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678 3.92 KB 90
Letters He Will Finally Read
By Steam_Powered_AnonCreated: 2024-10-19 11:10:10
Updated: 2024-10-19 15:08:14
Expiry: Never
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I read “Letters he will never read” and it gutted me. So, here’s a cope ending for myself.
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[Time dilation plays a kinda important part, (You) can figure it out]
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>You are Anon
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>And a decade of research, subterfugue, bribery, and blood has finally come to fruition.
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>You hold in your hands a leather-bound tome, the cover cracked and dulled with age, the pages yellowing and the ink fading.
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>It contained the last scraps of archaic formulae for the rift-tearing ritual.
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>The journey here had cost you an arm and a leg.
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>Quite literally - your left arm and leg are void of their biologic nature, replaced by cold steel and warm servos.
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>It was worth the price.
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>It was the way back to Equestria.
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>Back to your friends.
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>The place where you truly belong.
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>
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>Twilight had told you that the portal would be two-way, that you could come and go as you please, that everypony you had come to care for would visit.
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>The last thing you saw of Equestria was her waving, before the rift between your worlds closed.
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>It did not re-open.
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>
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>You waited.
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>Seconds turned to minutes.
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>Minutes to hours.
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>Hours to days.
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>You lost hope a month in.
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>
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>You were deep into thaumaturgic research within the year.
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>Doing whatever was necessary to study the weird, the wild, the esoteric.
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>You just wanted to see your friends again.
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>It was all so…
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>Bleak. Tiresome. Depressing.
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>The happy memories kept you going for a while.
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>While they have not faded, they stopped driving you after four years.
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>
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>The next six were powered purely by spite.
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>At God, Allah, Odin, the Flying Spaghetti Monster - whoever ran the show behind the curtains.
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>You would break the chains of this world if it was the last thing you did.
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>
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>And now, here you stand.
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>Within a room lit only by candlelight, thaumaturgic formulae spread before you in rings of chalk and your own dried blood.
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>Within your hand of cold steel lies your collection of notes, research, runes, and other assorted items.
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>All so you can leave this world behind.
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>Beside you is a well-worn medium-sized backpack, full of what few belongings you chose to keep over the years.
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>Mostly extra research, or things you thought ponies would find nice.
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>You breathe in a shaky breath.
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>It’s time.
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>
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>You are Twilight Sparkle
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>And your daily routine has remained unchanged for the past year.
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>Wake up, dried tears over the bags under your eyes.
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>Re-read the portal spell for the thousandth time.
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>Try it again.
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>Spike brings you breakfast.
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>You ignore it until you almost collapse from hunger.
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>You eat what little you can bear.
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>You re-read the spell again. Quintouple check everything
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>You try it again.
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>And again.
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>And. Again.
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>Spike brings you lunch.
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>You eat what little you can bear.
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>You. Keep. Trying.
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>You’ve hardly seen your friends since he left…
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>It’s your fault.
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>YOU did something wrong.
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>It’syourfaultit’syourfaultit’syourfaultyouFAILURE
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>You collapse, sobs racking your body.
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>You have to keep trying. There HAS to be a way to fix this…
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>…Maybe another letter would help.
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>
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>This is the 375th letter to Anon you’ve wrote now.
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>You know he will never read them, but…
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>It still helps.
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>Sometimes.
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>Your face remains soaked in tears as you sigh, stowing your quill and ink once more.
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>With slow hoofsteps, you begin your pilgrimmage.
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>Back through the library.
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>Up the stairs.
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>Two rooms down from yours.
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>Anon’s room.
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>At least…it was.
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>You’ve done this enough times to wear a shallow groove in the floor.
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>You gently grasp the handle in your magic, opening the door the same as always.
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>Expecting to walk over to his desk, and place the letter on the ever-growing pile.
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>Letters from yourself.
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>From your friends.
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>Neighbors.
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>A Princess or three.
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>Except…
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>That is not what happens.
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>Instead of the desk and letters burned into your frontal lobe, a tall, familiar shape stands before the desk, shuffling through the letters.
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>A worn bag at his side.
by Steam_Powered_Anon