To understand the present, one must learn about the past. Let me direct you to this 1000 word story that will give you just that.

Jagged walked down the quiet, clean road, humming to himself; his lackluster mane and fur absorbing the surrounding lights that lit the city. Occasionally, another pony would brush by him, gray fur on gray fur-a tentative glance or a friendly nod-before going his or her own way in the mostly empty streets of Avalon. Avalon the domed city, Avalon, Jagged’s home. The roof far above him-the Skybox it was called-was lined with light. It was still Lights On… he had time.

He picked up the pace and promptly stopped humming as he drew nearer to the Imperfection-the only imperfection of the city that he knew of-that spot in the Dome where there was nothing but blue. Blue. He didn’t know why he called it that, but it just felt right. It was deep, reflective, and yet energetic in a grounded way.

It was hard to reach though, the Imperfection. He had to climb up a ladder he’d placed to hop the fence into the scrap yard, and then feed the dog with a slab of processed chow so he wouldn’t get mauled, but this was routine now, and the amount of effort always paid off. Sometimes, he’d see white, which would disappoint him because black and white was all the city was; white buildings, black streets. But then often enough he’d see pure, untainted blue. Wonderful blue.

As he arrived at the fence, he levitated the stainless steel ladder out from behind a pile of discarded metal and hardware, brushed whatever flecks had settled on it over Lights Off, and propped it against the fence. Without a second guess, he climbed the makeshift and fell safely atop a worn mattress on the other side. Just as he was getting up, the low growl from the scrapyard dog started, and the burly beast rounded the corner. When he smelled a familiar pony, however, his growling cut off and he hurried over, nudging Jagged’s hoof in a gesture that could only mean ‘feed me’.

“I’m on it boy,” Jagged said, flipping open his saddlebag to grab the treat. “You ought to stop taking bribes so easily! I remember the time when you actually gave me a bit of a scare. The guard you once were!”

In a playful gesture, Jagged raised a hoof and nudged the beast. He fell over as if he’d been bucked. In a rather sudden fit, the unicorn felt gloomy.

“Well, join the crew. I was never a guard, but, well, you know. Curiosity kills us all. I hate questioning, but now it seems as though it’s all I do.” Suddenly, Jagged’s tone was morbid “I’ve broken away from the mold, boy, and I’m still deciding if I like it or not.”

Lowering his ears, the unicorn made his way to the spot he’d cleared. Months ago, he’d placed a similar mattress there, as it was far more comfortable lying on that, than the ground of the scrap yard. Closing his eyes, Jagged tipped his chin up and at where the Imperfection would be.

He liked teasing himself. Looking up for the first time that day, or week, was half the fun, as it was a gamble- was the blue tinted with white, or was it not? Taking a deep breath in, he let the world come back to light, and smiled brilliantly; the color was a solid blue, what joyous luck! Staring at that Imperfection always made him fall into reveries, and as expected, this time was no different.

He thought; thought about the city, how it was called Avalon by the Ponies of Old, and yet it seemed as though it was the opposite of a paradise- more so a containment chamber. He didn’t know what was outside the Dome, but the fact that he had inside of him the knowledge that there was in fact an ‘outside’, was a feat in its own. He was never taught that in school; for all the ponies of Avalon knew, the city was floating through empty space. He often wondered if he should bring somepony else out here to see the Imperfection as well, and yet the fear of accidentally making them question always deterred him. To question is to lose Avalon, to lose paradise; he’d thought he live in one till the day he found the Imperfection by mere accident. Curiosity kills.

But there was something else that doomed him to a life of skepticism- his necklace. In all reality, ever since he was given it he’d had endless urges and a dangerous curiosity; it was as if the simple jewelry piece was the sole catalyst in driving him to his prophesied revelation that the Dome was not everything.

But what is done, is done, and he knew that more than anything. He’d lost his mother; no point trying to bring her back. It reassured him some that as a final action, she’d handed the necklace down to him; on the contrary, she also doomed him to question- he was still deciding if he should hate her for that, or love her.

His father was an aristocratic stallion, an honest worker and a flawless patriot; not a good match, considering Jagged had lost all his patriotism. This city was full of lies, and yet he could never prove that fact. Lucky for him, he no longer lived with his father, as University had forced him to move out and get into residence. Everything happens for a reason, Jagged knew that, and he was grateful that it was only after he’d moved out,  that he found the Imperfection.

The dog whined and turned to look at something Jagged couldn’t see, his ears perked and swerved, picking up on the minute sounds that only a dog could hear.

“What is it, boy?” Jagged asked, his focus falling back to the white ground. “What…”

Before Jagged could ask again, the dog was off, barking at a hidden shadow that had entered the Scrap Yard; this was his signal to skitter. Casting a final tentative glance at the Imperfection, he galloped out of the yard, using the mattress and a bit of levitation to spring him over the fence and onto the ladder on the other side.

Descending it now, he quietly took down the makeshift steps and hid them back in the pile of scraps before turning tail and calmly trotting back home. As his heart-recovering from the shot of adrenalin that had been pumped into it in the initial flight-stilled he took a deep breath and began to hum again; it was an old foal’s rhyme, a calming little tune that his mother had taken the time each night when he was younger to sing to him. It would always make him drowsy; he’d lost track of the times he’d used it to put himself to sleep in residence. So maybe his mother had left him with something good.

It had been five minutes since the Lights Off warning, and he had about ten more before the darkness would settle and all the power would be cut until the following Lights On. He was on the home stretch, but wasn’t looking forwards to it; the ‘home stretch’ meant walking past the creepy old alleyway that was a mere rock’s throw from his dorm. It was so strange there, and often, he’d heard an odd grating noise.

And yet like everything else nowadays, it called to him, tempted him to explore and unravel its mysteries. Clenching his jaw, and loudening his humming, he passed by The Alleyway. Just as he was about to clear its gaping entrance, pitched in a perpetual gloom as looming towers on both sides blocked out the majority of light, he stopped and turned, suddenly frozen to the spot. In the half-light, he could make out a cold brick wall, white, but tarnished and scuffed as if somepony had been dragged across it.

What happened in there, what could ponies get away with? It was clear that no one who worked for the city was daft enough to enter, as it was clearly dusty; Avalon never left a street, walkway, or path dusty. So then why did he want to? It didn’t make any sense. And yet he felt his hooves move forwards, and with his heart in his throat, he began to canter. As soon as the shadow of the looming towers fell over him, and the temperature dropped, all of his resistance crumbled, and he allowed his body to pull him where it wanted. He’d already walked into the ally, done the unthinkable, so why turn back now?

He moved his hooves to feel across the wall, and his searching hoof outlined the nook where two bricks didn’t quite match up; were imperfect. There was a hole there, not too big, but there nonetheless, and the wall was warm. It was as though something had a home there, or somethings… A faded voice from somewhere came to him like a distant memory. It took him a second to clue in that there was nopony in The Alleyway, and that the exclamation had come from the other side of the wall. He could hear ponies on the other side of the wall! Just as he pressed his ear against the brick to listen in, the lights went out.

Panic set in. Numbing panic amplified by the fact that the world had been plunged into the darkness of Lights Off. Something brushed by his side and he shouted, springing away from the wall and making a blind dash in the opposite direction. From the corner of his peripheral, Jagged caught sight of two glowing orbs. His heart leapt and he lit his horn, initially giving off a blinding blaze until he calmed himself enough to regulate the amount of magic he was exerting. As the light dimmed and the surroundings several paces around him were lit, the thing with glowing eyes, with demon eyes if there was ever such a thing, fled, disappearing again into the darkness outside of his glowing dome of light. He didn’t wait around to see if it would return, exiting The Alleyway as if he was still being chased and full out galloping to his home, built into the side of the great Avalon Mountain with the rest of the dorms. Flying up the flight of stairs to his front door, he swung it open and then slammed it shut behind him, flicking on the house lights and dousing his own. Safe on the other side he collapsed, his heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest. He would never return to that horrifying alleyway.

Taking deep breaths in until he was stable enough to get back up, he walked over to his bed and flung the covers open, diving in and pulling them close to his sweat dampened shoulders. Using a careless bout of grayish magic, he flicked off the main lights and turned on his desk lamp. It was a simple thing, and yet it carried some sentiment. His father had given it to him, he’d joked at the time that it was to ensure Jagged didn’t have nightmares, as he was ‘afraid of the dark’; he wasn’t, but it was a funny comment anyhow.

Maybe he should be though, especially after what had just happened; the very thought made Jagged sweat, and he clutched his necklace close. It was strangely warm, and it felt nice against the bases of his cold fore-hooves. Relaxed again, he pulled his mother’s gift away from his hooves and levitated it with the pewter chain still around his neck to eye-level. The beautifully flowing design of a star, surrounded by smaller white ones came into focus, and he smiled. It was a sleek design, and when it wasn’t making him question or explore things he shouldn’t be, it gave him a firm sense of reassurance.

Maybe it was questioning that would finally free him from Avalon; this mock paradise of black and white or hollow ponies with animated expressions. Maybe, in a twisted sort of way, it was his ticket out. It had led him to the blue, given him that drive, or so it seemed, so could it not eventually allow him to touch that blue, be engulfed by it? Next Chapter: Jaded Estimated time remaining: 34 Minutes