nothing, more

by Sunshine-Smiles

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Random
Length: 2154

Twilight Sparkle endures the mundanities of a peculiar grassy knoll, contemplating whether she should go on.

Twilight Sparkle endures the mundanities of a peculiar grassy knoll, contemplating whether she should go on.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-01 08:00:02 UTC

This Unrest

There was always a grassy knoll, always a withered tree.

The drooping silhouette was clearly visible despite the night, disruption to nothing. Sometimes it was known as a willow, others an oak. When out of mind, it was common ash. Or naught. Twilight Sparkle hated the fucking thing. But her hooves never truly abandoned it, no matter how far they strayed from view, which seemed to occur steadily for somesuch or another. Here the mare had existed as far back as recollection went. None else notable except sod spanning the good distance she could see despite no discernible source of light in the dark and hollow sky, which was no concern to her. Far be it from one of her status to impose such arbitrary restrictions on the pattern of things, a hard-earned lesson.

So Twilight lay near the tree, simpler than standing though resulting in more contact with ground, attempting to keep as inert as able so that she might forget her surroundings. It was a miserable place and she did not want to be there. Did not want to do anything that might bring it to mind. However, unless she endured turning her head, this left her staring at the willow. Not even the full awful picture, a bird’s nest intruded on her view of the branches. She hadn’t put that there and it irritated her. Beyond impingement, it was a problem to be solved. Which one had done the deed, how long gone? Twilight recalled no animals of any sort and felt short relief. Likely couldn’t cope with another article conspiring against her. Too much time had been spent like this.

Twilight closed her eyes on a whim, leaving her the blank slate of imagination, yet tainted still by the other faculties. Nevertheless, she’d go on. What to conceive? Readily available, she imagined herself, or at least how she believed herself to look, not having seen her countenance in the discernible past, as a groomed purple unicorn, neat blue and violet mane, star pattern on flanks. Little embellishment necessary, it was enough, an adequate avatar ready for performance. Next, a setting. A fine place for her mind’s eye to appreciate. Where would be ideal for her simulation? Somewhere she’d enjoyed being. Nowhere to think of. Bits and props and passing fragments, but none of it was enough to fashion her own setting. And it all resembled here. Twilight gave it a moment, but nothing substantial came to her traitorous mind. Nothing but this damn place, she cursed. And her mental avatar fizzled away. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried harder but now none of it came, couldn't concentrate on anything but mounting frustration.

        She scowled but left the silence undisturbed. Unable to even appreciate conception, the mare was left with no choice but to finally rise and quickly turned her back to the tree. The empty night wasn’t sufficient for holding her interest, those questions long dismissed. Nothing to do then but stare at the gentle hues of the lake to her right. There was no lake. Only grass, but it was the spot where Twilight would put a lake if she were obligated to put any else. A sizable lake teeming with life and lilypads, enough to make a pony smile in bewilderment. But she would rather not have a lake and would not put one in any spot if given a say in the matter.

The thought came that she might like to work the opposite and remove mass from the hill, subtraction having always been her preferred binary operation. It came much more naturally, considering the current of things, and experience was expected to provide ease. The unicorn held much experience poking holes in things. She confirmed that with a nod, and decided she would get a start first thing tomorrow. Best to work in the light and achieve an honest job. But tomorrow never comes. That’s some fine honesty, she praised herself. It was a rare incident.

Resembling content, she went back to the base of the tree and laid down. The lawn here was much thinner, but she preferred dirt in her coat to the irking prickle of grass. Undesirable yet the mess would be dealt with later. But she could already picture the germs forming on her outstretched hoof, and Twilight examined it with a start. She cursed the miniscule size of bacteria, double a nuisance, and smacked the ground. No progress. None to speak of.

It seemed she went on this way for a while before losing interest, or rather her pattern of thought being diverted by a new animalistic interest. Stomach rumbling intensely, the unicorn grew preoccupied by the desire to find food, and she left the tree heading South but probably not. To her scholarly mind, this seemed as if to be a simple activity for eating must be something she did often judging by her continued existence. But that was cause for her to pause in the field, and she questioned once again, was prolonging her existence an agreeable intention? Did she wish to continue on in this manner? Not so much. The mare had a bundle of complaints there and it was likely a poor undertaking, certainly if she returned here. But even the toil of securing sustenance required less exertion than enduring pains of the body. One hoof in front of the other. So Twilight continued in her maybe-Southern direction, unsure of what lay in the distance due to the darkness obscuring vision. Though she was unsure of that too, perhaps it was the natural vision. With nothing to compare it to nor objective standard to measure against, she could not tell if her sight was culprit for the encompassing dimness. Some spots seemed darker than others, which did not seem natural in the night. Perhaps it was not night at all, but rather her sight that was diminishing or otherwise impaired. Burdens were not lacking.

Eventually she found herself near the edge of the field, where to varying degrees of delight and detestment, Twilight found a bush of peaches and she snatched five to chew on. A short distance away lay a tree line, where the view was darker yet and she assumed a forest began. But this relied on there persisting more in that direction, which there was no certain way of knowing other than firsthand experience. So unconcerned with eventualities, the mare took her bundle in the reverse direction.

Back to the oak tree after the time crossing, occupying herself with more trivial pondering, she sat again in the earth and selected three of the peaches. They were terrible and delicious, and Twilight ate them in frustration, juice messing her coat. Damn the things for defying her and damn her stomach for insurrection. Feeling obligated to sustain the dramatics, she examined the remaining two and noting their flawless surfaces, liberally applied bruises. Order had always been a concern of hers, and in an orderly universe, ugly things should look ugly. Which would about cover the whole, she supposed with a hoof on her chin, because going through the motions made these things simpler. Adding classification, she made agreeable sounds such as ‘hmm’, ‘intriguing’ and ‘yes, I believe so’ such as she’d once seen her professors do.

That lit a spark in her head and Twilight went to pursue the thought, but it trickled away. Memory out of reach except for recollection of there enduring a memory. Which didn’t do much for her. A sense of impairment pervaded her mind as if some general potential was blocked away, leaving her unable to operate at typical pace which was already unsatisfactory, limbs ever maladroit. Mentally adding ‘brain’ to her list of useless things that she did not keep, making it first and last, which did not describe nearly enough subjects, she ceased course. Only a moment before cognition proved unyielding.

Now the mouth tasted foul. When last had it not? Seemed more so than the usual, being her typical sensation not strong enough to raise awareness. Or at least no more than the occasional grimace when she forgot her familiarity to the taste. And the sorry cavity was already dry again despite the peaches. Licking her lips, Twilight went next to quench her thirst and wash out the bitterness. Not in any place significant.

This time she went in the opposite direction, making her course possibly North, for it seemed likely that whatever cause was responsible for these necessary resources would have placed them as far as able in order to compound the trouble, nature itself not being above spite. It was what she would have done. She dwelt on her feet as they carried her, and also inspected the ground, for one thing Twilight knew about herself was that she was a studious pony. No matter the nugatory mind. But the grass was uniformly dull and she found much more interest in her hooves, the purple fur being uneven and holding irregular splotches of dirt, somewhat resembling a work of art, a veritable landscape. It was all very interesting to look at.

Yet the diversion could not last, and Twilight found attention once more shifting to where she was at. Where never she was at, nothing to show not another where never as she once more approached a knoll. The same grass, all looked the same, the same foliage as at the other if it was other. Might as well be with no differences to speak of, she frowned. Then no where else to speak of. But there must have been other places for her to have come from to be able to get here. It seemed at one time she had come or gone or perhaps both, and why not, both seemed likely if any at all. If at all. Perhaps Twilight and this place were not detached entities met by happenstance but instead created for each other, captive by intrinsic bond. But Twilight put that out of head, hoping not, that being the worst fate yet of all she had bothered to imagine.

Her thirst persisted. She was unsure if she wanted to try again, to fail again. A different direction could be attempted, she could probably keep herself focused on the task, but there was no guarantee better results would be achieved. Moreso weary than spurred, Twilight abandoned the pursuit in favor of better methods of getting on, although there were none.

This was important. A jest. But how had she managed to occupy herself till now? Drawn out thought revealed nothing except the design and carrying out of artificial routines for certain unintelligible reasons. When had last else significant occurred? Nothing done, however nothing to be done. What use was outside stillness if it not only kept externalities in line, but restricted her activity as well? This place was dismantling her, whittling her away bit by bit. And that deceitful tree, promising poisoned vitality. Again Twilight threw herself to the ground and ceased motion, this time settling on a spot some yards from the trunk. The itch of weed conspired with bodily aches to keep her ever aware.

She covered her eyes, yet still the matter remained unsettled. Yet more with the questions. If this was in actuality the only place and having always dwelt at the spot, could it be diminishing her? She would have to settle for affirmation. Somehow the concept of death and decay had made its way into her knowledge, she didn’t question the source, which reduced it to a simple topic. The natural course being deterioration, no matter the environment, her ending was sealed and it was a slight thing for this place to speed the process. And she would turn out as the very dirt that aggravated her senses. Indistinguishable. All the same, in the present she still resented being here and would rather be dirt elsewhere. Nothing reconciled, only bitterness closing in like a sick child.

She rolled onto her side glaring at the relentless tree, knowing it to somehow be the worst offender. Sleep began to make bids at her and though Twilight held nothing against a process which removed her from consciousness, she fought it away merely for the fact of it being a production of existence. The same responsible for her current condition. She would accept nothing graciously from this world, no matter it prolonging her torment. Twilight regretted the peaches. There seemed something noble about an empty stomach, but that wasn’t the right word, no mistake, emptiness was a laudable trait if any. Better off with less. She would have to remind herself at the inevitable recurrence of hunger, a faulty plan that relied on the cooperation of fickle thought. Too many intrusions in this place, better then to quit the scene and sleep away the thoughts. And hope for some nothing better. Twilight let her eyes shut.