Hoity Toity leaned forward and lowered his sunglasses just enough so that his friend could see his eyes. "I say, old chap, are you all right?"

Full Spectrum's head rose swiftly, his green wings fluffing in his alarm. "What? Oh, yes."

The fashion critic frowned before taking a sip of his tea. "Really, Spectrum? I'll have you know that my eye sees more than the taste of your clothes. Speak plainly, my friend."

Spectrum shifted, his eyes flitting about wildly. He couldn't have been more obvious if he'd put a sign on his forehead that read 'Help Me!' Even so, he wouldn't respond, his lips working frantically. He lifted his tea cup; it shook in his hooves. He raised it to his lips, stared into it, then promptly put it back on the table.

Hoity sighed and set his own teacup down, then pulled his sunglasses onto his forehead so he could level Spectrum with a proper stare.

"You've spent the entire night acting like a studio intern who mixed his powder blue with his non-photo blue and doesn't want to be caught. You invited me to your home, Spectrum, and I do not believe it was to share tea and extract."

He emphasized his point by flicking some ash from his poison joke extract stick into the ashtray between them; Spectrum's remained largely untouched.

Spectrum swept a hoof over his dark orange mane and gave a giddy laugh. His eyes were wide. "Am I that obvious, Toity?"

Hoity answered with a bemused frown.

"It's not like I can't handle myself, y'know." Spectrum's eyes drifted away once more. They kept going to a particular corner of the room. "I mean... I don't want to tell. But I do. I brought you here to show—tell—but I don't want. Should. I should."

"You sound confused," Hoity muttered. "And confusing."

"I know, I know." His friend reached up to rub his forehead with a grimace. He grabbed his tea and took a drink before his shaking hooves could spill any, then dropped it to the table with a clink.

At last he spoke. "Toity, I have found something. Something wonderful. It is at once compelling and commanding, and I... I feel an intense need to obey."

Hoity's eyebrows rose as he took a puff of extract. "It sounds more like a curse."

Spectrum leaned forward, and for a moment he stared at the table between them with wide eyes. "It is a curse, but it's a wonderful curse. I should show you, I really should. I don't want to—"

He jerked to his hooves so quickly his chair clattered to the floor, his face livid. "You can't have it! It's mine! It speaks to me!"

Hoity nearly dropped his extract stick and had to scramble to keep from burning himself. Before he could manage a proper response, Spectrum was sitting once more with his head in his hooves.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean... it makes me..." Spectrum shook his head violently. "I'm sorry, Hoity. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have asked you to come here."

"On the contrary—" Hoity moved about the table quickly and set a hoof to his friend's shoulder "—I'm glad you asked me here, Spectrum. We've been friends since college, old boy! I'll help you get through whatever it is you've become involved in."

"Help me?" Spectrum looked up at him, his face painted with misery. "I'm not sure I want to be helped. I just... I want to share. No, I don't... do. Don't?" He groaned and rubbed his head once more. "I wish it would leave me in peace for at least one night."

"Come on, up you go." Hoity helped Spectrum stand and pulled the chair up from the floor. As soon as Spectrum was back in his seat, he said, "Now talk to me. What is this curse that troubles you so much?"

Spectrum stared at his near-empty teacup. After a while he grabbed his extract stick and took a deep drag. The smoke came out of his lips in large, ungainly puffs. It didn't seem to help; the stick shook in his hoof.

"I can't," he said at last, averting his eyes. "Not yet. Not tonight. I thought I might, but... t-tomorrow. I'll feel better and stronger tomorrow."

Hoity studied Spectrum for several seconds. He was pale as a ghost, and still his eyes were flicking to that particular corner of the room. His mane, usually neat and slicked, was now wild and filled with split hairs. His suit, usually crisp, was coated in abysmal wrinkles that on any normal day would have made Spectrum feel faint from embarrassment.

At last Hoity sat back in his own seat. He stared at Spectrum, waiting until the pony looked him right in the eyes before asking, "Can't you at least give me a feel for it? Let me know what I'm getting myself into."

Spectrum sucked down a deep breath, his eyes never leaving those of his friend. His words sounded hollow as he spoke so very slowly. "It's like being in a cage of my own mind. It came quietly at first, hardly recognizable, and I made no attempt to deal with it. But the influence grew, and now I'm in a deep pit trying to claw out. Yet... the ideas."

His eyes lowered once more, a smile coming to his lips. "It talks to me, Hoity. It fills me with such terrible, wonderful ideas. I am repulsed as much as I am enthralled! I don't want to do what it tells me, but at the same time I want to do it so badly. Half of my mind is screaming for release, but it's so... wonderful. Share it. It wants me to share it, share it with you. I can't. Can. Can't. So pleasing horrible pretty nasty wonderful."

Hoity's eyes widened at his friend's erratic tones. He almost sounded…

"Calm down, Spectrum. Calm down."

"Calm? Calm is for the unenlightened." Spectrum's eyes met his once more, that odd smile becoming a foul grin. "I'll show you. It wants me to stop don't think it think it don't—"

"Spectrum!"

Hoity banged his hoof to the table.

Spectrum jumped as if hit by a jolt of electricity. He blinked a few times, shook his head... and set it in his hooves. "Goddess, Hoity, what is wrong with me?"

Hoity leaned forward to touch Spectrum's hoof. "Have you spoken to anypony about this? Seen a doctor?"

Spectrum didn't move. "And tell them what? That I'm being compelled to do things? Gruesome, wonderful things? They'll think I'm mad. M-maybe I am mad. I shouldn't have looked. Oh Goddess, Hoity, why did I look?"

Hoity moved about the table once more and hefted Spectrum to his hooves. Spectrum hung limp like a deflated balloon, hardly able to stay standing.

"I'm glad you called me, old boy. Come, it's late. I'll see you to bed. I can stay up with you if you'd—"

"No." Spectrum shook his head slowly. "No, not you. It wants me to share it with you. I can't. I shouldn't. No..."

"Come to bed, Spectrum." He guided the pony out of the lounge. "I'll take the next room over. In the morning we'll get you some help. How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know..." Spectrum heaved a shuddery breath. "Can't... don't... was it yesterday? Last week? When did I first look? Want to share... don't look. Don't look."

"I won't look," Hoity offered, willing to say anything just then to calm his friend down. "I promise, Spectrum, I won't look."

Hoity stared at the ceiling, Spectrum’s erratic behavior occupying his thoughts. He’d never seen the stallion so spooked, and he’d known Spectrum since they were being nearly bored to death in old professor Nip Tuck’s ‘Fashion Legacy’ classes. He’d always been a confident, brave character. The individual sleeping in the next room wasn’t the same pony by any stretch of the imagination.

He’d sent a letter to Dr. Crane, their shared physician, but he knew the old unicorn wouldn’t arrive until morning. For now, all Hoity could do was wait… and fret. Spectrum had tossed and turned for hours, and more than once he’d gone to stand outside Spectrum’s door and listen. He’d heard the stallion mumbling in his sleep, but any attempts to wake him were fruitless, partially because he’d locked his bedroom door.

Hoity rested on his side, his hoof toying absent-mindedly with the silk sheets. His eyes traced the edge of the massive bed, then went to the grand window with its beautiful wooden inlays. He noted the tall wardrobe made from exquisite – and exquisitely expensive – eastern cherry. Every item in the room was a masterpiece, hammering home the fact that Spectrum was by no means in any kind of financial trouble. He’d never married either, with no family to call upon.

What had changed? Where was Spectrum’s mind slipping to? When he’d asked Hoity to come over for dinner, this wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting.

The door creaked open.

Sitting up, Hoity looked to see a figure in the shadows. He recognized his friend instantly.

“Spectrum, you shouldn’t be about.”

Full Spectrum remained silent, slowly stepping into the room. He held what appeared to be a thick book in one hoof. He stared at Hoity with wide eyes, lips firmly closed in a thin line.

Hoity slipped off the bed, ears low. “Spectrum?”

Spectrum thrust the book forward with shaking hooves. “I have to show you.”

Slowly, uncertainly, Hoity took the book in both hooves. He examined its worn leather cover, but it held no title. He turned it to look at the spine, also devoid of words or even an author’s name.

He tilted his head at Spectrum and raised the book a little. “What is this?”

“It’s incredible.” Spectrum’s words came quickly, wildly. “Shows me. So much. Share it, it tells me to share it. With you. I want don’t with you.”

“You’re rambling, again.” Hoity patted Spectrum’s shoulder and tried to usher him for the door. “Let’s go back to bed.”

His friend didn’t seem to hear him; he pushed the book towards Hoity’s face with a grin, his eyes still disturbingly wide. “Show it. Show it! It’s wonderful. Remember your promise show it look don’t look. In my head, always in my head, can’t ignore it. How it whispers, yes, sultry sweet lace in my brain.”

Hoity glowered and stepped back, observing as Spectrum continued to point and ramble, presumably about the book. He had no idea what was going on, but if it would calm the stallion down…

“Very well, cease your nonsense! I’ll give it a look.”

He sat and, holding the book up with one leg, opened it. As with the cover, there was no title or author. There wasn’t even a prologue; from the very first page, the words came to him. He looked over the first paragraph.

Sunlight shining in the eyes. The rainbows splay out from the puppet. Glorious, it’s perfectly glorious. Watch how the baker bakes, how the pyramid slices, how the dream man claws. A wonderful tapestry of red ribbons erupting from the freshly opened sleeve. Piles in the grass, on the bedsheets foaming with soap. Your fellows dance in the blinding light, their tails are paintbrushes. The bed becomes a canvas for the ribbon, becomes the ribbon, the puppets lie still. Their cords are cut. Take the cords, wrap them about your legs.

Hoity shook his head, mind aching from the sheer nonsense of what he was reading. He hardly noticed Spectrum slipping something out from beneath his wing as he flipped a few pages. No pictures, just lines upon lines of constant, rambling insanity in different hoofstyles. What in Equestria’s name was this?

“Spectrum, I must admit to being muddled.”

Spectrum’s voice came to his ears, low and slow. “You broke your promise.”

“My promise?” Hoity looked up with a frown… then felt his eyebrows rise at the sight of a long kitchen knife in Spectrum’s hoof. “Spectrum?”

“You looked.” Spectrum was still as stone, his expression unreadable in the dark. “You promised. You looked.”

“You asked me to look.” Hoity closed the book as his eyes flitted nervously to the knife. “Why do you have that knife?”

“I want to share it,” Spectrum replied, a slow smile coming to his lips. “It wants me to share it. Can you see it? You can. The bright, the light, the glorious sights. Do you see it in me? I see it in you.”

Hoity stood, very slowly. His stomach did tiny flips and a very real worry began to invade his mind. This wasn’t his friend… it couldn’t be. He set the book down on the bed and reached a hoof forward, aimed at Spectrum’s chest. “Now… everything’s fine, old boy. I can see it, okay? Just… give me the knife.”

Spectrum’s grin grew even wider. It was demented and filled Hoity with a certain dread. “You can see it?”

“Yes, I can see it.” Hoity worked to keep calm as he gestured invitingly. “The knife, Spectrum. Look at me, give me the knife.”

Those big, wild eyes lowered, the knife came up. Spectrum examined the blade as if it were a work of art, that hideous grin never fading. “This isn’t a knife. It’s a tool.”

Hoity paused, eyes going to the knife, then to Spectrum’s awed face. “A tool for what?”

Spectrum’s head rose, his eyes locked with Hoity’s. The grin faded.

“I thought you said you could see.”

A moment of tense silence passed between the stallions; Hoity, holding perfectly still and on alert, and Spectrum, abruptly solemn.

Without warning, Spectrum lurched forward. Hoity jerked sideways, shouting as the blade was buried in his shoulder. He cringed and held his hoof to the blade, but Spectrum kept it in place as he gazed with those monstrous eyes.

“See it flow,” Spectrum whispered in Hoity’s ear. “It’s a fountain, a beautiful, lovely fountain of ribbons! I’m sharing it with you. Isn’t it wonderful, my friend? Isn’t it wonderful?”

He pulled back, and the knife came out smoothly. Hoity fell back against the bed and clutched at the wound with a shaky hoof while gasping for air. He gaped up at the pony who used to be his friend.

Spectrum rotated the knife through the air, his eyes tracing the movements as that grin slowly came back. Blood trickled to the wooden floor.

“Drip drip. Drip drip.”

Spectrum raised the knife high, examining it like a trophy. “So bright, so brilliant. You must see it. See it. Share it. Love it.”

Hoity lifted himself up, though his legs shook and his heart hammered in his chest. He stared at the blood on his hoof, then at Spectrum. “W-what happened to you?”

Spectrum’s hoof lowered, his eyes snapped to Hoity’s. “You don’t see it. I have to share. Why don’t you see it?”

“See what?”

“More.” Spectrum raised the knife and approached, a frown on his face. “Maybe you need more. Share it. See it.”

Hoity shouted and climbed backwards onto the bed, kicking at Spectrum as he struggled to get away; Spectrum slashed, his knife nicking Hoity’s leg. He climbed on top of the bed in pursuit.

“More. More. Look at it. More.”

“Get away from me!”

Hoity’s hoof touched air and he fell over the edge of the bed in a heap. He rolled onto his back and looked up just in time to see his assailant’s face appear over the sheets. His panicked kicks were just in time to catch Spectrum’s face and leg; the knife went flying and blood spurted from the stallion’s muzzle.

Hoity crawled away as Spectrum reeled from the blow. His mind screamed at him to flee, and he wasn’t about to argue! He picked himself up and limped around the bed as fast as his three good legs could carry him. He opened his mouth to call for help, but his words were reduced to a cry as he was tackled from the side.

“Spectrum!” He rolled onto his back and kicked, fighting to keep the pegasus’ hooves at bay. “Spectrum, it’s me, Hoity! For the love of Celestia, stop!”

“No more tool.” Spectrum was once again ignorant of his pleas. “Hooves are sloppy, but work.” He managed to work his hooves past Hoity’s frantic kicking and pressed them against the prone stallion’s throat. “There’s pretty yellow yolk in this one. Squeeze it out!”

Hoity gasped as he found his air passage blocked. He pulled at the hooves, but even his adrenalin couldn’t make up for the wound in his shoulder. He gazed up with moist, begging eyes as his lips worked soundlessly.

“Don’t you see it?” Spectrum’s horrible grin returned. “The beauty, the glory, the joy! See what you give me, oh delightful puppet. Feel my love, for I love you so much!”

Hoity tried to scream, to beg, to cry out, to utter any sound at all, but it was a pointless endeavor. His chest heaved as his lungs fought for air. His eyes rolled about, to the bed, to the door, to the ceiling, to the face of his attacker. He was about to die, and he didn’t even understand why.

His head shifted, almost unintentionally, and his eyes locked on the book. It had fallen on the hardwood floor, open and innocuous. For a few desperate seconds, Hoity gaped at it. His blood pounded in his ears; his mouth opened and closed like a fish; his legs fought with weakening strength for freedom, but his eyes remained on the book.

He couldn’t look away. He thought he could see something… just the tiniest hint of a light…

The knife. It was right there.

Hoity’s hoof moved on instinct, clutching the blade’s handle and thrusting. The weapon plunged into Spectrum’s left side, sliding neatly between the ribs under a wing.

Eyes bulging, a gasp flew from the would-be murderer’s lips, but he kept his hold.

Hoity stabbed again. And again. And again. He was distinctly aware of the weak resistance the flesh made for him, of the warm liquid dripping onto his chest. Tears welled in Hoity’s eyes as he kept thrusting the blade over and over, his movements weakening as the hooves around his throat refused to release.

But then Spectrum collapsed on top of him, the grip weakening at last. The knife clattered to the bloody floor and Hoity sucked in a long, eager breath.

Seconds passed in the dark. Hoity’s chest rose and fell in a steady, heavy rhythm as he gaped up at the ceiling with unseeing, wide eyes. Through the pounding of the blood in his ears he could make out Spectrum’s slow, ragged breaths.

One last whisper came from the demented pegasus’ lips: “Wonderful.”

Spectrum went still.

Hoity lay there for the rest of the night, staring blankly beneath his friend’s seeping body as his fractured mind sought to make some semblance of sense out of what just occurred.

“Mr. Toity!”

Hoity jumped, coming out of his trance to find himself staring into magenta sunglasses surrounded by a white mane. “W-what, yes?”

Photo Finish lowered her sunglasses to peer at him with her piercing indigo eyes. “You zoned out on me again, darling. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Oh… yes, sorry.” He shook his head before offering a weak smile. “Sorry, Finish. I didn’t mean to wander.”

He turned his eyes to the studio, where assorted ponies were taking down props and models were making their haughty way to their dressing rooms. He winced as he realized he must have missed half the photo shoot.

Photo Finish continued to eye him from over her glasses, lips pursed in a deep frown. At last she pushed the sunglasses back to their usual position and smiled. “I understand, Mr. Toity. Lots of zings on ze mind, ja? You’ve been keeping busy zese last four monz, I know.”

Hoity tried to brush the hidden suggestion off with a dashing pose. “But of course I have! One must work hard to maintain reputations such as ours. I dare to think—”

He blinked as she thrust a hoof before his face. “Nein nein, I shall hear no more. You need a vacation, zis I insist!”

His jaw dropped, and this time it was his turn to stare at her from over his sunglasses. “A… vacation? Me?”

“But of course.” She nodded with that ever-confident expression she was so good at. “A little time for Hoity Toity vill do him good. ’Tis vhat I, Photo Finish, recommend.”

He chuckled and pushed her hoof back. “I think Hoity Toity is the one who decides when he is ready for a vacation.”

“Vhat is zis, a democracy?” Finish thrust her head back with a commanding frown. “Nein, I shall have none of it. Vacation, you, now.”

Hoity took a step back, a tiny fear creeping into the back of his mind at her insistence. “What if I don’t want a vacation?”

Finish promptly turned to the ponies in the studio and – with a sharp gesture of her leg – shouted, “Leave us now, you go! All of you, go, go.”

A low groan escaped Hoity’s lips; he really had no interest in having this conversation. He watched as Finish’s crew departed with characteristic haste while he fought to keep from fidgeting. His eyes roamed in every possible direction except Finish’s.

Photo Finish did something that very few ponies ever got the pleasure of witnessing: she removed her sunglasses. She sighed as she turned to Hoity with a concerned gaze. “Listen, Hoity. I get it, ja? You cannot vork your vay zrough zis.”

He offered a smug smile. “Work my way through what, my dear?”

Her lips pursed, her brilliant indigo eyes going sharp. “Hoity.”

Hoity turned away from that gaze, head low as he felt that familiar icy grip in his chest.

Finish sighed once more and sat next to him, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “It’s been four monz, Hoity. You’re not any better, you see? Hard vork von’t make it go avay.”

He trembled at her touch. “I know… but I don’t want to be alone. I keep seeing it, over and over again. I want to know why.”

“Have you spoken to nopony about zis?” She leaned a little closer, trying to look him in the eyes, but he wouldn’t match her gaze. “You’ve at least seen a doctor, ja?”

“And tell them what?” At last he was able to look her in the eye. “I don’t need a psychiatrist, Finish.”

She leaned back with a small pout. “Zhen vhat do you need?”

“I…” Hoity sagged and shook his head in defeat. “I don’t know.”

“Zen you take a vacation.” She nudged him with a hopeful smile. “Zere is nozing for you to lose.”

He fidgeted, yet again finding it hard to meet her gaze. Being alone at home was the last thing he wanted. “I suppose… I could travel somewhere.”

“Ja! Das ist gut!” Finish’s mane rocked with her enthusiastic nodding. “Visit family, visit friends, go to Prance, but do somezing, my friend. It breaks hearts seeing you so gloomy.”

“All right, I get it.” He smiled for her, a real smile this time. “I’ll take the advice of the fabulous Photo Finish and take a break. Know that I don’t do so easily.”

“Of course you vill, darling.” She put her sunglasses back on and shot him a winning smile. “Nopony disagrees viz Photo Finish!”

They parted ways, but not before Photo Finish made him swear to the Sisters that he would follow her instructions and take some time off. As hard as it was to believe, he was actually rather pleased with it. Hoity had a number of friends, but most of them were more like acquaintances. Finish was one of the half-dozen ponies he’d met who he legitimately liked spending time with, and her show of concern was touching.

Yet as he left the studio, he found himself confronted by an acquaintance of an entirely different variety. She was an earth pony with a cream coat and a mane that, after some inspection, he determined to be ‘denim’ blue. She had the odd, narrow eyes that was typical of the Everfree Isles, and they distinguished her to such a degree that he readily recognized her as one of Photo Finish’s crew. The young mare walked beside him, batting her eyes and offering a charming smile.

Hoity knew that look. He’d seen it in a hundred mares throughout his career, and had taken advantage of it on more than one occasion.

He feigned ignorance and offered a patient smile. “Can I help you, Miss?”

“Actually,” she said in a smug, sultry tone, “I was thinking we could help one another.”

Hoity glanced down a side street to hide his grin.

He wouldn’t be spending this night alone after all.

Every time Hoity got into bed with a mare from the Everfree Isles, he came out of the experience with one thought on his mind: that island nation’s overpopulation made perfect sense. In that regard, tonight was no different. But the mare in question? Oh, she was very different. Most who joined his bed were naïve wannabes clinging to an ignorant hope that putting out would net them a modeling gig.

Not Powder Rouge; she knew exactly what she was after and what she was getting into. The fact that he remembered her name was enough to let Hoity know she was somepony special. Confident, demanding, witty, determined and focused; if her qualities on a studio were up to par with her bedtime skills, this one might be worth a lot more than his usual ‘donation.’ For the first time in a while, he was actually considering pulling a string or two.

Yet even the nubile form sleeping next to him wasn’t fascinating enough of a distraction. Hoity found himself staring at the ceiling, not feeling very sleepy. He could feel it, a tiny temptation that nagged and pulled and teased at his mind. He clutched at his sheets, face firm as he fought the urge to climb out of bed. What was it that kept sticking to his mind so seductively?

Every night he’d been at it. He could almost see that malicious grin. Spectrum’s voice echoed in his ears, random and pointless and frightening… yet alluring. What had his former friend been trying to tell him? There was a dark suspicion in his mind, an idea that knowing was a scary thing.

Even so… he wanted to know.

At last Hoity could take it no longer; he threw off the sheets and crept his way out of the room.

The mansion was dark as he moved down the hall, the long shadows passing over his face. A half-moon shone through the windows, filling the world with enough light for him to see without a candle. He passed by the steps and entered his library, his legs moving almost without any thought on his part. The path came instinctually, Hoity following that infernal, familiar tug on his brain.

It was sitting in a corner shelf, innocuous among all the other tomes. Hoity didn’t know why he’d kept it, or why he’d not mentioned anything about it to the authorities. Maybe if he had they would have determined why Spectrum went crazy. Perhaps Hoity thought he himself could solve the mystery. He couldn’t be sure why, but now the thing was here in his library, untouched since that horrible night.

Hoity sat in the corner and stared at the book, as he had so many nights before. His hooves itched; his eyes traced the edge of the leather spine. He wanted to look. He didn’t dare, but he wanted to. Why did he want to? That strange urge in his mind was so insistent, so subtly demanding…

He should be in bed. He should be taking it easy, not staring at this book.

Yet stare he did, stare as the shadows gradually shifted with the moon’s slow, methodical ascension. He couldn’t move for his inexplicable fascination, couldn’t think but to fight the urge to open the book. Just like he did every night, Hoity considered throwing the damnable thing into a fireplace and striking a match. More than once he reached up with the intention of doing so, but every time a numbing fear would come over him and he’d lower his hoof from the shelf.

It was getting late. He knew it was getting late.

He should go to bed. He turned to do so…

…and abruptly found his hoof touching the soft leather. Hoity gazed at it, wondering how it had ended up there. He wanted to pull away almost as much as he wanted to follow through and take the book down.

Long seconds passed as he simply sat there, maybe minutes.

“Walk away,” he whispered to himself. “Just… just walk away.”

His hoof pulled the book down, and Hoity let out a small gasp. Long, slow breaths arose from his lungs as as he gazed at the leather-bound thing, which was heavy in his hooves. He couldn’t open it – he shouldn’t. It scared him, and he didn’t even know why.

Spectrum’s voice laughed in his ears as he fought for air…

The book opened. He flipped to the first page, his legs moving seemingly on their own in slow, methodical motions. His eyes flitted across the words…

“Sir?”

Hoity jerked awake, blinking and rubbing his eyes. His back ached and his mouth was dry as sandpaper. Slowly, grumbling, he sat up in his seat; his hoof just manage to catch the book before it slipped off his knee. “Yes… what is it, Hemphry?”

The servant stared ruefully at Hoity, lips set in what was coming to be a familiar frown. “You have a guest, sir. Miss Finish seeks a word with you.”

Hoity popped his neck with a small groan and stood up, carefully placing the book on the nearby stool. He glowered at Hemphry and considered telling him to send Photo Finish away; he didn’t want any interruptions, he’d already mentioned that. His eye passed over the book longingly… but then he thought of Finish.

She was the kind of mare who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“Very well, see her in.”

Hemphry bowed and left without a word.

Hoity took a moment to fix his mane in the nearby bathroom mirror. He realized he’d not touched it in almost four days.

Four days.

Had it really been that long?

“Hoity! Vhere are you? You have some explaining to do!”

He winced at the irksome voice and trudged back into the library. He flinched yet again as the morning sun pierced his eyes from the window. Perhaps he would order the shades drawn after she left…

“I’m here, Finish. Do tell me what kind of explanation I owe.”

She stood in the center of the room. When she turned to face him her scowl made him pause.

“Vhat are you doing in Canterlot? I zought I told you to take a vacation.”

He returned her scowl. “Do you see me working?”

Finish tilted her head and lowered her glasses to study him, her harshness fading. “You’ve been up to somezing, ja? You’re a mess, my friend.”

“That’s what happens when you spend a few days not caring.” His eyes lingered on the closed book behind her, but he jerked them away. “I’ve just been doing a lot of… reading.”

“Zis is not ze appearance of a stallion on vacation,” she pressed, stepping closer to examine him a little better. “Vhat is wrong viz you?”

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped back. “Here I am, doing my very best to follow your orders and relax, and you come to disturb me.”

She whacked him on the side of the head, not enough to hurt but more than enough to catch his attention.

“You vill not speak to Photo Finish in such a manner! Vhat happened to you? Zis is not ze Hoity Toity I know. Perhaps I should drag you to ze doctor myself if you are so stubborn.”

Hoity shook his head, trying to get the initial shock of the blow to fade. When he looked up he felt as if he were seeing an entirely different pony before him. “F-Finish? What…”

He turned away, his eyes going to the window. It was a bright, beautiful day out. Why did he think the sun so glaring a few seconds ago? “I… I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“Zat makes two of us.” Finish stepped up beside him and peered at his face. He shuffled his hooves under her scrutiny. “Zis is not going vell.”

“I—” He turned, about to snap at her again, but caught himself and jerked his face away. He set a hoof to his forehead and grimaced at the sick feeling in his stomach. He realized his hoof was shaking. “What… what is happening to me?”

Finish sighed and sat, shaking her head. “Vhen vone of my assistants said you vere still in town, I came immediately. I feared you veren’t doing vell. Clearly my suspicion vas correct, ja?”

“Clearly.” He gave her a fretful look, barely able to keep his eyes from shifting towards the book over her shoulder. “I thought I was doing fine, but now that you’ve arrived—”

She raised a hoof, her expression somber. “You still refuse to see ze doctor?”

“I’m not sick in the head,” he growled, but without conviction. “I’m just… trying to sort things out.”

Finish frowned, but it lasted only a second before shifting to a pleasant smile. “Zen come vith me. Ve’ll have dinner tonight. Fancy Pants is arranging a zing at a place, very posh-posh, cheer you right up. Ve even get to listen to ze opera. Das ist gut, ja?”

He fidgeted, unable to keep his eyes from flicking again to the book. “I’m not so certain. I mean, I do adore the opera, and anything put on by Fancy is bound to be a delightful soireé. Yet I don’t know that I’m up for leaving the house…”

Finish scoffed. “Nonzense, darling. Ze fresh air vill do you good.”

Hoity stared at her for a couple seconds, then slowly gained a smile. “You won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, will you?”

She grinned. “Vhen do I ever?”

That night the impossible happened: Hoity found one of Fancy Pants’ parties entirely boring. All night he pretended to be pleased to be there, smiling in the faces of mindless sycophants and offering the stray comment when necessary, but all he really wanted was to go home. Yet he didn’t dare, for he knew Photo Finish was watching him, even though she was pretending to enjoy the evening.

Hoity examined them all from a corner as he sipped on wine that was strangely not up to Fancy’s usual quality. The elite ponies strolled about in their garish clothes, chatting and acting all self-appreciative. A week ago Hoity would have been amongst them all, but tonight the sight of them made his stomach churn.

How had he not seen it before? Their pompous mannerisms, their arrogant thoughts veiled in honeyed words. It was all so hideously transparent, and Hoity wanted nothing to do with them.

Then there were the outfits. So bland, so obvious, so typical. Hoity realized that he’d been blind all these years. That mare in the red dress, he knew that dress, had actually given it high marks in one of his reviews. Now he scowled at it, his eyes taking in the tired angle of the skirt, the lazy stitching, the dull gemstones. How repulsive; what had he been thinking?

Even Fancy Pants didn’t hold his usual glamour, what with his overbearing silk suit and that hideous moustache. His once-charming smile was now oozing with deception. Lies. Every word on his lips, lies.

It was then that Hoity understood that he was better than this, better than them.

He blinked, thinking he saw something unusually bright. He peered through the crowds… then gaped at the green face staring through the rancid mob.

Full Spectrum stared at him, lips spread in a grin. Those eyes bored into Hoity’s mind like a menacing claw, and the world brightened.

Show them.

Hoity stepped back, his mouth working soundlessly as he saw it; beautiful, streaming colors. It was as though every object in the world had been touched by a rainbow. It was fascinating, it was—

“Hoity?”

He jerked out of his reverie, the colors fading in a flash of gloominess. He looked down to see Photo Finish holding his shoulder with a concerned frown.

“What?”

She leaned a little closer. “Are you all right? Vhat’s wrong?”

He blinked and looked down to discover that he’d dropped his wine, the red liquid streaking across the stones amidst shards of glass. His eyes widened slowly as the wine shimmered with some unknown light, the shards like brilliant diamonds that—

“Hoity, stay viz us.”

He shivered and looked up to find that everypony at the party was staring at them. His eyes traced the crowd, but there was no sign of the haunting image he’d seen.

“I’m sorry, I…” Hoity pressed a hoof to his forehead, which abruptly began to throb. “I didn’t mean to cause a commotion.”

“Do you need to zit down?”

Hoity shook his head, wincing at the pain the act produced. “N-no… I think I just need some air. I should probably go home.”

Finish’s frown deepened a touch, but she nodded. “Yes… Yes, perhaps you are right. Come, I vill bring you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“You do not argue viz me.” Though her voice was a whisper, her tone was harsh. He nodded his acquiescence and let her drag him away.

During the long and quiet walk home, Hoity found himself wondering just what had come over him. Why was he seeing Full Spectrum? He hardly believed in ghosts, but he may very well have just seen one. Was he being haunted for some reason?

He considered telling Finish what he’d seen, but decided against it. She was trying to take care of him, and despite his earlier anger – why had he been so angry with her? – he was truly appreciative. It wouldn’t do to worry her with this.

Depression and anxiety were one thing, but now he was seeing bucking ghosts.

He paused at his door, soon opened by Hemphry. Finish wouldn’t let him go without one last plea, “Go and see ze doctor. You are not vell.”

He sighed and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Maybe I will. To be honest, this is all getting a little ridiculous.”

Finish’s entire body sagged. “Ist gut to hear you say zis. You set ze schedule, und in a couple days you come see me und tell me all about it.”

“I will,” Hoity assured her. “Thank you, Finish. I know I’ve been difficult these past few months.”

She smirked and struck one of her classy poses. “Please, darling, ponies like ze two of us are supposed to be difficult. Now, off viz you, get some rest! I do not vant to see you until you have seen ze doctor, ja?”

As Hoity stumbled inside, Hemphry gave him a concerned look. “Shall I prepare a bath, sir?”

Hoity considered the option for a few seconds, noting how his shoulders sagged. “No… not tonight. I think I’ll be going straight to bed. Thank you, Hemphry.”

“Of course. Good night, sir.”

Hoity trudged his way to the stairs, head hanging low. The headache had been reduced to a mere shadow of what it had been, but it seemed determined to linger. A doctor… yes, he should see a doctor. First thing in the morning. He would—

He blinked as his body turned almost against his will at the top of the stairs. He slowly raised his head and realized he was facing his library door.

A distinct alarm came to his mind.

He slowly backed away.

Morning.

In the library.

Hoity stared at the book. He had been for over an hour, just staring. The urge to read it was so incredibly strong, just strong enough to outweigh his urgent desire to burn it.

His hooves reached forward. It was a slow, trembling motion. He told himself to stop, to ignore it, to walk away. His breath came in gasps as he struggled with himself. This book, this terrible, incredible thing... He wanted to scream, to call for help, but no sound would escape his lips.

His hoof touched the leather, and before he knew it he was sitting by the window and reading intently. He didn’t bother starting where he’d left off, instead opening to a random page and going over the contents with an almost feverish need.

They dance, they dance, see them dance, twirling and whirling like marionettes. Ribbons from their wrists. Ribbons from their necks. They dance, they dance. I see shimmers, you see shadows. We see the same. We are linked. We love them. They dance, they dance. Wonderful.

Wooden mouths open wide. Music. Hear the tone. Variation. Harmony. Concert, orchestra, symphony. All the ribbons, shadows, glimmers. We see them, how beautiful they are.

They dance, they dance.

Here come the puppets, their rainbows explosive. Eyes water. We cry, we love.

Share it. Share it and they will love. Love them, give them ribbons. Give them rainbows. Look through their windows, see their love. Do you see it?

I see it.

You see it.

Share it.

“Sir?”

Hoity’s head rose with a jerk and he found himself staring at Hemphry. “What? Can’t you see I’m reading?”

The older stallion shifted with a nervous glance at the book. “My apologies, sir, but I believe you wanted me to arrange an appointment with the doctor? I scheduled it for this afternoon.”

“Doctor?” Hoity thought back, wondering what the miserable sod was talking about. Then he remembered his brief conversation with Finish the night before and scowled. “No, I don’t need a doctor. Leave me be!”

“But sir, I—”

Hoity glared at him.

“As you wish, sir. Lunch should be ready in a few minutes.”

Hoity raised an eyebrow, then turned his attention to the old grandfather clock in the corner. He peered in mild disbelief at the black hands on that worn yellow clock face; it was just past noon. Had he really lost track of time so easily? He considered the situation, his eye roaming to the book open before him.

“No lunch for today, Hemphry.”

The insufferable stallion stood by for several seconds, fidgeting as he considered Hoity.

“Will there be anything else?”

“N-no… of course not, sir.”

“Then leave me be.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hoity waited for the door to close before diving back into the book.

“Sir?”

Hoity groaned and didn’t bother to look up. “What is it this time, Hemphry?”

“Sir… dinner is ready.”

Dinner? Hoity glanced at the clock and saw, to his shock, that it was well past eight o’clock. He stared out the window, amazed to see Canterlot enshrouded in darkness. “By the Sisters, this book is engrossing.”

“I’ll… take your word for it, sir.”

“Yes,” Hoity grumbled, holding the book a little close to the chest and peering at his coltservant. “Yes, you will.”

Now that he wasn’t reading, Hoity became acutely aware of the hunger pangs. He frowned and glanced between the book and Hemphry, who had an expression of true worry. What a pathetic simpleton. Did he think Hoity needed his petty concern?

Still, Hoity was indeed quite hungry… but he didn’t want to stop reading. The obvious choice would be to bring the book with him, but something told him not to do that. He wanted it here, in the library, where it wasn’t on display for all those greedy, untrustworthy servants.

Well, Hemphry was an ignorant commoner, but he was loyal.

“I’ll be taking dinner here, in the library,” Hoity said, turning back to his book. “Have a plate made and bring it here personally.”

“Of... of course, sir.”

Hoity didn’t even wait for Hemphry to leave before going back to his reading.

It was inexplicable: Hoity could have sworn he’d read through the book three times already, but he kept finding new material, pages of words he’d not seen before. At first he thought it was all rambling, but slowly, beautifully, he was piecing the puzzle together. There was meaning here, hidden just beyond his reach. If he could just find it, he knew something incredible awaited him.

Hoity was an intelligent pony, far more so than any other. He would solve the problem. Already he caught glimpses, signs of a light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes when Hemphry came in Hoity thought he saw that light in his coltservant. At other times he would glance up to think on a passage and believe, for just an instant, that the world had been composed of rainbows.

Oh, yes, something magnificent awaited him. He just had to peel back the layers!

He never left the library. His meals were brought to him, always and only by Hemphry. Once a servant girl tried it, and Hoity had erupted upon her with such fury that she’d left the room sobbing. He hoped Hemphry fired her.

When he grew tired he slept on the big couch in the corner. Always he kept the book with him, always he poured over its mysterious contents. Nothing could distract him, nothing could stop him!

He felt amazing just reading the maze-like contents. How would he feel once he solved the riddle?

Knowledge. That was what Hoity sought. He wanted to know, he needed to know.

Full Spectrum had been seeking it, Hoity was absolutely certain. But Spectrum had been a weak-minded, ignorant pony. He was nothing compared to Hoity’s prodigious abilities! He would solve it, oh yes.

He’d succeed where Spectrum had failed.

“Sir, you have a guest.”

Hoity looked up through his disheveled mane, glaring at his coltservant. “I thought I said no visitors! You shouldn’t even be here save to give me my meals.”

“Hoity Toity!”

He groaned as a familiar mare pushed past Hemphry. “What are you doing here?”

Photo Finish cracked her hoof over his head, a bit harder than usual. “Do not take zat tone viz me! You said you vould see a doctor, und yet I find you’ve spent all veek holed up here?”

Hoity rubbed his head and sneered. “I have no need for some shrink to talk about my dreams! I’m fine. Go away.”

“Nein.”

She jerked off her sunglasses and hit him with the full force of her powerful eyes. “Look at yourself, Hoity! You’re sick. I am trying to help you.”

He peered at her, his eyes roaming her form. “You are nothing but a nuisance. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly, zis is not so.” Finish grabbed him by the shoulders. “You are coming to ze doctor viz me, now.”

“No!” He shoved her back. She fell against Hemphry, who caught her, and they both stared with wide eyes.

Hoity stood up to glare at the both of them. “I don’t need your help, or you. Look at you, with your tacky outfits and ugly manecut. You’re a disgrace to all things fashion, Finish. I don’t know why I ever pretended to be friends with you.”

But Finish stood tall and pointed at him with her sunglasses. “Now I know somezing is wrong viz you. You love my style, you’ve alvays loved my style.”

“I was a foal!” Hoity threw up his hooves as he shouted. “I see it now, nopony in this town has any class. You’re all fashion ignoramuses! I want nothing to do with any of you. I have important work to do, and I can’t do it with all these Celestia-be-damned interruptions!”

“Hoity!” She pressed a hoof to his shoulder, her eyes pleading. “Lizen to yourself. Zis is not—”

He snatched her sunglasses from her and shoved her away once more. Before she could recover, he threw the ugly things to the floor and stomped, shattering them.

Silence filled the library. Photo Finish stared. It wasn’t a wide-eyed gaze of alarm, but a calm, depressed look of observation. There was pity in her brilliant indigo eyes.

Hoity trembled, his teeth bared.

“Get. Out.”

For a couple seconds Finish maintained her gaze. Hemphry, his hooves on her shoulders, looked between Finish and Hoity as if not sure what to do.

At last, Finish stood tall and brushed herself off. “Very well, Hoity, I shall go. Do not zink I von’t be contacting somepony about zis. Please, zink about zis. If you don’t act, I vill do it for you.”

She left without a backward glance.

Hoity turned his glare on Hemphry, who was sitting back and wringing his hooves in a pitiful display. The sight almost made Hoity lose his lunch. “You too. Get out.”

“S-sir… I—”

“Out!”

Hemphry fled, the door slamming closed.

Hoity seethed for several seconds, but slowly relaxed. He didn’t need them, he didn’t need anypony. He was fine. All he had to do was—

He paused, staring at the book that was already in his hooves. His mind crept over what he’d just done, what he’d just said. Slowly, his eyes turned to the shattered sunglasses on the floor. He could see that concerned, almost desperate look on Finish’s face. He wanted… he wanted…

To read.

No, to go to her.

No, he needed to read.

But Finish was his friend…

He didn’t need friends!

Who was he kidding?

He needed to read!

His hooves shook as sweat beaded on his brow. He let out a scream and threw the book against the wall. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he turned and bounded for the door, but when his hoof touched the knob he couldn’t turn it.

He stood there for several seconds, willing himself to open the door. His hoof began to shake again.

“W-what’s happening to me?”

Gritting his teeth, he clutched the doorknob with both hooves. “Open it, Hoity. G-get away. F-Finish… Hemph-phry…”

Hoity sank to his knees and rested his forehead against the wood, sobbing. His eye went to the book, barely visible behind a shelf. He couldn't force his eyes from it. No matter how much he willed his legs to function, even as his entire body trembled with effort, he couldn’t open that door.

“H-help… Finish… I’m s-sorry…”

His body was weak. He slumped to the floor, but he continued to clutch at the doorknob. He had to get away, he knew he did. That horrible, beautiful, terrible book… He knew Spectrum had…

Spectrum was a foal! He couldn’t solve it.

No… It wasn’t his fault. Spectrum was—

Hoity was smarter than him! Better.

He wasn’t. He had to get away…

Hoity thought he heard a giggle. His heart pounding in his chest, his lips dry, he slowly turned his head to the window.

Spectrum was staring through it, teeth bared in a hideous combination of malice and glee.

A frail whinny rose from Hoity’s throat. He shook his head with a sob. “W-what do you want from me…?”

Spectrum’s lips moved slowly, mouthing two simple words: Share it.

“Share what? I don’t know what you’re asking.”

Share it.

“Go away…” Hoity turned back to the door – his hooves still clinging to the knob – and buried his head in his legs. “G-go away. Go away. Go away. Go away!”

His eye went to the book, its leather cover taunting him. He bit his lip, shaking his head violently…

He was crawling, scrambling across the floor on his knees. Small droplets of tears formed a moist path behind him as he reached the book and hurriedly picked it up.

Hoity didn’t bother to get off the floor.

He just read.

It was all there, right in front of his face. He knew he had it, but it just… wasn’t… there. Everywhere Hoity looked, he saw the signs; a faint glimmer in that corner, the tiniest touch of color around that table, that hint of ribbon poking out of the windowsill.

He needed a key. He didn’t know what that key was, but he had to have it. He’d roamed his entire mansion – which by now was empty of all servants – seeking out inspiration that would let him breach the last mental barrier.

It was elusive.

Frustratingly, infuriatingly elusive.

It was almost maddening!

Spectrum was around every corner, peering in through windows, grinning from under tables, laughing in the wine. His old friend was taunting Hoity for not being able to solve the last piece of the book’s puzzle. If only the bastard would leave him alone!

“Mr. Toity?”

His ears twitched, he ground his teeth in frustration; how many interruptions was he going to have? He raised his head to look around, realizing he was in his lounge.

“Mr. Toity, I know you’re in here!”

He scowled at the open door. So the pony hadn’t found him yet. Maybe if he could close the—

She appeared, and his eyes widened. She stood in the door, her lips set in a stern frown. Her body was so dull it made him sick to his stomach, but her eyes! He could see it, so much color, radiating out like a million brilliant jewels!

It was there, the key. If he could unleash it, the secrets would be his!

“Goddess, you look like crap.” Powder Rouge peered at him with a snobbish sniff. “No wonder your staff left the place.”

Hoity needed to keep her around, at least for long enough to figure things out. But how?

He forced a smile to his lips. “It’s been a bad week.”

“Right.” She shook her head with a scowl. “And here I thought you might be useful to me, but no, you’re just like every other stallion. Looks like I’ll have to—”

“How did you get in here?” It was the only thing he could think of to say.

She rolled her eyes. “The front door was unlocked.”

“I see.” Dammit, her eyes were so beautiful! Blue, pink, green, yellow, purple! He had to get it out of her…

His eyes shifted; Spectrum was there, just at her side. The phantom’s grinning lips worked: Show her.

Yes… yes, that was it. He’d see it if she did.

“I can see you were a waste of my time,” Powder grumbled, turning for the hall. “I’m gone. I’ll find some other stallion worthy of my good graces.”

“Wait!”

She paused with a groan and glared at him. “What?”

He raised his forelegs in a calming gesture, slowly moving forward. “If you want to go, that’s fine, but let me show you something first.”

Powder sniffed and flicked her ugly mane. “Unless it’s going to kickstart my modeling career, I’m not interested.”

A genuinely pleased smile turned the corners of Hoity’s lips. “Ms. Rouge, if my theory is correct, then you will shine brighter than the sun.”

She blinked, her lips parting in a small ‘o.’ Her eyes roamed up and down his form. “You have my attention.”

He approached, and she backed away with a sneer.

“When was the last time you bathed, Mr. Toity?”

Hoity had far more important issues on his mind. He walked into the hall and made for the stairs. “Come, come, it’s this way. I’ll share it, you’ll love it!”

Bouncing from hoof to hoof, he led her along. Powder followed with great hesitancy, and he feared she might flee. She was his little bird, and he had to treat her delicately. He wouldn’t press her: that might spur her flight, and he needed what she had. He needed it desperately.

“Come on, little puppet,” he cooed at the top of the stairs. “You are going to shine, to glisten, to glimmer. Beautiful, it will be beautiful!”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this,” she confessed, pausing halfway up the staircase.

He had to fight to contain his grimace. “You had no difficulty joining me up here before.”

She frowned and turned her face away with a haughtiness that almost made him gag. “Teat for tat: I was expecting you to come through for me by now. This isn’t some trick to get me back in your bed, is it?”

She was so repugnant! How was it that she held the key to his glorious success?

No, once she saw, once he helped the brilliance escape that loathsome body, she would be as beautiful as he was!

“We’re not going to my bed. No, no, the bed is for fun. This is business, very important business. It must be you, don’t you see? Come on, it’s in the library.”

She hesitated a moment more, but at last continued up the stairs. He didn’t wait for her, for in her ignorance she seemed unwilling to come close. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to peel away that ugly layer and reveal the radiance within those eyes!

He hurried into the library, snatching the book from its cushioned altar. He turned to see that she had followed him, fidgeting in the center of the room.

“Here!” His hooves shook as he presented her with the book. “The secret is here. We must uncover it. Together, we can become brighter than even Celestia!”

Powder sat and took the book, frowning at its delightful leather cover. “A book? This will let me become a famous model?”

“Yes!” He fidgeted and gestured hurriedly. “Read it! It holds the information, you need only unlock it. It tells everything, is everything! Read it, read it now.”

She turned the book about in her hooves before sighing. “I’m not sure if you’re a genius or a loon. Well, here it goes…”

The book opened.

She peered at its contents.

Hoity watched her eyes, grinning from ear to ear as his heart raced. This was it, this was what he’d been waiting for! She would figure it out, she would help him achieve more greatness than he’d ever dreamed! A companion, somepony who at last understood what true beauty really was.

Seconds passed. Powder said nothing.

Hoity glanced at the clock.

A deep frown met Powder’s lips. It matched her eyes. “What the buck is this?”

The joy faded. Hoity stared at the shimmer in her eyes, a brightness that refused to budge from its prison.

She… she didn’t understand.

“Mr. Toity, I’m starting to think that maybe you need to see a doctor.”

He bowed his head, an intense weariness overwhelming him. How was he going to unlock the secrets now? He couldn’t very well force it out of her.

...could he?

Hoity’s head jerked up. He saw the rainbow-like glistening in those eyes, the way it swirled and pressed against its confines.

Yes… it needed to be freed. It was trapped. He had to show it.

“Mr. Toity—”

“Don’t stop,” he pressed, tapping the book as he moved around her. “I promise, give it a few more paragraphs. You’ll see it.”

The fireplace. The poker. Yes… yes, that would do the trick. He lifted it up, the iron comfortable in his hooves, the weigh pleasant.

Share it.

He turned about; there was Spectrum, grinning from in front of Powder. She was so busy reading that she didn’t notice him.

Share it.

Share it.

Hoity came forward, raised the poker…

“This is all nonsense.”

Powder turned about with a glower. Her brilliant, incredible eyes locked on him. They went wide, windows into a blessed realm of light and music and joy!

He barely heard the thwack of the iron against her jaw. She fell, her scream piercing and loud. He came forward, raised the weapon for a second strike.

She dodged, barely. She crawled backwards, miraculous eyes shining, beckoning. She tried to say something, but her jaw had been broken. Blood dripped from the gash beneath her lips.

The poker came down again; she raised her hooves to take the blow. She grunted and grabbed the weapon, and for a moment they struggled. Hoity’s breath came in eager gasps, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Show it. I have to show it.”

He jerked the weapon away; she kicked him in the cheek. He laughed at the pain and brought the poker down. Thwack, it struck her shoulder, the barb near the tip digging into her flesh.

Powder screamed. It was beautiful, music to his ears, the first sign of the greatness being unleashed!

“Show it. I see it, in your head,” he whispered.

She reached up and pulled him close, her forelegs wrapping tight about his throat. He felt his breath robbed from him, tried to pull away. He saw the fury, the brilliant fury of the windows in her head. He loved them, had to open them!

He raised his hooves, repositioning the poker and drove the blunt bottom down on her skull.

Powder’s head snapped back, smacking the hard floor. She grunted – a less refined but no less delightful note – and loosened her hold.

He saw it. For the first time, he truly saw it! Ribbons, ribbons flowing from her mane where he’d struck her. He touched it and released an erotic moan; it was so delightfully warm, so fragrant to his nostrils! He needed more…

He straddled her, giggling at the way she gazed up at him with drowsy eyes. It was such a funny expression that he couldn’t help laughing, his head whipping back to let out the joyous sound! He laughed and laughed, laughed so much his jaw hurt.

She shifted, tried to crawl out from under him. He laughed at that, too.

Then he brought the poker down.

Again.

Again.

Again!

She squirmed, she raised her legs, she screamed. Glorious, the music was so glorious, an instrument unlike any he’d ever heard. This was it, this was the key. He was letting it free, with every blow it was a little closer to liberation!

The cracking of bone sent joyous shivers down his spine.

The pitiful sobbing played with his ears like the softest velvet.

Every thwack was a drumbeat, slowly replaced by the moist, squishy sounds of failing flesh. There were so many ribbons, ribbons adorning her body, ribbons streaming from his paintbrush! They covered him in their warm embrace, filling him with so much love it threatened to burst his brain.

Then, as the puppet’s movements slowed, the rainbow came. A brilliant, blinding flash that engulfed him and filled him with such insurmountable joy! It burst from the puppet’s mouth, the eyes, the open wounds like a flame desperate for release. He leaned back and thrust his forelegs wide, embracing it. It was glorious, it was immaculate, it was… it was…

“Wonderful.”

Author's Notes:

My thanks to Cerulean Voice for editing and RainbowBob for prereading.

Wonderful was inspired by two entirely different stories: The Book by Margaret Irwin, published 1930, and The Genius of Assassins by Michael Cisco, published 2002.