Grey dust had gathered all over the remains of the busted furniture and torn fabrics and curtains. They seemed to glow when the last faint traces of sunlight made it through the fog, to gently shine in through the broken window that adorned the front of the building.

While the mask protected her from the parasite right now, the musty, pungent smell of mildew filled her nostrils. Sweetie walked into the old shop of memories and closed the squeaky door behind her.

Other than the look of utter abandonment, nothing had really changed, as the building still somewhat held a homely feel to it. Except for what Sweetie saw in the corner of the boutique, and she had to resist the urge to book it out the door right then. Those damn, creepy, plastic colticans were still placed there like they always had been when she had lived here. She didn't like them then and she had never gotten any better: if anything, her fear of them had maybe gotten a little worse. Unfortunately, the magenta curtain that had usually concealed them had fallen from neglect and bugs, and was now draped over one of the non-ponies that wished they were so. Sweetie shivered and decided to look somewhere else.

In the opposite corner was the metal borders of the mirrors that once customers would use to look all over themselves in their new attire that was meant to hide their disgusting skin and pelt. Sweetie had used them for the same reasons, too, so she wasn't without fault, the mare reminded herself. Rarity had always hated it when she would get into any clothes left discarded and played dress-up in them: she would get hilariously over dramatic about it. Hmmm. Yeah, those were the days.

Broken shards of the mirrors laid scattered all over the floor in front and around the table there...Some pony must've smashed them from the looks of them. Because, from her experiences with mirrors, they only shattered when force has been applied to them. Heh, listen to that, she sounded like Twilight.

Between these was the indigo stairs that led up to the bedrooms on the second floor. Sweetie quickly walked at an almost jog so she wouldn't drown in the overflowing memories, as well as to get past those eerie colticons. Stay away, Sweetie, stay away. She stalked her way up the stairs.

Her bedroom was first on the left. She rambled over in a dream-like state on overload to the things that had long since been buried in deep graves with no headstones. The door was on the floor, fallen off its hinges with a large gash down the center, as if somepony had kicked it hard. What was with ponies and destroying things in this home? Oh, the latch where the door once closed was broken from force. The wooden frame of the door where the lock was smashed. The lock itself was turned outward, which explained why it was kicked.

Not much light made it into the dim room. The window had been boarded up, except for a tiny sliver of light at the top. This was interesting to Sweetie, the boards were neatly hammered up, Rarity must've done it, she always loved doing things with grace and perfection, even if it would make the job that much more difficult. Numbers were drawn in along the ends of all the boards like a ruler to where the nails were to be lodged in and straight lines were all over. Yep, Rarity. Hehe, even in defense, she would take the sweetest time to make sure it looked good, and boy did this look good.

Sweetie carefully stepped over the door into the room. To her confusion, there was no dust or decay anywhere compared to the rest of the home. Only a few things were thrown around, like the same pony had gone through everything rather quickly for anything they may have needed.

On her old bed, the original covers still laid out over it, including a quilt was folded neatly upon the untouched covers, much too small for her and covered with a checkered pattern of diamonds in many warm, bright colors: red, yellow, lime green, and many more than Sweetie could possibly think of in her world of grey. It had been so long since real color caught her eye, and it was good.

Everything was sewn into each part of the fabric so professionally, and it was so beautiful. She carefully stroked the glorious piece of artwork, feeling its soft cotton comfort shoot up her foreleg. At least for once, she didn't feel in danger of a slow, and most likely painful, death. She couldn't bring herself to get away from this wonderful feeling. It was almost...intimate.

Sweetie didn't care how much time had passed before she pulled away from the quilt. The large saddlebags that laid across her back weren't very heavy, so Sweetie gently picked the blanket up and placed it in her left saddlebag to bring along. She continued her past-marry-present journey of memories and nostalgia.

Next to the bed was a closet with a rolling door covering it, painted the same color as the walls around her... white. She remembered how much she loved the color, going so far as to refuse any ice cream that wasn't vanilla. Her mouth watered at the thought of ice cream, that creamy frozen treat that would revolt if you enjoyed it too fast and too much, like it hated going away so quickly. What would she do to feel a brain freeze tear apart her skull, mmmm...non-violently of course. Sweetie swatted the thought of death away.

Remember, happy thoughts. The adventures of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Yeah.....

Rolling the door open with a careful slid of a hoof, Sweetie only found a small wooden chair. Its color was obscured by the dimness of the room, and the near complete darkness of the closet. The carved letters painted bright yellow on the back rest could still be read through the created night: Mr. Teddy. Her bear...her first friend. Was he here? It would be great to have him back. To snuggle with and to love, completely platonic of course, although she had no idea what he would do if he didn't approve. Haha, what was she thinking? Mr. Teddy wasn't alive, he was just a stuffed bear... but she still missed him now that her mind was on him.

She frantically stuck her head into the closet and looked around for her friend, but she couldn't see anything through the darkness. She reached into the saddlebag with her mouth and pulled out a flashlight, which she proceeded to click on to brighten the darkness. Wow, maybe she needed a flashlight for her brain. Looking back inside the closet, to her complete disappointment, the interior was completely cleaned out. No bear.

Sweetie felt her ears involuntarily fold down as a strange sad feeling overcame her. Depression? Everything felt hopeless suddenly, and with no apparent cause. She needed to get away from the memories,  she obviously couldn't handle them as expertly as she thought she would be able to. What lies is this!? Damn youth! She wandered away out of the room of the past, and back into the hallway of the present. That chair was dangerous to her mental health, as thrown up as it was. Revolting thought puke was. But the spores, like a parasite, had already spread throughout her body.

Rarity's room was next. But Sweetie felt anticipation towards its door, another fear of a portal to the distant past to bring about tears that the mare had to keep down silently, and she didn't know if she could handle it anymore. Yet, no pony would get anything done if they let fear take them over. It was overcoming fear that Equestria had been founded on and created by. Fear was normal, especially in this world now, you just had to be more afraid of not overcoming it.

The door never squeaked as she pushed it open. It was well oiled after this time? Just like her own room, Rarity's was dark, wooden boards were covering the window. But there was a hint of sloppiness that wasn't present in the boards of her own. Even the wood used wasn't the best that could've been used. It made Sweetie wonder if Rarity had locked her room to leave it like a memorial... no, that sounded creepy. More like to keep it the same for her little sister's return: something that hadn’t happened until now

No, just keep away from memory, away from the past. The past was NOT friendly. Ponies using ponies. No neighborly attitude. But the memory overtook her mind with ease.

~~~

A filly Sweetie Belle stood next to her older sister at the train station platform, with tears threatening to mess up the annoying mascara that Rarity had forced her to wear at her own displeasure. So many ponies were congratulating her on going off to get a higher education, but why would anypony want to congratulate another on their unhappiness? She was going to be just like Rarity, they say, and Sweetie noticed that many stallions were looking at her sister with a strange glare, unknown to her pre-adolescent mind. Just like Rarity, they say.

The filly felt unready for this, unwilling, as she turned back towards the town that she would have to leave for so long. Her best friends, and fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders, Applebloom and Scootaloo stood further back to watch her go off. Rarity's friends, the ones she would go to for advice, mostly bad advice, were beyond the platform with ranged expression from happiness, to sadness, to pride, and to indifference.

Looking back to her friends, she noticed that even Scoots was having a difficult time keeping the tears at bay, and Sweetie couldn't blame her or Applebloom. They were a team, they stuck together through whatever came their way. Now, that team would be missing one of their own, and that made the goodbyes so much more difficult to say.

She couldn't do it! Not now! Sweetie frantically leapt from her sister's side and galloped over to her surprised friends before tackling them into a big bear hug, refusing to let go. The others had the same idea. Sweetie felt her tears finally wet her cheeks as the same thing happened to the others. The sound of a far off train whistle wailed the call of the banshee, coming closer. Killer of youthful happiness. Sweetie just couldn't and didn't want to leave.

Sweetie felt a hoof carefully and calmly pat her on the back comfortingly. She say Rarity was looking down at her, smiling warmly. "It's alright Sweetie, you can say your goodbyes, though I'm going to have to redo your make up on the train: need to make a good impression on the school administrators. You'll be able to see them whenever they can visit. I'll even close up the shop and and bring them down there myself if I must."

"We'll miss ya, Sweetie Belle. Ah’ll visit ya as much as Ah can." Applebloom smiled a forced smile through the tears.

"Yeah, me too. And write to us and tell us how awesome it is down there, you better not forget. Though, I don't see any reason for school to be awesome. I mean, come on, it's school." Scootaloo rambled a bit there before the trio gave one last hug as the train whistle came closer.

~~~

The haunting cry if a siren brought Sweetie out of her daydream. The wailing message whirled around her, warning her that the parasite fog was getting so thick that even the mask she wore wouldn't work properly, and thus fail to protect her against the massive amounts of spores in the air. She needed to quickly get herself out of the fog, or underground. Thankfully, the building had a basement where Rarity had always stored the unused supplies. If it was unlocked, that was: she mentally kicked herself for not checking when she had the chance.

By the time Sweetie had made her way out of the shop and home and around the building, the siren had finished its call and the silence of the wind could only be heard. Oh thank you Rarity! She had left it unlocked, as if she’d known that Sweetie was going to return and would need shelter. Sweetie smiled faintly in the mask. Pulling the metal doors open, Sweetie scrambled inside to shut the hatch behind her to keep as much of the parasite out as much as possible. It was very dark, and the place still reeked of blood down here.