Once a happy pink pony

by cheezesauce

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Tragedy, Pinkie Pie
Length: 2241

I came from a shimmering pool of crystal clear water. I moved from the dark forest to the cheery village that was built nearby. I was once a happy pink pony, but then things took a turn for the worst.

I came from a shimmering pool of crystal clear water. I moved from the dark forest to the cheery village that was built nearby. I was once a happy pink pony, but then things took a turn for the worst.

Published 2012-11-20 16:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-20 16:20:01 UTC

Chapter 1

Run.

That’s all I can think of at the moment. That’s all I’ve been thinking since I saw it taking place. Things have taken a turn for the worst, and I never imagined something like that could have happened. But I managed to get out. I managed to stay alive.

They are looking for me. They are looking everywhere. The numbers should have added up. They know it, and so do I. One times two is two. Two times two is four. Four times two is eight. Eight times two is sixteen. It’s easy to see how many of us there were, and how many of us should be dead. But then there’s one missing, and that’s me.

The one that escaped.

Now I’m here, hiding in the dark, narrow alleyway. This is a good hiding spot for the time being, probably enough for me to take a minute to catch my breath. But a minute is too long to wait. They’ll be here by then.

The ones that started it all.

I flattened myself against the grimy wall, inching towards the opening of the alleyway. I took a peek out, checking if the street was clear. It was a small street, and it should be safe. Looking to the left and to the right, I couldn’t see any ponies. Good. I can’t trust anypony. I dashed out onto the road and then across it to the sidewalk. There was a clump of bushes there, big enough for me to hide in. I crashed through the leaves and squeezed myself between the branches.

I didn’t see that the bush had thorns. I didn’t care.

I shifted a few branches with a shaky hoof and created an opening large enough for me to look out from. It’s like a routine now. Dash out to a new spot. Hide. Wait for a minute or two. Check out the area to make sure that its all clear. Rinse and repeat.

And then I see it. One of them appears down the street. She’s the cyan blue one, the one with wings. I can see that she’s looking for me from the way she tilts her head to look at all the corners of the street. She walks down the road, right in the middle, as if she owns it. She’s searching for me. Her gaze is drawing closer, and very soon she will spot me among the leaves. It’ll be all over then.

I hold my breath, praying that she wouldn’t notice. She’s looking at the leaves that have fallen off the bush, and she’s thinking if she should check it out. A moment later she shrugs, continuing down and turning into the alleyway that I was in just moments ago.

Phew, I sigh in relief. I made it, and I’m happy that I did. It feels like fun, like playing a game of hide and seek. But yet it’s not quite the same.

Fun.

That was a close one. How lucky I must be today. How fortunate, to be the last one left. Fortunate, if not for the fact that I had to watch the others die.

They were all gathered into a large hall. One with high ceilings and beautiful oak balconies. There was a stage in the front, complete with velvet soft curtains and multicolored spotlights. The curtains were closed, and there was a pony standing in the middle of the stage and talking.

I thought I was in for a show, but all I got was a massacre.

I stood by the window, mesmerized by the giant canvas of paint. It reminded me of the evening sky, azure blue and beautiful. The paint was thick, and it flowed ever so slowly to the bottom. It was worth looking at for a few moments, and I looked at it for a few moments more, because everypony else was looking at it. At least, almost everypony else. One of us was looking out of the window.

And that’s when it all started.

There was a blinding flash of violet light, and she swelled up into a giant sphere before exploding into dust. It was over in less than a second. Nothing left except for a wisp of faint pink smoke, which soon disappeared as well.

A moment of shock, and then a moment of silence.

None of them dared to move after that. None of them wanted to. Yet they still did. They couldn’t help it, and neither could I. It was in our very nature, to move around and become distracted. It was set deep within us, contained in the bits and pieces that made up our bones and flesh. The bits that gave us character.

The bits that made us ourselves.

Another movement, another blast of light. The sick extermination continued, weeding us out against ourselves, against the way we were made to be.

I should have started running then. I would have gotten a head start if I did. I was just outside by the window. But I didn’t, standing there and watching with horrified fascination until only a single member of the audience remained. That’s when I realized what was going to happen. What was going to happen to me. That’s when I had started to run—

“Gotcha!”

I screamed, but my breath was knocked out by something crashing into me from behind, colliding with so much force that we both tumbled out of the bushes. We rolled onto the hard pavement, a tangle of hooves and fur. I struggled against my assailant with all my might, lashing out with my hooves and sinking my teeth into her cyan blue fur. She was strong, stronger than ever.

But I had the will to live.

“Stay still you—OW!”

I pummelled her with a series of hard kicks, but a simple dodge by her and I was thrown off-balance, stumbling for a few steps. Losing precious time. She seized the opportunity, grabbing onto me with her hooves. In mere seconds I found myself squashed underneath her, my face pressed against the hard ground. She hit me, hard. Frantically struggling, I managed to squeeze out a hoof, throwing a desperate swing outwards. It must have worked, because I felt her grip loosen. I did it again and again. One, twice, three times. My hoof felt numb with pain. She broke her grasp and used forelegs to shield her face. There was just enough time for me to scramble to my hooves. I ran away as fast as I could.

“Hey! Come back here you!”

I had never run this fast in my life. The ground sped under me in a blur of gray, the trees and bushes zipping past the sides. I felt dizzy after being hit by her. The muscles in my legs burned from the exertion. My breath came out in panicked gasps, the pounding of my heart deep inside my throat.

Run.

“She’s here! Over here! The last one’s here!”

I realised that the pony’s voice was coming from a distance above, and not from behind me. I looked up to see that she had taken flight, leaving a brilliant polychromatic trail of light behind. A perfect landmark for all the rest to move towards and corner me off.

Run.

My heart beats twice as fast, my breath becoming ragged. I have to shake her loose. I have to get out of here. Already, fatigue creeps up my limbs and I find myself slowing down. I continue to dodge around the trees and bushes, running in and out of streets and alleys. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up.

I look up to see my cyan blue tracker. She is directly above me now, in a perfect position to swoop down for the kill. But she doesn’t. Instead, she simply follows me. I know that she is waiting for somepony else, waiting for the leader of them all. And it’s her that I’m afraid of.

The executioner.

Run.

That’s all I’m thinking about.

Run. Run. Run.

I don’t even know why this is happening. I want to tell them that I didn’t do anything wrong. That I’m sorry if I did. Why can’t they understand? Why don’t they see? They don’t know that I’m living, just like them. I can move, talk, and run about in circles. When I’m happy, I laugh, and when I’m depressed, I cry. I have a wonderful myriad of emotions and a wealth of expressions.

Just like them.

But yet I’m running. Maybe they might understand if I had the chance to explain. They will know what I mean. I’m only a happy pink pony. I only wanted to have some fun.

Fun.

Fun. Fun. Fun.

I don’t believe it. The cyan blue one has a smile on her face. She enjoys this. She enjoys hunting me down. I need to tell her to stop. I need to tell her that this isn’t right. That this isn’t fun.

It’s time to stop running.

I find myself skidding to a halt, turning to face her as she descends to the ground. I open my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything, a thick brown rope wraps around me and squeezes the air out of my lungs.

It feels so tight and painful. I wish it would stop.

Struggling to breathe, I look down the length of the rope to see an orange earth pony, three apples for a cutie mark. My vision is hazy. I need to breathe. I need to tell them to stop. This isn’t fun.

“Good job there partner,” she says to her rainbow-maned friend. They smile at each other and clap a hoof together.

As if they’ve just won a game.

I open my mouth to tell them to let me go. To tell them that I did nothing wrong, and that I’m sorry if I did. I tell them that I’m just like one of them, but they don’t seem to hear.

Through my hazy vision I make out several ponies surrounding me, watching me struggle against the rope. Their coats and manes colourful and beautiful. One of them steps towards me, a streak of pink and purple down her midnight blue mane. I choke out a precious mouthful of air when I recognize her.

“Good work girls, we got the last one.”

My vision is turning watery. This isn’t how things are supposed to be like. This can’t be happening. She looks at me, her eyes cold and unforgiving. Some of the water leaks out of my eyes and falls to the ground in a sparkling drop.

The executioner is here.

No. That can’t be right. She isn’t a bad pony. Medium-short and a bit plush in stature, loves to read and loves to study. She lives in a library carved out of a tree, and if you stood inside you could pick out the pleasant scent of wood and paper in the air. She didn’t know many ponies to begin with, and that left her feeling a little lost. But she got over it in the end, and now she is happier than ever. She wrote letters to her teacher, the one she loved above all. She learnt how to be confident with herself, how to have fun and smile with other ponies. We’ve spent time playing together.

She’s my friend, Twilight Sparkle.

I meet her gaze for a few moments, searching for any hint of sympathy in them, but they’re as cold as a winter storm. She looks at me differently; she looks at me for what I am. Something made out of magic, a by-product of a spell. And now I’ve noticed that the other ponies are doing that too.

A spell that needs to be reversed.

She lights up her horn, and it glows with a faint purple mixed with red. The aura strengthens, growing and growing. It transforms into a brilliant white star of light that illuminates the whole area.

I stare into it, a mixture of fear and wonder. The light is so bright that it burns my eyes. But I don’t notice. My breathing feels ragged and strained, as if I’ve been running for days. I wipe away the water from my eyes, wondering why this needs to happen. All I wanted was some fun. I need to tell her that.

I open my mouth again to speak. But then I close it after a few moments. It doesn’t matter now.

The light burned brighter than ever, and a number of sparks fly out from her horn. It reached its peak, exploding into a beam that surrounded me.

I closed my eyes and thought of my friends, one by one.

Twilight Sparkle

Rarity Fluttershy

Rainbow Dash

Applejack

By the time I open them, the world has become a sea of white. Nothingness for miles and miles, as if I’m living inside a sheet of paper. I turn around in a clumsy circle, and then I notice a bright speck light on the horizon, white against white.

I move towards it, one step at a time. I don’t want to rush, because I’m not sure what it is.

Perhaps it would take me to a better place, where there is fun and more fun. A place where I don’t have to run too much. A place where I can be...

A happy pink pony