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The Heart of Saturday Night
The date was a disaster.
Pinkie Pie knew it could have gone better. She didn't need to say anything about it, or even to think about it as she ascended the stairs to her apartment, the same downtrodden place she had been staying at for the past two years.
She felt the weight of the failure in her bones.
The stallion she had gone out with was nice about it, but his awkward, strained smile as they bade each other farewell in the streets told her that, aside from maybe coincidental path-crossings where they would not even make eye contact, they would never again speak a word to each other.
Pinkie crept into her apartment, creaking the door open and letting in the foggy light from the corridor before shutting it out.
For the first time since she had left for her doomed date she noticed the weight of the trilby—one of three she owned, this one she believed giving her good luck, but apparently not enough—on her head, on her sugary pink mane, and so she took it off tiredly and hung it up with the other hats.
"Sorry, guys," she told her collection. "Another stinker." A sigh. "He was so funny too."
How could a pony with a good sense of humor like him resist her? Not to mention seem to be uncomfortable around her.
It was like he could smell the falseness on her; he didn't know she was fake, but like every other pony she'd dated he seemed to sense it. It was a subconscious or unconscious thing, never outright acknowledged but always manifesting somehow, in some unspoken way.
"Uuuuuugh," she said, or rather breathed out, like a balloon slowly deflating, as she flopped onto her half-made bed, grabbing a pseudo-hand-me-down pillow and hugging it with all four of her legs. "What am I gonna do about this?" she said to nopony, least of all it—the voice that was not hers.
There were a lot of ponies in Manehattan, but Pinkie got this horrible feeling that she was running out of options. For all she knew it was always impossible for her to like somepony without he or she realizing, through one way or another, that Pinkie wasn't real, and she just never came to grips with this fact up until now. It shouldn't be impossible, she thought bitterly.
Pinkie clung to her pillow like a lover, knowing this was a weird position but also not wanting to move. Whatever let's me sleep faster.
Even after so many attempts, along with what she thought were improvements, romance continued to elude her. The real Pinkie Pie, she suspected, would have gotten it right the first time without even trying. The real Pinkie Pie would have found love by now, and, she also knew, gained far more friends than she herself could ever hope to have.
The amount of jealousy building up inside her almost made her cry, but the days of crying in her bed by herself, back when she was new to the ways of the city, were far behind her now.
So she closed her eyes.
Then, after a while, just as she figured she was about to drip off to sleep, Pinkie heard the first stirrings of an alien voice in her head.
Come back, the voice said, firm, in control, but feathery, like a mother trying to point her very young foal in the right direction without getting rough.
The voice of the pool...
"Oh no," Pinkie groaned. "Please." She quickly got under the covers and hid her face from what she imagined to be an intruder, but deep down she knew she was the only one in the apartment.
Come back, the voice said.
Pinkie didn't say anything in response; she just pulled her legs tighter against her chest and barrel and kept her eyes shut, as if any of these measures would make it go away.
Come back.
"But why?" she eventually asked, hoping for the voice to say something different.
Come back, it only said.
The pool kept calling her. It persisted, almost every night—and always at night, for reasons Pinkie could never ascertain—and it always left of its own accord, at some point, long after Pinkie stopped hoping to get decent rest.
"What do you want from me?" she begged quietly.
Come back.
"Why can't I just be real? Why can't I live, huh? Why can't I be happy?" said the clone.
Come back, was all the voice said.
Pinkie Pie knew it could have gone better. She didn't need to say anything about it, or even to think about it as she ascended the stairs to her apartment, the same downtrodden place she had been staying at for the past two years.
She felt the weight of the failure in her bones.
The stallion she had gone out with was nice about it, but his awkward, strained smile as they bade each other farewell in the streets told her that, aside from maybe coincidental path-crossings where they would not even make eye contact, they would never again speak a word to each other.
Pinkie crept into her apartment, creaking the door open and letting in the foggy light from the corridor before shutting it out.
For the first time since she had left for her doomed date she noticed the weight of the trilby—one of three she owned, this one she believed giving her good luck, but apparently not enough—on her head, on her sugary pink mane, and so she took it off tiredly and hung it up with the other hats.
"Sorry, guys," she told her collection. "Another stinker." A sigh. "He was so funny too."
How could a pony with a good sense of humor like him resist her? Not to mention seem to be uncomfortable around her.
It was like he could smell the falseness on her; he didn't know she was fake, but like every other pony she'd dated he seemed to sense it. It was a subconscious or unconscious thing, never outright acknowledged but always manifesting somehow, in some unspoken way.
"Uuuuuugh," she said, or rather breathed out, like a balloon slowly deflating, as she flopped onto her half-made bed, grabbing a pseudo-hand-me-down pillow and hugging it with all four of her legs. "What am I gonna do about this?" she said to nopony, least of all it—the voice that was not hers.
There were a lot of ponies in Manehattan, but Pinkie got this horrible feeling that she was running out of options. For all she knew it was always impossible for her to like somepony without he or she realizing, through one way or another, that Pinkie wasn't real, and she just never came to grips with this fact up until now. It shouldn't be impossible, she thought bitterly.
Pinkie clung to her pillow like a lover, knowing this was a weird position but also not wanting to move. Whatever let's me sleep faster.
Even after so many attempts, along with what she thought were improvements, romance continued to elude her. The real Pinkie Pie, she suspected, would have gotten it right the first time without even trying. The real Pinkie Pie would have found love by now, and, she also knew, gained far more friends than she herself could ever hope to have.
The amount of jealousy building up inside her almost made her cry, but the days of crying in her bed by herself, back when she was new to the ways of the city, were far behind her now.
So she closed her eyes.
Then, after a while, just as she figured she was about to drip off to sleep, Pinkie heard the first stirrings of an alien voice in her head.
Come back, the voice said, firm, in control, but feathery, like a mother trying to point her very young foal in the right direction without getting rough.
The voice of the pool...
"Oh no," Pinkie groaned. "Please." She quickly got under the covers and hid her face from what she imagined to be an intruder, but deep down she knew she was the only one in the apartment.
Come back, the voice said.
Pinkie didn't say anything in response; she just pulled her legs tighter against her chest and barrel and kept her eyes shut, as if any of these measures would make it go away.
Come back.
"But why?" she eventually asked, hoping for the voice to say something different.
Come back, it only said.
The pool kept calling her. It persisted, almost every night—and always at night, for reasons Pinkie could never ascertain—and it always left of its own accord, at some point, long after Pinkie stopped hoping to get decent rest.
"What do you want from me?" she begged quietly.
Come back.
"Why can't I just be real? Why can't I live, huh? Why can't I be happy?" said the clone.
Come back, was all the voice said.
Pics
The realization of which Pinkie we’re dealing with is timed perfectly, giving a sense of revelation rather than frustration. The tone shift from tragic to haunting is also very well executed, and even the open ending feels teasing rather than simply incomplete. Magnificent job.
I love the idea and the execution is great.
I feel that if you want this to be a minific, you still need a stronger arc. If Diane decides to do something (I'd call her Diane!) at the end, like resolving to ignore the voice or planning to do something the next day, that would be enough for me. As it is, it ends with no resolution.
Let's should be lets, and the line about ascertaining why is strange—obviously she has no way to know why.
I don't like the title. It doesn't encapsulate the real conflict.
I feel that if you want this to be a minific, you still need a stronger arc. If Diane decides to do something (I'd call her Diane!) at the end, like resolving to ignore the voice or planning to do something the next day, that would be enough for me. As it is, it ends with no resolution.
Let's should be lets, and the line about ascertaining why is strange—obviously she has no way to know why.
I don't like the title. It doesn't encapsulate the real conflict.
This is the best of the stories entries I've read so far, yet none of them have been stories.
The situation is clever, the reveal is done masterfully, and the prose is beautiful. Pinkie's dilemma is haunting, and you've made the reader sympathize with a character who feels like a very real not-real Pinkie. Yet Pinkie never has to make a decision.
The situation is clever, the reveal is done masterfully, and the prose is beautiful. Pinkie's dilemma is haunting, and you've made the reader sympathize with a character who feels like a very real not-real Pinkie. Yet Pinkie never has to make a decision.
Damn...
We don't get many stories about the last Pinkie Pie clone, and they're usually on the gimmicky side, but this was something else entirely.
To get my negatives out of the way, there are a couple grammar errors in there, and while the prose is above average, there are also some awkward turns of phrase that don't quite make the landing.
Even so, the snapshot we're given of Diane's life (can we please make calling the clone Diane a thing?) is both sad and creepy, and it's surprisingly easy to sympathize with what is essentially a doppelganger.
The reveal and ending also hit the mark for me, especially the former.
Disagreeing with >>Trick_Question I think the lack of resolution is fitting.
I'm feeling a decent to strong 8 on this.
We don't get many stories about the last Pinkie Pie clone, and they're usually on the gimmicky side, but this was something else entirely.
To get my negatives out of the way, there are a couple grammar errors in there, and while the prose is above average, there are also some awkward turns of phrase that don't quite make the landing.
Even so, the snapshot we're given of Diane's life (can we please make calling the clone Diane a thing?) is both sad and creepy, and it's surprisingly easy to sympathize with what is essentially a doppelganger.
The reveal and ending also hit the mark for me, especially the former.
Disagreeing with >>Trick_Question I think the lack of resolution is fitting.
I'm feeling a decent to strong 8 on this.
Regarding the resolution: Myself, I'm torn between >>Trick_Question's dissatisfaction and >>No_Raisin's point that it fits the content like a glove. It is entirely apt to the whole "eternal stalemate" scenario, but the lack of resolution does weaken it as a story. I suppose I must pitch my tent in-between these two camps.
That out of the way, I want to make a more fundamental point about pacing and plotting. With a creeping horror like this, the buildup has to be perfectly balanced. Too far one way, and we cotton on to the scenario ahead of time and you lose the element of surprise. Too far the other way, and we don't even realize we were supposed to be on guard until it feels like one genre abruptly morphs into another.
This fic errs towards the second for me. There's very little in the first eight paragraphs that suggested anything to me, other than slice-of-life sad romance in a possible alternate universe setting. (Fair's fair, I sort of glossed over the trilby reference to The Saddle Row Review, which didn't help, but maybe that subtlety is part of the problem). The "apartment" thing made me wonder if this was AU or if Pinkie had moved briefly, and I was prepared to wait for the story to explain it. Nothing here screamed "THIS IS OFF! THIS IS OFF! GET READY FOR HORROR!"
So I was getting nicely settled in for one genre, and therein lies the problem. Instead of seeing the demon peek over the horizon and make me grin and go "Horror! Good to see you, buddy! I look forward to seeing your big moment later!", I was minding my own business when I was suddenly wondering why the play had changed. Even then, it wasn't much; the ninth paragraph I thought was just a commentary on Pinkie's cheerful facade, the tenth introduced the odd voice that - frankly - could have been an imaginary friend or Pinkamena or something vaguely psychological, and the eleventh was where it finally clicked with the "real" talk. Even then, I initially wasn't sure until the next bit that this actually was horror and not just a commentary on how Pinkie's clones can't match the real thing. And even even then, actual horror in the scenario had to wait until the bitter point in the thirteenth paragraph.
Now, that leaves me in the company of tragic psychological horror for the remaining sixteen paragraphs. So that's very nearly half of the story where I had completely the wrong idea of what I was reading.
Part of me wants to applaud you for this. Buildup isn't easy to do. Also, I'm aware of that balancing act. And Hitchcock got away with that damn love story before any killer birds showed up. But it does mean that the horror, extrapolated from the backstory and delved into with little in the way of compromise, comes onto the stage a bit late for my liking.
I'm not asking for you to reveal the thing right at the start, but it is important to signal early on what genre we're in. A hint in the first two or three paragraphs, a wink to the audience, a sign that something fundamental is off "so you'd better be ready for it", would be welcome. You could even do it in a red herring sense, such as convincing us early on that Pinkie's worried about an external threat, or something stalking her, so long as the genre is clear.
I don't want to harp on it for too long, and it clearly worked for some people. However, the result is that what could have been an admittedly still-compelling horror drama now has a tinge of dissatisfaction for me.
Anyway, the horror is good. There's some fundamental wrongness that torments Clone-Pinkie and drives ponies away from her, and this is an excellent hook. The pool literally defying her desire for friendship and enticing her back adds another delicious level of cruel syrup to this devil's cake. In short, the tone is outstanding, bolstered by the good prose, and boy does it deliver.
It's just, you know, I wish I'd had more of it. It should have been delivered sooner, with a bit of a head's up. Solid entry, definitely. Not top-tier, I'm afraid. This entry is good quality, though, and I immensely enjoyed two-thirds of it (the first third was good, but not immensely so, is all).
That out of the way, I want to make a more fundamental point about pacing and plotting. With a creeping horror like this, the buildup has to be perfectly balanced. Too far one way, and we cotton on to the scenario ahead of time and you lose the element of surprise. Too far the other way, and we don't even realize we were supposed to be on guard until it feels like one genre abruptly morphs into another.
This fic errs towards the second for me. There's very little in the first eight paragraphs that suggested anything to me, other than slice-of-life sad romance in a possible alternate universe setting. (Fair's fair, I sort of glossed over the trilby reference to The Saddle Row Review, which didn't help, but maybe that subtlety is part of the problem). The "apartment" thing made me wonder if this was AU or if Pinkie had moved briefly, and I was prepared to wait for the story to explain it. Nothing here screamed "THIS IS OFF! THIS IS OFF! GET READY FOR HORROR!"
So I was getting nicely settled in for one genre, and therein lies the problem. Instead of seeing the demon peek over the horizon and make me grin and go "Horror! Good to see you, buddy! I look forward to seeing your big moment later!", I was minding my own business when I was suddenly wondering why the play had changed. Even then, it wasn't much; the ninth paragraph I thought was just a commentary on Pinkie's cheerful facade, the tenth introduced the odd voice that - frankly - could have been an imaginary friend or Pinkamena or something vaguely psychological, and the eleventh was where it finally clicked with the "real" talk. Even then, I initially wasn't sure until the next bit that this actually was horror and not just a commentary on how Pinkie's clones can't match the real thing. And even even then, actual horror in the scenario had to wait until the bitter point in the thirteenth paragraph.
Now, that leaves me in the company of tragic psychological horror for the remaining sixteen paragraphs. So that's very nearly half of the story where I had completely the wrong idea of what I was reading.
Part of me wants to applaud you for this. Buildup isn't easy to do. Also, I'm aware of that balancing act. And Hitchcock got away with that damn love story before any killer birds showed up. But it does mean that the horror, extrapolated from the backstory and delved into with little in the way of compromise, comes onto the stage a bit late for my liking.
I'm not asking for you to reveal the thing right at the start, but it is important to signal early on what genre we're in. A hint in the first two or three paragraphs, a wink to the audience, a sign that something fundamental is off "so you'd better be ready for it", would be welcome. You could even do it in a red herring sense, such as convincing us early on that Pinkie's worried about an external threat, or something stalking her, so long as the genre is clear.
I don't want to harp on it for too long, and it clearly worked for some people. However, the result is that what could have been an admittedly still-compelling horror drama now has a tinge of dissatisfaction for me.
Anyway, the horror is good. There's some fundamental wrongness that torments Clone-Pinkie and drives ponies away from her, and this is an excellent hook. The pool literally defying her desire for friendship and enticing her back adds another delicious level of cruel syrup to this devil's cake. In short, the tone is outstanding, bolstered by the good prose, and boy does it deliver.
It's just, you know, I wish I'd had more of it. It should have been delivered sooner, with a bit of a head's up. Solid entry, definitely. Not top-tier, I'm afraid. This entry is good quality, though, and I immensely enjoyed two-thirds of it (the first third was good, but not immensely so, is all).
Genre: Horror?
Thoughts: I love the lingering Pinkie clone as fodder for fanfiction. I'd love to see the show get back to her, too. Stories like this seem like just the tip of the iceberg in terms of demonstrating her potential.
Of course it's easy to fail to live up to the potential that even an interesting idea can offer, whereas this delivers strongly. That's worth calling out and congratulating the Author for. Clone!Pinkie is a bit Pinkie here but also a bit her own pony. I like how we get shown her struggles and turmoil. The part where it descends into her inner "demon" is repetitive but heartbreaking.
I generally have nothing but praise for this, yet I don't think it quite cracks my top tier. Right now I feel like the various pieces of this (coming home after the date / lamenting circumstances / hearing the voice) are somewhat disjointed and don't fit together as cleanly as I'd expect in a Top Contender. Granted, to some extent that disjointness contributes to the story's dark and melancholy atmosphere. But it doesn't feel like that was completely deliberate... or if it was, I don't think it's quite firing on all cylinders yet.
So hey, Author, I hope you keep refining this one. It's dark and affecting.
Tier: Strong
Thoughts: I love the lingering Pinkie clone as fodder for fanfiction. I'd love to see the show get back to her, too. Stories like this seem like just the tip of the iceberg in terms of demonstrating her potential.
Of course it's easy to fail to live up to the potential that even an interesting idea can offer, whereas this delivers strongly. That's worth calling out and congratulating the Author for. Clone!Pinkie is a bit Pinkie here but also a bit her own pony. I like how we get shown her struggles and turmoil. The part where it descends into her inner "demon" is repetitive but heartbreaking.
I generally have nothing but praise for this, yet I don't think it quite cracks my top tier. Right now I feel like the various pieces of this (coming home after the date / lamenting circumstances / hearing the voice) are somewhat disjointed and don't fit together as cleanly as I'd expect in a Top Contender. Granted, to some extent that disjointness contributes to the story's dark and melancholy atmosphere. But it doesn't feel like that was completely deliberate... or if it was, I don't think it's quite firing on all cylinders yet.
So hey, Author, I hope you keep refining this one. It's dark and affecting.
Tier: Strong
Feeling like a Monday but someday I'll be Saturday night.
It's a shame this one didn't appear in my first slate, even after adding three or four extras. Very nicely done, author. Alas, there's nothing to be said beyond what others already have.
It's a shame this one didn't appear in my first slate, even after adding three or four extras. Very nicely done, author. Alas, there's nothing to be said beyond what others already have.
It's time for me to respond to some folks, but I'll try to keep this brief.
Congrats to everyone who participated in this contest, and even bigger congrats to folks who wrote entries that deserved medals and (for the most part) got them.
Now...
>>FanOfMostEverything
>>Hap
>>PaulAsaran
The realization, or rather confirmation, of Pinkie as a clone is probably my favorite little part of this story. I went about it on a whim and I think it turned out beautifully.
Hap raises an interesting point, though, in that this is not really a story. If anything it shares the same fatal flaw as my other, admittedly weaker entry, in that it feels more like the setup for a story than something truly self-contained.
Mind you, I will probably (if I can help it) expand both of them into far more expansive and compelling narratives, but I guess for now we have these crumbs to go on.
Pinkie not making a decision is part of the point, in that she seems unable to make a decision, but I get that this also weakens the (not) story from a technical standpoint, so it's kind of a dilemma.
>>Trick_Question
Ya got me. The title isn't very good. I was really in a Tom Waits mood when I was writing this, and from a certain perspective it made sense to title it after a Waits album, capturing that combination of late-night heartache and haunting paranoia.
But for something more directly relating to the piece I should've gone with Pinocchio's Story, which is what I almost titled it. For all I know I missed out on some extra points for not doing that.
>>BlueChameleonVI
>>CoffeeMinion
On the one hand, not revealing as a psychological horror character piece from the get-go was intentional, but I also agree that the parts didn't quite stitch together like I would've wanted.
Part of this is my amateurishness with the minific format, and part of it is also not quite knowing how to set up that latter section Blue mentioned. The transitions weren't disastrous, but they also could've really used fine-tuning.
Anyway, I can't complain much. This ranked fairly high, and I honestly think it's the stronger of my pieces (ironic, I know), and for my first contest I think that's enough. I know the show won't do anything with it, but I find the premise of the sole surviving Pinkie clone to be weirdly gripping, and I wish there were more fics that made a genuine attempt to delve into that.
This response comment has been way too long, but that's okay.
Congrats to everyone who participated in this contest, and even bigger congrats to folks who wrote entries that deserved medals and (for the most part) got them.
Now...
>>FanOfMostEverything
>>Hap
>>PaulAsaran
The realization, or rather confirmation, of Pinkie as a clone is probably my favorite little part of this story. I went about it on a whim and I think it turned out beautifully.
Hap raises an interesting point, though, in that this is not really a story. If anything it shares the same fatal flaw as my other, admittedly weaker entry, in that it feels more like the setup for a story than something truly self-contained.
Mind you, I will probably (if I can help it) expand both of them into far more expansive and compelling narratives, but I guess for now we have these crumbs to go on.
Pinkie not making a decision is part of the point, in that she seems unable to make a decision, but I get that this also weakens the (not) story from a technical standpoint, so it's kind of a dilemma.
>>Trick_Question
Ya got me. The title isn't very good. I was really in a Tom Waits mood when I was writing this, and from a certain perspective it made sense to title it after a Waits album, capturing that combination of late-night heartache and haunting paranoia.
But for something more directly relating to the piece I should've gone with Pinocchio's Story, which is what I almost titled it. For all I know I missed out on some extra points for not doing that.
>>BlueChameleonVI
>>CoffeeMinion
On the one hand, not revealing as a psychological horror character piece from the get-go was intentional, but I also agree that the parts didn't quite stitch together like I would've wanted.
Part of this is my amateurishness with the minific format, and part of it is also not quite knowing how to set up that latter section Blue mentioned. The transitions weren't disastrous, but they also could've really used fine-tuning.
Anyway, I can't complain much. This ranked fairly high, and I honestly think it's the stronger of my pieces (ironic, I know), and for my first contest I think that's enough. I know the show won't do anything with it, but I find the premise of the sole surviving Pinkie clone to be weirdly gripping, and I wish there were more fics that made a genuine attempt to delve into that.
This response comment has been way too long, but that's okay.
>>No_Raisin
I figured it was intentional, and overall I'm more ambivalent than condemning (on its own terms, it does work). I just can't tell whether I like it for its cunning subtlety or dislike it for unhelpfully misleading me. I emphasized the latter because it was the stronger impulse at the time, and also because no one else seemed to be mentioning it.
Also, you think your responses are too long? This is the height of concision next to mine. :S
I figured it was intentional, and overall I'm more ambivalent than condemning (on its own terms, it does work). I just can't tell whether I like it for its cunning subtlety or dislike it for unhelpfully misleading me. I emphasized the latter because it was the stronger impulse at the time, and also because no one else seemed to be mentioning it.
Also, you think your responses are too long? This is the height of concision next to mine. :S