drug myself to the surface, sputtering and panting and trembling.
After recovering for a long moment far from the edge of the pond, I found my way home, tracking wet hoofprints all the way from the entryway to my bed.