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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Anagnorisis
smiled as she set down her pencil, looking at her story with pride. Miss Cheerilee would like it, for sure! And then, Twist thought, she’d feel much better.
She carefully put away her school supplies and made sure not to step on Snails, who was napping on the floor. Instead, she made her way to where the Crusaders were standing at the classroom door.
“I wrote a thtory about my aunts!” Twist proudly said.
Scootaloo and Sweetie shared a worried look.
“I can hear Mith Cheerilee out in the hall! Let’th open the door and—”
“No!” Bloom said. “She— Uh—” She trailed off into silence.
Scootaloo glared, but Scootaloo was usually angry. Sweetie was the one who finally spoke up. “Diamond Tiara is out there too, and we don’t want her to say anything mean.”
Twist could hear Diamond talking with Miss Cheerilee, alright. She shrugged, trotting back to her desk. Maybe she could draw a picture too? Of her and Sweetie and Scootaloo and Apple Bloom—
grimaced as she watched Twist walk away.
“We should tell her,” Scootaloo muttered.
Apple Bloom let out a sigh. “You think anything we could say would matter?” She thrust a hoof towards Snails’s body. “I don’t know where in her head she’s at, but it’s gotta be better than here. Let her be.”
“I’m more worried about us,” Sweetie said. She glanced at the barricaded classroom door, behind which they could hear the groans of their former teacher and classmates.
“We’ll be fine,” Apple Bloom said. “We stay here, wait it out. The Princesses will come.”
Scootaloo bit her lip. “If they’re alive.”
“They are. They—”
A hoof burst through the wood, grabbing Sweetie. She shrieked in terror, until the jaws of a zompony caught her in the neck, cutting off the screen. Apple Bloom backed away as the door burst inwards, more zomponies pouring in.
“No!” Bloom cried out. “They were supposed to save us! Princess Celestia! Princess Luna—
banged on the window of the schoolroom. The Tantabus had erected some shield of darkness that kept her at bay, and she was forced to watch as the nightmare closed upon Apple Bloom and then reset once again.
“Foul beast,” Luna muttered. “These children are under my protection!”
She flew back, charging up a blast from her horn to hopefully pierce the wards. She had checked everywhere else, and the Tantabus had to manifest physically in the dream. It must be within that classroom.
No matter how it hid, she would find it. She knew the taste of its dark powers, and could sense it, even when it took on the form of another, much in the way that Queen Chrysalis—
looked down upon the pulsing cocoon that held the Princess of the Night. “You are certain that you can maintain the false reality?” she asked.
The drone nodded.
Chrysalis sighed, stepping over to look out the window of the spaceship and into the starry reaches beyond. “We must have her to power the main reactor. We are lost without it, and this is our only chance for survival. We must find a new planet for our species, somewhere out there.”
The drone bowed over the console, reaching out to touch the control crystal—
stared at M.A. Larson like he had grown a third head. “Are you kidding me?”
“Look, Crystal, this comes straight from Hasbro. Some cross-promotional business with Transformers. We’re doing space-changelings and that’s that.”
Crystal threw the folder of concept sketches across the room. “This wrecks everything we’ve been doing! My entire season eight arc!”
“You’ve only been here a year. Trust me, this is not bad at all.”
“I want to talk to them. I want to talk to Hasbro.”
“Good. Let’s talk,” a voice said in a dull monotone. A man walked into the meeting room, and began striking the printer with his briefcase.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting coffee,” the man blandly said.
“You’re doing it wrong!”
“You’re the one who wanted me to play. Come on, Lyra—
threw her favorite brand-new Humie™ doll down, right in the middle of her Hasbro Office Fun™ playset.
Bon-Bon frowned at her. “Don’t be like that.”
“You never take this seriously,” Lyra complained, crossing her forelegs. “You always mess up my carefully-constructed stories!”
“Because they’re ridiculous.”
“Are not!”
“Are too! You ignore everything about character and consistent plot, all because you want it to end in some kind of unbelievable gimmicky twist—
She carefully put away her school supplies and made sure not to step on Snails, who was napping on the floor. Instead, she made her way to where the Crusaders were standing at the classroom door.
“I wrote a thtory about my aunts!” Twist proudly said.
Scootaloo and Sweetie shared a worried look.
“I can hear Mith Cheerilee out in the hall! Let’th open the door and—”
“No!” Bloom said. “She— Uh—” She trailed off into silence.
Scootaloo glared, but Scootaloo was usually angry. Sweetie was the one who finally spoke up. “Diamond Tiara is out there too, and we don’t want her to say anything mean.”
Twist could hear Diamond talking with Miss Cheerilee, alright. She shrugged, trotting back to her desk. Maybe she could draw a picture too? Of her and Sweetie and Scootaloo and Apple Bloom—
grimaced as she watched Twist walk away.
“We should tell her,” Scootaloo muttered.
Apple Bloom let out a sigh. “You think anything we could say would matter?” She thrust a hoof towards Snails’s body. “I don’t know where in her head she’s at, but it’s gotta be better than here. Let her be.”
“I’m more worried about us,” Sweetie said. She glanced at the barricaded classroom door, behind which they could hear the groans of their former teacher and classmates.
“We’ll be fine,” Apple Bloom said. “We stay here, wait it out. The Princesses will come.”
Scootaloo bit her lip. “If they’re alive.”
“They are. They—”
A hoof burst through the wood, grabbing Sweetie. She shrieked in terror, until the jaws of a zompony caught her in the neck, cutting off the screen. Apple Bloom backed away as the door burst inwards, more zomponies pouring in.
“No!” Bloom cried out. “They were supposed to save us! Princess Celestia! Princess Luna—
banged on the window of the schoolroom. The Tantabus had erected some shield of darkness that kept her at bay, and she was forced to watch as the nightmare closed upon Apple Bloom and then reset once again.
“Foul beast,” Luna muttered. “These children are under my protection!”
She flew back, charging up a blast from her horn to hopefully pierce the wards. She had checked everywhere else, and the Tantabus had to manifest physically in the dream. It must be within that classroom.
No matter how it hid, she would find it. She knew the taste of its dark powers, and could sense it, even when it took on the form of another, much in the way that Queen Chrysalis—
looked down upon the pulsing cocoon that held the Princess of the Night. “You are certain that you can maintain the false reality?” she asked.
The drone nodded.
Chrysalis sighed, stepping over to look out the window of the spaceship and into the starry reaches beyond. “We must have her to power the main reactor. We are lost without it, and this is our only chance for survival. We must find a new planet for our species, somewhere out there.”
The drone bowed over the console, reaching out to touch the control crystal—
stared at M.A. Larson like he had grown a third head. “Are you kidding me?”
“Look, Crystal, this comes straight from Hasbro. Some cross-promotional business with Transformers. We’re doing space-changelings and that’s that.”
Crystal threw the folder of concept sketches across the room. “This wrecks everything we’ve been doing! My entire season eight arc!”
“You’ve only been here a year. Trust me, this is not bad at all.”
“I want to talk to them. I want to talk to Hasbro.”
“Good. Let’s talk,” a voice said in a dull monotone. A man walked into the meeting room, and began striking the printer with his briefcase.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting coffee,” the man blandly said.
“You’re doing it wrong!”
“You’re the one who wanted me to play. Come on, Lyra—
threw her favorite brand-new Humie™ doll down, right in the middle of her Hasbro Office Fun™ playset.
Bon-Bon frowned at her. “Don’t be like that.”
“You never take this seriously,” Lyra complained, crossing her forelegs. “You always mess up my carefully-constructed stories!”
“Because they’re ridiculous.”
“Are not!”
“Are too! You ignore everything about character and consistent plot, all because you want it to end in some kind of unbelievable gimmicky twist—