Okay, god… that was a pleasant break from that. So, where were we?

In our last episode, Rarity wasn’t Rarity and everypony was an idiot. Death happened, and death happened, and then death happened some more. The author simply copypasted the show into the fic, then used a tired cliche twice. And then death happened again and Twilight forgot about it.

… Oh, yeah… this shit again. Last time Moxie kidnapped and murdered Rarity and replaced her. And the main six are too stupid to figure out it’s not Rarity. She kills some ponies and when Twilight figures out she decides to wipe out her own memory so Moxie doesn’t get in trouble. This isn’t like her stealing cookies, Twilight! It’s fucking murder!

Ew! Murder? Who’d wanna fuck her?

So apparently the memory spell causes Twilight to lose all her memories… because this story hadn’t had a plot yet, so we have to rush one in, and Moxie goes about the moral choices of her restoring Twilight’s memory or having her keep her secrets… Now, to the story’s credit this is one of the more interesting aspects of the scenario.

...Why?

The setup is nice. The dilemma is one that was unexpected and it conflicts with Moxie’s desire to protect her friends when really that’s not what she is doing by keeping Twilight’s memories from her.

… So, how does the story fuck it up? Oh, just wait. Just wait. It is so genius how this story solves this really, REALLY HUGE problem, I actually pissed myself!

I was wondering what that smell was.

Well, Moxie can go clear her head better by massacring an army of diamond dogs. I call bullshit! If not even Starfleet Magic can defeat an army of Diamond Dogs, what chance does Moxie?

Oh, wait… she did defeat them in that…

In that fight scene, with the katana and the flips and the spins and the cuts and all these other things that were in no way foreshadowed or hinted at would happen, which utterly destroys any credibility for the author? Yup. You’re reading this correctly.

Seriously, in this deep psychological story that supposed to be grounded in realism, we have a Matrix style fight scene between Moxie and the diamond dogs. Just replace Moxie with Neo and Agent Smith with the dogs and that’s pretty much it.

Pfff… You know… when you give into the madness… this story is actually beautifully bad. This is even better when you remember that really, really BIG problem that Moxie had with Twilight’s memory spell. Well, it turns out that while Moxie is in the hospital after her battle with the diamond dogs, a doctor begins to notice that Twilight is affected by a memory spell as she starts to lose more of her memory.

So, the doctors… I repeat… the doctors fix her up!

So, Moxie gets away with it, again! This was supposed to be the defining moment of her character in this ‘character study’. The moment where she realized that what she was doing by destroying her friend was wrong, even if it meant losing her secret and living up to all the horrible things she had done. While if this was a random stranger, it wouldn’t have bothered me.

But this is Twilight, the friend who she decided not to kill when she got into town because of the strong bond they have. The friend who she trusted enough to go to when things got bad with Sister.

I should be angry, I should be yelling and screaming at the top of my lungs with how much this bugs me. But… I can’t… I’ve lost… I’ve lost all ability to care. There is nothing… nothing that this story can do… to make me.

Read it to the end. It’ll make you. Trust me.

I’m not sure whether to be extremely afraid or extremely excited.

And with Twilight’s memories restored and the initial shock of her best friend committing murder over, what does she do?

She takes her down to her basement and shows her how everypony must have felt by threatening her with a knife.

Instead of going to the police or calling her Captain of the Royal Guard brother. Celestia’s top student, everypony.

You know what… whatever.

And then Twilight gets Luna involved… I wished I could say this makes a difference, but it clearly doesn’t since the very next chapter sees Moxie killing the Flim-Flam brothers, so… waste of our time.

More insultingly, Luna is somehow sympathetic to Moxie since Luna was once Nightmare Moon. They seem to overlook the fact that Nightmare Moon was some dark force that took advantage of Luna’s insecurities, and that Moxie is sociopathic and kills to satisfy a sinister need. But, what do I know? Close enough, right?

Yeah, Luna’s pretty chill about serial killers in her kingdom and pretty cool about keeping a secret from Celestia about a dangerous murderer who kills ponies for fun. She’s kind of a fucking idiot that way.

You fucking should be.

They decided that the Elements of Harmony are the only way to cure Moxie. Sure, makes fucking sense to me. And then we get … this scene with the guards…

"We cannot do that, Princess Luna," said the leader. "Princess Celestia herself has ordered that nopony can gain access into this hallway without her personal authority."

Luna glared at them. "Is Our authority not enough? Is it not enough that We have brought the wielders of the Elements of Harmony with Us? Our cause is just and you cannot stop our entry into this hallway!"

The guards stood fast, but there was a hint of unease behind their expressions. The leader shifted uncomfortably, but stood his ground. "You wouldn't dare attack us. Celestia would banish you to the moon again if you did that."

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

Fuck it… I don’t even care anymore… I’m just going to wrap this story up as quickly as I can and … maybe… fucking maybe… I’ll be able to leave… with enough of my sanity in tact… to make it through the rest of my life…

After they heal Moxie, because I guess the Elements of Harmony can just do that,  the evil Princess Celestia, who clearly does not listen to anyone, comes and tries to stop our heroes from saving a dangerous murderer who is only going to kill again later.

But the good, pure, honest, good, heavenly blessed Luna protects Moxie and everything is fine.

Moxie goes home, is no longer a serial killer and a hundred ponies are dead. Remember kids, if you do become a serial killer with serious mental issues, don’t go to a trained professional or authorities to help you, just rely on the magic of friendship and maybe one day, they’ll sprinkle some magic dust on you to make your murderous impulses go away.

And that was the Secret Life of Rarity… I hope you enjoyed it because…

That’s not the ending. There’s like… ten more chapters to go.

GOD FUCKING DA-!

So, yeah, as every single one of you already know, Moxie gets her murderous impulse back ONE CHAPTER LATER and murders the Flim Flam brothers. This would be surprising if it was in the very least surprising.

There’s a part in this scene where Rarity cuts off Flam’s face and makes Flim wear it. There is no buildup to it, and no real milking of the terror such an action would possess. It’s just, “Rarity gets an idea, it happens, BOO! Scary.”

Seriously. Just letting Flim see that his brother’s face is gone while feeling something slimy covering his face, with Rarity walking out the door with a cruel smirk on her face, would be enough of an implication for the audience to work with. Terror often comes from implications, because the author is letting their readers’ imagination do their work for them, using tools that make whatever it is even scarier than whatever the author himself could come up with.

I dislike this scene not because it’s gruesome, I dislike it because its execution is sloppy, and it ignores just how sloppy its execution is. It’s cheap, bottom-of-the-barrel darkfic shock shlock.

But anyway... PROCEED.

Our next chapter sees Moxie going through another innocent bystanders caught in her cross fire. Oh and I’m not kidding. She kidnaps a filly and a mother, believing that the mother is abusive, even though there is no evidence that she is, and butchers them both. … What was that line from earlier in this extremely well developed character study?

About how it’s not Cupcakes with Rarity even though it’s Cupcakes with Rarity denying that it is obviously Cupcakes with Rarity?

Rarity grabbed her skinning knife out of the air and rubbed a speck of blood off of it. "True. Slaughtering anypony who makes eye contact with me seems wrong, but what about protection? Twilight and the others are family to me now. I don't want to see them hurt."

Okay, what is the purpose of killing this mare and filly? To make us feel bad for Moxie? To show that Moxie is devolving? To show that Twilight is still as clueless as ever in Moxie’s behavior when clearly she should be keeping a close watch on her as opposed to leaving her roaming, despite the Elements of Harmony bullshit?

Because it’s Cupcakes with Rarity.

But remember “It’s not Cupcakes”.

After Moxie kills the mare and filly, she goes over to Twilight’s house to explain that the murderous impulses are back. Twilight, instead of going to Celestia because as we’ve established Celestia is evil, tells Moxie that she knows that she would change everything in an instant.

Except… this holds no water for us because we, as the audience, know the truth. We know she’s not going to change. We know she’s not going to make a difference and we know she doesn’t regret any of the action she took. So, how is this supposed to convince us that she is? Is it supposed to be ironic that Moxie wouldn’t change, but Twilight is too caught up in her friendship to notice? But of course, that would assume a later scene doesn’t happen. Oh, believe me, I’ll come back to that.

So, the story pretends to be a psychological study by throwing in a psychologist.

That’s like if it decided to be a comedy by throwing in a clown. (honks clown horn)

Ah! Clown! *Hides behind the couch.* … Sorry… I don’t like clowns...

I think you need a bit more than that to call this a psychological study! But even that gets shot in the balls as Moxie murders the psychologist. Seen it. And at this point, the gory murder scenes have become boring. Repetition equals boring!

The gory violence is just kind of juvenile at this point. Doing it for the sake of doing it rather than spacing it out. The gore in this story is more of a rule rather than an exception and it loses its shock rather quickly.

So, the story takes the piss out of itself by making this ‘character study’ simply put… Moxie does it because she enjoys it.

We read through twenty chapters for THIS?

Yeah, we pretty much established that by chapter 2, I think, but whatever. The story is almost over.

I’m skipping over a lot of this, because it’d basically be me ranting about how none of it matches up with anything we’ve seen as Moxie begins to unravel. We then get to the chapter of ‘Putting Your Hoof Down’. Most of this chapter is actually the entire fucking episode copy and pasted onto the fucking page! How does this story get away with that?! It’s pretty much the same thing we’ve seen in every single chapter up to this point. Skipping…

Our next chapter sees Moxie going after Iron Will. However, as she stabs Iron Will, which is all she’s been doing this whole fucking thing, a couple of mares see the murder and call the royal guard. Moxie is able to evade them, but realizes she has to leave Canterlot. Only 26 chapters to get to this point people! Was it worth it?

She rushes back home, where she finds that the royal guard are waiting for her since one of the witnesses recognized her and she is captured. As the guards ransack the place, Sister discovers Moxie’s dungeon and the guards take her to Canterlot to stand trial. Finally, this story is wrapping up!

The guards arrest the main six for conspiracy charges and drag them to trial as well. You know, it’s a sad day when I am fucking cheering for the guards of Canterlot versus the main fucking six!

Rarity wondered if she should say something, but what would she say? She had just gotten her best friends and her sister arrested for crimes that she herself had committed. They were all innocent in this.

uhhhhhhh

accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder accessory to murder

You okay?

I am, but this story is not. The Mane Six aren’t innocent in this, period. They deliberately protected a serial killer. They purposefully hid her from the law. They would be tried for this shit, found guilty, and locked up possibly FOR LIFE.

But who gives a fuck at this point?!

So, the evil, maniacal Celestia dares to arrest the main six for conspiring to protecting a known murderer who is responsible for the deaths of several ponies and has shown no remorse in her actions.

I dunno, man, wasn’t Moxie, like their friend or someth -

FUCK YOU! That is no fucking excuse!

While I think at this point the story is supposed to see Celestia as evil, she’s the only one who is making any kind of god-damn sense. She is upset that the main six kept this from her, she is upset that Luna kept this from her and used to Elements without consulting her. Thus far, out of 26 chapters, Celestia is the only character I can sympathize with because she is the only one who is making any kind of logical choices!

But again, I think Celestia is supposed to be the bad guy here! Why?! Did this story really need one?! Isn’t Moxie the designated villain? Or are we supposed to feel sorry for the psychotic murderer who would kill you at the drop of a hat?!

But of course, even Celestia finds a way to fuck up as she releases all, but Twilight, from conspiracy charges! CELESTIA! YOU HAD ONE JOB! ONE FUCKING JOB! AND YOU CAN’T EVEN DO THAT RIGHT!

Oh and just to add to the bullshit, we get brief, a very brief scene in which Scootaloo discovers how she is an orphan. You may not remember, believe me, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to, but Moxie was the cause of Scootaloo’s parent’s death.

“Scootaloo… I killed your parents.”

“FIVE ACROSS THE ASS!”

Yeah, that’s one way to tie up a loose end… I guess. Except for the fact, that it fucking doesn’t affect the story! There is no reason why Scootaloo should have been involved with Moxie’s murder spree. It’s just throwing it in because it’s a popular headcanon without establishing any rhyme or reason behind it. If you like Scootaloo as an orphan, fine. But give it a fucking point! Wouldn’t it have been interesting to see Moxie learn what kind of difficulties Scootaloo had to go through living in a foster home? With Moxie wondering if what she was doing was really worth hurting ponies that she hadn’t killed? Ones who she would learn to become close to? Wouldn’t it have been interesting to have Moxie talk to Scootaloo? Learn about how much she misses her mother and father and she wish she had gotten to know them better with Moxie having some kind of reaction?

But no! We get ‘Slice and Dice’ for the sake of satisfying gore fetishes.

So, the day is saved…. Mostly… The main six are dismissed without charge… even though they should be, but whatever… Twilight is merely banished from Ponyville so we can have a weak reason to have a sequel. (No, I will not be reviewing that!) And Moxie is finally executed for the crimes that she committed, ending this horrible character study as well as this horrible story!

I mean… holy shit! Fife… would you mind explaining why this fic fails on the levels that it does?!

This story is quite the laundry list of utterly incompetent storytelling. It has everything a story could possibly suffer from: repetitive scenes to the point of needlessness and blandness, superficial and one-dimensional presentation, characters acting unrealistically and in many cases directly opposite their own character, scenes that have no set-up and no impact on the plot, shallow characterization and shallower writing style, it takes too damn long for anything important to happen, it commits borderline plagiarism by reprinting events from the show it’s based on, it is pretentious and humorless, any jokes it attempts are just as hamfisted and unentertaining as the violence, the plot is practically swiss cheese, and that’s not even mentioning the worst element.

The worst element of this fic is simply the persistent dishonesty. It is dishonest about its intentions, and dishonest about the extent of its shock contents. It is totally dishonest with itself and its readers. It talks a big game about character studies and psychoanalysis, but absolutely none of these scenes imply anything about Rarity’s character outside of being a cartoonish parody of serial killers.

Hell, it’s not really even a character study about Rarity herself. If that were true, it would have deconstructed Rarity’s canon persona, how it would genuinely work in the real world, how it alienate others and isolate herself, how it would benefit others, how she would impact the world around her. Instead, it’s just some adolescent revenge fantasy pretending to be the author’s favorite character. It just amps up the dishonesty to unbelievable levels.

There is little evidence of any talent or effort put into the fic, and the only evidence in fact is that it’s several hundred words long. But it’s a story you can summarize in two words.

IT SUCKS.

***

“Well, that was horrible enough for me,” Critique moaned as he sat on a leather seat that was there only because I say so. It groaned the same way leather always groans under anypony’s weight.

“Oh, come now. Was it really that bad?” Fife sneaked over to Critique’s chair, popping his head around from the left side. Critique shot him a glare. Fife rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, yeah, it was.”

Critique leaped off the chair, trotting away from the tree of hanging headless things. “Yeah, next time, let’s not review the piece of shit and save me the trouble of having to put up with you.”

Fife gave a wide smile. “Look on the bright side. At least you aren’t dead yet.”

A booming crash came from the basement (that is also only there because I say so) as Equestrylvania burst through the floor, shrapnel scattering in all directions as the glowing unicorn hovered above the two stallions with a sinister smile, her red eyes piercing Critique, her hair a disordered mess of random strands sticking out of the locks. “Heeeeeeere’s Vania!” she howled with a wide grin on her face.

Fife facehoofed. “Dammit, I told you not to eat the Cheerios. You know how they make your powers all kooky-kabuki.”

Critique’s scream filled the air. With speed that defied logic, Critique’s legs took over his body, carrying him through the garden and into a grand ballroom. Past the piano and stage he ran, till he came upon a door with snakes engraved upon it.

The door refused to budge. Placing his forelegs tightly around the knob and his hind legs against the door frame, he pulled. Beads of sweat run down his forearms as his muscles bulged out. His teeth rubbed against one another with a struggling sound escaping from them.

Critique was tired. The door was a door.

With all his strength and all his power, he pulled at the door knob, knowing that his fate rests with his ability to open the door before him.

“It’s a push door, genius.”

He turned around to see Equestrylvania, her head tilted and her eyes squinting with hatred. Her black wings fluttered dangerously as her blood red aura rolled off her in clouds.

Critique placed himself back on the floor and pushed against the door with one hoof. The door creaked open, effortlessly.

He scoffed. “Pfft, like I need your help!”

Critique ran through the door. Then under the door. And over the door. And then into the door, getting sent back to his haunches with a splat.

“I hate magic…” Critique moaned, his scrunched nose distorting his voice.

Equestrylvania chuckled. “You know, you are mildly entertaining… when you aren’t busy trying to be something you’re not.”

Critique glanced around him frantically- like a foal first born from it’s mother womb, exploring the world for the first time- in a desperate search for anything he could use to save himself. Nothing was near the wooden barrier that now served as his only means of escape. All he had was his glasses, his scarf and...  

He looked down to his scarf, realizing that the rose he picked up from earlier was still there. He quickly picked the rose from his scarf and swung around, holding out the rose in front of Equestralyvania.

Suddenly, Equestrylvania’s eyes turned from their red glow to a gentle golden hue. Her mouth dropped almost instantly. A single hoof approached her chest, with a near-chuckle. A smile slowly appeared on her face. “C-Critique… I…”

Her speech broke off into sections. A pink glow began to radiate from her cheeks as she picked out the rose from Critique’s hoof. “I had not assumed you were so … well…” A giggle escaped her lips. “Thoughtful.”

She brought the rose to her nostrils and inhaled its sweet scent. “I’ve never been given a rose before.” A flush of embarrassment and, yet… something else appeared on her face. She turned her head slightly away, but the smile stayed. “You know, I may have… I had you all wrong.”

Critique stood, his flank at the door, his mouth agape and his eyebrow raised. Finally, he gave a smile. “Oh, that stupid thing? Yeah, I just found it in your garden.”

Silence conquered the room as Equestrylvania’s eyes widened. Her head turned slowly towards him, her smile flattening into straightened lips. “What?”

With a nod, the Critique spoke. “Oh, yeah. I picked it up on my way in. Thought if I was going to make the trip here I might as well make it worth it.” The words he spoke echoed in his own ears and mind, causing his heart to sink. Something shattered silently. He wasn’t sure if it was real or not, but he swore it came from inside Equestrylvania’s breast. His head slouched down, his eyes glancing off to the void, as if some unseen entity was watching. “Well, that kinda backfired.”

Each and every word, caused Equestrylvania’s hoof to grip tighter around the rose. Petals fled the bud of the flower as it blackened and wilted. Her face intensified. Sharpened teeth presented themselves like wolf to a lone foal, ready for its meal. The rose burst into ashes as her eyes returned to their blood red glow.

With a flick of her horn, a beam of energy merged from it, soaring straight at the Critique. He threw himself to the floor, his mane singed by the beam. The door behind him was crushed by the force of the beam, flowering forward then bursting into wood chip confetti.

Critique rose to his hooves and darted into the next room, which was a train car. The next one was under the ocean. There were many mysteries and many more puzzles beyond this point in the chase, but not enough time for us to discuss them. All you really need to know is that, somehow or another, Critique made it to the front door.

This place makes no fucking sense, he thought throughout the ordeal. A knife soared past him, digging itself deeply into the front door beyond him.

With a high pitched scream that rivaled Rarity’s, he made a mad dash for the door. Like a kamikaze pilot, he smashed his lanky body against the wooden obstacle. But the door refused to move. He pulled on the knob. But the door refused to move. Well, it was worth a try.

The only thing his mind conjured was to embrace his earth pony heritage and buck the door down, hard. Hard and with all the force he could muster.

Summoning all the strength an earth pony could muster, Critique bent his hind legs towards his body. Then, like a ballista releasing the power of a mighty bolt, his hind hooves hurled at the harty hurdle that halted his escape.

The buck was a buck that would have causing the true buckers to laugh him out of bucking school. The only thing his attempts accomplished was sending a burning shock throughout his entire body. Tears of pain slithered down his face as he withered to the ground.

“You are every bit as weak and phony as I thought,” Equestrylvania screeched. She stomped into the foundation, causing large cracks around where her hoof hit. “A worthless, piece of filth. All you do is bully others and make them feel horrible about the tiniest, little mistakes that they make! The tiniest mistakes that nopony else with any sense whatsoever would think twice about!

“Well, I’ve got news for you, Critique! You want to know why you can’t get anything published?! It’s because for all your talk of ‘Show, don’t tell’ and ‘correct grammar’, you don’t know anything about storytelling!”

Critique took a step back, his flank hitting the door. Glancing around for anything useful, he silently begged for Fife to have left a gun or a katana or a cream pie or something near the front door.

“Oh, and those stories you keep reviewing? I know why you pick on the less popular ones. Why you’re afraid to tackle the big ones? It’s because you feel powerless against them. You are powerless against the hundreds of fans those stories have and you fear retaliation.”

Equestrylvania leaned into Critique’s ear as he cowered to the door, pulling back to it as far as he could.

“It makes you feel good to attack somepony less popular than you. One that doesn’t have a large fan base to defend them. It makes you feel powerful to belittle them, doesn’t it?”

Critique glanced around him, beads of sweat pouring down his face.

Equestrylvania’s lips curled into a smile. Sharks’ teeth sparkled as they surfaced. “On the whole, I’m doing Equestria a favor.” Her horn began to glow as she closed in on Critique. He could feel her ice cold breath as it rolled on his face, and he could taste the sudden stench of death. He closed his eyes and turned away, begging for it to not hurt.

“EQUESTRYLVANIA!” Fife shouted. His voice had the air of a father’s authority and the volume of an explosion, and it cut into this sordid scene like a sword swing. Equestrylvania flinched at the sound, suddenly crumpling as Fife looked down at them from the ceiling. The red glow of Equestrylvania’s horn dissipated as Fife dropped from the ceiling to the floor.

“Let him go.”

Critique looked from Fife to Equestrylvania, gulping. Equestrylvania let out a scoff. “But Daddy, he deserves it!”

Fife shook his head and smiled. “That’s his author’s decision, not yours. It is not his time.”

Equestrylvania turned to Fife, looking up at him with shimmering gold eyes. It was almost disturbing how quickly she went from a killing machine to a whiny teenager. “Daddyyyy! Come on! I wouldn’t be hurting anypony important. He’s a failed writer who cares about nopony but himself!”

Fife lifted his creation’s chin up with one hoof. “I wouldn’t say he’s a failure. I suppose in this day and age of instantaneous gratification, an instant smash success is seen as a good thing. But the thing is, instant successes are the deadliest things to happen to an artist.

“One the one hoof, an instant success can balloon a writer’s ego to dangerous proportions that might damage his credibility. Do you think E.L. James is going to write anything after those Shades of Grey books? And whatever happened to Stephanie Meyer after she finished her Twilight series?”

Equestrylvania looked away, pursing her lips in thought.

“But on the other hoof, instant success can damage an author in other ways. Peter S. Beagle is never going to write another book even half as successful as The Last Unicorn, even if he tried. J. D. Salinger was discouraged by all the attention he got over Catcher in the Rye, and his output dwindled throughout the rest of his life.”

Equestrylvania cast her eyes down and sighed. Fife brushed a lock of hair from her face drawing her attention back to him.

“Producing a great work of art is the most important task of any artist. A work that slowly but surely grows more and more known is a work that will last through the ages.” He smiled.

Equestrylvania hugged Fife and smiled. “Thanks, Dad.” The two embraced each other. Silence overtook the whole room as the continued to hug. “Now, can I kill him?”

Fife’s joyous expression turned to a scowl. “Young lady, go to your room!”

Equestrylvania’s mouth dropped open. “Daddy, please! Just let me kill him!”

Fife pointed upstairs. “Room,” he commanded with a firm, booming voice.

Grumbling under her breath, Equestrylvania stomped up to her room. “You’re the worst Dad ever!” The slamming of a door echoed throughout the entire house.

Fife smiled and turned to Critique. “She’ll be fine. She gets a bit moody around this time of month.”

Critique scoffed. “Oh, really? I couldn’t tell.”

“You know… you and I have a lot in common,” Fife began.

Critique rolled his eyes and smiled. “Yeah, right. First off, I don’t live with psychos!”

Fife narrowed his brow. “Computer.”

A moment passed before Critique decided to open his mouth again. “Okay, point you.”

“You and I are both passionate about what we do. We both seek to better ourselves in all that we do. We both seek the success and joy of being a writer. And while one of us is closer than the other-”

“Wow, you just really love rubbing salt in that wound, don’t you?!” Critique interrupted.

“While one of us is closer than the other, we still keep going in the hopes that we will achieve something in our lives. Maybe it’s pointless. Maybe it’s all hopeless in the end. But how will we ever know, should we give up?

“We both work for something greater than ourselves. As critics, as writers, as ponies. And while it’s often an uphill slope, we persevere. Despite the failings that we may encounter, we realize that if we give into those failings, we will never find our potential.”

Fife’s words, however wise, echoed into silence, sinking deep into Critique’s brain. He looked up to Fife. Fife turned up to him and smiled. “Or maybe I was thinking of somepony else…”

Critique’s scowl retook his face. “Asshole.”

Fife let out a chuckle. “We’ll have to do this again sometime!”

“Not if I can help it!”

“Oh, before I forget,” Fife reached from under his wings to reveal a small brown bag. With his hoof stretched out, Fife gave a cheer. “The crumpets I promised.”

Without a word, Critique swiped the crumpets from Fife’s hooves and rushed out the doorway.

***

Critique made his way back to the library after his long trek. It was the last time he wanted to be anywhere near that mansion or those psychos. Well, at least, I got free crumpets out of it. He opened the door to his home and made his way to his favorite spot on the floor. The brown bag crinkled as he opened it. His mouth watered as he thought of his prize.

He looked inside the bag

and the bag

looked

at

him.

Hours later, after the moon was up, Critique sat in his bed, his eyes wide open. His entire body shook as he clenched his baseball bat tightly against him. The faces and their glowing eyes had long since gone. He could still hear their little feet scratching inside the Library walls. Under the floors. Under his bed.

Just outside his window, watching from the branches, a flock of crows sat. They cackled amongst themselves, watching Critique cower under his sheets like a frightened child and holding his baseball bat like it was his teddy bear. Critique would not get much sleep tonight, but the crows got the entertainment they sought.

***

Hey, guys. Spideremblembrony here. Just wanted to give a huge shout out and thank you to Mr. Brony Fife He was a great talent to work with on this review as well as the story elements for the prologue and the epilogue. A lot of what you saw from those points came from him. If you liked it and want to check out more, I will be putting links to several of his stories below so you can click on them and check them out. Also, if you would like to help me say ‘Thank you’ to Mr. Brony Fife, please click on the link above and give him a follow.

That’s all I’ve got for now. I will see you all next week. Take care.

No More Ponies

Equestrylvania

Pie Am Bread