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Originally Published June 26th, 2013
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>A strong, cold wind rustles your mane and rouses you from your half-conscious gallop.
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>You lock your legs and lean onto your back hooves, kicking up big swirly dust clouds as you stop at the edge of the cliff, getting a quick view of a far-down lake before leaning back towards safety.
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>You are Pinkie Pie.
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>And you are on top of a mountain.
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>And for once, it’s not because of those Yoke peppermint patties.
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>You feel like you’ve been running for days, and when you look at your hooves you see that your feeling isn’t far off.
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>Each hoof sports a few cracks and chips, and some of the fissures leak a small red pool onto the soil beneath you.
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>You can feel the adrenaline begin to wear off as the pain starts to rear up in your hooves, so you fall over painlessly onto your side.
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>Is it painless because of a pain-cancelling spell?
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>Is it because fuck you you’re Pinkie Pie?
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>No; your exclusive diet of sponge-cake, marshmallow, and Jell-O has transformed a good percentage of your body into a cakey shock absorber.
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>You pound you’re your hoof against your chest, which gives of a hollow metal sound.
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I’m forty percent shock absorbOHHHCELESTIATHATHURTSWHYWOULDIDOTHAT
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>You proudly and painfully exclaim to your friendly national demi-god.
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>A few minutes later, after the pain has ebbed and your leg has stopped throbbing, you begin to remember why you ran here….
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….
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Oh well. Not like I really need a reason to run a comatose marathon, right?
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>You turn your gaze directly at the nor/mlp/0nes.
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Right?
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>A deep, throaty chuckle comes as an answer.
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”Silly mare, just because you deny it, doesn’t mean it no longer exists. ”
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>An inky fog materializes in front of you and more laughter is coming from its core.
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>A ghostly leg protrudes out of the cloud, and the rest of the mist swirls behind it and gives rise to a more tangible grey mare.
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”It still happened, and no matter how much you wish otherwise, you’re the one who made it happen.”
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>That…thing was back.
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Leave me alone. I’m not in the mood for this.
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>The shadow mare responds with a small smile.
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”Oh, but that’s exactly why I’m here my dear Pinkamina!”
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>She disappears for a split-second before rematerializing by your side.
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”…so that you can see the grim truth of it all.”
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But I didn’t do anything!
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”Exactly!”
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>Her grin widens, revealing gums studded with dagger-like teeth.
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”You could’ve gone back to work, made a few extra bits, and left Anon to his fate; it would have been just like one of those ‘humanrape’ stories you love so much.”
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Stop it.
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”But you didn’t. You stayed at his house and did nothing.”
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Stop.
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>You look away to avoid her gaze, but you can feel her press against your side.
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”And by the time you finally snapped
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out of your love-struck stupor and could’ve acted, the necklace was already around the clone’s neck.”
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>You feel her hooves dig into your shoulders.
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”And who was the one who threw the necklace to Anon?”
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>Your vision clouds as hot tears fill your eyes.
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>You can feel her breath as she whispers in your ear.
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“Who killed her best friend?”
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I DID! IT WAS ME! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?! YOU SADISTIC FU-
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>You whip around to face her, ready to bellow out a stream of foul language, but you stop yourself before you could further break character.
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>She was gone.
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>You search frantically, desperate for a sign that she was there.
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>But all you find are your bloody hoof prints leading up to your outline in the dust.
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>What if she was never there?
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>What if you imagined the whole thing?
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>What if you were…loco in the coco?
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>And with that thought, you go cold. Being loco in the coco makes absolute sense. Only a crazy person would kill their friend.
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>The realization scares you.
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>And when you were scared, you would think back to Granny Pie, and how she told you to laugh away your fears…
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>…and how Granny Pie’s much younger Doctor colt-friend told you when the laughter doesn’t work, you should run.
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”It’s not going to work.”
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>You hear her voice, and fight the urge to turn and look at her.
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”You can run as far and as fast as you like…”
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>”I wonder...”
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“And you could even split your hooves from the effort…”
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>”She would have to be standing right on the edge.”
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“But the blood on them will never be yours.”
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>In one fluid movement, you turn and leap at the shade.
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LEAVE ME ALONE!
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>You focus all of your weight and will into your right shoulder, hoping to knock her off the mountain.
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>You can see it all play out perfectly in the moments before you make contact.
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“Silly mare.”
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>You pass cleanly through her, like she was nothing more than air.
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>And as your hoof leaves the earth, you turn around with the hope that you might still be able to grab her.
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>But like before, she was gone.
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>The wind rips past you, trying feebly to slow you down as the lake rushes up towards you.
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>In the moments before breaching the water, a voice, her voice, sounds in your mind like a stray thought.
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“I would never leave you alone. I am you.”
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>You strike the surface of the lake head-on.
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“I can help you make everything go back to the way it was.”
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>A cold blackness starts to wash over you, numbing the impact.
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“And once we get the real Fluttershy back, we can make Anon ours.”
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>And then nothing.
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INITIATE MUSICAL FORESHADOWING:
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by Greggums
by Greggums
by Greggums
by Greggums
by Greggums