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End of an Era · FiM Short Story ·
Organised by RogerDodger
Word limit 2000–8000
Show rules for this event
The Last Days of a Sentenced Mare
Day one

My beloved,

They've jailed us here, in the highest storey of Canterlot’s penitentiary. They led us to the throne room, and fettered us. Then we were frogmarched, heads bowed, like slaves. Forced to look down all the way by ruthless guards, branded with Tirek's mark, cracking big whips. All along the streets we walked, streets lined with hundreds of ponies he had coerced into attending this “parade”. There wasn't a sound, not even a whisper, just the clop of our hooves on the pavement. Oh, I do not bear a grudge against the guards: they're mere puppets in the hands of Tirek; he controls their wills. They act like mechanical devices, I didn't see a single spark of life in their glassy eyes. Zombies they've become. I'm not even sure they recognised us.

One of them, Smashing Hammer, I know – or rather knew – quite well. I tried to speak to him during our march, but he didn't seem to hear. They've been brainwashed, every single one. Gentle, meek and obedient. That's how Tirek envisions us, ponies. As lackeys.

Apparently, he'd given orders for our cells to be prepared well before our arrival. I'm not the one to pity the most: they gave me a large room, with a comfortable bed, a sink with hot and cold water, a private latrine, a lot of books and even a desk and some sheets of pristine paper for me to write. I'm still a princess, you know, even without my magic, and rank has its privileges. That's why I've decided to write you, hoping against hope that these clumsy words scribbled in haste will one day reach you. One never knows.

Behind the bars, the unique window through which the sunlight pours opens to a gorgeous view of the city below and way beyond. In fact, from that lofty spot which is mine for the few days left to me, I can make out, far away in the plain, the spires of my former castle and even, squinting more, the roofs of Ponyville's highest houses. When I gaze though the grating, and behold my home in the distance, my heart pounds. I wonder what you do, and how you cope with Blazing Dusk. She's so gentle and cute, I suppose she must feel a bit lost without me around; what did you say to her? That I was gone on a long journey, I suppose, like I often did. In a way, this is no lie. A long journey awaits me. One I will never return from. You will have to be strong, both of you.

What happened to Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow and Pinkie I can only guess. As I was leading the procession, I was the first one to be jailed, and could not see how the others were handled. Maybe their cells are sleazy, infested with fleas, maybe they have no window, or no cot, I don't know.

I feel more sorry for them than for me. They were pawns in a game that went far beyond their understanding, and now they have to pay the price of their staunch loyalty. I entreated Tirek to release them, but he would have none of it. I suppose he fears they could lead a stand. Or he has more wicked plans in mind.

Probably one of my friends has been locked up in the neighbouring cell, as I can hear a faint clop through the stones. Maybe Fluttershy or Rarity? I don't think Rainbow would walk like that, nor would Applejack. And certainly not Pinkie Pie.

What will happen to us I know very well though. We should be dispatched, two at a time. Tomorrow, the day after. The last one but me in three days at sunrise. And then my turn will come. Rumour has it he wants me burned. Why? I don't know. I suppose he sees me as his arch-nemesis. After all, I led the battle against him. My death is meant to be a warning to quash every possible rebellion. “Look what will happen to you if you revolt.”

But he doesn't know that burning people has never extinguished hope and anger. On the contrary. Reigns of terror have never endured. Magic shall return, magic must return, and the princesses shall rise again from Tartarus to overthrow him.

Tell Blazing Dusk her task will be to prepare their return. That her mother will always be at her side, all through the dark times that lay ahead. Take heart. No night lasts forever. Dawn will come, eventually. I am confident you both will be there to behold it.

As I mentioned, the cell is rather neat and large. The fresh air that blows through the open window keeps most of the stench of the corridor at bay. I suppose Tirek wants me to be in good shape for the pyre. A princess of Equestria must look regal, even when put to death.

I'm still wondering why all this masquerade. It would've been so easy just to burn us to ashes, blast us or exile us to the Moon, or some place else. But no, it was too easy, he had to gloat over his victory. He could not afford to make martyrs. He had first to defile us, to make us appear as traitors, as weaklings incapable of defending our own land, unable to face the first serious threat. He not only wants our demise, but also the demise of friendship – that ridiculous concept he cannot grasp even in its wildest dreams.

He knows pretty well that if all ponies leagued together he could himself be defeated. So he hopes that the executions will prove once and for all that friendship is just a shtick of squishes, and that true leaders, like he fancies himself, can command alone. That will be your combat in the years to come. Convince everypony that together, and only together, you will be able to defeat him. It will be a tough battle, to be fought in utmost secret; there will be joy and sadness, but I know nopony better than you to lead it.

I feel a bit weary. I think I'll pick up a book and take a nap. I shall pick up later.

Well that was a good nap. It's evening now, I can see the clouds ablaze with the evening sun. Oh! I hear approaching steps.

Somepony knocks at the door.

I have just talked at length with the pony who brought my dinner; he left only minutes ago. He is a young cook,so recently hired. Apparently Tirek doesn't need to control all the personnel, only the guards. The brave pegasus was pitiful to behold. He entered my cell, closed the door, put down the plate on my desk and suddenly he collapsed and sobbed for uncountable minutes. Paradoxically, I had to soothe him. He's terrified by all that happened during those last hours: the exile of the other princesses, Tirek’s brutal coup, the sudden deployment of those henchmen to enforce the order and quash any possible trouble. And more than everything, the serving notice that we had been convicted of high-treason and would be executed. He told me he would give his life for me if I could thus be saved. So touching. I never imagined ordinary people could love me so dearly.

This is what I will regret when I leave this world. Not my own existence; it does not matter if I live or die, as life will continue with or without me. I’ve never been an essential part of Equestria and shall never be. Celestia shouldn't have crowned me. She had always put too much faith in me. But I will miss you, of course, you my beloved and I will miss Flaming Dusk and her adorable smile and her cuddles and her babbling. And I will miss my friends. And I will miss all other ponies and our home. The sweet fragrance of the meadows at dusk. The song of the birds high above the treetops.

I will miss Equestria.

The food was excellent. Porridge with cardamom, apple pie. But it's getting late, the light has almost gone out and I find it hard to write between two yawns. I feel worn out, and I suppose that's how I look also, though I don't have any mirror to confirm. I shall try to sleep. I feel like I'd better doing something else now that I have so little time left, but what?

I'm sure I'll dream of you.

Sweet night darlings.

Day two

I thought the night would be calm but it wasn't. As a matter of fact, as I write these lines in the stillness and the lambent light of the breaking dawn, I can say I just spent the most gruesome night ever. It was… like a nightmare you want to awake from, but you can't, and you know why you can't because it's not a nightmare, you're wide awake and what you feel and hear is real.

I'd been sleeping for I don't know how long when a loud stomping sound, as of many hooves together, woke me up. I saw, through the crack under the door, the guttering glow of flames, torches probably. They passed by my door and halted. Then I heard the rattle of a lock being turned and a bang as, I figured out, they smashed open the door of the neighbouring cell. And then… oh sweet Celestia… that shriek. It was coming from the other side of the wall and it was Fluttershy's voice, I'm positive. I'm still shuddering from it as I write these words. “NO!” Fluttershy shouted. Then I heard muffled laughter, and maybe the sound of a short brawl. And then I think she said something else amid sobbing, but I couldn't really hear except maybe "please".

I'm not sure I shall write what came next but if ever those words reach you, my darling, I want them to be the testimony of what my friends suffered for me.

Then came those grunts, those repeated grunts and panting, quicker and quicker, until they climaxed in long moans amid the fits of evil laughter. I wished I could block my ears, but I couldn't. And it went on and on, broken only by short pauses as… no I can't write it down and oh please make it stop please, I can't bear it anymore. Worst of all, I couldn't help but seeing in my mind's eye what was going on and it was so painful I burst in tears. Do it to me but not to her! Please I beg you, let her alone, I found myself crying and pounding against the wall. Stop it! Stop it! Do it to me if you want but not to her. Why her? WHY?

But they didn't care or stop and after what seemed hours and a last assault peace came back at last. I heard the door being slammed shut, the lock clanged and whoever it was went away. Then silence returned but for very faint sobs. Fluttershy! I cried at the wall, Fluttershy do you hear me? Fluttershy are you okay? Twice, three times but she didn't answer. Maybe she couldn't hear me? Maybe she didn't want to answer? I don't know. Maybe she just wanted to be let alone in peace, so I quit calling her and curled up in my bed. What else could I do?

But of course sleep wouldn't come and that's when I heard more clopping in the corridor and another door being opened and shut right away. I strained my ears but couldn't make out any sound except the uncontrollable sobbing of Fluttershy. But then at once there came through the door, more muffled than Fluttershy's tears, but very recognisable, another panicked yelp followed by a snap and then – oh! I wish I could forget, I wish I could tear it out of my mind – a mad shriek – there's no other name for it – so shrill and high I think I almost fainted. I don't know, I don't know who shouted like that but I swear I never heard such a sound before, nor could I ever think a pony could let it out. Saying it carried with it more angst and pain than anypony can bear would be a huge understatement. There was in that outburst something pure, quintessential, like like it was pain in its native, elemental, most excruciating form. It lasted only an instant but like a draught of icy air it chilled me down to the marrow and ripped my heart apart so well I almost felt like dying.

What did they do and to whom, I wish I'd never know, but I'm sure I will. I'm sure they will show me, because I think I figured out why he ordered all that. He wants my friends to suffer. I think he hopes that putting them to the rack will force me to surrender to him.

But I won't. Never, never will I submit. And I'm sure he knows it. And so he expects that by intentionally sparing me the tortures, they will end up hating me. He wants to shatter our friendship, he craves to show me that what I uphold as one of the strongest bond in this world is nothing but schmaltz for preteen fillies during recesses. That I'm the princess of nothing in the first place.

But no. I'm sure they'll all be strong, and they'll see through his game. And even if they don't, and they end up loathing me, how could I blame them?

I felt numb. It was like when you're rescued from a pool of deep, icy water. You don't feel your muscles anymore. You feel nothing, you're lost in a cotton world where your consciousness has been blunted. My ears buzzed. My eyes ached. I faintly registered other hooves coming to and fro, but like a dark veil a sudden wave of sleep washed over me and I knew no more until I woke up a little before dawn, cold, drawn and like hungover, with an overwhelming headache that only now starts to wear off. And – oh, somepony comes.

It was the same young cook than yesterday, bringing in my breakfast: rye, sundry fruits and fresh daffodils, apple juice. I asked him if he knew what had been going on here last night but obviously he didn't. He's not quartered here, and apparently has only very few contacts with the guards. The only thing he knows is that no food seems to be prepared for the other cells. Has Tirek decided to let them starve too?

I wonder what you are doing right now? Are you already awake? Did Blazing Dusk have nightmares? I hope not. I hope she did sleep soundly, taking shelter in the dreamworld Tirek will never spoil. Even with Luna's magic he will never succeed in controlling the dreamscape. Our deepest hopes are forever sheltered out of his reach.

A big task awaits you. You'll have to gather all ponies of goodwill into a sort of secret army. I'm sure there are plenty of them, all over Equestria. You know, most ponies are not heroes, there are just simple, ordinary people but deep inside they'll find the courage to help you. Even the shyest may help, if you find out how to move them. Many ponies are like boulders: they seem inert but sometimes a slight fillip in the right place will put them in motion, and once they've gathered momentum nothing will stop them.

We don't need heroes or daredevils anyway. We most of all need smart people ready to wage a long, long stand, and abandon the glib comfort of a slave life for the rough life of clandestinity. And we need people to tell the young how we lived before he came. We need people to cherish and carry the flame of hope in the darkest of nights. Collect the books, hide them away in a secret place. He must not find them. Magic will return. You must be ready to use it when the time is ripe.

Times drags on in my cell. Every so often I look through the window at the thatched roofs and try to catch the small noises coming from far below, the clatter, the echoes of the bustle, something, however tenuous, that still could link me to the outside world. But I don't hear much. Is it because I'm too high above? Or because the city is deserted. From here, it's impossible to guess.

But what is this ominous drumbeat now? There seems to be something happening at the foot of the building, like a procession, but I can't see it. Oh dear, could it be

Who knocks at the door?

That was grisly. Allow me a few minutes to recover

So it was him, in a lesser form. Him and Fluttershy and – sweet Celestia – Rainbow. Or rather shadows of them both. I recoiled several steps from what I saw.

Fluttershy (I can't help but retching as I write these words) had her tail held up and tied to her barrel to expose her (you will guess by yourself) and her yellow coat was all bruised and matted with s not with blood. And Rainbow, oh poor Rainbow, she

Sorry it's so So appalling

Rainbow the Wonderbolt had no wings anymore. Just large open, festering wounds where they once stood. And her coat, her beautiful blue coat, was stained with clots of blood.

But the dreariest was her gazes. Empty. Lifeless. Dead, as if all life had been snuffed out of them. They didn't even look at me. They didn't even seem to look anywhere any more. They barely stood and breathed.

And him behind them, giggling. "You see," he says, "what happens to those that resist me? I break them. I don't just kill them, oh no, that would be too easy, too drab, too lenient. First, I wrench their soul out, I deprive them of their essence, as I deprived all of you of magic. I squeeze their substance out, until they are no more than empty husks of flesh and they come to me and beg me to put them to death."

And he beamed, and leaned over Fluttershy and asked in a smarmy tone "What do you want now, dear?" and the wreck who once was Fluttershy answered "I want to die". "See?" he said, turning to me, and, back to Fluttershy, he carried on "Your wish shall be granted very soon and your suffering shall come to an end. But, before, tell me who is that mare in front of you?" pointing at me. And Fluttershy lowered her head a bit more and simply answered "I don't know." "And you, sweetie?" he asked Rainbow in turn. And Rainbow didn't move, but she replied in a whisper "I've never seen her."

"You know," he resumed, looking back at me, "you can put an end to this. It's too late for those two, but you still have three other companions jailed here."

"What did you do to them?" I asked. And him "Nothing yet, dear. But if you don't surrender to me, they will suffer the same fate. Maybe worse. It's your call."

"Never!" I said, as I stomped a hoof and gritted my teeth. "You can rip my soul, you can crush me, you can torture me as you tortured them, make me scream, but never shall I surrender to you."

"I don't intend to torture you my dear," he answered, and cast a light draught that stroke my mane, "but think about your…" He hesitated a second and "friends" he jeered. "You've until tonight to make up your mind.”

And with those words he closed the door, and I heard him walk away. I collapsed on the floor and burst into tears. Oh I cried, cried, until my tears were spent. Then I scrambled to my feet and mustered my strength to sit here and write those words. But I feel drained now, so drained I must stop for a while and take a nap or I'll fall

It's late now. I think I've slept all the afternoon from shock and exhaustion. I found my dinner put in the table, and no news from Tirek. I won't be able to eat. I feel so sick I think I'd throw up anything I'd swallow.

There's not much light anymore,
but I don't feel like sleeping. First because I awoke just half an hour ago, and next because I don't know what I can expect from the night to come

Day three

I'm done in. It's like all energy has left me. I couldn't sleep. Now, as the sun sets on my penultimate day of life, all I can do is flop down on my cot and wait, wait until he shows up again to show me what they did to them during the night.

It was not the same as the previous one, oh, no, when it comes to torture his mind has infinite resources. What did they do to Applejack and Rarity? I don't know. I heard them both being dragged along the corridor into the cell next to mine. Applejack swearing like a sailor and Rarity just whining. Then I heard more scraping and tugging, like furniture being moved or? rolled? Then there was the muffled voice of Applejack again, more swearing, though I couldn't make out the words.

And then it stopped and strangely all sound abated. Maybe distant sobbing now and then, but no cry, no loud noise. Had they been gagged? What was happening?

I'd been wondering for maybe an hour, shifting uneasily in my bed when suddenly Applejack's voice flared in another spate of insults. It was her voice all right, but it had a strange quality, as if she found it hard to articulate. And then she was silenced in the middle of a word, and I heard again that evil laugh, the same I heard the night before. And then nothing.

There was a long pause. And then another eruption of Applejack's voice, subdued and definitely like stuttering, disjointed. Then a gargle and nothing for a long while.

Then all of a sudden a sort of liquid noise as if water had been spilled on the ground, and a whoop of evil voices followed by applause. Then the definite whining and sobbing of Rarity and some other mutters of Applejack.

It went like that three or four times during the night. And now, I'm just awaiting for him to show up and

Here it comes.

Applejack was drunk. She was tottering and was reeking of cider and brandy. Now I know. They had forced her to drink probably litres of booze over the night and Rarity, Rarity was a wreck. She had been sheared, her mane and tail had been cut too and yuck yuck yuck she was soaked in

pee and

shit.

The stench was atrocious.

And Tirek beaming. "Look at that one," he said pointing at Applejack, "where did she learn her manners? Getting drunk and then peeing and shitting on a friend… What kind of pony is this?" and he tut-tutted.

I averted my gaze. "What need did you have to do this?" I asked. "What do you want to prove?" "Everyone should enjoy a little fun before dying, no?" he replied. "But this one will soon come down and her" he pointed at Rarity "she can be cleansed. Besides coat and main regrow. All you need to do is a little speech, a few words on the castle's balcony. You already did that for your coronation, didn't you?" And he chortled.

But then something unexpected happened. "Don't yield Twilight. No matter what don't yield to him!" Applejack said.

I spun round and faced Tirek, looking him straight in the eyes. "You see Tirek," I said, "you can defile us, torture us, humiliate us, put us to death, but you will never break the bond that unite us. You've failed to break us apart and if today you've won a battle, mark my words, tomorrow you shall losenthe war, and on the ashes of your reign we shall build a stronger Equestria, stronger and happier than it had never been."

He didn't dare reply anything. He looked at me for a long time, unmoving. Then he slammed the door and walked away.

And now the evening has come and I stand in the gloom of the twilight, awaiting the pyre which should take place tomorrow at dawn. What will happen during the night, I can't tell, but I think Pinkie will be spared the fate of the others. Now he had the proof we will never submit, he knows that he can't extort our loyalty from us no matter he does or blusters. Terror and brute force are all he can wield, and why that can deter most at first, it's only a matter of time before some muster the courage to oppose him. And I'm sure they'll turn to you to blaze the way. You're naturals to lead the resistance.

But I won't be here to watch your victory, nor to help you during the fight. And

And you know, even if through these words I may sound strong and plucky, I'm

afraid.

Afraid to abandon you, to leave this world. Is there really anything after? Will my spirit, if spirit be, linger here forever or soar to some remote plane where I will wait happily for you to join me? All the science I master won't help me.

Don't come tomorrow. Stay with Blazing Dusk. And in a few years, when she will be grown, go the both of you for a walk along the seashore in a remote place and tell her everything about me. Tell her how I loved her, how I loved you, and how both you shan't abandon hope. Never. Whatever the circumstances be. Do it for me. Do it for us all, so our death shouldn't be in vain.

Meanwhile as the pyre will be kindled under the stake I shall look away from the flames and take heart in the memories of what we lived together, of our first encounter, our first kiss, and of all the moments of happiness we shared, before I shall take the great plunge into the unknown.

I love you. Forever. Farewell.




The old pony closed his book in such silence that the light thud of the pages brought together resounded in the classroom. He scanned the students with weary, but piercing eyes. They were all looking at him fixedly, jaw-dropped. Some had their eyes wide open, some others had weeped silent tears. No one spoke a word.

At last, the elder one let out a sigh. "And that's where my great-great-great-great-great-grandmother diary ends", he concluded. "She wrote this account so that we never forget all the pain and suffering four generations of ponies endured for you to have all this. Again." And he made a gesture that encompassed all the room and well beyond. "And this document has endured in our family, as a heirloom we passed from generation to generation," he added. "And I'm proud it now stands as a testimony to you who never lived in the dark times." Then he smiled, faintly, and looked towards the professor.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" the professor said. He walked to him and reached out. Both stallions shook hooves, while the students left the classroom amid the scraping of the dragged chairs and low whispers.

At the moment the last one disappeared through the doorframe, a slanting ray of sunshine blazed through one of the picture windows, falling directly on the portrait of Celestia and Luna set above the blackboard. The old stallion smiled, more broadly this time, stood up and walked to the window, where he lingered for a long while, his eyes lost in the distance, gazing at the few clouds wandering high above the skyline of New Canterlot.
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#1 · 1
· · >>horizon
I have no idea what you mean by “a shtick of squishes.”

In all, this is the exact sort of story I was afraid of with this prompt. I’m abstaining from this one. I cannot approach something with subject matter I hate this much fairly or impartially. Even with the happy ending thrown in, almost as an afterthought. I will note that the timeframe feels confused. It seems like the first time Tirek emerged, but all the talk of Twilight’s daughter and unidentified husband blur the matter.
#2 · 2
·
(Trigger warning: rape)
#3 · 2
· · >>Icenrose >>Syeekoh
… that said, I do have an objection to the content here, but it's not the objection you think.

Blacked out both for rape discussion and story spoilers:
The standard objection to rape as a plot device is that it's a cheap shock. I don't know whether that's a fair critique or not, but what I do know is: it's throwing off the tension curve of your narrative. When you start describing Twilight's friends being tortured, the rape is literally the very first thing we hear about — followed by Rainbow Dash's wings being chopped off. You've opened with two haymakers, and short of crossing the M line with Cupcakes-level detail, it's just literally impossible to go any farther.

The problem with that is that you've still got characters left to break, and by definition whatever you follow it up with is going to be underwhelming. In fact it is: Rarity just gets pooped on. Extending the boxing analogy, that's barely even a jab — more like a feint. When Rarity and AJ stand up and fight back, my only reaction was, "Well, duh, if that's the worst he can dish out then no wonder."

I mean, if Tirek's willing to violate Fluttershy's personal safety and Dash's personal pride, he's going straight for the heart. The least he could do is murder Applejack's family members in front of her. :-p

There's a fridge-logic problem here, too, which is that the detail you're relaying negates your framing story. Twilight's attempting to boost her family's morale and persuade them to stand up against Tirek. Describing in thrust-by-thrust detail the horrific tortures that resistance fighters are enduring really seems counterproductive to that effort.


Anyway, agreed with >>FanOfMostEverything that the ending feels kind of tacked-on: GRIM GRIM GRIM GRIM hope, with not so much as a nod from the academic toward the moral lesson the grim was supposed to impart. Also agreed that the timeline here is quite weird — but much more than the timeline, the thing throwing me here is that this is explicitly established to be princess Twilight Sparkle, and yet the voice is distinctly not Twilight's: it's too formal, with a tinge of archaic speech patterns.

Is this meant to be the Tirek-dominated AU maybe? Or an AU more generally? If so, it needs to be more heavily lampshaded and we need to be shown the differences between universes more explicitly.

So, yeah. All shock value aside, this has some dicey logic flaws that leave me with a lot more questions than answers. You definitely want to be careful with the content — or maybe you just want to go full grimdark, and ditch the T rating on editing — but the content isn't the problem, it's just masking some fundamental premise and structure issues. The (prose) execution, no pun intended, seems fine for what it is.

Tier: Needs Work
#4 · 1
· · >>Icenrose
Apparently, he'd given orders for our cells to be prepared well before our arrival. I'm not the one to pity the most: they gave me a large room, with a comfortable bed, a sink with hot and cold water, a private latrine, a lot of books and even a desk and some sheets of pristine paper for me to write. I'm still a princess, you know, even without my magic, and rank has its privileges.


Something of a disconnect between this and all the public humiliation, no?

I'm sorry; I can't do this. I can typically stomach grimdark, but this verges on over-the-top torture porn grimdark. It's grimdark that goes so far at times that it becomes almost comical and I can't take it seriously. I got to this line here:

"where did she learn her manners? Getting drunk and then peeing and shitting on a friend… What kind of pony is this?"


And god help me, I laughed.

I'm sorry; I'm gonna bow out for this one. Abstain from voting on it. Your story has enough technical merit in its prose, but I just can't give it a fair shake.
#5 ·
·
I really need to stop reading entries at work. -_-

So! Let's cut straight to the meat of the matter here: my problem with the rape/torture porn isn't so much that it exists or the content itself, but (as >>horizon points out) the arc that it follows. You've reversed the order of the one-two punch (dammit, now I'm using boxing metaphors) such that the second one is swinging at empty air - you've already knocked the reader out with the first punch, and with the second punch you're just flailing about, searching for a target to hit and finding none, and looking a bit silly.

Also, let's talk a bit about character voicing.

I'm still a princess, you know, even without my magic, and rank has its privileges.


THIS ISN'T TWILIGHT. And as the story progresses, would Twilight really just sit there, going "oh woe is me" listening to it all in the next room? No! She'd buck at the door and walls until her hooves split open - futilely, uselessly, sure, as the narrative demands, but she most definitely would not sit idle. That would even fit more within the framework of the whole torture porn thing - Twilight harming herself in her desperation to reach her friends while they all suffer.

And then there's Tirek. Yes, he's a cartoon supervillain. Yes, he's as prone to monologues as the rest of the antagonists in MLP. But as >>Posh points out, his teasing turns this all to such absurdity that everything turns into a twisted joke.

I just realized how many problems reversing the order of nights two and three solves - the part where Tirek talks about breaking ponies takes on so much more of a sinister air if it's implied that Twilight, Applejack and Rarity's initial resistance are what drove him to such lengths.

One final note, and I feel like someone needs to point it out at least once every competition - new speaker, new line. Two separate characters speaking never go in the same paragraph. EVER. New speaker, new paragraph. Every single time.

I can see some potential for a decent ultra-grimdark story here, Writer - but you've got your work cut out for you before it becomes something other ponies won't automatically burn you at the stake for writing.
#6 · 1
·
So I just read this after reading the lovely reviews left by the four others who commented on this. I just had to comment.

And I have to agree that after the first night, the second night sounds rather... silly. I can see what you were going for, with increasing the visceral nature of what was happening to them and some manner of an ironic perversion of their elements.

But there's this serious tone set by the first night and the second night reads like some kind of slapstick comedy in comparison.

I can roll with this being an AU, but yeah, it's a little too stiff to be Twilight.

And >>horizon , those parts sort of strike me more as a "never forget what happened to us" sort of deal and she pretty much admits she doesn't expect anyone to find the letter, so I can kind of let that slide, personally. But addressing your point, I know that reading about atrocities committed against my friends gets me fired up sometimes. Hell, it happens sometimes with people I don't even know.

Generally I'm pretty easy to please when it comes to fiction, I just feel like you went a bit too far in degrading them, author, for me to take this seriously... or perhaps not far enough.

I could totally see this expanded into an M-Rated fic without the fetters of the Writeoff binding it.
#7 · 3
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I think I appreciated this more than some of of the other commentators, and have to admit I really loved the style of prose, even if it (as was pointed out) doesn't really sound like Twilight. The emotions in the early part worked, and I started to get a little misty eyed even, so great job there.

The issues others said all hold true though... most notably for me, the hyper violence of the first tortures completely eclipses the rest of the story. More importantly, the story doesn't really go anywhere after that first night. It's just more of the same, leading to the inevitable conclusion. There's no subversion, no twist, no surprise, just suffering. It's well written, and conveys that suffering pretty well (save the order of operations) but it really needs a plot. I respect the attempt at giving a saving grace with the epilogue, but that's a bit weak, more like turning on the lights after a ghost story is over to say "see, it's okay, it's not that bad."
#8 · 2
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The Last Days - Honestly, I couldn’t get through this one so I just marked it ‘Abstain’ and went on.
#9 · 2
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Okay, as usual, I'm reviewing at the last minute, so this will be kinda brief.

Okay, this was horrible.

Not (just) because of the events it portrays. But because of the tone of the writing.

From the very first paragraphs, I said to myself "Please tell me this isn't supposed to be Twilight Sparkle. I bet there's going to be a twist at the end and we'll discover it's actually 1,000+ years ago and somebody else fighting Tirek." But no, no such luck. That might have actually worked. But as it stands, the attitude, personality, the everything of this story is completely out of character for Twilight.

Then there's the fact that Tirek apparently took over and somehow (magically?) brainwashed a whole bunch of guards? And then there's the incredibly trite trope of someone writing a 'letter' in real time. Nobody actually writes what they're seeing and feeling down into a letter in real time. If you wanted to show us what Twilight was seeing and feeling, you could have broken the story up into pieces... Write the story from Twilight's perspective, then follow it with a section of what she actually wrote into the letter. Show the horror and terror she's feeling, then follow it with her (relatively brief) written description of events.

The "Diary of Anne Frank" twist at the end was a nice touch. You know, if it made any sense for Tirek to allow Twilight's letters to be sent. Though I suppose you could argue that the chef or someone else smuggled them out.

Of course, that's not even touching on your brutal treatment of the mane 6. Brutal is fine, and can have it's place. B ut your style here... I can only assume you were aiming for shock value. But all your managed to get from me is disgust. You could have handled each character's torture far more delicately, while still emphasizing the brutality and horror. The trick is to just describe the edges of the thing. Show the reader the general shape of it, without going into vivid, gory details. If done right, it can be just as evocative... As opposed to pointlessly gory.

In short, while I hate to write such a harsh critique of someone else's hard work... I really disliked this story. Sorry!
#10 ·
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I have to agree with the other commenters that the second night seems like nothing after the first. Though to be fair, when it comes to brutally torturing Twilight's friends removing Rainbow's wings and rape are probably the most obvious options. If you had done the second night first, we all would have guessed what was coming next right away, and I imagine Twilight might have too. But by putting it first, you did leave us all wondering what would come next. If that was your intent, then it worked. But the problems with it that everyone has mentioned still stand.
Obviously the solution is to figure out more creative ways to torture two of them that won't be underwhelming after the events of the first night. Of course, it might be hard to find some tortures that fit the bill. I certainly don't have any recommendations.

This story is already skirting the line between T and M, and should you publish this on fimfiction, you should seriously consider just making it M.

Small thing: you call Blazing Dusk "Flaming Dusk" once.

Overall, this is not a story that I found very enjoyable. But even if it was done absolutely perfectly, it wouldn't be a story I would enjoy, because it's just that type of story. I'm not sure this story is even meant to be enjoyed, at least by the usual definition of the word.

I think the best thing I can say about this story is that if it's the story you wanted to write, you did a good job of writing it. It's just not the story any of us seem to want to read.
#11 ·
· · >>wYvern >>The_Letter_J
Good luck to all finalists! ;)

Last Days… short recap’

One: I apologise to all of you that read and loathed this story. Sorry for that bad trip.

Two: This was remotely inspired by some testimonies about concentration camps and some thoughts about dictatorships (Franco, Pinochet…), as well as an old French song I need not name since nobody will know about it. So, to answer J, yes, the background, tone and events were perfectly intentional, and slap bang what I intended. Also see just below.

Three: This was more an experiment than a story. An experiment in pulling off effective dark descriptions and dark scenes. The prose seemed to come across as up-to-snuff, so that’s the only positive point I’m going to take away.

Four: The story was written on my iPhone in scattered spells of 15-20 minutes, and finished on the train. I had no real idea besides what happens during the first night (as you have all noticed), and it ended up feeling disjointed. I’m concerned because it seems that whatever I try to write I can’t come out with a sensible, coherent plot (see also my last original story). All my plots are flawed to some (and often major) extent.

Five: Also ominous: it seems I’m unable to voice any pony character right. I already knew I couldn’t portray anypony other than the princesses, but now it seems even “my” Twilight sounds wrong, which means I’m left with Celestia and Luna. A rather skimpy choice. (PS: the slightly archaic tinge was intentional, the events narrated in the diary taking place a long time ago as evidenced by the conclusion).

Six: The story leaves some points unexplained. Yes, it’s an AU where Tirek has won, and this takes place just after ‘his’ victory. But I also added a background family element for Twilight, because it wouldn’t have made sense to her to write a log without anyone to send it or dedicate it to. I planned to write that the young cook apprentice Twilight met was responsible for smuggling the log out of the pen, but simply forgot to add that scene.

Seven: Not sure what I’m going to do with this story, though a suitable FimFic page is already set up (this is a project I thought about long ago but had no time to write), especially since Twilight’s voice seems SO wrong. Maybe yes, I shall publish it after thinking of something more gruesome for the second night (didn’t someone suggest something above?).

Eight: This story is — hopefully — going to rank last. Sorry, Horizon. Your hopes were misplaced… :/

Last : Sorry once again to all. I hope you won’t hate me. See you next round. Hopefully, minifics are more lenient, at least plot-wise. That means I have a slight chance to do a tad better. Maybe with another dark story? :\
#12 ·
· · >>Monokeras
>>Monokeras
I’m concerned because it seems that whatever I try to write I can’t come out with a sensible, coherent plot (see also my last original story). All my plots are flawed to some (and often major) extent.


Is that because you only notice the issues with your plot in hindsight, or because you can't think of ways to circumvent issues you already notice during planning/writing?
#13 ·
· · >>wYvern
>>wYvern

Hallo Wy!

Is that because you only notice the issues with your plot in hindsight, or because you can't think of ways to circumvent issues you already notice during planning/writing?


Mostly the latter. Often I have a vague idea for a beginning, the end, maybe an intermediate scene, and then nothing. I find myself totally at loss to draw a logical course from beginning to end barring sometime one single segment. This was especially noticeable in this "story" but the previous was also panned for the same reason. Also, Cassius pointed out all my plots revolved around a final "twist", but they weren't plot by themselves.
#14 ·
· · >>Monokeras
>>Monokeras
I can empathize with that. I often find in those cases that my initial conflict, the point that should kickstart a plot, is too weak. I'm usually too caught up in my own thinking to start completely new, which leads to me re-iterating around that idea, getting nowhere for several hours until I'm completely blitzed and throw in the towel. Sometimes makes me think I'm not creative enough for this. :/
#15 ·
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>>wYvern
Sometimes makes me think I'm not creative enough for this.


Bang on what I think too. My mind is crippled.

I've quite a lot of fics I published and never finished, because though I know where the story is aiming at, I have no clue as how to walk to the resolution.
#16 ·
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>>Monokeras
Mono, I've been meaning to talk about this story some more for a while now, but haven't had the time until now.

Basically, I think that this story is actually a lot better than the results show. It's just not the type of story that will do well in a writeoff.
Now, I haven't read a lot of dark fics, but I have read a few. Those stories usually aren't great, and definitely aren't enjoyable for me, but they do have an audience. And this story is one of the best of those.

I think that with a few changes, this story could be perfectly fit for publication on fimfiction. It won't hit the featurebox, but there will be people who like it.

While I didn't rank this story very highly on my ballot, I do think that it was pretty good in its own way. Good job, Mono. Really.