Author's Note
Acknowledgment:
The cover art of this piece is by Imalou of deviantART, and is used with her permission. She is best known as the creator of the Princess Celestia Image, "Power," from the "PONIES the Anthology II" video. This young woman is amazing, and I highly suggest you take a look at her deviantART gallery. Click the image source link to see the original piece, and please favorite the piece and leave Imalou a comment, if you like it. I've already given it the highest endorsement I can offer by using it for the cover image of my own work.
Author's Note:
This is the fourth entry into my short series exploring the Mane Six of my "Sun Eater" continuity, this piece deals with what will probably be considered by most to be the darkest issues thus far explored in this collection. There is some "adult" language, and some non-graphic exploration of sexual themes. However, the real hazard of this piece for an unprepared reader, is in my attempt to frankly explore the psychology of self-destruction. This is NOT a happy story, and to me, it's the most frightening thing I've yet written in this series. Please be aware of that as a reader.
As always, this is a stand-alone piece, and you will not have to have read "The Sun Eater" to understand it. However, I would deeply appreciate it if you would give that short novel a look, if you like this piece. Please be aware that due to some fairly graphic violence, you will not be able to access "The Sun Eater" without deactivating your "mature" filter.
Thanks for reading!
Mannulus
What Pinkie Wants
What Pinkie Wants
“Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views that others find inadmissible.”
– Carl Jung
Pinkie Pie sat at a window table inside Sugar Cube Corner, staring through the glass into a late winter snowfall. It was the uneven, slushy kind of snow that never really managed to cover the ground, and just left the town a cold, muddy mess for days afterward. She sipped lackadaisically at a cup of hot cocoa, and nibbled half-heartedly on a chocolate chip cookie. Before her on the table sat four separate stacks of papers. Each one contained at least a half dozen detailed orders for baked goods and candies that various local ponies – stallions, mostly – wanted delivered to some special pony or other two weeks from now on Hearts and Hooves Day.
“That's a stack for cakes, a stack for chocolates, a stack for cookies, and a stack for mixed baskets with some of everything.” She slapped her face with a hoof. “And I totally forgot that some of them have flower orders attached. Now, I have to reorganize these! Oh, and that reminds me; I haven't straightened out the delivery details with Rose, yet.”
She moaned quietly, and lay her head gently on the table. She had felt tired and listless for weeks, but it hadn't kept her from doing her work. The lobby was spotless, and every single customer who entered the door got the same cheerful reception she always offered.
The problem was that it wasn't genuine, and Pinkie Pie knew it. She had been forcing smiles and how-are-yous since at least the New Year's party, and probably longer.
It's Hearth's Warming that does it to me, she thought.
Every single business, public organization, club, and charity seemed to want to have a Hearth's Warming party some time during the holiday season. She ran herself ragged every year hosting and preparing for them all, and on top of all that, she had to organize the town's own Hearth's Warming celebration, which was of course the biggest and most difficult to plan.
Right after that, of course, there was the New Year's celebration, and it was never too long after that before the first of the orders for Hearts and Hooves Day cookie bouquets and gift baskets started pouring in. Just getting them all logged and organized was a challenge, and these were only the first few. There would be five times this many by Hearts and Hooves Day, and half of them would come in within the last three or four days before the order deadline.
Mr. and Mrs. Cake had tried to make things easier on Pinkie by offering discounts for getting the orders in early, but all it had effectively done was increased the total number of orders -- and the time frame over which she had to keep up with them. It didn't help that, unlike previous years, the Cakes now had foals to tend to, which left Pinkie very often in her current predicament of being the only pony available to run the lobby.
Mr. Cake was in the kitchen, as usual, but Mrs. Cake had taken Pound and Pumpkin to the doctor, since they'd both come down with a case of the sniffles, owing largely to the winter cold. In Mrs. Cake's absence, Pinkie Pie had been given the job of holding down the storefront. She would normally have set aside anything not immediately related to tending the lobby until Mrs. Cake returned, but she knew that Hearts and Hooves Day orders would continue to pile up if she didn't stay on top of them.
Pinkie Pie sat up and continued rearranging the stacks of papers, adding four additional stacks for the orders that she would need to deliver along with flowers. She could already tell that she would be beaten into the ground by the end of Hearts and Hooves Day, the same as every year.
“I'm pretty beaten down, already,” she said, talking to herself aloud, as she often did. Pinkie's train of thought tended to be so disjointed and random that she often had to voice her thoughts, or she'd never be able to arrange them coherently.
“I've managed like eleventie-gabillion events in the last two months, and I'm sure there'll be more in the next couple of weeks. Then, I have to do all these deliveries. I'll be busy all Hearts and Hooves Day. Good thing I'm single, or somepony would be pretty disappointed.'
“Still, it'd be nice to actually get something from somepony, for a change, instead of just having to take all the other mares their gifts. Then again, I eat this kinda stuff all the time, so it wouldn't even be that special, I guess." She rolled her eyes. "Pssht, what do I even have left anymore in my life that's really special to me, anyway?”
She sighed deeply. Her life hadn't seemed special or meaningful for quite some time. She accepted it as the burden of being who she was; she worked constantly to make other ponies' lives happier and brighter, but somehow, her own happiness had been lost amidst the hustle and bustle of just being Pinkie Pie. It gave her joy to give others joy, and that was where she drew her strength. More and more, though, that source of vigor was failing her.
“Making other ponies happy makes me happy, I guess, but when do I get some happiness that's just for me? I feel all pulled apart and nervous and tired all the time.” She sipped at her hot cocoa. “I feel kinda lonely, too.”
In truth, Pinkie Pie felt terribly lonely. She had her friends, of course, and she always enjoyed spending time with them. The problem was that even when she was fortunate enough to have time to spend with her friends, there was a wall between them and herself. She wanted to tell them how she felt overworked and stressed to her breaking point. She wanted to talk about life and death. She wanted to talk about her hopes and dreams. She wanted to talk about sex and stallions and relationships she'd had – good and bad.
“But I don't talk about those things because I'm Pinkie Pie, and nopony talks to me about them... because I'm Pinkie Pie." She gritted her teeth for a moment, then let the tension ease out of her jaw. She sighed. "Pinkie Pie doesn't think about those things. She doesn't understand them or care about them. Gods, what would they all think if they found out how many stallions I've been with? They'd think I was a dirty whore.”
Pinkie Pie knew she was just assuming the worst. Some of her friends had probably been with more stallions than her, but her fear was that they had not. She was terrified of opening up about something so deep and personal. What if she found out that she, even among the strange collection of ponies she called friends, was somehow abnormal?
“Wait a second. Why am I worried about that? I know I'm weird.” She chewed a little at the tip of her hoof. “But what if I'm not... okay weird? That would make me feel so... weird. I don't mind being weird as long as I don't feel weird, but if I didn't think I was okay weird, I'd feel really weird.” She stopped chewing her hoof and looked out into the snow.
“I feel really weird,” she said, and her eyes teared up for a moment.
“Stop being silly, Pinkie,” she said, and her tears receded as if she had closed a valve in her eye sockets. “You're fine. It's okay to feel weird and lonely. That's normal, right? Everypony feels that way, sometimes.” She stood up, and walked towards the counter, meaning to fetch a folder for the newly-organized orders.
“But I feel that way all the time,” she said.
The doorbell jingled, and she quickly turned around, painting her face with a broad, welcoming smile. “Welcome, what can I get for you?” She had asked the question so reflexively that it was out of her mouth before she had completely turned around.
“Two aspirin and a glass of water would be nice.” It was Mrs. Cake. Pound and Pumpkin rode in their harnesses on either side of her body. “And you can help get these two off of me. My back is killing me.”
Pinkie Pie walked over and carefully lifted the foals out of their harnesses, one by one. She gave each one of them a hug and a kiss on the forehead, then slipped them out of their tiny winter jackets before setting them down. They toddled away towards the small toy chest that was kept for them downstairs, and Mrs. Cake stepped behind the counter, where she began digging for the aspirin she had requested.
“Oh, here it is,” she said, pulling the bottle out of a drawer. She opened it, and lay two of them on the counter. Then, she began dispensing herself a cup of water from the soda fountain. “How has the day been, Pinkie?” she asked.
Pinkie Pie had returned to her seat at the window, but when she got there, she remembered that she had meant to fetch a folder for the orders. She sighed, hung her head, and turned to walk back to the counter.
“It's been... long,” she said. “There haven't been a lot of sit-in customers, but there have been so many orders. I'm trying to get them all organized, and then I need to go see Rose and make arrangements to have flowers delivered here so I can deliver them with the baskets.” She looked around. “I also cleaned the lobby.”
“I noticed,” said Mrs. Cake, slipping out of her wool-lined overcoat, and hanging it up. “It looks nice.”
“It was nothing,” said Pinkie, digging through a small filing cabinet under the counter in search of an empty folder. She also dug a few paper clips out of a drawer, and returned to the table, where she clipped together the stacks of papers, and slid them into the folder. Mrs. Cake watched her while she sipped at her water. As Pinkie returned to put the folder back into the filing cabinet, the older mare spoke.
“Pinkie, you seem a little... worn down. Are you feeling well?”
Pinkie's eyes brightened instinctively, and she nodded rapidly. “I'm great! I'm Pinkie Pie, remember?” The last thing she wanted right now was pity. She thrived on lifting up the downtrodden. She couldn't afford to let it be known that she could ever be downtrodden, even -- or maybe especially -- if it was true.
“How could I forget?” asked Mrs. Cake. “Still, I think you've done enough work for today. Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off? Go spend some time with your friends. I can tend the store and see to the foals.” She nodded towards Pound and Pumpkin, who were sitting in the corner playing with alphabet blocks. Pound sneezed, and Pinkie Pie immediately grabbed a tissue from a box on the counter.
“Ah-ah,” said Mrs. Cake. “Mine.” She snatched the tissue, and walked towards the little colt.
After she had tended to the baby, she returned, and threw the tissue into the garbage can.
“At the very least, Pinkie, go upstairs, and take a nap.” Mrs. Cake's voice was insistent, and Pinkie did feel exhausted.
“Alright,” but if you need me, just come knock on the door,” said Pinkie Pie.
“Absolutely not,” said Mrs. Cake, her voice full of cheer. A foal sneezed from across the room, and she sighed, then turned around.
Pinkie Pie turned and trudged slowly up the stairs. As soon as she was out of Mrs. Cake's sight, her knees buckled, and she sank down to half her normal height. She dragged herself slowly up the stairs, leaning against the wall. As she reached the hallway at the top, she paused.
“Thank Luna,” she mumbled. She hadn't been sure she could last the rest of the day, but her job was still her job.
She stumbled down the hallway, and climbed the stairs to her attic room. She had managed to turn the old attic into a very nice, liveable space, but it was still drafty in the winter. That being the case, she was obliged to light a fire. She piled three logs into the fireplace from a woodpile kept nearby, stopping after each one to breathe and rest
"I'm an earth pony," she growled under her breath, having piled the last log into the hearth. "This should NOT tire me out."
She stuck a little kindling wood beneath them. She lit a match, and in a few minutes, she had an appreciable fire burning. She placed the wire spark screen in front of it, and then paused there to admire her work. Gummy, who had been sleeping underneath the bed, heard the crackling of the newly-risen blaze, and waddled over to bask in its pleasant warmth.
“Hi Gummy,” she said, and stroked the little alligator's back. He curled into a ball near the fire, and shut his eyes. Being a reptile, he was always subdued during the winter months. Pinkie guessed this was a fair trade in exchange for a pet that would probably live as long as she would, but that didn't change the fact that the little alligator wasn't much company in cold weather. He would be more active after he napped in the fire's glow, Pinkie knew, but only a short while away from it would return him to his present state of semi-hibernation.
“Oh, well,” she said. “At least I don't have to keep him entertained, along with everypony else.”
She dragged herself across the room, and lay down on her bed, clutching a pillow close to her chest. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. The copious amounts of caffeine and sugar she had used to power herself through the day thus far simply forbade it. She was in a strange limbo where her body and mind were terribly fatigued, but could not shut themselves down to recover. It was the whole of her last several months characterized in a single dilemma.
She rolled over and opened up a drawer of her nightstand. A bottle of Valium she kept in the otherwise-empty drawer rolled forward and came to a stop against its front edge. She stared at it for a few seconds, then closed the drawer.
“Not right now,” she said. “If I take that now, I'll just sleep halfway through the night. Then, I'll wake up too early, and mess up my whole day tomorrow. Better just find something else to do.” She rolled over onto her back.
“Could just take the whole bottle,” she mused, staring upward. “That would fix everything. No more Hearts and Hooves Day, no more parties, and no more... anything.” A slight shudder rocked her body.
“Don't even think shit like that, Pinkie.” She sat up, shook her head, and looked around. She needed to clear her mind. She was just overstressed. If she couldn't sleep, maybe there was some other way she could relax.
She scanned the room, and her eyes settled on the partially open door of her bathroom.
“Hot bath,” she said. “That would be so nice.”
She got out of bed, and bumbled towards the bathroom. It was a little silly, she supposed, but the little bathroom was, in a way, her sanctuary. It was small and cozy, and unlike the main bathroom downstairs, she could decorate it however she wanted. She kept it clean at all times – or cleaner than her room, anyway. She had never been much for excessive neatness, but this was the one place in her world that felt orderly and under her control. She was safe here, and she could let herself relax.
She sat down in the tub, and cringed as its cold, hard surface made contact with her rump and spinal column. She quickly reached up and turned on the hot water, then added a little cold to regulate the temperature.
She leaned back, and stared upward. She had asked for a skylight to be installed when the attic was renovated, and though it had taken some pleading, the Cakes had allowed it. For whatever reason, the builders had deigned to used normal, clear glass instead of the translucent variety, and now she was always a little paranoid that some sleazy pegasus stallion might fly over and catch her involved in matters she would rather keep private.
“Well, no worries about that, today,” she said. She had never felt more sexually unmotivated in her entire life than she had lately. Stallions hadn't caught her eye the way they used to, and she hadn't had the urge to touch herself in so long that she actually couldn't remember the last time she'd even done so. If a stallion tried to sneak a peak right now, he wouldn't see anything more exciting than he would on a day at the beach.
“Maybe I'm just getting older,” she said. She slid down as the water began to pool. “They say you lose your sex drive.” She felt her the hair of her tail moving about as it was lifted up and rolled around by the water flooding into the bathtub. “Yeah, right, Pinkamena.” She rolled her eyes at her own obtuse statement. “I'm way, way too young for that. Plus, I think girls are actually supposed to get a little hornier as we get older; Not turn into prudes.” She felt the water rise up around her hindquarters and then her midriff, and she let the tension ease out of her body as it finally caressed her just beneath her shoulders. She reached up with a rear hoof and clumsily turned off the flow, continuing to stare upward into the gray clouds and the slow, lazy snowfall.
“I don't know. That's not even half my problem, lately. Sex is great and all, but I'd be happy if I could just feel like Pinkie Pie, again.” She sank a little lower into the water. Her mane was soaked now, and had begun to float around her face. “But what is Pinkie Pie supposed to feel like?”
The trouble with that question, she knew, was that no two ponies in Ponyville would have given her the same answer to it. If she couldn't answer it for herself, then nopony could.
“Well, I can't,” she said. “I don't know. Maybe I'm asking the wrong question. Forget what I'm supposed to feel like. What do I want to feel like?”
She slid down so that only her face was above the water.
“Not like this; I know that much.”
She took a deep breath, and pulled her face down under the warm, still water, keeping her eyes open. Now, for a few seconds, at least, she would be alone with her sentiments, and she would be without the aid of her voice in tracking, arranging and controlling them. Without that one, crucial sluice of own speech, her thoughts flooded through her mind, unabated.
“Maybe you don't want to feel, at all, Pinkamena. Maybe you really should go scarf that bottle of pills, and then lay down and take a long, long nap.”
“But... I don't wanna be dead, do I? I like being alive. I like throwing parties and laughing and singing.”
“Sure; you like to sing happy, little songs that nopony else gives a shit about. They never have and they never will.”
“Now, that's just silly. Lots of ponies love my songs.”
“Really? Then come on, little pony, smile, smile, smile.”
“That's hard to do when I'm holding my breath.”
“Well, you would know, wouldn't you? You've been holding your breath for a long, long time, now, smiling all the while.”
“That's sure what it feels like.”
Pinkie was beginning to sense the reflex to open her mouth and breathe, but she restrained it, and held her head under the water.
“I always feel like I'm holding my breath; like maybe if I just held it a little longer, I wouldn't have to hold it anymore.”
“That's what you always tell yourself, isn't it?”
“I tell myself... I tell myself... I'm telling myself to shut up.”
“No, Pinkamena. I'm not shutting up. I never shut up. That's why you never shut up. If you ever shut up for ten fucking seconds, you'd hear me, and then you'd have to deal with me.”
“I hate you so much.”
"So, you hate yourself, then? I'd love to hear what everypony would think of that.”
“Am I talking to myself; am I crazy?”
The urge to breathe was growing stronger, but Pinkie still refused to lift her head above the surface of the water. Strands of her mane crept into her field of vision, and framed the image of the gray, ethereal clouds visible through the skylight.
“Of course you're crazy. Everypony knows that. Best let it be. You really don't have enough time to climb that mountain, right now.”
“Enough time until what?”
“Enough time until you decide whether or not you want to drown yourself, of course. What did you think was going on?”
The realization of precisely what she was doing shocked Pinkie so much that she exhaled some of the air she had trapped in her lungs. Her widened eyes saw the cluster of bubbles rise up and roll the water above her snout.
"Well, there went at least another good ten or fifteen seconds. You'd better make up your mind quickly. I'm not sure, but I think the default decision, here, is suicide.”
“Suicide!? Whose side are you on!?”
“Your side, Pinkamena, but you're the one who has to make the decision about exactly what that means.”
“Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit! What will the Cakes think? Will they know this was an accident?”
“Well, would it really be an accident? Assuming, of course, it happens, that is.”
“What if Pound and Pumpkin see?”
“They're too young to really remember. This is more about you, when it comes right down to it.”
“No, it's not. It's about everypony I know! It's about Rarity, and Applejack, and Twilight, and Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy. It's about Gummy! It's about the Cakes! It's about Mom and Daddy! It's about my sisters, and... everypony!”
“Let them get over it. Do what Pinkie Pie wants, for once. Even if it's the last thing you ever do in your whole, entire life, just do what Pinkie wants!”
“Well, I don't know what Pinkie wants!”
“Well, you better decide. You've got maybe half a minute, tops, until you pass out. At that point, the decision's pretty much set in stone, whether you were sure about it, or not.”
Pinkie's diaphragm was convulsing viciously, and she could hear strange squeaks and sighs echoing up from inside her windpipe. Her vision was blurring, and the reflex to take a breath was all but unbearable.
“Come on. If I pass out, I'll probably just float to the surface and start breathing, again.”
“Yes... maybe. Do you want to take that chance?”
“I don't know!”
“Well, that's not going to cut it, this time!"
Pinkie's vision continued to blur, and her thoughts clouded.
“I want... What do I want? What does Pinkie want?'
“What does Pinkie want?'
“What do I want?'
“I want...'
“I want...'
“WHAT DO I WANT!?”
Pinkie sat up sharply, bursting through the surface of the water. It rolled over the brim of the tub, and sloshed out onto the floor. She coughed, gasped, and whimpered, hanging her head over the edge of the tub. The convulsions of her diaphragm made her gag, threatening her with an impulse to vomit, but she managed to restrain the urge.
She sucked in several deep breaths, acutely aware of the sensation of air filling her lungs. The sudden rush of oxygen intensified an already strong sense of dizziness that pervaded her entire skull. She finally let herself slump over, one foreleg and her entire neck and head hanging completely out of the tub. She shivered and convulsed, swaying rapidly back and forth through a tiny arc.
For several minutes, she did nothing but watch the water drip off of her snout and pool on the floor beneath her face. Then, finally, alone in her own bathtub, she began to cry.
* * *
Twilight Sparkle had just finished reshelving the last of the recent returns. It had been an uneventful day, and being a librarian wasn't an exciting job, in the first place. Still, she always liked to have the shelves in order at the end of the day. She was giving her tidy, properly-organized library a moment's well-earned admiration when she heard a knock at the front door.
“Coming!” It was a peculiar feature of living in a public library that ponies would, at certain hours, feel obliged to knock, and at others, walk right in the door. It had been disconcerting at first, but she had grown accustomed to it.
“Whatever,” she thought. “I should still post a sign with regular operating hours to cut down on the confusion.”
As she opened the door, she was shocked to see Pinkie Pie, half-soaked and haggard. Her fur was visibly damp, and her mane and tail hung straight and limp with the weight of the water trapped within them. She was trembling violently, even above and beyond what her dampened state and the dank, dreary weather should account for. Worse, her eyes were red, swollen, and welling with tears.
“Holy shit, Pinkie! Come inside, right now!” Twilight pulled Pinkie Pie inside, and walked her towards her room. Spike, who had returned from the kitchen with a sandwich, simply watched, mouth agape, as Twilight lead the bedraggled pony up the stairs. As Twilight led her into the bedroom, Pinkie Pie said not a word, but shivered violently, and sobbed quietly.
Twilight lay her down next to the hearth, where a low fire crackled and hissed. Then, she ran and dug a towel out of a drawer. She returned and did her best to dry the water out of the soggy earth pony's mane, tail, and fur. After she was satisfied with her efforts, she telekinetically pulled the blanket off of her own bed and wrapped it around Pinkie Pie. During all this, Pinkie simply lay on her belly, staring into the fire, head erect and never speaking.
“Pinkie, are you okay?” Twilight lay down next to her friend, and pressed her body in close beside her, meaning to warm her. “I can run you a hot bath, if that would help.”
“Mmm-mmm, NO!” Pinkie Pie shook her head vehemently, and then pressed it into Twilight's neck.
Twilight leaned her cheek over on top of Pinkie's wet mane, and squeezed her face tightly against the top of the pink pony's head.
“What happened, Pinkie? Did you fall in a lake, or something?”
“No,” she half-sobbed.
“Then what's wrong?” Twilight asked. "How did you get so wet?" She squeezed Pinkie tightly. "Why are you crying?”
Pinkie Pie sobbed out the only explanation she could manage:
“Because... I just... I wanna live, Twilight. I want to live more than anything in the world.”
finem
