Amnesiac (And Other Yipping Tales)

Twilight Sparkle took a step. It was not altogether a terribly long or unnatural step by any means, but it made her think of something. As she stopped in the middle of Ponyville to ponder it, many curious glances were shot in her direction.

Something earlier that day—no, this was much longer before that—came to mind. Something about how with every breath you took, with every step you took, a pony dies somewhere in the world. The ponies dying peacefully in their sleep was not what bothered Twilight at that moment—but when she thought of the starving fillies and colts in the poorer parts of the world, her stomach gave a churn. Nevertheless, she took another step.

This one held similar reactions from ponies around her, finding it mighty peculiar that Twilight Sparkle, the local neurotic—and friendly, of course, can’t forget about friendly, they say—wasn’t moving. Twilight had no such thought crossing her mind, mostly because she had heard something else long ago about what went on in the world; elsewhere, places where she had never been, ponies were being oppressed. Her thoughts flashed to Princess Celestia and her peaceful reign, and she shuddered to imagine what life would be like under someone’s tyrannical rule like King Sombra’s. Imagery of the desolation caused by such a regime flashed in her mind—yet, despite the beads of sweat running down her forehead and neck, despite her heavy breathing, she took another step.

The third step was much more relaxing. Her mind had drifted to her friends and how, through the magic of friendship, they had conquered all of the evil that was thrown their way. For the first time in the three steps she took, a hint of a smile began to creep up on her face—she took another step happily.

When her thoughts drifted to the evil she and her friends conquered, though, the fourth step took its toll—Chrysalis only did what she did in order to feed her entire species. They hadn’t even given the changelings the chance to reform or offer an alternative; they were forcibly removed from Canterlot, cruel even with Chrysalis being terribly deceptive. Twilight took another step, and with crystal clarity, she remembered each of the villains’ goals—none of them included murder, and none of them save Discord was given a chance afterwards. Even Discord took a great deal of time to get started on.

Twilight’s stomach churned once more, this time stronger than before. What made them so much better than those they’ve faced? Is she the one that’s evil, the one who’s causing more grief than good overall? No, she thought. They were evil. She and her friends did what they needed to do for the good of ponykind.

With a stronger feeling of self-pride backing her up, she took another step. The sixth presented her with an image of her parents—the ones she hadn’t visited during the entire time she had spent in Ponyville. She imagined them crying, wishing that they could just see their daughter once every so often. She made a mental note to visit them through efforts to fight back tears. As she took the seventh step, these efforts proved to be in vain. Ponies all around kept staring at Twilight, wondering why she was crying and whether they should help; the truth of the matter was, plainly, that she was actually happy. This step had no imagery or thoughts, and although she shed tears, she did not have her mind to burden her.

She took her eighth step, but this one did not share the last one’s characteristics. As if to make up for its lack of imagery on the last step, her mind flooded with images of those that counted on her to make things right in the world, with Celestia’s being the biggest. How could she, a new princess who just begun to use her newfound powers, match up with the celestial figure? Her heart’s courage faded, as she knew she could not rise up to the task and meet expectations. Regardless, her body was able to take another step.

The ninth step was much more physical than the other eight; she had stepped on a sharp rock that now found itself embedded in her hoof, as if reminding her again of her strife. She cursed under her breath and prodded it out—painfully, very painfully—with her other hoof. A trickle of blood flowed from the wound, but now that the rock was out, it was of little concern to her. She took another step.

The tenth step finally had a mare—a pink one, Pinkie Pie as she had discovered quickly—approach her and ask her if she was alright. Twilight looked to her friend, who had a rough fillyhood, who didn’t have magic, who didn’t have wings, yet she was many times happier than Twilight had ever been in her life. Twilight did not have to struggle to survive at any point, and this made her heart sink and her eyes water. Despite this, she told Pinkie adamantly that she was fine. As she took her eleventh step, Pinkie left, understanding that this was not natural, but needed to be dealt with on her own.

At the eleventh step, Twilight wondered what she did to cause this. Her day had been going fine—she visited a new part of Ponyville she had never seen before, sure, but besides that, everything was fine. She looked around for signs of Discord, ignoring the curious glances that were still shot in her direction all around. When she was satisfied that this was not an outsider’s doing, she took another step, pleading that this nightmare would end there.

It did not. All of Twilight’s nightmares suddenly crept up on her, hitting her with full impact all at once. Although it was not physical damage, the force of the impact nearly sent her reeling backwards—once they had stopped, she regained her composure, pleaded once more for everything to be normal again and took another step.

The thirteenth step showed her an image of Spike. He was doing something for her—shelving books? No, he had already done that by the looks of the neat, orderly shelves behind him. Had he cleaned up the library? The floor was already spotless. Twilight felt remorse; she couldn’t remember the last time she had even apologized or thanked Spike, let alone do something nice for him as he had done so many times before. She took another step.

At the fourteenth step, the image of a gravestone she had seen that day flashed in front of her. She could not read what it said through her mind, but she knew exactly what it said. Her stomach churned, tears flowed and her legs wobbled. It was hard enough saying goodbye—now she had to remember him? The thought was too painful for her to keep.

Twilight took her fifteenth step—her final step before reaching the library door she had grown accustomed to. It invited her into its warming confines, the place she so desperately wanted at that moment—despite being completely empty of life. The fifteen steps she took would haunt her for the rest of her life.