Chapter 1 - A Brighter Light
As if it was a glitch in the system, the interrogation light seemed to flash on brighter than usual. The interrogator was surprised. The sky blue pony sat unaffected, her eyes, dark as night, fixed directly at the stallion hired to ask her questions. What a stupid job, she thought. She wasn't going to tell him the full story, anyway. She knew what to say and what not to say. She rested her hooves in a comfortable position, her ropes not having been secured correctly, as expected. Yes, she would be fine, she thought, her mouth curling into a small confident smile. She was, after all, a writer.
The other pony shook his head furiously, still trying to shake the bright lights that seemed to be momentarily burned into his eyes. “You do know,” he said, trying to maintain his authority over the suspect, “that we will get the information we need, right?” he finished, finally opening his eyes again, blinking a few times after. The blue mare upgraded her tiny smile into a full grin at these words, making the brown stallion feel very uncomfortable in her presence. This was, according to rumor, her specialty.
“Just ask whatever you want,” she sighed, slowly brushing her hoof across the chair nonchalantly, looking down to the side away from her captor, her fresh grin now vanishing abruptly. The brown stallion gulped. The feeling of dread now washing over him even more, he managed to mutter his first question through trembling lips.
“Your name…is Sugar Pop, correct?” he asked, expecting a deceptive response. However, she simply nodded her head a few times, still not allowing him to make eye contact.
“Yes. A writer from Ponyville,” she spoke with disturbing clarity. “Best friends with Fluttershy, owner of my beautiful cat Bubbles, suspect in the murder case of Rainbow Dash….” She trailed off, turning her head to face the stallion again, her expression still emotionless. “…And confirmed dangerous schizophrenic.”
The stallion stared back at her for a while, his eyes affixed on her hypnotic gaze. He eventually broke the spell, shaking his head and reaching for the clipboard given to him. Almost checking it just for an excuse to pay attention to something other than her, he double checked the case details. They had interviewed the pony named Fluttershy, and she said she didn’t know anypony by the name of “Sugar Pop”. Sugar Pop had claimed that Pinkie Pie, who worked at Sugar Cube Corner, had committed Rainbow Dash’s murder, but the entire premise was searched and no such signs were found. Pinkie herself had reacted overly distraught at the news, and had not stopped crying once the message was relayed to her, seeming to not even grasp the concept of “death”. Curiously, many of the situations recounted by Sugar Pop seem to have never happened. The others that did happen were either very minor details that nopony in their right mind could remember, like bumping a certain flower pot while walking down a street and being able to identify said pot among many duplicates, or more eerily, events that took place at impossible times, impossible locations for the subject to access, or even two activities that transpired at the exact same time. No cat had been near or on her person when she was discovered standing motionless outside of Sugar Cube Corner, where she had been arrested. Two parts of her story held completely true, however.
First, her claimed occupation was more or less correct. Her home, a run-down shack off the side of Ponyville, after having been discovered, was searched. The house was completely empty except for a couch, a small television, and countless papers strewn across the floor and nailed sloppily onto the walls. She was, by definition, a writer. Many of these stories had poor grammar and spelling, and depicted the author in situations with popular ponies around Ponyville, engaging in wild and incoherent adventures. Many of the stories were unfinished, and some even seemed to start in the middle, beginning with half-broken words.
Second, Rainbow Dash, the popular pegasus hailing from Cloudsdale and currently enrolled in the Wonderbolt Academy, had been found dead that morning near the outskirts of the Everfree forest, her body gruesomely gutted open, and many vital organs missing. Her eyes were found shut, but when an investigator had opened the eyelids, they had been surprised to find that the eyeballs had been removed. It seemed very unprofessional, done with rough tools and lack of skill.
Sugar Pop had been found outside of Sugar Cube Corner half an hour later, her hooves covered in blood, an old pencil and some paper under one of her hooves and a rusty saw in her mouth, standing motionless as previously described.
“Excuse me,” interjected Sugar Pop, breaking the silence and almost causing the interrogator to drop his notes. His eyes darted back up at the mare, who had, as it seems, been staring at him this entire time. Her gaze seemed a bit off this time, though.
“Y…yes, miss-”
“Shut up. I’m not talking to you.”
The stallion stared confused, for a couple of moments.
“I’m sorry-”
“I said shut up. The pony behind you is trying to speak.”
In the darkened room with the single light pointing at the blue mare, the stallion didn’t even take into the account it would have been impossible to see anypony behind him, if there was one. Overcome with a sense of crushing fear, he whirled around to see what his subject was talking about. There was nothing.
“I’m sorry that I made you unhappy. I tried my best.”
The interrogator, now sweating slightly, turned back at the sound of Sugar Pop’s voice again. He knew somehow that she wasn’t talking to him. He waited in silence for her next response.
“It was my first story. You can’t judge me like this.” More silence. “That isn’t my fault, either.”
“Hey!” yelled the interrogator, tired of this game. Sugar Pop shifted her eyes slightly to face him again, her frown growing. “You are going to stop this. Right now. We are not finished.”
She smiled slightly, her eyes still in a relaxed state. She had forgotten, she had a special gift. Not everypony could see the ponies she could. That was regrettable. She usually had such wonderful talks with them. This time, though, was much different.
“Do you like my story?” she asked, closing her eyes completely now. The stallion looked around a few times.
“Was that…directed at me?” he asked as politely as he could, trying to keep his cool at this point.
“Yes,” replied Sugar Pop, still not opening her eyes. “The story I wrote that you found me with. My masterpiece.”
The stallion silently reached for the notes again. There was indeed a transcript of the writing on the paper found under her hoof at the time of her arrest. He quickly skimmed the document, taking note of the oddities. It seemed to be a story about the murder of Rainbow Dash, starring Sugar Pop herself as an investigator. Her cat was mentioned a multitude of times, along with her claimed close association with Fluttershy and her portrayal of Pinkie Pie as a ruthless murderer. The grammar, like most of her other stories, was absolutely horrible. The conclusion was very open ended, suggesting Pinkie Pie may still have been on the loose. Overall, the story was a complete mess.
“It’s an exceptionally poorly written document,” he concluded, confident in the fact that Sugar Pop was tied up and could not hurt him. However, she still did not react angrily, simply sighing and putting on a rather sad expression.
“Nobody likes my first story,” she lamented. “I thought I did good….”
The stallion shook his head. “Is this your testimony for the events that transpired?”
Sugar Pop did not respond, a tear forming in her left eye. She couldn’t help it. Everyone was being so mean to her lately, even her new friends. Had she messed up? She just wanted to show them her special talents. She glanced down at her cutie mark, a single slightly transparent bubble. She knew what it meant. A bubble of invisible thoughts, things that other ponies couldn’t see. Her family certainly didn’t see it, nor did they see her as part of the family at all. Her entire life, she had only made friends with the ones that other ponies couldn’t see.
And now they hated her too. Everyone hated her favorite story.
The stallion sat slightly bewildered at the subject’s drastic mood swings. Was this part of her ailment, or was she just acting tough earlier? As he saw the tears, he began to feel sorry for the mare.
“U…um, if you’d like, I could hear your version of the story. From your mouth.”
Sugar Pop sniffed, looking back up at her interrogator. He gulped.
“You know, since your story was so poorly written. Maybe I missed a few details.”
Sugar Pop smiled, her eyelids relaxing back slightly to their smug state.
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” she said. The stallion reclined in his chair, ready for the long, drawn out story.
