GREEN
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2395 13.21 KB 293
2395 13.21 KB 293
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Dark. Everything is dark. Why is everything dark?
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These questions haunted the small town baker.
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She thinks these thoughts to herself as she pulls yet another sponge cake from the one small area of warmth in the building.
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Placing the cake on the table, she looks up through the glass window placed in the ceiling.
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The stars are beautiful, night is beautiful. But, this is too much.
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It's been nearly four years since she's seen daylight, and things were starting to get intense.
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The guards wouldn't do anything about the night crawlers, or the raiders whom utilize the night for their own corrupt lusts.
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She huffs and grabs her frosting from a bin full of decorations for pastries.
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Putting little flowers on the cake, she silently sobs and sighs to herself.
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She missed flowers.
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Flowers.
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The word itself sounded alien in nature, like they never even existed in the first place.
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All she see's now is the gloom of the night, looming like an everlasting plague over all of equestria.
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Decorating cakes we're fun at one point, but now that she's forced to make all these cakes, hollow, flavorless, depressing.
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Like equestria, in its current state.
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The small town baker needs more eggs if she's going to make more pastries.
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She notices, for a moment, that she's not in that bad of a situation, at least, relative to others
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At least, these are made for eating.
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There are ponies in the capitol who's sole purpose is to make weapon-pastries.
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Used to keep the city's in line, she supposes.
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Nightmare Moon's been a pretty kind ruler, treating them like subjects of her night.
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But the dark.
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She breaks down, and puts her hooves in her face.
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"Sweet Celestia the dark."
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The baker utters the first words in a couple of days.
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She puts the pastry on the table on a delivery rack, and heads into the designated bakery supply store.
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Everything's treated like its part of the royal guard.
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Militant, utilitarian.
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She opens the door of her hobble, and steps down the steps and into the street
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Her hooves feel good on the polished cobble.
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It's been half a week since she's had to leave the bakery for anything.
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It's refreshing.
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Her doldrums are broken for a moment as she see's the beauty of the world around her.
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Since the nightfall, she's thought a lot more, and spoke a lot less.
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And sometimes, when she gets out, she breaks out of her state of manic depression, and see's things in a different light.
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Like, if the sun were still there.
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She stops in her tracks, and does a three sixty, taking in the area of Ponyville like it was the first time she was here.
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Everything was dark, yet, the softer shades were comforting.
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She notices a pony laying in the street, obviously in a stage of grief or doldrums similar to her own state.
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He's sobbing. But its obvious he hasn't slept in a while, 5 days at least.
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In equestria, they call these ponies 'trancers'.
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Ponies who were unable to cope with the hostile takeover of nightmare moon, and so they sort of, broke.
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Which was sad, there is beauty to be had with sanity.
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'Any life is worth living.' the baker thinks to herself. 'but a lot of ponies don't believe that concept.'
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She truly believes that at heart, but, she can't help but feel gloomy and depressed as she looks at the moon, taking the place of the sun.
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She forgot why she was outside in the first place.
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Right, eggs.
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Two blocks later, she see's the storehouse in the distance.
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Trotting up the crystal stairs, she opens to the old castle of friendship.
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There's nobody here, but that is to be expected…
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She see's her old throne, and trots over to it.
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Bringing her hoof to her old life, she traces the blue and yellow gems set into the looming throne.
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She remembers comforting her friends, all the things she's taught and learned.
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And, as if for a moment, her current situation fades out of existence.
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She brushes her hair out of her face, and places it behind her ear.
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…
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She forgets why she came here again.
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Right, eggs.
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She walks over to her old friends throne, and scoops up three dozen eggs and puts them on a cart.
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She grabs the cart and goes to the fresh egg room.
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One, two, three.
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Wing 6, Room 4562
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…
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Uhh.
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"Eggs. Right." she reminds herself, speaking out loud for the first time in months.
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She opens the door.
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She grabs another 60 dozen eggs, and heads to the front door.
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Bringing the cart down the steps carefully, Which is empty, save for that one trancer.
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Four blocks later. She's standing once again outside the bakery.
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There's a notice on the door. Its mandatory to be read.
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Like she's going to read that.
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She goes inside and sits on one of the old stools of the bakery where ponies used to have pastries.
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A little necklace sits on it.
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Or is it a bracelet?
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She doesn't know.
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The darkness has made her memory very, very fuzzy.
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The little lapses of manic happiness are helpful, but they're preventing the inevitable.
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Its at times like these that its so easy to just, sleep, forever.
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But, then again, any life Is worth living, right?
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A weak smile creeps up on her face as her hair goes a little curly, but then resorts to just deflating to flat again.
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As is life, she supposes.
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A thought creeps into her mind.
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The castle.
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When she was there. Something…
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…
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eh, never mind. She forgot.
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…
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She forgets what she's doing.
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Right, she has to bake.
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She gets up, and heads to the kitchen for another round of sponge cakes.
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She goes into the kitchen, and see's that the last round of sponge cakes have been taken by the bat-guard.
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Two eggs, three cups of flower, four cups of protein, milk, peanut butter.
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She makes another sponge cake batter, and plops it in the oven.
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…
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Eh?
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Right, baking
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Two eggs, three cups of flower, four cups of protein, milk, peanut butter.
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She makes another sponge cake batter, and plops it in the oven.
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…
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Eh?
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Right, baking
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Two eggs, three cups of flower, four cups of protein, milk, peanut butter.
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She makes another sponge cake batter, and plops it in the oven.
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…
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Eh?
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Right, baking
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Two eggs, three cups of flower, four cups of protein, milk, peanut butter.
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She makes another sponge cake batter, and plops it in the oven.
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…
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Eh?
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This happens over and over again for 18 hours straight, and soon, she has nearly 600 cakes stocked up.
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They need to be put on the rack now.
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Its at this point she notices something.
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One of the cakes is still on the rack, never being taken.
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She think's its an important one, maybe.
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It has little white frosted flowers on it, and smells of vanilla.
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None of these should have vanilla or frosting.
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Is it a gift from the guard, or moon herself?
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She studies the cake.
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It has flowers.
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She missed flowers.
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Flowers.
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The word itself sounded alien in nature, like they never even existed in the first place.
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She needs flower.
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She needs to put these cakes on the racks.
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Then she…
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Then she needs to get the flower.
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She stacks the six hundred cakes, as they're ready for delivery to the guard.
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Now.
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Uh…
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She need's flower.
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Right.
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She walks out the door, and feels the cold rush of air on her face.
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It's been the first time in months since she's stepped outside.
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The feeling of the wind is refreshing on her mane and fur.
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A weak smile creeps from her face.
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Any life is worth living.
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Since the nightfall, she's thought a lot more, and spoke a lot less.
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And sometimes, when she gets out, she breaks out of her state of manic depression, and see's things in a different light.
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Like, if the sun were still there.
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…
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Right, to the store house.
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Two blocks later, she sees the storehouse in the distance.
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Trotting up the crystal stairs, she opens to the old castle of friendship.
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There's nobody here, but that is to be expected…
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Breathing in, she smells the dust.
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This place always smells like dust.
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Well, it didn't back when twilight lived here.
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She kept things spotless.
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Twilight, she was such a good friend.
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Friend.
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The baker's hair slowly inflates.
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It becomes curly, and slowly works its way into a cotton candy shape.
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She notices the smile on her face.
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She was here for a reason, right?
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Yeah, she needs something…
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"Yeah! Flower, need the good stuff, too."
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She spoke for the first time in months.
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She happily bounces around the empty castle.
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In a moment, she finds herself surrounded by flower.
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Oh fun!
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She dives in, and covers herself in white, playing in the stuff.
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She gets up, and shakes off the flower.
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The smile on her face is something equestria hasn't seen for years.
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She finishes her reveling, and gets some flower for the bakery.
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Trotting down the steps of the castle, she decides to go and see what rarity is up to.
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She walks a few steps.
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…
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Uhh, rarity.
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Her, uh, her…
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Rarity.
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"Where do I know that name?" the baker questions, uttering the first words Ponyville has heard in years, sans the sobbing from the trancers
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She was always bad with names.
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Maybe a higher up?
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She doesn't know, the only higher up she can remember is nightmare moon.
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Nightmare Moon…
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Nightmare Moon's been a pretty kind ruler, treating them like subjects of her night.
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But the dark.
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She movers her hair out of her face and puts it behind her ear.
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…
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What was she doing?
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Right, the, flower?
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She needs to do more baking.
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Four blocks later. She's standing once again outside the bakery.
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There's a notice on the door. Its mandatory to be read.
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Like she's going to read that.
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She goes inside and sits on one of the old stools of the bakery where ponies used to have pastries.
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A little necklace sits on it.
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Or is it a bracelet?
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She doesn't know.
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The darkness has made her memory very, very fuzzy.
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She walks into the kitchen and places the flower on the table
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She needs to-
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…
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She needs to make more sponge cakes.
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Two eggs, three cups of flower, four cups of protein, milk, peanut butter.
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…
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30 hours later, she's must've made a solid 700 sponge cakes.
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They need to be put on the rack.
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There's still a cake on the rack.
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She think's its an important one, maybe.
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It has little white frosted flowers on it, and smells of vanilla.
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None of these should have vanilla or frosting.
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Something clicks in her head.
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She remembers.
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Her hair inflates, curly and full. Her eyes light up and shine bright colors, juxtaposing on the dark, gloomy kitchen.
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She looks around the bakery.
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She goes to the basement, and flips a switch.
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When she come's back up the stairs the lights are on, illuminating a dusty, cobweb ridden sugarcube corner.
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The necklace.
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She knows what that is.
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She walks over to the gold necklace with a blue balloon sunk into the middle.
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One of the elements of harmony.
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But, how did it get out of the tree of harmony?
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She remembers.
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It was a last ditch effort to stop Luna from becoming nightmare moon again.
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But it just wasn't enough.
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"not at our old age" she says with a hint of reminiscence, talking for the first time in a week.
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She puts on the pendant, and walks over to the mirror.
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she follows the wrinkles on her face, with her aged cataract ridden eyes.
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It hasn't been 4 years.
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Its been much, much longer.
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She, needs to find the other elements.
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Twilight.
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No, we can't win without twilight.
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We couldn't win.
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We'd never win without magic.
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She was turned to a statue when the elements backfired.
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That was a dark day…
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"heh, literally. Right Twilight?"
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She turns away from the mirror.
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She can't continue making cakes for nightmare moon.
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She can't enable her tyranny.
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She has to go, go find the other elements of harmony.
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The baker decides to leave the element on the table, it should be safe there.
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Can't be caught. She decides, and turns off the lights in sugarcube corner.
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She taps her way down the steps, and looks left, then looks right, trying to focus on a direction.
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…
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Which direction does she go?
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"Where do I need to go…"
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…
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She chooses a direction, and starts running
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…
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Uhh.
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She forgot what she was doing.
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…
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Her hooves feel good on the polished cobble.
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…
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It's been half a week since she's had to leave the bakery for anything.
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…
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It's refreshing.
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…
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Her doldrums are broken for a moment as she see's the beauty of the world around her.
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271.
Since the nightfall, she's thought a lot more, and spoke a lot less.
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272.
And sometimes, when she gets out, she breaks out of her state of manic depression, and see's things in a different light.
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273.
Like, if the sun were still there.
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274.
She stops in her tracks, and does a three sixty, taking in the area of Ponyville like it was the first time she was here.
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275.
Everything was dark, yet, the softer shades were comforting.
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276.
She notices a pony laying in the street, obviously in a stage of grief or doldrums similar to her own state.
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277.
He's sobbing. But its obvious he hasn't slept in a while, 5 days at least.
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In equestria, they call these ponies 'trancers'.
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279.
Ponies who were unable to cope with the hostile takeover of nightmare moon, and so they sort of, broke.
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Which was sad, there is beauty to be had with sanity.
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281.
'Any life is worth living.' the baker thinks to herself. 'but a lot of ponies don't believe that concept.'
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She must've just been taking a break.
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Four blocks later. She's standing once again outside the bakery.
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There's a notice on the door. Its mandatory to be read.
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Like she's going to read that.
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287.
She goes inside and sits on one of the old stools of the bakery where ponies used to have pastries.
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A little necklace sits on it.
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Or is it a bracelet?
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She doesn't know.
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The darkness has made her memory very, very fuzzy.
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FIN
by Drostapena
by Drostapena
by Drostapena
by Drostapena
by Drostapena