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- >The chirping of birds fills your ears as your eyes crack open.
- >You feel unrested, almost like you overslept.
- >The room around you is incredibly blurred, almost as if you were blind.
- >That was kind of normal, considering the way you felt.
- >Speck must have already gotten up, as you couldn't feel her weight against you.
- >Last night must have been an amazing party.
- >The wedding was incredible in and of itself.
- >You blink, and a slight feeling of dread starts to wash over you.
- >As your vision slowly returns, you notice that you aren't in your bedroom, nor any room of your house.
- >Several monitors are hooked up to your chest and fingers.
- >Several waste tubes are also hooked up to your body.
- >What happened last night?
- >You try to lift your head, but the muscles in your neck refuse to answer.
- >The same happens with your abdomen, as you try to sit up.
- >It's almost like a paralysis.
- >Panic starts to set in, until someone walks into the room.
- >Her soft voice soothes you.
- >"Well. Good morning, sleepyhead."
- >You try to crane your neck to get a look at her, but your muscles refuse.
- >"Let me help you with that."
- >A button clicks on the side of your bed.
- >You feel your head and abdomen rise into a sitting position as the bed rises beneath you.
- >Your breathing intensifies as panic encroaches you once more.
- >What stands before you is not a pony, but another human being.
- >"Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
- >The woman sits on a small stool beside your bed.
- >"Do you remember me?"
- >You notice how dry your throat and mouth feel as you open your mouth to say no, but shake your head instead.
- >"Well, either way, welcome back to the world of the living."
- >You feel sick to your stomach.
- >Her voice is a sickeningly sweet nectar that threatens to poison your mind.
- >This was all just a dream.
- >Just a horrible dream.
- >You were going to wake up soon and be back with your family.
- >Your friends, your loved ones, your p0nies.
- >You were going to wake up any minute now with Speck in your arms.
- >But, something that scratches at the back of your mind tells you otherwise.
- >That scratching almost forces you to turn your head to the right.
- >The air you breathe catches in your throat as you see a small picture of you and your friends.
- >The same picture you found in that tower in Canterlot.
- >So many questions were racing through your mind.
- >Where were you?
- >Who was this woman?
- >Why was that picture here?
- >"Are you alright?"
- >You turn your head back to her, and only now do you focus on her traits.
- >She has pale skin, almost like it's rarely been touched by the sun.
- >Dull orange hair, almost the color of a dying leaf.
- >Dark blue eyes, something close to a turquoise.
- >She raises an eyebrow.
- >"Can you speak yet?"
- >After a failed attempt, you shake your head.
- >She offers you a glass of water.
- >"Are you thirsty?"
- >You nod and take it from her.
- >As the cool liquid flows down your throat, she takes your hand in hers.
- >Almost reflexively, you squeeze her hand.
- >She has a very comfortable presence, and you can't explain why.
- "Where am I?"
- >"You're in a hospital. We found you unconscious in an alley a few weeks ago."
- >A few weeks ago.
- >The last thing you remember is the wedding, when you kissed Speck.
- "A few weeks..."
- >"Mhm. We found some things on you. Someone that said they knew you brought that picture."
- "Who? Who knows me? I haven't been in this world in years!"
- >She giggles and shrugs.
- >"Don't know. They just came up to the front desk and asked to put that picture in here.
- "I... I need to talk to the Princesses. Where are they?"
- >"Princesses? Oh! You mean the stuff in your journal. Quite a story, I have to say. Ever think of getting it published?"
- "It's not a story! It's my life!"
- >"Mhm. You authors sure do get crazy about your stories. But, we don't have any princesses here. This isn't... "Equestria," I think you called it."
- >The realization of it all hits you like a freight train.
- >They were gone.
- >It was all gone.
- >You strain to speak.
- "Where is it?"
- >Your raspy voice scratches at your ears.
- >"Where is... what?"
- >The woman stares at you with a very quizzical look.
- "My journal! Where is it?!"
- >She nervously points to the table beside your bed.
- >You lean over and grab it, flipping it open to a blank page.
- >Any blank page would do.
- >Your hand swiped across the page, readying to write.
- "I need a pen."
- >Your voice went from one of anger and confusion, to calm and melancholy.
- >Writing.
- >That was your stabilizer.
- >The nurse handed you a pen, and you started to write.
- >You write, and you write.
- >Every single word that you scratch into your journal details every day, every minute you spent in Equestria.
- >Not a single detail is missed, not a single moment forgotten.
- >You write without stopping, long into the night and through the next day.
- >By your third night without sleep, you've written everything from when you first met Speck, until the very last moment that you saw her.
- >Each page is stained by your near-constant tears, be they tears of joy, sadness, or anger.
- >And as you finish writing, as you place that final period on that final page, you look up, and out the window.
- >The moon hangs low as if to taunt you.
- >It stares at you, and all you can do is stare back.
- >The memories you shared with your batp0ny.
- >The memories created with her and your filly.
- >All of it, captured and detailed between the gibberish that the girl had written.
- >With wide eyes and a stern jaw, you nod silently with a smile.
- >Even as your tears pour down your cheeks, you smile.
- >Because that is all you can do.
- >She wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
- >And you wouldn't trade any of it for the world.
- >The journal falls closed as you set it in your lap.
- >Your thumb, however, catches between the final pages.
- >Almost as if something screams at you to do it, you turn the very last page over.
- >A very short message, in almost illegible writing, reveals itself.
- >Your sadness comes back in full force, causing you to cry harder than you've cried in a very long time.
- >A very familiar phrase is scratched into the page.
- >"Even though, someday, we might be gone, we'll always be with you.
- >Love,
- >Speck and Sirocca."
- >The journal drops into your lap, your head dropping into your hands as you cry.
- "I love you, too."
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