Ramblings of An Angry God

by alexmagnet

First published 28th of December, 2013

A collection of unfinished, scrapped, or otherwise previously unpublished story ideas. They range across all genres, and span many themes, but the one thing they have in common is that I dropped all of them for one reason or another.

A collection of unfinished, scrapped, or otherwise previously unpublished story ideas. They range across all genres, and span many themes, but the one thing they have in common is that I dropped all of them for one reason or another. There is no particular order to how they are presented, though most of them are at least a year old or more. Their quality varies widely, and so does their content. I'll give the titles and tags in the following paragraph, and offer a very brief description. I'll explain where I was going with the story in the author's notes at the end of each chapter, and try to provide some context as well.

So here they are, in all their dubious glory.
(Note: None of these stories have been edited from their original drafts, so it's likely that there will be many many grammatical errors)
Diary of a Con-Artist (working title)
[Slice of Life][Comedy]
Seymour Grasse, a con-artist by trade, ends up being killed by one of his marks, though which one is a mystery. This is the story leading up to that event.

Just Don't Get Caught
[Adventure] (I guess...)
This was intended to be a heist story about a misanthropic stallion who is betrayed by one of his clients and has to escape with the client's son.

Unamed Sequel to Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Hooves
[Comedy][Random][Romance(?)]
Basically just Trixie living with Twilight in the aftermath of their boxing match. Oh, and the Twilight and Spike that "original" Twilight sent to the moon come back seeking vengeance.

Of Great and Powerful Things
[Dark][Sad]
Based off the fansong of the same name, this was going to be my sad Trixie backstory.

One in the Chamber
[Adventure][Romance]
Imagine the plot of For a Few Dollars More, and you'll have a basic idea of what this was going to be. Nameless drifter wanders into a town to collect a bounty and ends up meeting a mare who convinces him to protect the town from bandits. I think he was supposed to be searching for some kind of treasure as well.

On the Shores of Demilune Lake
[Dark][Adventure]
Anthropologist [Name], heads to Demilune Lake upon hearing reports of seaponies residing within the chilly waters. Once there, he finds that the family he's staying with aren't all they seem, and neither are the seaponies he's hunting.

Outpost 2021 (working title)
[Adventure]
While working on discovering a way to facilitate faster-than-light travel, Twilight accidentally sends herself, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash 30,000 years into the future. In this barren futurescape, unicorns are an extinct race, and Twilight is hunted down as a mutant.

Unamed SchizoDerpy Fic
[Tragedy]
Derpy is a slightly unhinged schizophrenic, and she slowly grows to loathe all the ponies she works with at the mail-sorting facility after she suspects them of conspiring against her.

Unamed TwiLuna Fic
[Romance][Tragedy(?)]
Hoo boy... what do I even say about this one? This was written when everyone and their grandmother was churning out TwiLuna fics. I used to really like shipping back then, so there you go, I guess.

Unamed Twixie Fic
[Romance (if you can call it that)]
Basically read the above description and replace "TwiLuna" with "Twixie".

An Unbelievably Good Day to Dash Hard
[Comedy][Adventure]
A buddy-cop comedy starring Rainbow Dash and Spike. That's basically it.

Tombra: A Love Story
[Comedy][Random]
Tom the Rock and Sombra fall in love.

Unamed Daring Do Fic
[Adventure]
After the failure of my first Daring Do fic, I decided to take another crack, but never ended up finishing it.

Trixie Saves Her Paraplegic Orphan Daughter From Aliens
[Comedy][Random]
After Daisy, Trixie's blind paraplegic orphan daughter, gets kidnapped by aliens, it's up to Trixie to save her. Obviously though, it's too big of a job for one mare, so she enlists the help of Twilight and Co. along the way.

Unamed Crackfic
[Comedy]
Trixie ends up accidentally trapping herself inside a necklace and then tricks Twilight into wearing her, thus cursing her in the process.

Flutternoir
[Dark][Noir]
When a bigshot cloud-baron buys up all the rainbow making factories in Cloudsdale, it stirs up a bit of controversy. However, before anyone can figure out who this guy really is, all the opposition suddenly disappears over night. Rainbow Dash, due to some bad timing, finds herself kidnapped. Fluttershy, meanwhile, stumbles across a corrupt political system and tries to uncover a plot to have all of Cloudsdale's rainbow supply outsourced to another city.

Trix and the City
[Comedy][Random]
A predator from Predator ends up in Manehattan where he happens across Trixie. The two go on wreaking havoc and eventually fall in love. Well, Trixie does, anyway.

Diary of a Con-Artist

Huh. So, this is what dying feels like? It’s kinda nice. I feel warm.

The warmth I felt was from the rapidly-growing pool of blood that I was laying in. Standing over me was the mare who killed me, a bloody knife held trembling in her mouth. As I felt the warmth slide over me I laughed, sputtered really. I was too weak to laugh. I guess this is how it ends for me, huh? Fate be a cruel mistress indeed. I chuckled at my own thoughts. Fate had nothing to do with it. I brought this on myself. The knife and the mare holding it were simply catalysts.

Must’ve hit a lung, I guessed. It was getting harder and harder to breathe with each passing second. Surely by now my punctured lung had filled with blood. A thudding sound echoed as the knife came to rest on the ground next to me. The mare’s mouth was hanging open. Her lips and fur tinged red with my blood. She stared down at me. A mixture of horror, confusion, and regret found itself upon her face. She fell to her knees. Silent tears streamed down her soft cheeks.

I suppose I should clear a couple of things up. You know, like, why I’m here? Or why I was stabbed? Possibly explain who exactly the mare is that killed me? All of that will come in good time I promise. I think I’ll start at the beginning for now though. Make things easy, you know? After all, every story has its beginnings, even mine.

I was born Seymour Grasse, though I haven’t been called that for many years, in a small town a 100 miles or so west of Fillydelphia called Downy Hill. Downy Hill was hardly even a real town. It was just pasture after pasture after pasture. Maybe a total of 300 souls lived there, cows not included. The whole thing was practically one big farm. My parents told me that when they picked up and left for Downy Hill their friends would always ask them, “Why are you moving way out to the boonies?” and they would always jokingly respond, “To see more grass,” hence my name. I always hated my name. My parents, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious. They used to joke about it all the time.

I soon as I had learned to speak my own name I insisted that everyone call me “Seg”. That somehow sounded better to me. At least that way I didn’t have to hear some lame-ass joke every freakin’ time my name was mentioned. Seriously man, it gets old.

But, even my nickname hasn’t seen any use in quite some time. Everyone that knew me by that name, or my nickname, I’ve either lost contact with, or found out they had died. My parents fall into the latter category. Don’t get all teary-eyed just yet. My parents died peacefully due to old age some 5 or 6 years ago. Although, I guess they weren’t really all that old. I suppose I don’t really know how my parents met their end. I never really asked specifically what killed them. I just assumed it was old age. But, they were only in their sixties. Hmm, perhaps this warrants a follow-up investigation.

Oh wait, hold on. Damn, this dying thing is really putting a damper on my plans. Suppose I’ll just have to take a rain-check on that.

Anyways, back to my story, didn’t mean to get side-tracked there. Let’s see, I guess you could say that everything really started when I met Daisy Chain. Now, this was way back when I was still in school, in fact, when I first started school.

I was maybe six or seven years old, I don’t really remember exactly, when I was attending Ms. Ficklebottom’s class. Dumb name I know, right? Anyways, about three months into class we got a new student, Daisy Chain. Now, this, this I remember perfectly. I was sitting at my desk, carving expletives into the wood with my pencil, when I heard the door open. Usually the door opening meant that it was lunch-time or snack-time, or some other food-related time. Also, it occasionally meant bathroom-time. This time however, it meant that a new face was about to enter our classroom.

She walked in as daintily as her name-sake, which I didn’t know at the time, but her walk was dainty nonetheless, and approached the teacher’s desk. She was an earth pony, and she had the most luxurious mane I’d ever seen. It was a gorgeous sunflower yellow and it was complimented by her glorious sky-blue body. The curls of her eyelashes bounced up and down as she trotted her way across the room. The sun streaming in from the window, the only light source in the room (our school was poor), played with her face. I swear that angels themselves must have carried her down from the sky to let her grace the mortal world. That adorable face is what really got me. She had a honey-sweet grin, which showed just the right amount of teeth. Her eyes, brown as baby fawns, sparkled in the sunlight. Ms. Ficklebottom, who at the time was grading papers, looked up at her. She lowered her glasses and asked her, “Yes, can I help you?”

Something that I should mention about Ms. Ficklebottom real quick is that she’s kind of an ass. I mean literally, she was actually a donkey. That and she was also a jerk. So, when she asked Daisy Chain if she could help her, it wasn’t in tone that suggested that she actually wanted to help. It was more of a “Sweet Celestia, why are in my face and what do you want?” kind of tone. Yeah, not quite the welcoming I expect that Daisy Chain was expecting to expect, or had expected, expectably. In any case, she seemed to either, not notice, or not mind, the old donkey’s attitude. Irregardless, which I’m not entirely sure is a word, of Daisy Chain’s minding or not minding of said attitude, what happened next was incredibly important. So, I will come back to it later.

Six years later I found myself on a train heading towards –

Nah, I’m just messing with you guys. That would be bad storytelling.

Looking up at Ms. Ficklebottom, with those big, doleful, brown eyes, Daisy Chain said in her charming voice, “Yes you old witch, you can help me.” I knew right at that moment that I was in love, or in whatever six (or seven) year olds are in when they like someone. The odd thing here was that when Daisy Chain spoke to Ms. Ficklebottom, it was with the sweetest smile on her face, as if she was taunting her, hoping to coax some anger out. Unfortunately the only thing she coaxed out was a face-full of spit as Ms. Ficklebottom sputtered incoherently. Wiping away the flecks of spittle that had scattered themselves all around her facial area, Daisy Chain said, “I just moved here from Trottingham you fool, and upon entering the main office they told me to find this class. Imagine my surprise when I enter and find a decrepit, half-blind ass sitting at the teacher’s desk. What’s more, you haven’t even shown me my seat yet.” The sickly sweetness in her voice was still there, tainting every word with its poison. It was actually kind of bizarre to watch, and even more so in retrospect. She continued by saying, “So, unless you are incapable of basic motor functions and pony-interaction, would be so kind as to direct me to said seat?”

Reeling from the verbal smackdown she had just received, Ms. Ficklebottom adjusted her glasses awkwardly, trying to gain some semblance of composure. She consulted her attendance sheet, which also happened to intern as a seating chart, and looked for Daisy Chain’s name.

Unfortunately she had neglected to ask, “What did you say your name was, dear?”

Smiling that deliciously intoxicating smile, Daisy Chain responded with, “I didn’t. But, thanks for asking.” I could feel the sarcasm dripping from her, coating the area with its slickness. It was probably the sarcasm that caused Ms. Ficklebottom to drop her glasses as she fumbled to adjust them again. Sarcasm can be quite slippery. Actually that was sweat I was thinking of. Yeah, sweat. I forgot to mention that she was sweating profusely by this point. I wouldn’t say she was sweating bullets mind you, because that doesn’t even make sense. How someone could actually sweat out the components of a bullet, and have them configure themselves in such a way that, when the firing pin strikes the primer, it would ignite the powder, located in the shell of the bullet, causing the round to explosively eject from whatever medium is holding it, in this case Ms. Ficklebottom’s face, and fly at hundreds of feet per second towards its target, is beyond me. I never understood why that was a saying, it just doesn’t fit with basic pony anatomy.

But, I digress, again. Crap. Where was I? Oh, right. “My name is Daisy Chain, or did you not notice a new name on your attendance roster? There are only ten students in here that I can count. Did it not occur to you that that new name might be a new student, namely me? Perhaps that was too difficult for you to deduce on your own,” she said, not an ounce of unintended hostility in her saccharine voice. The old donkey narrowed her eyes and examined the seating chart/attendance roster once again. “Ah, there you are,” she said, putting her hoof just underneath the name of one, Ms. Daisy Chain. Apparently, whoever ran the attendance charts to Ms. Ficklebottom, had failed to mention that she would be receiving a new student today. However, likewise, Ms. Ficklebottom had failed to actually read her attendance charts where she would have undoubtedly seen a new name.

She lifted her knobbly arm and pointed at the seat located right in front of mine. My heart pitter-pattered with excitement. Daisy Chain made her way to her seat and began to place her belongings underneath the desk. Then Ms. Ficklebottom frowned and looked back down at the seating chart. “My mistake,” she said, “you’re actually two rows over.” My heart sank with disappointment. Daisy Chain sighed, it was a very annoyed sigh as I recall, somewhere between missing the bus and dropping your ice-cream. She picked up her stuff again and moved over two rows, shooting an icy glare at the teacher.

“Get it right the first time you miserable old mare,” she said, “And, for the sake of these students and myself, I sincerely hope that your teaching isn’t as poor as your eyesight.” As she set her books on the ground and pulled a pencil out I thought to myself, This filly!

Now, I know what you all are thinking. “That is quite the lexophilic six (or seven) year old!” Well, that’s what I thought too, in so many words. But, I swear to Celestia, or Luna, or whatever, that I’m telling the truth. That is actually what she said. I wish I could make this stuff up.

This girl really has a big mouth, I thought. And I like it. I wish I could make her say that stuff to me.

Look, I was a bit of a weird kid, alright. My parents never really scolded me, so the idea of being talked to like that aroused my little six (or seven) year old body. That also sounded weird, the way I just phrased that, moving on.

I decided that I would make Daisy Chain mine. She had to like me, and I knew exactly how to make that happen. During lunch that day I sat one table over from her and began wadding up shreds of napkins. I grabbed the straw out of my milk carton and stuck the napkin ball in my mouth, making sure to soak it with my saliva. Taking aim at Daisy Chain’s beautiful yellow mane I inhaled deeply, trying not to swallow the paper ball. Exhaling as fast as I could, I launched the spit-ball at lightning speed. Time seemed to slow down as the spit-ball gracefully flew through the air, hurtling towards its target. I could’ve sworn I saw the thing do a couple of flips right before crashing right into the back of her head with wet plopping sound. She whipped around. All the fury of a raging hurricane was nothing compared to the look on her face.

Mission complete.

Daisy Chain stared me down with her beautiful brown eyes, now filled with unadulterated hatred. She got up and walked over to my table, where I sat alone. I didn’t have a lot of friends. She reached behind her and pulled the sticky, spitty, mess of paper out of her mane and dropped it in my milk carton. Without a word, she cocked her arm back and sucker punched me right in the snout. Taken aback, I blinked several times, wincing at the pain in my nose. Turning away, she swished her tail right in my face, and for a brief moment, I could taste her. She even smelled sweet, like honey. My heart raced as I felt her tail brush across my face.

I spent the rest of lunch that day nursing my bruised nose and planning my next move.

Admittedly my plan hadn’t been perfect. Namely, I didn’t really have a follow-up after the whole “spit-ball” thing. But, I had accomplished one thing. I got her to notice me, and she wasn’t likely to forget that incident anytime soon. My theory proved correct when the next day, during math class, she whipped an entire book across the room. This was no pansy-ass, hundred page, book either, this thing was built like a dictionary but it flew like an atlas. The pages fluttered as it sailed through the air. However, its majestic flight was stopped cold when it collided with my head. If the sight of the book flying across the room hadn’t already drawn everyone’s attention, then the sound it and my head made when it crashed to the ground did.

I saw stars as I struggled to stand up, fairly certain I had suffered at least minor head trauma. The whole classroom’s eyes were on me, including the teacher, who apparently was too scared of Daisy Chain to do anything. She just looked back and forth between me and Daisy Chain with looks of shock and confusion. Once I had finally managed to right myself, I looked two rows over to where that precocious filly was sitting and stared her down, determined not to be intimidated. She was staring right back at me, no anger in her eyes or facial features, just calm patience. She slowly opened her mouth and said, “Eat it.” I cocked my head to the side, confused. Perhaps I was still a little out of it from the concussion I had undoubtedly received, but I was pretty sure she just told me to eat the book she had just thrown at me. Unsure of what to do, or think for that matter, I picked up the book and tore a page out with my mouth. I chewed it slowly while gauging her reaction.

The look on her face told me that perhaps I had misheard her, likely due to my concussed state. Her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth slightly open she stared at me, along with rest of the class. Finally after slowly chewing the page, which was not a pleasant flavor I might add, and eventually swallowing it, Daisy Chain spoke again. “I told you to read it, not eat it. Do you not understand the difference? Or, are you deaf as well as stupid?”

That… makes more sense, I thought. Rather than respond to her I examined the book I was still holding. I hadn’t really gotten a chance to look closely at the book when it was plowing into my skull, but now that I did I noticed something about it. Well, something besides the fact that one of the pages was now missing. Written on the inside cover were the words, ‘Playground’ and ‘6’. Assuming that it meant she wanted to meet me at the playground outside the school at six o’clock I looked back over to Daisy Chain and nodded my head, letting her now I understood. Satisfied, she sat back down and glanced up at Ms. Ficklebottom. “Well? Are you going to teach us or not?” questioned Daisy Chain.

“Umm, I… Yes, well… Everyone, open your books to page 5,” responded Ms. Ficklebottom, who obviously was still not accustomed to Daisy Chain’s unique brand of communication.

Ignoring the instructions I opened the dictionary/atlas’ cover and read the note again. Playground at six huh? They were simple enough instructions, and easy to understand. But, what I didn’t understand was why she decided to convey her message in this manner. I assumed that she didn’t want other ponies to know about our secret meeting and, if so, why did she throw a book at me and force me to read it while the whole class stared at me. Unless she didn’t actually care if everyone else knew, in which case. Why did she throw a book at me and force me to read it while the whole class stared at me? Wouldn’t it have been easier to just tell me? Thinking back on it, I’m pretty sure she just wanted to throw something at me. Possibly as some kind of recompense for the spit-balling she received courtesy of me. However, my six (or possibly seven) year old self didn’t really care why she did what she did. I was just glad she did do what she did when she did it.

The rest of that day was a blur of numbers and different food-times, and one bathroom-time, that eventually culminated in Ms.Ficklebottom boring the class to death with a lecture about proper restroom usage. Finally able to escape the monotony of the classroom I immediately set my sights on the playground outside the school, eager to meet Daisy Chain. As I was making my way over there I happened to glance up at one of the clocks in the hallway outside the classroom and I noticed that it was only 3:17. I still had two hours and forty-three minutes to go before our meeting. I suppose that is the curse of being in school. You spend what feels like an eternity listening to teachers drone on only to find that mere minutes have passed.

I decided to kill time by hanging around the playground and making some new friends. Two hours and forty minutes later, I was best friends with Mr. Slide and Mrs. Seesaw. I told them all about my life, and about Daisy Chain. They were very good listeners.

I was too busy enjoying the up and down friendship I had with Mrs. Seesaw to notice that Daisy Chain had entered the playground. She casually walked over to me and cleared her throat to announce her presence. My gleeful happiness was cut short as the sound of her coughing filled my ears. I slowed Mrs. Seesaw to a stop and stepped off of her. Daisy Chain stood there, eyebrows raised, looking me over. I was about to ask her why she had called me out when I was cut off.

“I only have one question for you,” she said. My eyebrows rose to match hers. “Do you like me?” she asked bluntly.

“Yes,” I answered equally bluntly. There was no need to beat around the bush. She asked me a straight-question and so, I gave her a straight-answer. She nodded her head and turned away. I didn’t really know how to respond to that, so I just kind of stood there. As I watched her walk away a thought occurred to me. “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” I called out. Without even turning around she replied, “Yes.” Butterflies filled my stomach, and tiny elves pinched my skin all over. Or, at least I assume that’s what happens when you get that tingly-feeling. Despite this being one of the weirdest exchanges I had ever taken part in, I walked away from that playground feeling myself. No, not literally you creeps. I was only six (maybe seven) at the time, jeez.

The next day when I walked into class, an hour late (missed the bus), I found that my seat had been moved, and instead there was an extra seat right next to Daisy Chain. Assuming that this was most likely her doing I approached the empty seat, which was now awkwardly placed in-between two rows, and sat down. I placed my bags underneath my seat and glanced over at Daisy Chain. She just smiled at me with that innocent look of hers and then quickly altered her expression to much colder, more frightening one when she looked up at Ms. Ficklebottom. The poor old donkey had probably already received an earful before I got there because she had no objections to the new seating arrangement. She simply picked up a piece of chalk with her mouth and began writing on the blackboard.

This routine continued for several weeks. I would come to class, sit down, and Daisy Chain would be waiting for me. We shared a table at lunch, and during snack-time, and we even went to the bathroom together. Not actually to the same stall or anything, I just mean we would both leave for the bathroom at the same time. Well, I suppose you could say that about everyone, since we all went at the same time, but that’s beside the point. We were inseparable, her and I, at least at school that is. Once school let out she would make me walk her home and then she would leave me on her front door step, balls bluer than her magnificent coat. Usually that’s what happened every day, Monday through Friday, but not today. Today, something special happened.

“Goodbye,” I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I was about to turn around and walk away, as per usual, but something stopped me. I could see it in her chestnut eyes, she had something to say. I waited patiently; knowing that asking her what was on her mind would only serve to piss her off. I stood for minutes, maybe hours, I sort of lost track of time, before she finally opened her mouth. Yes? I thought. No dice. She closed her mouth again, looking as if she had reconsidered her position. Sigh. Perhaps it was best if I just left, clearly she didn’t have her thoughts sorted out and maybe it would be good to give her some space. I backed away slowly, making sure that she wasn’t about to change her mind and say something world-shattering, or silence-shattering for that matter. I would’ve settled for some silence-shattering. Giving up, I turned around and began to walk away. I had just reached the edge of her yard when I finally heard her voice.

“Do you want to come inside?”

My heart stopped and my hooves followed suit. Her words, normally filled with sarcasm and malice, were instead timid and shy. I swore I thought I’d never see the day. Daisy Chain was actually nervous, and what’s more, it was because of me. My heart started beating again, racing up and down my chest. Her sweet voice echoed in my ears, sweet and sincere. I had assumed for a long time that her false sugary sweetness, and callousness, was an act. But, I never thought I would see her break character, or even falter. I did it though, I gained her trust.

Forcing my legs to move, I turned around to face Daisy Chain and looked into her eyes. She still had that same confident look about her. That same self-sure air, but her voice betrayed her. I knew that I had cracked her shell, now I just needed to pry it apart.

Author's Notes:

This story was written about two years ago. As you can probably tell, if you've read my other stories, my style has changed greatly since then. Paragraphs are shorter. I no longer use seven words when four will do. In short, this little piece is rather indicative of how much I've improved in the past few years. I owe much of that to the /fic/ community on ponychan. Anyway, the idea behind this story was going to be that Seymour was a professional con-artist, and he would sometimes spend years making mares fall for him before taking all their money. For him, it was more about the thrill of the con than it was the money. He was a master of the long con. However, after one particular mare takes great exception to his betrayal, she goes a little bonkers and ends up finding him with another mare (it was going to be Twilight) and stabs him in the chest. Dunno what the point of the story was, really, but I still like the idea of it.

Just Don't Get Caught

“Damn.”

Trust. It's a simple concept. You put your confidence in someone and they—hopefully—put their confidence in you. Easy enough to say, but a little harder to put into practice. Trust takes time to build, a long time. You don't always have a long time though, and in my line of work that is so often the case. Generally it's controlled though. The only ponies I don't know that I have to trust are my clients. It's a simple trust too. They trust me to do my job, and I trust them to pay me. I don't build relationships and I don't make friends, especially not with my clients; things get messy that way. Got messy, I should say.

Anyway, that's not important right now. What is important is the gun being pressed against the back of my head.

Trust can be tricky sometimes. For now—let's go back six months; back to when this all started.

I exhaled slowly, letting my breath escape in a steady stream of fog. I could feel the cold cement beneath my hooves and the left side of my body felt the cool touch of metal as I leaned against the street lamp on 32nd street where we were supposed to be meeting. Warm tendrils of air snaked towards me from the open door I was standing in front of. I could hear the patrons inside talking, arguing, and—occasionally—shouting. I took another drag of my cigarette, letting out a puff of smoke and allowing it to mingle with the fog from my breath. I watched as the two gasses mixed and swirled about in the light breeze, all under the warm light of the street lamp.

Normally I don't smoke, but when you're trying to blend in you sometimes have to do things you wouldn't normally do. No one questions why a guy has been standing in front of a bar for half an hour smoking the same pack of cigarettes. On the other hand, ponies—cops especially—start to ask questions if you spend the same amount of time hanging around an art gallery this late at night. After midnight it becomes harder to convince cops that you're just a simple art enthusiast.

I shivered as a shrill gust of wind blew past me. I hate cold, I hate this city, and most of all—I hate waiting. I don't like doing jobs with other ponies, things tend to get messy that way. I prefer to remain solo. That way I keep my liabilities to a minimum. But oh no, they insisted that I bring him along. I don't even know anything about him outside a vague description and the fact that he's my client's son. If there's one thing I hate more than anything, it's putting my trust in someone I've never met. But, the money was there. How could I refuse?

I have a few simple rules that have kept me out of trouble all these years. Rule number one: I don't accept any payment that isn't cold, hard, cash. I once had a Phillydelphian businessman pay me with illegal unicorn horn stimulants. He assured me that they were “as good as cash.” I quickly found out that it isn't easy to move narcotics and it quickly becomes dangerous if you don't have the right connections. Needless to say, rule number one was implemented shortly afterward. Rule number two: I work alone unless I decide otherwise. I won't be handed lackeys to babysit while I do my work. If I need help then I'll find it on my own. Finally, rule number three: I don't kill—ever. Killing only causes problems and it becomes easier to get caught the more dead bodies you leave behind.

By following these three rules I have managed to keep myself out of trouble—outside of that one incident with the drug cartel—and kept my nose clean. In the eyes of the police I'm a model citizen: no arrests, no criminal history of any kind, and certainly no reason to suspect me of any wrongdoing. I may have a large cashflow into my bank account each month, but that's just thanks to good ol' great-uncle Picket. Unfortunately, he died several years ago due to heart-related issues. But, he was good enough to name me in his will—despite his having never met me. Apparently I was very dear to him as he left me his entire fortune, or at least that's what it says on paper. I'll admit, finding somepony willing to forge those documents and then launder my money through my “great-uncle's” endless font of wealth was not easy, nor was it cheap. It was worth it though—I'm sure of that.

The point is this: I don't break my rules unless it's for a damn good reason. So, when my client told me that I had to bring his son along for the job I turned him down immediately and without a second thought. Then, a few weeks later he came back and offered to double the money if I brought his son. It went against every fiber of my being, but when I saw those six zeroes next to that one—I couldn't turn him down. So here I am, freezing my ass off in this cold, waiting for some rich guy's son outside a bar in the middle of Manehattan: Luna's icebox.

Another gust of wind blew past me, causing me to involuntarily shiver again. I hate this city. I always have, even when I was living here in my youth. The first opportunity I had I ran—ran as far as I could from this damn city. Unfortunately, I keep finding myself drawn back for one job or another. I blew out another puff of smoke, watching as it slowly drifted away. I had been thinking about adding a fourth rule: I don't work in Manehattan. But, the money is usually too good to turn down, so that rule has never made it.

I gazed down the dimly lit street, watching ponies stumble away as they left the bar. I could taste the sickly scent of cigar smoke and smell the combined odors of bitter alcohol and salty sweat coming from the bar. I loved the smell of alcohol—whiskey especially: the smell, the taste, the way it burned running down your throat, I loved every bit of whiskey. Once this was all over I was going to pour myself a tall shot of Firehoove's. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of it as a smile tugged at my cheeks. It quickly faded however, when the bitter cold hit me again. Damn, where are you? I pulled the cigarette from my mouth and released another puff of smoke. As I watched it fade away I noticed that it was starting to snow. Perfect.

The little white flakes of crystallized water rained down. It was slow at first. I could barely even tell it was snowing without carefully watching the lights. But, within a minute it had picked up significantly. Luckily it wasn't windy or the snow would be coming down hard and fast. At least this way it snowed heavily, but slowly.

I brought my fore-hooves up to my mouth and blew warm breath into them, rubbing them together to generate heat. I shivered, shaking the accumulated snow off my head and shoulders. It fell like angel dust to the ground, adding to the steadily growing pile near my hooves. I stuck the cigarette back in my mouth and took a long drag before realizing that it had burned down to the filter. I tossed the cigarette next to the others as I fished a pack of smokes from my jacket and—hitting the bottom of the pack against my hoof—popped a fresh cigarette out. I grabbed it with my mouth, slipping the pack back into my pocket while producing a small metal lighter with my other hoof.

I fumbled with the lighter, clumsily attempting to light it. They didn't make these things easy to use without magic. Annoyed, I tapped the lighter against the post and tried again. No luck. I sighed; using this damn thing was always such a hassle. I shook it violently, hoping that would somehow get it to light.

“Need some help?”

A cheery voice came from behind me. It was almost bell-like the way his voice chimed; and it seemed like he was barely holding back a chuckle. I turned to face him—my lighter still held awkwardly in one hoof and the cigarette dangling from my mouth.

His voice certainly didn't lie; he was young. I guessed that he was maybe twenty-two or twenty-three at the oldest. His face was clean and pretty, it had an almost boyish charm to it. His cobalt eyes seemed to sparkle, though that was probably just the light from the bar reflecting in his iris. He seemed to be quite lean, rather tall, and fairly lanky. His ocean blue mane swam across his scalp, parting around the horn protruding from his forehead. His mane appeared slick, suave even; it was well-cared for and there were telltale signs of professional styling and just the right amount of mousse. His tan coat was equally elegant without so much as a speck of dust to dirty him. He wore a loose-fitting gray jacket, that seemed to hang effortlessly on him. Just under his neckline he wore a small blue bow tie that matched perfectly with his mane.

He was standing just outside the bar, the light washing over him, making him appear to glow with an inner radiance. He was flashing me a gleaming smile; even his teeth were perfect. They seemed to glow all on their own, bringing more light to his already bright image. The only thing ruining his perfect persona was the snow falling gently on his mane. He didn't seem to mind though, he didn't even look cold. I'll admit, he looked damn good standing there. His beauty was in sharp contrast to the bar patrons mere feet behind him, he couldn't look like he belonged less. I sighed. He may be pretty, but he was still an amateur. I hate amateurs.

His horn flashed, glowing a bright blue, followed quickly by the lighter I held in my hoof. He pulled it smoothly from my grasp and floated it beneath the unlit cigarette. I heard the click of the lighter being struck as he created a small, steady flame. He held it under the cigarette. I closed my mouth, getting a better grip on it before taking a long drag. Satisfied that it was successfully lit, he moved the lighter to my pocket, dropping it carefully inside. I let out a wave of gray smoke as he took a step towards me, smile still spread across his face.

I rolled the cigarette to the right side of my mouth, allowing it to smolder while I spoke. “You're late.”

He chuckled—I didn't. “Sorry, I was busy,” he apologized as he moved a little closer.

“Busy?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

His smile grew, showing his gleaming white teeth. “Business.”

He was close enough now that I could smell that familiar scent of alcohol on his breath. I took another drag before dropping the cigarette on the ground and exhaling a plume of smoke. “I don't care what you do in your free time. But, when I tell you to be somewhere at a certain time, then you better make damn sure that you're there on-time. Understand?” I spoke harshly but not unkindly.

His smile wavered for but a second and then he returned to his jubilant state. “Calm down,” he said. “I'm here now aren't I? Better late than never.”

I put my hoof over the cigarette I dropped, crushing it into the snow without saying anything. I moved away from the warmth of the bar and inviting light of the street lamp and began walking north, up the street. Moments later he was beside me. We trudged through the building snow—it was about an inch deep now—our hooves making small prints in the snow and our manes and coats becoming cold and wet. There were very few ponies out this late at night, even in a city as large as this one, so we weren't particularly worried about unwanted attention. Though, we were still careful to avoid any patrolling police officers. From the bar it took roughly ten minutes to reach our destination.

We came upon a large domed building that was nestled between two towering apartment complexes. All the small convenience stores and grocers that lined the ground floor were closed, their metal doors pulled down to protect them from would-be thieves. Luckily for them, they were not our target. I gestured to the sign adorning the building's grand entrance. Situated above a row of decorative columns that each stood fifteen feet tall was an engraving that read: Manehattan Art Gallery.

Between the gallery and the apartments on the left was an alley that dead-ended a hundred feet down; that would be our entrance. I motioned towards the alley, moving quickly but quietly into position. The alley smelled awful—and it was filled with trash—but it provided good cover from the street. I wiped the snow off a dumpster and produced a folded piece of paper from my left pocket. Unfolding the paper, I lay it out, displaying the blueprints for the art gallery.

“So, these are the—”

“Yeah. Did you bring everything I asked for?”

“Of course.” His horn began to glow blue as he levitated a small saddlebag from beneath his jacket and on to the blueprints. I opened the bag and inspected the contents. Satisfied, I closed the bag and set it back down.

“Good. Now, we'll enter through this maintenance closet here,” I said as I tapped my hoof on a tiny room located in the upper-left corner of the blueprint. Judging by its to-scale size it was going to be a tight fit.

“How are we going to get in though?” he asked. “There's no door to this on the roof.”

“All in good time. You'll see once we get on the roof.” I handed the bag to him and told him to put it back on. Meanwhile, I folded the blueprints up and replaced them in my pocket. Then, from my own small saddlebag, I brought out a length of thin rope with a small, black, metal bobble at one end. As I began uncoiling the rope he looked at me questioningly.

“It's a grappling hook,” I explained as I pressed a small button on the underside of the bobble which made the ends flare out. It looked like a five-legged spider with hooks on the end of each leg. He raised an eyebrow, but seemed to understand. I held on tightly to the rope a foot or so down from the hooked end and began spinning it in circles. “Watch closely,” I said as I spun the hook faster and faster. It whipped across the ground kicking up snow before I let it go at its peak.

The hook soared upwards, slightly angled towards the roof. As the hook flew four stories up I held on to the other end, gripping it tightly. A few seconds later we heard the clang of the metal hook landing on the roof. I pulled gently on the rope until I felt it snag on something. I yanked hard, making sure it was secure. Satisfied that the rope was reasonably safe, I wrapped the excess around my waist and pulled it into a tight knot.

“Are you sure that hook is secure?”

I tugged the rope to show him it was safe. “As sure as I can be.”

“Well, what about the rope? It looks pretty thin to me,” he said, eyeing the rope suspiciously.

“This?” I said as I displayed a loose end of the rope, “This is nylon rope. It has a tensile strength of up to 92,000 pounds and it's incredibly lightweight. And the hook,” I said, pointing to the roof, “I'd like to see you pry one of those legs off.”

“All right, point taken. But, how are we going to climb it?”

I raised an eyebrow. “We use the rope. What else?”

“I know that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But how?”

I brushed the snow from my mane and shook my head. Wet hair hung in my eyes. I ran a hoof over my head, slicking the hair back. I sighed. “Look kid, I don't have time to sit here and explain everything to you. We're going to climb this rope,” I shook the rope for emphasis, “using the most valuable tools we have.” He raised his other eyebrow to match the first. I smiled, showing off my teeth as I held up my hooves.

“I don't think I can do that. Especially not now,” he said as he scooped a pile of snow off the dumpster. “Look,” he said holding the snow up, “this crap is going to make everything slick. We'll never be able to hold on to that rope.”

I ran my hoof up the rope, feeling that it was indeed fairly slick. “You may be right,” I replied after a moment. “But, this is our only option. I don't see any wings on your back. So, unless you have a better plan—we climb.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I'm all ears.”

“I may have something,” he smirked.

“Oh? Like wha—”

I was interrupted by a flash of white. I clenched my eyes shut, shielding them from the blinding light. It felt as if I was weightless. I had no idea where I was. In fact, I can't say that I felt like I was anywhere. For a brief moment I experienced a total loss of all senses. However, as quickly as it began, it was over. All my senses came rushing back to me and I felt cold again. I could taste the dry air and smell the city. I opened my eyes.

In front of me was a large glass dome. The steel support beams curved upwards to the center where a ring of steel held the structure together. Besides that—and the odd air conditioning vent—the roof was relatively free of obstructions. I looked to my right and he was standing next to me—his mane wet with snow, but a smile on his face.

“How about we do that?” he said smugly.

I couldn't help but let a small smile escape. I had to admit: the kid had skill. “Only a very small number of unicorns are able to perform teleportation magic,” I said. “I'm impressed.”

His smile grew ever so slightly as he brushed the snow from his mane and straightened his jacket. He shook his head, his damp mane thrashing around. Once he was done, he ran his right hoof through his hair, slicking his mane back. “I've always had a special talent for magic,” he said as he walked to the roof edge. His horn glowed dimly as the same glow surrounded the grappling hook and rope. He unhooked it and began pulling the rope up, coiling it as he went. His eyes were fixed on the it as he spoke softly: “I have more control over my magic than most unicorns. Dad never seemed to appreciate it though,” he said with a hint of sadness—or disappointment. “He said that I needed to do something with my talent. Something that wasn't impressing young girls with 'parlor tricks' as he called them. That's why I'm here now,” he said as he untied the end of the rope and finished coiling it. Scooping it up, he walked the rope to me before handing it over.

I took the rope, it was slick with snow, but neatly coiled. He had retracted the hook and looped the bobble through the rope, holding it tight. I slipped the rope into my bag without saying anything. I looked up. He was staring off into the distance, his eyes were glazed over. I approached him slowly, sliding up next to him. “Come on, let's finish this,” I said softly. He nodded after a moment.

The snow was falling much slower now, though the roof was still covered with an inch or so of it. We shuffled our way to the far corner of the roof, leaving a trail of hoofprints in the white snow. Stopping, I pointed to the ground. “Here,” I said. “We need to clear out a square: two feet by two feet.” I dragged my hoof through the snow, drawing a rough square on the roof. I started to wipe the snow away when the whole of it lifted in to the air and then fell a few feet to the right. “That works too.”

He grinned but it slipped away when he realized: “Wait, how are we getting through the roof?” He tapped his hoof against the cleared surface, eliciting a dull thudding sound. “It sounds like solid concrete.”

I reached into my saddlebag and removed a plastic tube filled with a gray, powdery substance. I held the tube up, shaking it slightly. “We use this.”

“This?”

I unscrewed the cap and tossed it aside. Carefully, I poured the gray powder in an oval shape around the clear portion of the roof, making sure to keep the amount of powder uniform. Once the tube was empty I tossed it aside, letting it bounce through the snow.

“That,” I said, indicating the powder, “is thermite.” I held up a hoof, stopping him before he could even ask. “Thermite is mixture of a metal powder and a metal oxide. It burns very hot and very bright. This stuff'll reach temperatures of over two and half thousand degrees and burn right through the concrete.”

“Uhh, won't the 'very bright' part be a problem though?”

It was my turn to smirk now. “I'm particularly proud of this actually. Normally, thermite burns with the intensity of a small sun. But, I discovered that by adding different species of crushed dragon scales I can not only control the amount of time it burns, but also the color. This brand of thermite burns a very dark and dull purple and only for a few seconds. If you're standing more than ten feet away, it would be very difficult to tell that it's burning at all.” I pulled the lighter from my pocket and began trying to strike it. I glanced up at him: “Give me that sparkler I asked you to bring.”

I couldn't see his face since I was concentrating on the lighter, but I could feel his smile. I had a few tricks up my sleeve as well. He rummaged through his bag, pulling a small stick out and handing it to me. I didn't take it, but continued to manipulate the lighter.

“Why don't you just use the lighter to light it?”

There we go. I finally managed to produce a flame. Proudly I held the lighter up and lit the sparkler. It burned brightly, throwing sparks everywhere. I took the sparkler from him and slipped the lighter back into my pocket.

“The flame created by the butane in the lighter doesn't burn near hot enough to light the thermite. However,” I added, displaying the burning stick, “the magnesium in this sparkler will be more than adequate.”

He laughed. “You're something else. How do you know all this stuff?”

“You have your talents, and I have mine,” I said, watching the sparkler burn away. “You may want to step back though,” I warned. “This crap still burns hot as hell.” I tossed the sparkler, causing him to jump away. I took a step back as the sparkler landed on the pile of powder, igniting it almost immediately.

It was actually quite beautiful. The ring of thermite caught fire like dominoes. It was almost like watching burning amethyst. The purple flames were dark and—even at this distance—it was difficult to see what was happening, but it was extraordinary. The thermite would catch fire and burn so hot that it would create molten slag which would melt right through the concrete. My special blend would prevent it from burning all the way through though, stopping just short of the inside of the building. I wanted to prevent burning the entire building down if possible.

We watched in silence as the thermite did its work, burning that luscious violet that I loved so much. I smiled as I glanced over to see his jaw dropping slowly. I chuckled silently. I couldn't help but notice that the snow had stopped now. That was good. Snow and thermite can cause problems if mixed together. Luckily there wasn't enough for it to be a problem.

The flames burned away after a time, leaving a jagged-edged hole in the roof. I approached the scar, leaning down to examine it. I felt the edges of the ring, they were rough, but more than wide enough to allow us to enter. I waved him over and told him to remove his saddlebag. Once he had handed it to me, I opened it and removed a thick metal pole that was about a foot long. It was tapered at one end and made of strong metal alloy that made it very durable. I wedged the pole into the crevice—at the narrowest point in the oval—angling it away from the ring.

“You're just going to pry off that concrete slab?”

I shrugged: “Sure, just give it a good buck and it should pop right off.”

I made sure the pole was secured and then lined myself up so that my rear right leg would be in the perfect position to buck the pole. I raised my leg, feeling the muscles in my hindquarters tense, and then kicked with all my strength. There was a loud cracking sound as the concrete slab broke away from the roof and flipped. It landed upside-down on the other side of the hole, chipped and cracked. The pole had been knocked to the side and it lay a foot or so away in the snow. I gestured towards it and he nodded, lifting it with his magic and replacing it in his bag.

I peered into the hole. It was dark and difficult to see, but I could make out the framework of a false ceiling. I grinned: “Bingo.”

After fixing his bag and straightening his jacket, my partner approached the hole, leaning down to peer inside. His eyes strained as he gazed into the maw. After awhile he said: “It looks like a false ceiling.”

I nodded my head. “Yeah, just like the blueprints said. Now, all we need to do is remove one of the tiles and lower ourselves down. It's about a ten foot drop, but if you bend your legs just as you hit the ground you should be able to disperse the impact—and remain quiet,” I explained.

He stepped away from the chasm, glancing sidelong at me. “I could be wrong,” he said. “But, wouldn't it be easier if I just teleported us inside?”

“No,” I said quickly. “If we keep teleporting all over the place someone is going to notice the flashes of light, especially inside. We're lucky no one saw us teleport to the roof.” I shook my head. “No, teleportation is out of the question for now. Plus,” I added, smirking, “it's more fun this way.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, shrugging.

“Hand me the weighted line I had you bring,” I said, as I pulled away from the hole to watch him fish through his bags for the supplies. As he handed them to me I said sternly: “Look, this is my job and we'll do things my way. No more magic, and no more suggestions. Trust me—I know what I'm doing.” I grabbed the line with my mouth and began lowering it into the hole.

At the end of the line was a strong epoxy bonded to a strip of metal. The wire was too fine to manipulate with my hooves but, using my mouth, I was able to control it more effectively. I slowly lowered it into the hole until I felt it hit the ceiling tile. I tugged the wire to be sure it had stuck before I started backing away, pulling the line with me. I was about two feet from the hole before the tile popped out of the hole and began to drag through the snow. I dropped the wire and said: “Does it look clear now?”

He leaned over, gazing into the hole. “It's hard to tell, but I can see the floor.”

“Excellent.” I trotted up next to him and leaned in to match his position. He was right, it was quite dark and hard to tell, but the floor was visible through the false ceiling.

“Ladies first,” he said, motioning towards the jagged hole we were about to jump through.

Ignoring him, I stepped over the hole and splayed my legs out, straddling it. It was lucky we were both relatively small, otherwise we might not have fit through the hole. Snapping my legs together I jumped slightly, and then quickly fell through the ceiling. I bent my knees as I hit the ground, absorbing the impact while also muffling the sound of my landing. I moved away from my landing zone and a few seconds later my partner hit the ground next to me—far less gracefully I might add.

He hit the ground hard, his knees more buckling than anything. It was loud too, loud enough that I was sure someone must've heard him. He moaned as he gathered himself up. I held up a hoof and shushed him. My ears rotated around as I listened intently. After a solid twenty seconds of silence I breathed a sigh of relief.

“I guess Lady Luck is on our side,” I joked.

“I did say ladies first,” he chuckled quietly before muffling a cough.

I helped him up and we dusted ourselves off. Taking stock of our surroundings, I noticed that we were in a small room with shelves stacked with cleaning supplies on either side. I moved to the door and put my ear against it. I felt the cool wood press against my ear, but I heard nothing. I looked over my shoulder at him.

“We're in the wrong room,” I said. “We need to be one door over.”

“What?”

I pulled on the door, opening it slightly. I peered through the crack into the hallway where I saw a lone guard patrolling. From where we were, I could tell that we were at the end of the hallway which was separate from the gallery rooms. I counted under my breath, waiting for the guard to pass again. A full minute passed before I saw him again. A few lights had been left on in the gallery, but he carried a flashlight with him as well. In the dim light I could see that he carried a nightstick on his side, and—worst of all—he was a unicorn.

“The guard passes every two minutes. My guess is that he rotates between floors, and it's just our luck that he's on this floor right now,” I said as I pulled the door closed again and rested my head against it. “So much for Lady Luck,” I whispered under my breath.

“Why don't we just wait for him to move on to the next floor?” he asked.

I shook my head: “We don't know how long that could take. It may be a few minutes, but it could also be a few hours. We'll have to move to the next room during that two-minute window.” I reached beneath my coat and searched through my bag for my tool set. Pulling it out, I set it on the ground and said, “Don't worry, I've got a plan. But first, we need to get inside that other room.”

My eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and I could see the gears turning in his head as he thought. His eyes fell on the objects I had removed from my bag and I saw his mouth start to open as he realized what they were. “You're going to pick the lock? Can you do it that fast?”

I grinned. “You have your talents, and I have mine.” I gathered the tools I would need in my mouth and put the rest away. I leaned against the door and pushed it open slightly, peering once again into the dark hallway. A few seconds later I saw the guard pass by, his flashlight held in his mouth, sweeping the room. As soon as he was out of sight I opened the door and slipped out, him following behind me. I began tiptoeing my way down the hall as he silently closed the door. Luckily the door we needed was only a few feet down the hallway.

I reached the door and breathed a sigh of relief. I was worried that the lock might be electronic, but fortunately it was just a simple handle lock. I held two pieces of equipment in my mouth, a hook and a tension wrench. I dropped the wrench into my hoof and placed it in the lock, twisting it away from me while using my mouth to manipulate the hook. As I held the wrench in place, providing constant pressure, I moved the hook to the back of the lock.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him sidle up next to me, his eyes darted back and forth between the lock and the hall. His mane, still wet from the snow, had fallen from its slicked back position and now hung in his face. I saw his hoof move to clear away his hair as he looked over me towards the hall. I turned my attention to the lock, focusing on delicately moving the hook back and forth until I felt it hit one of the pins. Gritting the hook with my teeth, I used my tongue to move it up and down until I felt a click, indicating that I had cleared the first pin.

“Hurry up,” he said urgently. “I hear the guard coming back.”

I ignored him and continued to work. I moved the hook to the next pin and repeated the process. Since the lock was so simple it only had three pins and thus was relatively simple to pick. A few seconds later I had finished and I was turning the wrench to open the lock. Success. The lock opened and the door with it. We snuck in the room and closed the door behind us just as the guard rounded the corner. I replaced the tools in my bag and began searching the room. I told him to stand next to the door and keep his ear pressed against it, to listen in case he heard the guard.

In front of me was wall that was covered in pipes and electronic equipment. I began examining the wall until I found what I was looking for. “Here we go.”

“What is it?”

I didn't turn to look at him, but instead focused on opening the fuse box. “I'm going to cut the power,” I said. “If I cut it then I can shut the lights off for this floor. The guard will get curious and most likely come check the breakers.” I pried open the box and began separating the wires. “Then, when he comes in we'll,” I made a punching motion with my hoof. “That should knock him out. Ah ha!” I pulled a yellow wire from the bunch and held it apart from the rest. “Can you use your magic to cut this?” I asked.

His ear still pressed against the door, his horn glowed dimly and a moment later the wire was split in half. “I thought you didn't want me to use magic,” he said.

“Only if I ask you to. Now come on, move away from the door. The guard should be here any second.”

We pressed ourselves against the wall, waiting for the guard to enter. Silence permeated the room as we stood perfectly still. I tensed my muscles in preparation, waiting for the door to open to spring the trap. We waited for a full thirty seconds before I began to wonder what was taking the guard so long. I inched towards the door, my ears perked for any suspicious sounds. I heard nothing, not a single hoof hitting the floor, or the clank of a nightstick against a belt. I pressed my head against the wood, hearing nothing.

“Oh crap,” I whispered quietly, pulling my head away to look at my companion. “No one's coming.”

He looked at me incredulously: “Well, isn't that a good thing?”

I threw open the door and jumped into the hallway. Nothing; no one came running at the sound and I couldn't see the guard's flashlight anywhere in the total darkness. Cutting the wire had worked, all the lights were off. But, it didn't have the intended repercussions.

“No, that's a very bad thing,” I muttered. “The fact that no one came means they know something is up. I doubt they know it's a break-in, but they know that's it's not the breakers, and that's bad news.”

“What do you mean they know something is up?” he asked as he stepped into the hallway.

“I don't know,” I sighed, “But, I can bet that guard from before has gone off to call in some of his buddies. We're gonna have to move fast.” I pursed my lips and furrowed my brow. “All right, the paintings are on the floor below us. Let's go.” He nodded, then we turned tail and hurried towards the gallery.

We moved quickly but quietly into the wooden-floored exhibition hall. It was on the top floor where the art gallery kept its most valuable pieces of art. However, these were not our targets. For some reason, my client—his father—had asked for two relatively small pieces from a rather unknown artist. They weren't particularly valuable and so I was curious as to why we wanted them, but I didn't ask questions. The money was good and that was all that mattered.

As we made our way through the room, the sound of our footfalls echoed dully. We inched across the floor, careful to avoid knocking anything over. There were paintings lining every wall. Each had its own set of lights to illuminate it, but they were all dark now. Scattered throughout the hall were statues and other free-standing pieces, each with its own lights just like the paintings. We were passing a large statue of a pegasus pony wearing full-body armor and holding a large spear when my ears picked up the sound of footsteps. I grabbed my partner and pulled him to the ground behind the statue. “Shh,” I whispered.

His mouth opened as his eyebrow rose, but I covered his mouth with my hoof and pointed over my shoulder between the statue's legs. We rolled over onto our stomachs and peered into the dark. My ears twitched, I could hear them coming up the stairs in front of us. A few moments later the bouncing light from flashlights appeared, accompanied by two voices.

“I'm telling you, the lights just went off all of the sudden. Don't you think that's weird?”

“I think you're being paranoid. I'm sure it's just a flipped breaker.”

“One breaker doesn't control all of the lights for one floor. Something's going on here, and I'm going to find out what it is.”

“Then why'd you bring me?”

“I'm not going to search this whole building in the dark by myself!”

“Fine, let's hurry this up. You go check the electrical closet and I'll sweep this room.”

The two lights split up and one began walking towards us. With lights off it would be difficult to spot us hiding behind this large statue, but the guard had a flashlight and he would no doubt find us, and even if he didn't the other one sweeping the room certainly would. I needed to think of something, and fast. As I racked my brain for ideas I noticed my companion's face contorted in concentration.

His eyes were fixated on the pony walking towards us as he bit his lip and sweat beaded on his brow. They narrowed, his attention fully focused on the guard. I put my hoof on his shoulder causing him to turn his head. I shook my head and mouthed, “No magic.” He stared at me, fire in his eyes. The look of determination on his face took me by surprise.

He mouthed back, “Trust me.”

I didn't know what else to do, so I took my hoof off his shoulder and he turned back to look through the statue. I watched as the guard walked slowly towards us. My own brow began to bead with sweat as I watched him approach. I sucked in my breath, waiting for him to spot us. I clenched my eyes shut, waiting for the blinding light to wash over me. It never came though. I heard a dull thudding sound and my eyes shot open. The guard's flashlight had fallen from his grasp and hit the ground where it was rolling around.

“Whoops,” the guard said as he bent down to pick up the flashlight. He reached for it, but as he did it shot up and hit him right between the eyes. He stumbled backwards, dazed. He put a hoof to his head, wincing as he touched his new bruise. “Was that you?” he asked, looking at his partner who was surveying a group of plaster ponies with her flashlight.

“Was what me?” she replied without looking up.

“My flashlight just jumped up and hit me in the face.”

“Well, did it have an orange glow around it?”

“No.”

“Then it wasn't me,” she said matter-of-factly. She stopped suddenly, whipping around and shining her light on him. “Wait, if it wasn't me. Then who was it?” she asked.

They both looked at the ground where the flashlight sat. The male guard leaned in closer as the female guard focused her light on it. As the guard leaned in the flashlight lifted into the air, and turned itself on. It shined in his face then began spinning in circles and flying around the room. I looked at my partner. He had a smile plastered across his face and it was growing every second. The two guards followed the flashlight, their heads spinning.

“What the hell?” said the female guard. “Who's moving it?”

“It's not me,” answered the other. “I told you something weird was going on here.”

The flashlight suddenly stopped and fell to the ground, thudding against the hardwood. It rolled to the female guard's feet, bumping into them. Her horn glowed orange as she lifted it up, turning the light to examine it. As she did the other guard approached her. They both had their attention so focused on the flashlight that they failed to notice the nightsticks being removed from their belts and raised above their heads. The nightsticks fell on their skulls with a sickening crunch. They fell to the ground in a heap, their weapons landing on top of them.

I turned to my partner and said: “Did you kill them?”

He wiped his brow free of the accumulated sweat before responding: “Nah, I just hit them hard enough to knock them out. They won't have any real damage besides a massive headache,” he chuckled.

I stood up and went to their unconscious forms. I knelt beside them and put my ear near the male guard's mouth. I heard a soft sound that indicated he was still breathing. “That was impressive,” I said to my partner as he appeared by my side. “How can you move things without that glow?”

The corners of his mouth raised into a broad smile. “I discovered I could do that when I was younger and still studying magic in school.” He picked up the nightstick and began absentmindedly twirling it. “I hadn't found a real application for it until now,” he said.

“Parlor tricks, huh? But, did you really have to put on that show?” I joked as I watched him twirl the stick. My brow furrowed as my mouth curled into a tiny frown. I wonder what else he has up his sleeve? He noticed my expression and dropped the nightstick, his smile fading. He was about to say something when I interrupted him: “We should hide them in the closet,” I suggested, gesturing first to their bodies and then to the closet. “They'll probably be waking up in a few minutes.”

He agreed, so we each took hold of one of the guards and dragged them to the closet. I was quick to grab the lighter female guard, much to his annoyance. Unconscious ponies are heavier than you might expect and it took a good minute or so to pull them both across the gallery hall and into the electrical closet. Once we brought them inside we placed them back-to-back—one facing the door and the other the wall—and took their radios. Rather than be cruel and smash them, they were probably expensive after all, we just took the batteries out and pocketed them.

“Okay,” I said. “Now we just need to tie them together... somehow.” I began searching the room, scanning for anything I could use as makeshift rope.

“Why don't we use the grappling hook rope?” he suggested.

I glared at him.

“Or we could use something else,” he said, holding up his hooves

I returned to my search and was rewarded with a dozen feet of extension cord lying in the corner of the room. “Aha,” I said happily. “This'll do nicely.”

As I began to unwrap the cord it suddenly lifted from my hooves and untangled itself and then proceeded to wrap around our captives and then tie them securely to each other. I tugged the knot to make sure it was secure and then said to my partner: “I've been wondering. How come you don't use that glow-less magic all the time?” I looked over my shoulder at him. I saw a smile tug at his lips, but he held it back.

“It requires a lot of concentration and it's quite taxing,” he explained. “So, I don't do it very often. I also can't do it over long distances,” he added. “I usually have to be within a few feet to pull it off.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” I shrugged. “I don't know much about magic besides the little we learn in school when we're studying other types of ponies.”

He laughed: “You have your talents and I have mine.”

After sharing a laugh we finished readying our hostages and then closed the door, locking it behind us. We made our way back to the hall and down the staircase. The wooden stairs made our hoofsteps echo loudly, so we tried to walk as slowly as we could to minimize the noise. It didn't help that the stairwell was lined with stone, it would have echoed less had it been cement.

As we reached the foot of the stairs it rounded into a short hallway the led to another gallery floor. The lights for this floor were still on, but I could see that there was some kind of partition blocking my view. We were pressed against the wall as I peered around the corner. I looked over to my shoulder and nodded to my partner. We inched around the edge, keeping our backs to the wall.

As we entered the dimly lit room I held up a hoof to stop him. I could hear the sound of someone shuffling around behind the partition. I whispered to him: “I hear another guard, but I have a plan. You still have some sparklers left—right?” He smiled, understanding coming over his face. I motioned towards the far edge of the wall and directed my partner to wait for my signal. As he moved into position I slid the the other end of the partition, avoiding the paintings hanging above me. I leaned my head around the wall and saw a guard pacing back and forth. Pulling my head back, I looked at my partner and waved my hoof as he nodded.

A dozen sparklers floated out of his hooves and high into the air, my lighter with them. He gathered all the sparklers into a bunch and lit them. As he did the guard took notice and raised his head to see a dozen blazing sticks circling above him, shooting out sparks and burnt magnesium. While he was distracted by the show I slowly crept up behind him. The sparklers whirled around, drawing his attention, so he didn't notice when raised my hoof above his head; and he didn't notice—at least not until it was too late—when my hoof fell upon the back of his head and I dropped him to the ground.

The sparklers fell to the ground in a pile, no longer suspended by magic as my partner came around the corner with a smile on his face. He chuckled quietly, looking down at the unconscious guard. “Three down,” he joked. “I certainly hope there won't be anymore.”

“There shouldn't be, not on this floor anyway,” I said as I looked down at the guard. “We should probably tie him up too.”

“With what? Last I checked we were fresh out of extension cord.”

I sighed: “What about his belt? It won't hold him for long—but then again we don't need it to.”

After some grumbling we eventually agreed and removed the belt then used it to hogtie his hooves together. A minute or so later we had finished and we were on our way. The room we were in was divided by three partial walls and on the one farthest from us we found the two paintings we had come for—hanging on the wall.

Author's Notes:

Well, the formatting got really fucked up on this one, but I'm not too chuffed. It was a complete piece of crap anyway. This one I scrapped because it was just way too long and telly, and not interesting in the least. I had some idea of where the story was going to end, but by the point, I've all but forgotten it. I think it was supposed to be some kind of redemption story for the main character. Like, he's a bit of a bastard, but he eventually comes to like his partner and learns to overcome his dickishness.

Unnamed Sequel to Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Hooves

Twilight's eyes narrowed into thin ovals as she studied the crude drawing adorning the door that was blocking her path. It depicted, with thick, straight lines, what she supposed must have been a three-legged pony. The pitiful creature had an amorphous mid-section and stick-legs that jutted out at right angles from it's “body”. Its head—crowned by a purple triangle with a smattering of gold stars—was an equally bulbous blob with a barely discernible “face” that consisted of two black dots for eyes, and one rather squiggly line that Twilight guessed to be its “mouth”. Across its back lay a wavy purple rectangle covered, like the triangle, in gold stars. At the end of the it were a series of thin black lines that seemed to indicate it was supposed to billowing, as if being blown by wind. The whole thing had been drawn on the back of a book cover—The Seven Ponies of Wisdom. She could tell by the thickness of the material, and by the fact that, in fine print, it had The Seven Ponies of Wisdom stamped on the lower right-hand corner.

She continued to examine the picture, noting that it had been colored in by, what appeared to be, colored wax. Several times the color would spill from its confines and onto the blank spaces, making the picture look like it had blurred edges in many places. Beneath the drawing were a series of words, a warning to all how dared enter. In large, bold letters it said: “TRIXIE'S ROOM—KEEP OUT!” Twilight chuckled as she noticed that the “M” in “ROOM” and—on a separate line—the “T” in “OUT” had been squashed against the margins of the page, leaving them looking much thinner than their brothers. Her chuckle turned to a groan however, as she noticed, in tiny letters flanked by parentheses, an addendum to the message.

“especially Twilight Sparkle” was written in red lettering just beneath the warning, and with “Twilight” crossed out so that it read “especially Sparkle”. Twilight rolled her eyes before noticing a second addendum: “and Spike too”. She sighed, her face sagging into droopy frown. She could hear faint sounds coming from the door; it was the sound of someone rustling through a drawer and tossing objects around. Twilight winced as she heard the shattering sound of glass hitting the floor. Silence reigned for a few seconds, then—more rustling as Trixie began rummaging through her drawers again. Twilight raised her hoof slowly, her face contorting into a look of apprehension. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in deeply through her nose. Letting her breath out slowly she knocked on the door quietly.

No answer.

Twilight's eyes narrowed as her brow furrowed. Her lips tightened, forming a thin line. She raised her hoof again, staring at the the “pony” in front of her. She rapped her hoof against the door, harder this time, rattling the picture.

Author's Notes:

I originally wasn't going to write a sequel to my very silly story about Twilight and Trixie getting into a boxing match that ends with Twilight ripping apart space-time and nearly destroying the universe in the process. This was going to show Twilight and Trixie learning to become friends and tolerate one another's presence. They were going to fight, and have some kind of falling out, and then in the end have to work together when the Twilight and Spike that Twilight sent to the moon to fix the paradox effect return and try to kill them in a really badass battle. I didn't get very far into this fic before dropping it in favor of some other half-finished idea.

Of Great and Powerful Things

The rain was coming down hard now.

Typical, she thought to herself. What had she done to deserve this? What great injustice had she caused that lead the karmic backlash she was receiving now? Whatever it was, she was sure she didn't deserve it. She never did. She was The Great and Powerful Trixie after all. Everypony else was beneath her, mere insects in her eyes. Insects that existed only to be squashed beneath her hoof. So, why then? Why has she been bested by that upstart mare? Why?

She pondered this, sitting alone under the only cover she could find in this Celestia-forsaken wilderness. As she did her best avoid the rain beneath the branches of the lone pine tree she had found, she again questioned why her fortune had turned on her so much. Before she had come to the accursed town that had robbed her of both her dignity and her personal effects, she had traveled far and wide across Equestria. She had performed in dozens of towns, and in each of them she had experienced nothing but admiration from the audience. This was the first time someone had questioned her greatness. She had been able to defeat several challengers, quite easily in fact. They stood naught a chance against her magical prowess, and they had crumbled before her like foals.

She had even refused to challenge her, saying that she was "nopony special." So why then? Why had she been able to defeat that Ursa Minor, when Trixie herself could not? She didn't understand. What made them so different? What did that mare have that The Great and Powerful Trixie did not?
She couldn't answer her own question. She simply lacked something, something that clearly gave that purple unicorn an edge that Trixie did not possess.

---

The rain was coming down hard now.

The air was stale in this city. There were buildings everywhere. It was a mean, dirty city. But it was their home. They had known no other their entire lives, but it was no place for her. They had to get her out of the city. Take her somewhere she could be cared for, and not have to live in this putrid place.

Two unicorns carried between them a basket. In it, slept a little blue baby unicorn. The filly had just been born mere hours before. Not in a hospital, no those cost bits. The couldn't possibly afford to pay medical bills when they couldn't even afford to pay the rent on their tiny one bedroom apartment. Nor could they afford to pay off the loan sharks that were now hunting them down. He had acquired quite a hefty debt from his gambling, and she had to pay for her addiction somehow. Drugs cost bits, bits she didn't have.

All of this and more led them to decide that they shouldn't be the ones to raise their foal. What kind of parents would they make? Certainly not ones that could provide their foal with the things she would need. No, it was better this way. Even if she didn't understand at first, in time she would come to thank them for saving her from a life of misery and pain. It was better this way.

They trotted along the dark streets, always wary of any dangers that might lurk in the dank alleyways. Their hooffalls echoed in the night. Each step leading them further and further from the heart of the city. Lights flickered above them. With each flicker the rain filled streets became illuminated, and for a brief moment the filth of the city could be seen flowing into the gutters. The muck of thousands of ponies washed along the trenches on each side of the street.

They passed a diner with a single waitress serving a lone customer. He sat at a booth near the window, drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper from that day. He didn't even notice the two haggard unicorns pass by, they were of no consequence to him. So unimportant were they to the general public, yet so singularly important to one filly. They had no way of knowing how much they would affect her life, despite trying to keep themselves out of it. It was a futile effort. Everypony wants to know their parents, and they will go to great lengths to discover their origins.

The two unicorns hurried along, they were nearing the edge of the city now. Soon they would be out of this dank, evil place. Or, at least she would be. But that was all that mattered. They would free her from the city's cruel bondage before it had even begun to take hold. That would be their gift to her. A "birthday present" from mom and dad. Freedom.

The rain was beginning to let up now, not by much, but enough to make a difference. They would soon leave the grime and dirt of the city behind, bound for greener pastures.

"Take a left here," he said.

She nodded.

With the huge skyscrapers now behind them, and only a little ways left to go before they reached the city limits. They set their sights on a narrow road that diverged from the main vein, right at the city's end.

"Nearly there," she said, raising a hoof to point further down the road.

The street lamp's end marked the beginning of their foal's new life. Once she left the city she would be free to make something of herself, to do anything. She wouldn't have to be held back by her parents, nor the city.

The sound of their hooves clopping on concrete suddenly stopped as they stepped off the highway, and on to the gravel road. They passed a sign, "Fillydelphia City Limits" it stated, in big white letters. They couldn't take her very far from the city, they simply didn't have the means to. They would have to settle for a tiny orphanage situated just outside the city. It was still pitch black outside, and without the street lamps to help them see, it was slow going.

She lit up her horn, emitting a faint glow to illuminate their path. The dirt crunched beneath their hooves as they trotted along. A cool wind blew in their faces, and leaves rustled around them. The moon above them was obscured, hidden by the clouds blown in by the wind. There were no tall buildings around to shield them from the wind, but they could at least protect her from it's biting cold. They couldn't do much, but they could at least use their bodies to ward off as much as they could. Though that didn't prevent the pervading cold from surrounding them or their foal.

By now they had walked nearly a mile up the road, saying not a word to each other. They both knew what they had to do. Even if they didn't like it, they knew it was best thing for her.

Author's Notes:

There's not much to say about this fic. It was actually one of the first things I ever wrote for this fandom. It's, uhh.... not great. This was at a time in my life when I had just discovered MLP, and it was shortly after I had moved to a new country. I was out of high-school, and I didn't have any friends for about six months. Several of the stories you'll see here reflect that. This was one of those that I wrote because I was feeling lonely and I identified a lot with Trixie, even though my upbringing wasn't quite so harsh. Regardless, there's a good reason I dropped this fic. I realized that I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and go out and make some friends. If you've ever wondered why I write comedy fics so much now, it's because I'm quite happy with my life, and I just find that they come naturally. I'm in a far different place from where I was 2 years ago.

One in the Chamber

The sun beat down on his neck and face as he scanned the horizon. He pulled down the brim of his leather hat, shielding his eyes from the sun's rays. He squinted, sweat beading on his brow. Dry grass and sparse shrubbery dotted the rocky plains that stretched out before him. Far off in the distance a tall mountain jutted out of the earth, sharply contrasting the flat-lands around it. Even now, in heat of late-summer, its peak was still capped with white snow.

“Where'd you get off to now?” he asked in a gruff voice as he searched the desert.

Sighing, he reached into his saddlebags, tossing the poncho that covered it over his back. He pulled out a rolled up paper. It was yellowed and dirty, its edges torn and the corners ripped off. He lay the paper on the ground and held the top down with his hoof. Slowly he rolled the paper out, holding the bottom down with his other hoof. A crudely drawn image done in black ink adorned the paper. An angry-looking stallion scowled back at him. Ammo belts criss-crossed his chest and his left eye was empty, a scar ran across it from his forehead to his cheek.

Underneath the picture it read, “Dusty Plains—alias: ANGEL EYE—is wanted for MURDER, ROBBERY, and ARSON.” And then, in large, thick, black letters it said, “A reward of FIVE-HUNDRED BITS is offered to anyone who brings him to the BRIDLE ROCK sheriff's office, DEAD OR ALIVE.” At the very bottom of the page, in slightly smaller print, was, “Last known locations: Mustang Valley, Buffalo Plains, and El Minas de Plata.”

He looked over his shoulder and then made an invisible 'X' across Mustang Valley. He looked at the plains in front of him and crossed out Buffalo Plains. He tapped his hoof on the last location and then let the paper roll itself up. Placing the poster back in his bag he produced a short cigar and a match. He stuck the cigar and his mouth, chewing it and rolling it around before striking the match against his left hoof. Holding the flame up to his face, he lit the cigar and sucked in, taking a few puffs to make sure it was lit.

Breathing out a light plume of smoke he waved the match out and tossed it on the ground. As he smoked his cigar he looked out over the plains thoughtfully. He brought a hoof up and scratched his chin. Adjusting his hat, he rolled the cigar to the right side of his mouth and chewed on the end.

“Guess I'm heading to the silver mines.”

He moved his right hoof to the holster that was slung around his shoulders. He felt the hard leather, moving his hoof slowly across its surface until he reached cold metal. His hoof wrapped around the grip, whose contours conformed perfectly to his hoof, and pulled the gun slowly from the holster. He held it up, feeling the weight of it in his hoof.

It was Saddlefield .44 double action revolver. The barrel was a full 6 inches long and it broke away at the top. Once broken, the six chambers were revealed. Now it held six bullets, one in each chamber, and he watched as they spun around. He reconnected the stock and barrel and gazed down the sights. He took aim at a cactus standing a hundred meters or so south of him. He gently squeezed the trigger, releasing the hammer into the pin and firing the bullet. The report of the gun rang out as the muzzle flashed and the bullet rocketed towards the cactus.

The bullet collided with its target, causing it to explode in a puff of feathers. The cactus remained unharmed, but the bird that had been sitting atop it was not so lucky. He spun the gun around and slipped it back into his holster before pulling his poncho down to cover his side again.

With the sun still high in the sky, he began trudging off in the direction of the mountain. After sliding down the rock he had been standing on, he picked up his pace, trotting and then finally reaching a full gallop. He raced towards the snow-capped mountain, his gun at his side and a cigar in his mouth.

“Damn wolves.”

After traveling for several hours darkness had begun to fall and he had decided to settle down for the night. He had gathered what little dry grass and weed he could and had started a small fire. He had even begun to fall asleep—pulling his hat down over his brow—before he heard their howling.

“Damn wolves,” he repeated.

He stood up, kicking at the dwindling fire, rejuvenating it. There were only a handful of them, maybe four or five, and their howling filled the night air. Only the light of the weak flames—and what little the moon could offer—penetrated the darkness. He flipped his poncho over his back, readying the Saddlefield. His eyes surveyed the area around him, straining to see through the inky blackness. He counted five pairs of eyes staring back at him.

They were beginning to spread out, surrounding him, howling back and forth. He could hear them snarling and growling at the edge of the fire's light, but they wouldn't come any closer. As the fire began to burn away though, they ventured further, taking tentative steps forward. He rotated slowly, making sure not to have his back turned on any of them. One of them was getting brave, its face was becoming visible as it entered the fire's ring.

He turned quickly, firing one quick shot into the wolf's chest. It fell over, whimpering as it bled out. The other wolves took advantage of this distraction and attacked all at once. They leapt from the darkness, howling loudly. He spun around, pulling the trigger one, two, three, four times, dropping all of the wolves. He smirked, holding his gun up and blowing away the smoke before spinning it around and fitting it back into the holster. He was about to sit back down at the fire when he heard the howl of a sixth wolf.

He whipped around to see a sixth pair of eyes boring into him. They rose and fell as the wolf stepped closer. Based on how high its eyes were, he could tell this one was bigger than the others, most likely the alpha of the group. It growled as it cautiously approached, feeling its way into the light. Once it finally was in range of the fire's glow he could see that this one was dark gray, almost black, and it was certainly much bigger than the other wolves. Most wolves would have given up once its compatriots were dead, but this one was different.

Its eyes were harsh and its hot breath left clouds of fog like ghosts dancing in the shadows. Its white fangs were bared, showing off the deadly set of jaws it possessed. It snarled meanly, stepping closer slowly. He drew his gun, training it on the wolf. He pulled the trigger, hearing it click as the hammer hit an empty shell.

“Son of a—”

The wolf howled before leaping on top of him, cutting him off mid-sentence and knocking the gun from his hoof. It tackled him to the ground, savagely biting his neck and clawing at his chest. They tumbled around as he struggled to fight the wolf off. He could feel it biting into his neck, the sharp fangs piercing his flesh and causing blood to spill out. The wolf's claws tore at his chest, scratching him and drawing more blood. He kicked at it the center of the wolf's mass, hoping to throw it off, but it held on tight.

He rolled over, pinning the wolf to the ground, but it kept its hold. He used his right hoof to punch the wolf's head, dazing it. The wolf growled and squirmed out of his hold. It backed away while snarling. He stood up, moving his hoof to his neck and feeling the warmth of his blood. He wiped the blood off on his poncho before eyeing the wolf. It circled him, looking for an opening.

Its fangs shone like daggers, razor-sharp and deadly. Its muzzle was red with his blood and its yellow eyes flashed in the black night. The wolf seemed to be smiling and it had a frenzied look on its face. It raised its head, howling at the moon, releasing a stream of ghost-like fog into the air. He stared at it while slowly drawing a knife from his left side. The wolf moved closer then jumped, but he was ready.

As the wolf flew at him he moved the knife to his mouth and gritted his teeth around the handle. He and the wolf fell to the ground, wrestling for control. The wolf's claws scratched at his legs and chest, but he was able to keep it at bay by holding out his fore-hooves. The wolf snarled, gnashing its jaws furiously. Finally, it found purchase, biting into his upper-left fore-leg. He cried out as the wolf's fangs pierced his flesh. Kicking with his free hoof he managed to knock the wolf off.

Standing up, he reared on his hind legs and kicked fiercely, battering the wolf. It

Author's Notes:

Long story short, I wrote this about a year ago after finishing watching the Dollars trilogy for the hundredth time. I felt an urge to write a western fic, so I did. My enthusiasm, however, quickly petered out and what was left is this disappointing mess. It was a fun distraction for the 20 minutes or so I spent writing it, so there's that at least.

On the Shores of Demilune Lake

Equestria is home to many strange and enigmatic creatures—some more sinister than others—and I have made it my life's work to study them. Among these creatures are dragon, cockatrice, hydra, minotaur, taraxippi, chimera, gryphon, manticore, sphinx, charybdis, phoenix, lamia, and—the humble seapony. Some of them have yet to be seen, and many doubt creatures such as the lamia, or taraxippi, even exist. They would decry my research and have me branded as a loon. But, it is through my discoveries that cryptozoological fauna, such as the dragon and the gryphon, have been documented and studied. It is because of me that the field of cryptozoology hasn't disappeared completely. This world needs me and my research—more than it knows.

I was the one who first photographed the dreaded three-headed hydra, and documented—in detail—its regenerative abilities. It was because of me, and my expedition to the badlands around Mt. Pyrite, that the phoenix is no longer counted among extinct avian species. I proved both the manitcore and the chimera's existence when myself and small team of six ventured to the Ebonwood Forest. I even captured and displayed a live cockatrice specimen I found whilst hunting the taraxippi in the boggy Fetlock Mire—and yet, still there are doubters and non-believers. Those who question whether the creatures I am still hunting are legitimate. Have my contributions meant nothing? Has my research been all for naught? What would cryptozoology be without me? A husk; a dying field with no one to further it.

But that's why I'm here—here on the 3:10 train bound for Timber Mills: a small lumber town located a hundred miles north-west of Trottingham—to prove the existence of yet another esoteric creature: the seapony. Long have I searched for it and long has it eluded me—causing me, more than once, to give up the hunt. This time will be different though. I can feel it in my bones. I am currently en route to Timber Mills and, more specifically, Demilune Lake where sightings of the curious creature known as the seapony have been reported. I have traveled over six-hundred miles to be here now, and in a few hours I will finally be able to prove their legitimacy.

I have brought with me my right-hand—my research partner—Pastern Foucolt. He is a professor of anthropology at the Royal University of Canterlot—or he was, until I convinced him to join me in my search for some of the more obscure creatures of the world. He shares my passion for the subject and was similarly interested in the hunt, so it was not all too difficult to convince him. Foucolt is my most senior researcher and he has been with me for more years than I care to remember. He is a both a partner and a friend. As I watch him sitting opposite me, staring out the rain-streaked window. I can't help but recall our previous crusades.

During one particularly exciting journey—whilst scouring the arid Cambrian Desert for the elusive sphinx—we happened upon a decidedly aggressive sand-dragon. It had been hibernating beneath large sand dune that we were attempting to cross when one of our guides slipped, rolling down the dune and waking the dragon. It has long been known that dragons hibernate—usually for many decades at a time—in caves, grottoes, and other cavities, but no one had ever seen a sand-dragon hibernating; in fact, this was the first ever documented proof that sand-dragons even hibernated at all. So, it was not surprising that no one expected to find a dragon sleeping beneath a large dune, much less expected to see such a massive one.

What wasn't surprising was its anger upon waking up. When he tumbled down the dune he happened to roll over the dragon's snout, which protruded from the sand to allow it to breathe, but blended in so that we did not see it initially. It rose from the ground like smoke rises from fire, tossing us aside as if we were nothing more than sand-fleas. Its tan body was enormous—at least twenty or thirty meters in length—and covered in dull scales that seemed to devour light. Its leathery wings, when unfurled, spanned seventy or eighty meters, blocking the sun from view. Its long, slender neck rose high into the air like a serpent's and its black eyes peered down at us, filled with fury.

When the beast shook us from him we were sent hurtling through the air. At the time I was much younger, more flexible, and my body could withstand more punishment, so I was able survive the landing with only minor injuries. Foucolt was not quite so lucky. He, and some of my expedition team, landed unceremoniously in a heap, causing more than a few broken bones, including a fractured tibial bone that left him with a nasty limp on his right side. Though, he was fortunate to escape with just that. For when the dragon awoke he went into a blind rage and began breathing flame and thrashing about wildly, killing or wounding many of our group.

Our lead navigator—the one who woke the beast: Zvarra—was the first victim. The sand-dragon engulfed him in a wave of blue flames that washed over him like a burning ocean, killing him instantly. I can at least say that his death was quick and painless if nothing else. Alas, I cannot say the same for the rest of our team. The dragon's razor-sharp claws tore into our companions and ripped them to shreds. Nearly all of the locals were killed within seconds as it viciously dismembered them. While it was occupied with one ill-fated local—Sucara, I believe his name was—I was able to spirit away Foucolt, two of our guides, and myself to a safe location. We hid ourselves behind a large dune and watched in horror as the dragon devoured the rest of our company. It was regrettable, yes, but there was nothing we could do to save them.

We stayed hidden for a full day and night before we dared leave. The dragon had long since left, but we feared that it might return. What little supplies we had managed to save were dwindling fast and eventually we were forced to return to the city. We were lucky that some of our guides survived that day. Without them I very much doubt we would have found our way back to Abu Equar. When we reached the city we payed our guides handsomely for their help—and their friend's sacrifices—then we continued on our journey to the next city on our list: El Shaddai.

Despite the setback, we were still searching for the mysterious sphinx; and I didn't intend on giving up over a few deaths. Six months later however, we weren't any closer to finding the sphinx than we were at the beginning of our journey. I was out of money and out of time. The grant given to me by the Equestrian Zoological Society was contingent upon my discovery and subsequent documentation of the sphinx in a timely manner. I was forced to give up the search and return home empty-handed and heavyhearted. It wouldn't be until many years later that I would be able to return and continue my search; eventually finding the enigmatic sphinx resting in a grotto at the bottom of a dry lake bed. There I was able to capture it and have it taken to the Canterlot Zoological Society where it was able to be studied and tested.

The run-in with the sand-dragon was one of Foucolt and I's first adventures together, but it would certainly not be our last. A shallow grin worked its way across my face as I recalled the time we were in the Greco Jungle, searching for the chimera based on a tip we received from one the local tribesponies. While on an exploratory mission—sanctioned by the Royal Canterlot Science Society—in said jungle we happened upon a small village suspended in the tree-canopy. It was occupied by a tribe composed solely of pegasi and one elderly shaman. We were set upon by the primitive ponies as soon as we stepped into their territory. It was fortunate that both Foucolt and I have our magic as we were able to protect ourselves adequately. The fighting did not last long for when they saw our magic they threw down their weapons and praised us as demi-gods; they welcomed us into their village with reverent fervor.

We stayed, for a time, in the village, gathering information on the surroundings and local landmarks. I was well-versed in the local dialect from my studying at the university, so communicating with them was simple enough and they had plenty of information to offer. On the day after we arrived we were taken to the shaman's hut where we were told of a creature that had been sighted in the jungle near the village. Makai—the shaman—said that the beast appeared to be a lion with goat's head rising from its back and a tail that ended in a snake's head; it was the chimera we had been searching for. We explained to the shaman our intention of capturing it for study and she cautioned us, saying that the creature had killed several of her hunters already and it—reputedly—had the strength of ten stallions. We did not waver in our resolve however. I informed her that we had much experience in dealing with such creatures and that we would not be so easily discouraged. She did not seem overly impressed by our words. However, she did bid us luck on our quest and promised to send at least two of her personal guard with us.

Chimeras had been sighted in this area before, but one had never been documented. The notion that we were so close to one excited me; Foucolt shared my enthusiasm. We agreed to leave the camp at first light and begin our search for the chimera the next day. In the dead of night however, the beast appeared. It ravaged the village, spewing fire from its goat's head and raking its claws across any that dared approach it. By the time we were woken it had already killed several of their warriors and it was currently feasting upon their corpses. Foucolt and I flew from our huts and looked down upon the beast as it ripped apart one poor soul after another. It was a grisly sight, but at the same time it provided Foucolt and I with a first-hand experience of what the chimera was capable of; that is a not a luxury afforded to many.

It was almost amusing, in a macabre sort of way, to watch the villagers attempt to defend their home from a beast that was so obviously superior to them. They would fearlessly fly down upon it with spear and dagger, leaving not a scratch on the beast, and it would rebuff them with claw and flame—roasting alive more than one luckless tribespony. While observing the chimera's attack I formulated a plan for its capture. The beast had a hide that resisted magic and, as was demonstrated by the fruitless attacks of the village warriors, iron. Foucolt and I had originally planned on setting up various traps and snares in the surrounding jungle in the hopes that the chimera would stumble across one, but we did not have the luxury of careful planning now that the beast was already attacking. However, that did not mean we had not come prepared for such an eventuality.

I ordered a young colt to fetch my belongings and as he did I conveyed my plan to Foucolt. I informed him that we would need to reach the jungle floor and face the chimera head-on. Among the things the young colt was fetching for me were two hypodermic needles. One contained a powerful sedative that would render the beast immobile, but conscious, for at least twenty-four hours—long enough for us to call our team from Anwar—the only city in the area—to extract it. The other contained an elixir that I had created specifically for this mission. It was a fire-retardant potion that, when injected into the chimera, would rob it of its fire-breathing capabilities for a short time. The reason this was necessary was because the sedative needed to be injected subcutaneously, beneath the goat head's tongue. The mouths of the creature were the only places susceptible to such an injection and the goat's head was the safest—relatively speaking. It may be the one that conjured flame, but it was otherwise harmless—so by removing the flame one could safely inject the sedative without fear of being burned alive.

Naturally the task was still incredibly dangerous, so I volunteered to administer both needles. However, Foucolt wouldn't have it. He insisted that he be the one to do it, saying that I was the more valuable of two of us. I did not attempt to dissuade him—as I was not all too eager to tackle the beast myself—and so it came to be that we were on the jungle floor, dueling with the chimera. It was quite difficult to approach, due both to its long reach with its claws and its tail's impressive striking distance; with the help of some of the villagers however, we were able to distract the beast long enough for Foucolt to leap upon its back and seize the goat's head.

After clambering up the its back, needles held firmly in his mouth, he was able to wrap his hooves around the goat head, suppressing it momentarily. As he attempted to inject the fire-retardant into the back of its neck, and directly into its enflammatory gland, the chimera reared on its hind legs, nearly tossing him off. He did not let go, however. His grip was sure and he was focused on his task. I gathered what few tribesponies were still alive and mounted an attack. I sent them at the creature, ordering them to attack relentlessly, so that Foucolt may have an opportunity to inject it. The two forces clashed as the chimera attempted to buck Foucolt off, while simultaneously defending itself from its attackers. One exceptionally tenacious pony managed to approach it from behind while his kinsman were cut down. He jabbed his spear into its hindquarters, causing it to spin around suddenly and knock a few ponies over.

Foucolt took the opportunity to jab the needle into the chimera's neck; as he pressed the plunger down and the medicine flowed in, the pegasus who had stabbed its rear drove his spear in again, piercing the beast's eye. It roared furiously and attempted to burn him, but the elixir had already poisoned it. The chimera was no longer capable of producing fire—at least not for a short time. This did not, however, stop it from swiping at the pegasus with his massive claws. Still gripping the spear stuck in the chimera's eye, the tribespony was unable to dodge the chimera's razor-sharp claws and there was a sickening crunch as his left wing was crumpled. The unlucky pony was sent hurtling into a tree, his head hitting first with another stomach-churning snap. During the commotion, the chimera had managed to dislodge Foucolt and he lay a few feet away from the beast, still clutching the sedative.

Free of on hangers-on the chimera was able to paw at his eye, eventually snapping the spear, but leaving the point still firmly lodged in his socket. In its one good eye I could see rage building. It flared its nostrils and released a bone-shaking roar. All the tribesponies were now dead, and it was only Foucolt and I left to face the beast, and Foucolt was unconscious. It turned its attention to him, noticing Foucolt lying near by. I knew that I wouldn't be able to distract it fast enough to save him, so I charged at the chimera while its back was turned. As I ran I magicked the syringe to me and readied it. It raised its paw to swipe at Foucolt just as I leapt on to its back.

The needle held in my mouth, I pried open the goat head and prayed that I would be quick enough to save him. I heard a dull thudding sound then that made me turn my head to see Foucolt projecting an aura shield. He had apparently regained consciousness quick enough to protect himself from the chimera's deadly claws. My heart soared, but fell quickly as I heard a shattering sound and saw the shield collapse. Foucolt's eyes widened as the claw fell upon his face, dragging across his right eye and down his neck. My own eyes widened, but with determination I returned to my own task. The chimera roared again, rearing on its hind legs, preparing for another attack. I quickly lifted the goat's tongue and stuck the needle into the soft tissue beneath it, pressing down the plunger as I did.

The sedative was one of the most potent available; it acted quickly, dropping the chimera in mere seconds.

Author's Notes:

Again, this was another fic written about, or over, a year ago, I can't remember how long it's been. I had been reading a lot of Lovecraft, and so I decided that I would write my version of At the Mountains of Madness, though it would take place at a decidedly lower altitude. Unfortunately, after I looked over what I had written again and realized what a spectacularly boring pile of words it was, I decided to just drop it altogether. It's overly telly, spends far too much time on incredibly boring shit, and is interesting to no one. If I were to attempt this story again now, I feel confident that it would be miles better, but, alas, my enthusiasm for [Dark] fics has waned somewhat in the past year.

Outpost 2021

Twilight's eyes hardened into thin slits, rimmed with red, as she scrutinized every inch of smooth steel, and examined, in detail, every iridescent bulb scattered across the metal beast in front of her. A tiny, tired smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She brushed her hoof against one of the bulbs, feeling a faint heat emanating from it. Her hoof slid across the steel, felt its chill; her smile grew the tiniest bit.

Excellent.

Her eyelids fluttered weakly. She took a few stuttering steps back, accidentally kicking away a stray bolt. She blinked involuntarily at the sound of the bolt skittering across the floor. She shook her head in an attempt to rouse herself.

I've still got work to do. I can't sleep yet.

The daunting amalgamation of steel and hard plastic rose like a mountain before her. Her breath escaped slowly as she exhaled. A handful of lights flickered for a brief moment before extinguishing themselves. She sighed. Her hoof found its way to to a lone switch near the middle of the machine. She flicked it on. The lights flickered again; they fell into darkness a moment later. The length of her horn began to glow with a faint purple light.

A panel on the front of the machine opened itself, revealing a mass of tangled wires and live terminals. From behind her, a couple of small screws—surrounded by the same violet light as her horn—floated into the open panel. Three green wires lit with the same magic a moment later. Twilight's brow furrowed; her tongue protruded slightly from her mouth, held in place by her teeth. The screws holding the wires in place loosened themselves, releasing their copper hostages. She moved a few of the wires out of the way, replacing them with new ones.

Once the new wires had been manipulated into place, the tiny screws moved into position above them and then tightened themselves down. The dim violet glow faded away. She tapped her hoof against the new screws, making sure they didn't wiggle. Satisfied that they were secure, she moved her back to the switch.

Please work.

With closed eyes—and a prayer on her lips—she flipped the switch. One eye opened slowly. She glanced down at the flashing bulbs. They flashed on and off at a nice, steady pace. Her other eye shot open. She backed away slowly; the grin from before found its way back, curling her lips into a thin smile.

She recoiled—turning her head away and bringing a hoof up to shield her eyes—as the hot terminals sputtered and crackled, spitting sparks all over the ground. The lights, on just moments before, flickered briefly, then went out—again. Her hoof lowered to the ground slowly as she breathed a heavy sigh.

Again?

She scowled. Her horn lit up again as she approached the machine. She licked her lips and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her eyes narrowed, homing in on the offending wires.

Fine—I can play hardball too.

“Come on, Rainbow. We're supposed ta be meetin' Twi at the library right now. You can practice yer silly “tricks” later.”

“Oh, come on, Applejack. I'm like, this close to getting my super-ultra-double-corkscrew-loop down pat. Gimme like—five more minutes, tops. I'll have this sucker done by then.”

Applejack took her hat off and ran her hoof through her mane, tossing it out. She placed the hat firmly on her head and then gazed upwards to where Rainbow Dash was rocketing through the sky. The wind whipped past her, flapping her mane and tail around like a beached fish. Applejack's emerald eyes followed Dash as she soared gracefully through the air, light as a feather. Her wings beat with a steady rhythm, pushing her higher and higher. She couldn't help but allow a faint smile to form.

She's certainly determined. Nopony can deny that.

Rainbow Dash—hooves outstretched—raced higher and higher, almost touching the clouds. Despite the rushing wind biting at her face and causing her eyes to water, she wore a massive grin that only seemed to grow with each passing second. With one final beat of her strong wings she burst through the clouds. She closed her eyes reflexively as the sun, now unabated, shined its light on her. As the rhythmic beat of her wings began to slow, she basked in the sun's rays, taking in their warmth.

For a moment she seemed to hang in the air, completely free of all restraints, then she flipped completely upside down and began hurtling towards the ground. The wind she felt before was nothing compared to the wind she felt now. It shook her entire body; her mane and tail whipped about wildly. Nevertheless, she wore a wild grin, her eyes held wide open.

Applejack was still staring up at Rainbow as she sped towards the ground. She watched her burst back through the clouds, her azure body seemingly melting into the sky around her. In fact, Applejack mused, she probably wouldn't have even seen her were it not for her colorful mane and tail. She grinned as she watched Dash's graceful descent.

Dash's vision filled with green and brown as she hurtled downwards. As she got closer and closer she started to twirl her body. Spinning slowly at first—but quickly building up speed—she corkscrewed her way down. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to feel the approaching earth, rather than see it.

Applejack cringed as Rainbow got nearer to solid ground, or at least she would have, had she not already seen her attempt this trick multiple times. Still though, she couldn't help it when her grin cracked into a full-blown smile as—moments before she hit the ground—Dash pulled up and went spinning through the air.

Still corkscrewing, she beat her wings in an attempt to pitch herself backwards. The first loop was executed nearly flawlessly. She was able to pull herself into a tight loop while still maintaining a high speed. However, due to the corkscrewing, she spun off-course and by the time she was attempting the second loop she had veered far from her original path.

Applejack's smile turned into a grimace as she watched Rainbow spin out-of-control into a bush as she finished her second loop. There was a sickening thud as she crashed headfirst, and upside-down, into the shrub. Applejack clicked her tongue before trotting over to the crash site. Rainbow lay moaning in a heap, half covered by the brush.

“Ugh, my head,” she groaned.

Applejack chuckled. “Hey now, at least y'all were closer this time. You got through the first loop okay, didn'tcha?”

Author's Notes:

Before I wrote Letters From a Friend (which, coincidentally, the first draft of was in the same folder as this story), this was going to be me epic-length adventure fic. It was going to span hundreds of thousands of words, and encompass many story arcs. The idea was that Twilight was going to be hunted down as a mutant for being the only unicorn in existence (at the time), and that Rainbow Dash and Applejack were going to turn on her in the hopes of joining the other ponies and eventually convincing them that Twilight was no mutant. There was going to be this huge twist about 3/4ths of the way through were these AI that had been referenced by many ponies up to that point turn out to be early versions of Celestia and Luna. It was going to be at this point that Twilight realizes they had actually gone into the past and not the future. She, along with Applejack and Rainbow Dash, would inadvertently cause the creation of Celestia and Luna, who, at the time, would merely be AI that run this orbiting supercity. See, the majority of the populace would live in this space station because Equestria was largely uninhabitable. It was a barren, sandworm-infested, wasteland. Only those brave or foolish enough would venture outside the handful of walled cities that dotted the desert landscape. So, when Celestia and Luna are created, they become sort of demi-gods, and mythical beings to those on the surface. They end up starting a systematic genocide of the ponies on the space station and fashion realistic bodies for themselves. Once they descend down to the surface, they begin to rule as goddesses, and, over the 30,000 years between then and the present, eventually forget that they were even AI to begin with.

Anyway, this story ended up being too much for me to handle early on, so I dropped it, though I never forgot how awesome it all sounded in my head...

Unnamed SchizoDerpy Fic

The low rumble of the mail sorting machine filled the room. A steady stream of envelopes and packages poured from its mouth and into a large plastic hamper. The dull, white container would hold all of Ponyville's mail in the next fifteen minutes. Until then, however, it was just a pile of names without faces, and addresses without homes, a series of meaningless letters and numbers. Meaningless, that is, until I got them. I gave them purpose, gave them meaning, gave them homes.

I stared blankly at the machine as it droned on and on, churning out a constant stream of thoughts and emotions, hopes and dreams, congratulations and condolences. Every piece of mail, every letter, every package, every envelope, held a piece of someone's life in it—a little part of their soul—and I was the messenger. I ferried these souls back and forth, perpetuating the endless cycle of happiness and longing, grief and regret. But I didn't begrudge it—the mailmare's job—not even a little. I loved it. I lived for it.

My line of sight broke as a pony passed in front of me. It was Courier. I followed him as he crossed the room and sat down at his desk. Courier was the only earth pony working at the post office. He was fast. I like Courier, he was always nice to me. When I first started working here he was the only one who talked to me. He didn't say much, “Good morning”, but it was enough.

I waved at him. He didn't see me. It's okay, I still like him.

Besides Courier, I was still the newest employee. Even then, I've still been here over four years. The post office doesn't hire new employees very often, mostly because they didn't need to. They didn't need to hire me, but they did. That's how government appointed jobs work.

I looked up at the clock. It was eight thirty-seven. That meant it was only another twenty minutes until the mail went out for delivery. I decided to kill time by watching the mail sorting machine.

Twenty minutes later my boss—Wax Seal—came up to me.

“I'm giving you ten mailbags to do today, hnkay?” he said.

I nodded. That was twice as many bags as I normally did, but I didn't want to complain.

“Great.” He clapped his hooves together. “You've got,” he looked down at list he was holding in front of him with his magic, “Cumulus Place, Evermore Street, Filia Street, Buckingham Street, Crystal Avenue, Sugarcube Lane, and Sweet Apple Acres.” He looked up from his list. “Hnkay?”

I nodded.

“That's great,” he said, barely hiding his contempt. “Here,” he said, handing me the list. “Take this with you, just to make sure you don't get lost.”

I took the paper from him. He smiled at me, then walked away. I looked at the paper. There weren't any names or addresses on it, just a crude drawing of a wall-eyed pegasus. I crumpled the paper up and tossed it into the trash.

Author's Notes:

I started writing this nearly a year ago as a sort of challenge to myself to see if I could write a story about a character being schizophrenic. I did all kinds of research on the subject, and spent a lot of time reading things from schizophrenics who talked about what it was like. Unfortunately, I came to realize that I simply didn't have the skill necessary to write such a fic, and likely still don't. Writing about something like schizophrenia is difficult, and even the best writers can really mess it up. I still maintain that Derpy fics are largely a waste of time, but if anyone ever wrote one about her being legitimately schizophrenic, I would totally read it.

Unnamed TwiLuna Fic

A vast black ocean stretched out before her, an ocean filled with tiny motes of light and a large pale white circle. Staring into the night sky, transfixed by the vast emptiness of space, a violet unicorn lay on her back in a field just little ways outside of Ponyville. She often came out here just to stargaze. The lights of Ponyville, small though they were, interfered with her view of the sky. Not to mention she enjoyed the secluded nature of the field she had chosen to stargaze in. She did not dislike the company of other ponies, she just preferred to stargaze alone. She had brought her friends with her before but none of them seemed to enjoy themselves as much as she had. From then on she had decided to just go alone. Admittedly however, being out in an empty field in the middle of the night alone was rather... lonely. She often wished there was somepony who appreciated the night as much as she did.

Sighing quietly to herself, Twilight slowly rolled over and stood up. It was getting rather late and she had promised Spike she wouldn't be gone long. She began to leave, making her way back towards the library that she called home. Looking back over her shoulder as she walked away Twilight couldn't help but notice something strange about the moon. She turned around to get a better look at it, and couldn't help but notice that moon looked slightly peculiar. She couldn't put her hoof on it for sure but if she had to guess she would say that the moon looked... lonely, like it was wishing for her to notice it, to be noticed be anypony. Woosh. A gust of wind suddenly blew past her and made her shiver from the cold. “Twilight you silly filly,” she giggled to herself, “ it is the middle of winter, I really should have worn a coat or something.”

Turning back towards Ponyville, her thoughts turned back to the moon and she wondered why it looked like it did. Woosh. Another gust of wind quickly put that thought out of her mind as now she was beginning to notice just how cold it had gotten. She had completely lost herself in her excitement. Stargazing often had that effect on her and on more than one occasion Twilight had caught a cold from staying out so late. Normally a very practical pony Twilight was not one to fall victim to such silly mistakes as forgetting a coat or staying out too late. But something about the night sky made her forget all about practicality. Twilight had always felt a special connection to the stars and moon, and nighttime in general. It was not something she could explain, which bothered her somewhat. She just felt instinctively drawn to the night. Perhaps that was why her cutie mark took the shape of a group of stars. None of this mattered right now however because Twilight was now intensely aware of how cold it was. She hurried back to her house and was greeted by a frowning purple and green dragon.

“Maybe you forgot Twilight,” began Spike, “but it is the middle of winter.” Twilight smiled sheepishly at him. “Are you trying to catch a cold? Again?”

“Look Spike I'm really sorry but you know how it is, I just get so caught up in the excitement I sometimes forget.”

“Sometimes? Would it kill you to bring a coat with you? And come back at a reasonable hour? Besides you know what day tomorrow is, it would be bad if you got sick right before the celebration.”

“Oh Spike, you worry too much. I'll be fine”. Spike sighed and shook his head. “Well in any case I need to get some rest, tomorrow is the beginning of the first ever...”

“...Winter Moon Celebration” said Luna to nopony in particular, “tomorrow is the first ever Winter Moon Celebration and I still don't know what I'm going to do”. Luna sighed quietly, she sat alone in her room staring out the window at the moon. It looked so innocent hanging there in the sky, just a big white circle. For Luna however, the moon was much more than just another object out there in the void. It had been her prison for a thousand years, well not just her prison. Nightmare Moon had shared it with her. For centuries she had corrupted Luna, filled her thoughts of revenge. Through her poisonous words she had made Luna grow to hate Celestia and eventually there was no Luna, only Nightmare Moon. She spent years plotting her revenge, and when the stars finally aided her in her escape it seemed as if night would reign eternal and Luna would be trapped forever inside herself as Nightmare Moon. Were it not for the Elements of Harmony and their new found friendship she might have been successful. Luna owed more to the Elements than she could ever repay, they saved Equestria and they saved her. Lost in thought, Luna turned away from the window and lay down on her bed. She began recalling the day she had been freed from Nightmare Moon.

Darkness surrounded her, as it had ever since the evil mare had fully taken control of Luna. She could see nothing, just an impenetrable blackness all around her. Luna and Nightmare Moon may have shared a body but when Nightmare Moon took control Luna had been left with only her own consciousness. She didn't know how long things had been this way, for all she could remember it had always been like this. Luna felt nothing, other than the intense loneliness and sadness that now seeped through her. She was trapped in her own mind, confined by Nightmare Moon. A prison within her prison on the Moon. Looking around again she saw only the same blackness she had always seen, except this time she noticed something off in the distance. Looking closer Luna could see that a tiny speck of light had broken into her dark prison. Moving to investigate she noticed that as she got closer it had begun to grow in size. By the time she was right in front of it the speck of light had become a large column of light illuminating the black surrounding her. She could feel something coming through the light, it was a voice. Though not an actual voice rather another pony's magic reaching out to her. As the light's intensity increased it turned violet and it felt warm and welcoming. Luna approached the light and felt her feelings of loneliness and sadness disappear, replaced by love and happiness. The warmth she had felt before permeated her entire consciousness, now fully engulfed in light Luna felt another pony's consciousness but she couldn't quite make out whose it was. Before she could probe deeper the previously violet light suddenly changed into a rainbow of colors and swirled around her like a vortex. Then... a flash and Luna felt herself regain control of her body. She lay on the floor of an ancient building surrounded by ponies she didn't recognize. Examining her surroundings she noticed a familiar figure approaching her.
“Princess Luna,” said the figure, “it has been a thousand years since I have seen you like this. Time to put our differences behind us, we were meant to rule together little sister. Will you accept my friendship?”
Luna could feel all the memories, a thousand years old, flooding back. She remembered everything, tears began to well up in her eyes. She couldn't find the words to say what she felt at that moment. Luna galloped to over to her sister and nuzzled her, putting her head under Celestia's.
“I'm so sorry! I missed you so much big sister.” Luna cried into her sister's shoulder. At this Celestia began to tear up as well.
“I've missed you too.” She cried happily, nuzzling Luna back.

Luna wiped away her tears, and smiled to herself. Her sister really was an amazing pony. After everything she did, after Nightmare Moon she was still able to look past all of that and forgive her and welcome her back with open arms. Luna felt stupid for ever being jealous of her sister, she felt so sorry for everything that had happened. But now that Nightmare Moon was gone she would never let something like that happen again, never let darkness enter her heart like before when she felt only jealousy and resentment towards her sister instead of the love she felt now. Luna bitterly recalled a thousand year old memory she had wished to never remember.

“No”
“but Sist-”
“Luna, I said no”
“It's not fair, everypony loves your days but they sleep through my nights. Nopony appreciates them, there is even a celebration held every year in honor of your days. I get nothing, no recognition, no praise, nothing. You bask in our subjects praise while I am forced to play the villain that brings an end to each day that the ponies love so much. All I want is equality, to share in the same praise and admiration that you receive. Let me have a week of full darkness, I want our subjects to be able to appreciate my night. I want them to see all the beautiful artwork I've created with the stars. Let me have this chance to show them that my nights can be just as beautiful as your days.”
“Dear sister, I've already told you no. It is impossible. To do such a thing would upset the balance that having both days and nights creates. Neither you nor I possess the power required to stop the cycle even if I wanted to do this for you. I understand what you want, but you must understand that what you ask is foolish. Imagine how the daily lives of our little ponies would be affected if you took away their daylight, even if only for a week. Crops, and in fact all plants, would be harmed for they require my sunlight to grow. With your moon being ever present in the sky the tides would be altered and would seriously affect the lives of anypony living near the sea. The weather too, would be changed. It would be cold all the time and continue to grow colder everyday without my sun to providing its warmth. Are you willing to force this upon our subjects just to earn their praise?”
“You just don't understand what it feels like to not be loved. In fact I am even feared by some. There are ponies who are afraid of my nights and fear me because of it, nopony loves my nights, nopony looks forward to them. They all hate me because I end your days that they love so dearly. Have you ever witnessed a pony that was too scared to sleep because they were terrified of your days? Or have you ever had to see the hate in a pony's eyes when they look up at your sun? Do you know what it feels like to be hated?”
“Nopony hates you Luna, you are wrong if you think that ponies fear your night, or resent you for ending my days.”
“You don't get it do you? You can't possibly understand, how could you? You've never felt anything but love from our subjects, you don't know what it feels like to be hated. Fine. I won't ask you again then, things will continue as the always have. Good night sister.”
“Luna I-”
Luna winked out of existence before she could hear what Celestia had to say. In a flash of light she appeared back in her room. She began angrily pacing back and forth, fuming over her sister's words. She began speaking aloud to herself.
“Why did I expect Celestia to understand? She doesn't have to know hate, she only has to bask in the love of our subjects. Hmph”
Luna threw herself onto her bed and began to cry softly into her pillow. As she cried a dark shadow began to form beside her bed.
“My little pony, why are you crying?”
“Celestia doesn't understand, she wouldn't listen to me.”
“Did you really think that foal Celestia would understand?”
“I thought that she would at least listen to me, I thought she cared about my feelings. I thought she cared about me”
“Ha! Nopony cares about you, I am the only one who looks out for you. It is only because of me that you are still around now. Without me Celestia surely would have cast you aside to rule by herself.”
“Do you really think she would do that?” said Luna wiping tears from her eyes.
“Of course, she barely lets you have any power as it is. She chose the the better part of the day and night cycle for herself, but I can see she wants more. All you wanted was to be treated fairly, and immediately she turned you down. She wants all the power for herself, but she hasn't gathered enough strength to dethrone you... yet. I can see it in her eyes, she means to rid herself of you. You must strike before she does, you must remove her. She is standing in the way of your goal, and we can't have that.”
“Do you want me to kill her?”
“No, nothing so crude. Merely remove her from the equation so to speak.”
“I'm not sure I can do that. I don't think I have the strength I would need to challenge her.”
“You won't be alone, you'll have me. I will lend you my strength, but in return when we depose Celestia then you will allow me to rule along side you in the regime. I will of course let you have the day, and I will take the night. Together you and I will rule Equestria, and you will finally get the love and admiration you so desire.”
“I will finally be loved? Okay, if this is what I must do then so be it. Thank you, sometimes I think you are my only friend Nightmare Moon.”
“My dear I live only for you.”

Luna rolled over in her bed. She thought about Nightmare Moon, back in those days it really felt like she was her only friend. But now she had Celestia, she had someone who she knew loved her. It felt good to be loved, though she still felt alone most of the time. She hoped that she could make a good impression at the Winter Moon Celebration so she could be admired and loved like her sister. With that thought firmly planted in her head she decided to go back to her desk and keep working on ideas for her performance at the celebration later today. Walking over to her desk she happened to glance out her window. She trotted over and used her magic to open the window and reveal her balcony. She stepped onto the vine covered platform and stared into the night sky. Looking directly at the moon, she smiled softly, “I hope that after tonight everypony will see how beautiful you are, and then maybe they will love me.” She turned back to her room and moved over to her desk. Her horn glowed dark blue and she lifted a quill, some ink, and parchment out of one of the drawers. Setting them onto her desk she dipped the quill in the ink and began to write.

Winter Moon Celebration Ideas

1 - Make giant catapult to launch ponies to the moon

2 -

Author's Notes:

So yeah, this fic is pretty damn awful. Like the [Dark] Trixie fic, it was written at a time when I had no friends and felt very lonely. Shipping was basically my haven then. It allowed me to feel love vicariously, which, yeah, sounds super depressing, and that's because it was. I wrote this fic because I wanted to step into that world of shipping, but I didn't know how to do it, clearly. This is overly melodramatic, has horrible grammar, and is nearly incomprehensible with how badly it's written. I mean, the paragraphs are thick as shit, and for no reason. I used to think that if you had big paragraphs it meant you were doing it right, but I've since come to realize that it simply means you don't know where to stop.

Unnamed Twixie Fic

“COME ONE! COME ALL! Come and witness the AMAZING magic of THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE!” The audience swooned before her, she had them eating out of the palm of her hoof... if hooves had palms anyways. Trixie dazzled the simple ponies of Ponyville with a stunning fireworks display as she made her grand entrance onto the stage. She looked around at the ponies that had gathered in front of her and in a booming voice shouted, “Watch in awe as THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE performs the most spectacular feats of magic EVER WITNESSED BY PONY EYES!” Trixie glowed with confidence, she was in her element now. In the sky she began to weave a glowing tapestry illustrating her glorious triumph over the dreaded Ursa Major. She enraptured the crowd with her story, “When all hope was lost the ponies of Hoofington had no one to turn to. But, The Great and Powerful Trixie stepped in and with her awesome magic, vanquished the Ursa Major and sent it back to its cave deep within the EVERFREE FOREST!” At this two young colts began singing her praises.

“That settles it,” said the shorter of the two.

“Trixie truly is the most talented, most magical, most awesome unicorn in Ponyville,” said the other.

“No, in all of Equestria,” retorted the shorter.

Trixie laughed at the two, the ponies of this town were easily impressed it seemed. “It's true my enthusiastic little admirers. Trixie most definitely is the best in Ponyville.” She looked into the audience and noticed that there was a small group of ponies in the front who did not seem impressed by her display. “Don't believe The Great and Powerful Trixie?” She asked them, “Well then, I hereby challenge you Ponyvillians. Anything you can do I can do better.” She knew that by putting forth this challenge there would be at least one pony who couldn't resist and would try and show her up. “Any takers? Hmm? Or is Trixie destined to be the greatest equine who has ever lived!” More fireworks exploded around her, basking her body in their glow. Trixie looked out over the audience, scanning for a pony she could best. “Hmm, how about... you.” She said pointing at a violet unicorn who happened to be part of the group of naysayers she had noticed earlier. “Well how about it, hmm? Is there anything you can do that The Great and Powerful Trixie can't?” She stared down the unicorn with a look of smug confidence in her eyes.

“Actually there is,” the unicorn replied. Trixie's eyebrows raised, this wasn't right. “You think you're so great and powerful do you? Well I'd like to see you do this.” Trixie looked down at Twilight who was now growing larger with each passing second. This definitely wasn't right. Twilight now towered over Trixie nearly ten times larger than her. “Not so great and powerful now are you Trixie?” Trixie's jaw dropped, this can't be right. Laughing maniacally the violet unicorn flicked a hoof at Trixie and launched her backwards through her stage. Trixie lay in a heap, her hat and cape had been torn off. The crowd that had watched her before now circled around her. The two young colts who had previously praised Trixie now laughed and pointed at her.

“I guess Trixie really isn't the greatest unicorn in Ponyville,” said the short one.

“Yeah, she's The Poor and Weak Trixie!” said the tall one. Trixie didn't know what to do, she just lay on the ground and looked at all the ponies who were surrounding her. They were all laughing at her and pointing their hooves at her. Her eyes began to water as she felt the confidence from before leaving her. She started crying, this isn't right. Trixie spoke quietly to herself, trying to comfort herself in the midst of all the ponies making fun of her.

“No, it's not true. No, they're wrong. I am great and powerful.” she cried softly. The giant violet unicorn stepped over towards Trixie and joined in with the other ponies in laughing at Trixie.

“Aww look at the Poor and Weak Trixie,” she said mocking her, “she's crying. Well I'll put her out of her misery then.” Laughing the unicorn raised one hoof in the air above Trixie, then with as much force as she could muster brought it down on the crying, timid mare.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!” Trixie screamed sitting straight up.

Author's Notes:

If you read the author's notes on the TwiLuna fic, then you already know that this was, again, written when I was a sad, lonely, kid. I had only just left highschool and found out how hard it is to meet people when you're not forced to sit next to them in a tiny room. The only jobs I worked were with people much older than I, and I wasn't exactly going out to bars to meet people. Anyway, this is terrible, and I dropped it because I realized that pretty early on.