The Island (Part 6 - Finale)

>You are now Twilight Sparkle.
>The sun was beginning to rise as you yawn and rub the sleep from your eyes.
>It was hard enough sleeping last night without worrying about Anon, but you were also seething with anger from what Fluttershy did.
>Of all the ponies to initiate sexual contact, you never expected that it would be her.
>This would have to be dealt with later. All that matters now is Anon getting sent to Canterlot where he will be well taken care of.
>You hope they would be able to cure him. There’s no telling how long he has before it gets worse.
“Wake up Spike. We need to get Anon ready for his trip.”
>The small purple and green dragon groans in his sleep and mumbles something about resting for a few more minutes.
>You had no time for this.
“Spike!”
>He immediately jumps out of his bed gasping for air, “Wha?! I’m up! I’m up!”
>As you went down stairs, you could tell Spike was hesitating (for a moment - omit). You turn around to look back at Spike who was sitting with his tail in his hands.
>He was nervous about something. No doubt it was about the fight you and Fluttershy had.
“Spike, I know you don’t like it when I’m angry, but what Fluttershy did was... it’s just...”
>”Gross?” the dragon replies meekly.
“No, it’s just... Fluttershy obviously thought she could only express her love and affection with Anon by, you know...”
>Spike nods, signalling his acknowledgement.
>Walking over to your bookcase, you pull out a single book and with your magic, you turn to the page that you saved last night.
>With a quick scan, you find the article and place your hoof to it.
“Anon contracted a deadly bacterium that resembles this one in the book. It’s mutating erratically and there’s no telling what it might do.”
>”What is it?”
“I don’t know exactly, but if it’s anything like this. It will start to attack his nervous system, specifically his brain and spinal cord.”
>As you go through the list, you point out that the symptoms range from poor concentration to dementia.
”It’s important we get Anon to Canterlot. If there’s a treatment, it’ll be there.”
>You instruct Spike to make sure all of Anon’s belongings are prepped for the trip. You were going to wake him up and fix him some breakfast.
>You gently knock on the door then slowly open it..
”Anon? It’s time to get up.”
>There was no response.
>Poor little guy must be tuckered out from all the commotion last night.
>You quietly walk into the room and roll up the sunshade; the warm beams of light instantly light up the area.
>Anon was not in bed.
>He was nowhere to be seen.
>At first you panic but you imagine he probably went to the bathroom.
>Quickly, you trot out of the room and over to the bathroom. The door was wide open.
>He wasn’t inside.
“Spike! Have you seen Anon?”
>”No. Why do you ask?”
>You began to frantically run around the house calling out for Anon. Maybe he was hiding somewhere in fear of Fluttershy?
>Spike stopped what he was doing to see what the commotion was about. “Twilight, what’s wrong? Where’s Anon?”
“That’s the problem, Spike. I don’t know where he is!”
>Spike ran off to the room where Anon was sleeping to confirm the troubling news.
>As you ran about the room in a panic, Spike quickly runs out of the room with a piece of paper clutched in his claw. “I found this, Twilight. It’s a note.”
>You immediately snatch it from him with your magic and began to read.
>The note was indeed written by  Anon, but the words felt bittersweet as you looked over them.
>He felt responsible for what has happened to him. He blamed himself for what Fluttershy did.
>Anon described his journey taking him somewhere to the south or possibly southeast part of Equestria. But he request that no one come looking for him.
>With tears in your eyes and anger flooding your mind, you quietly leave the house. Even as Spike asked. “What’s the matter, Twilight?” You didn’t answer him.
>With the note floating beside you, it was time to pay Fluttershy a visit.
>You slam your hoof on the door
”Fluttershy! Open this door right now!”
>There was no response.
“Fluttershy!”
>You raise your hoof to knock on it again, but it slowly creaks open. There you could see a single blue eye peering out at you.
>She looked pensive and nervous about your presence. With a push of your magic, you open the door and almost throw the note into her face.
“Did you have something to do with this?! Tell me!”
>Fluttershy quickly scans the note, but she was at a loss for words.
“I hope you’re happy, Fluttershy. Now Anon is somewhere out there alone and sick. Why did you do it? WHY?!”
>You felt your bottom lip tremble as the tears in your eyes began to spill.
>Fluttershy was beginning to tear up as well, “Leave me alone Twilight. Don’t you think I feel bad enough already?”
“I wanted to give Anon a better chance at being secure in life, but now he ran away because of you. What were you thinking?”
>Fluttershy fell to the floor in a heap and began to sob. “I just... I just wanted him to feel loved. He was becoming sadder as the days went by, Twilight.”
>You almost scoff at the idea.
>”You never cared about him the way I did. All that you ever did was for the benefit of our land, not for him.” Her tone became more hostile.
>Fluttershy got up to her feet and began to talk down to you, “I never meant to harm Anon. But you! All you could do was experiment on him like some sort of poor creature. Then you decide he should be put to work for the rest of his life and say goodbye to his friends and the only family he has?”
“You think the decision was easy? Would you rather have him taken away by force and made a slave elsewhere?”
>Fluttershy mutters through her sadness, “I don’t see how what you’re doing is any different...”
>This was pointless. You turn to walk away and only just got through the door before Fluttershy asks what you plan on doing.
“I’m going to inform Princess Celestia of Anon. We’re going to find him and you better not think of going out looking for him.”
>As you leave the small cottage with the note in tow, you can hear the rumble of an early morning thunderstorm heading towards Ponyville.
>As Fluttershy watches you walk away, she still remembers the one line from the note.
>The one line that broke her heart when she read the words.
>”...I use to think of Fluttershy as a mother. Now I only see her as a monster...”

>You are now Anon.
>As you stood on the edge of the beach, the cloudy overcast and chilly breeze seems to envelope the entire island.
>The tall, dull-coloured grass and stones covers the hills as you looked out to the mainland.
>Out here there was nothing. No boats. No people. Nothing.
>The smell of the cool salty air was probably the most invigorating sensation you’ve felt in a long time.
>However, it could only distract you from the pain that ravaged your body every now and again.
>You were careful to not take too many painkillers, but the temptation was always there.
>This main island was once populated hundreds of years ago by early settlers. The book you had described the inhabitants as a close knit group that relied on the mainland for imports.
>One of them was a sheppard of some sort.
>Even though you have already been on the island for a week, you never got tired of standing on the beach and staring out to the mainland.
>Constantly fearing that you will be discovered one day was the main reason you did so.
>Yet, standing there and listening to the crashing waves and winds filled you with a sense of clarity. As if time has stopped and you will live forever.
>You look to the tall looming lighthouse that you have taken refuge in not far from the shore.
>Old artifacts from a time before you still littered the small house. Empty bottles of alcohol, boxes, dirty clothes and a jerry can. There was some old timber which you use to make a fire every night.
>Looking back to the island, you could see the bright red signal light of a radio tower on the other side through the low hanging clouds and mist.
>It was the only thing, besides you, that was still functioning.
>Yet you felt as though you were running low on time.
>Getting here wasn’t the hard part.
>Staying low while trying to leave the mainland wasn’t that difficult either.
>Dealing with being alone was tough at times. You have become accustom to being with friends over the years. Yet for some strange reason, isolation felt as though it was part of your natural state.
>The wind began to pick up as another rain storm headed your way.
>Who are you?
>That night as you tweak and made adjustments to your radio, you listened to the rain pelting the top of the house. Even though there were holes here and there, you managed to find an old bed that was dry.
>As you finish working on your radio, you put it back together and twist the knob until you got a sound.
>The reception here was perfect, and sometimes the music would help you fall asleep.
>It was only yesterday you started hearing news about your disappearance on the radio. Every once in a while, the host would begin to discuss Anon and where he was last reported.
>The note you gave Twilight was more than enough to throw them off your trail.
>But how long would it be until someone brings word of your presence?
>What of your supplies? How long would those last?
>As the radio played soft, easy music, you settled yourself into bed as the gentle rain continued to fall.
>Over the next few days, you began to explore further reaches of the island.
>One day you plan on visiting the radio tower.
>Sometimes you would write in your journal. Whether it was about the climate or how you felt, it didn’t matter.
>As you travel more around the island, you found signs of past life. The old, broken-down farms where earth ponies would tend to their crops were still up.
>Some look as though they might have been burned to the ground. The plant life ravaged most of the houses and whatever tools were left behind.
>Some of the large cliff faces on the island had long white, parallel markings going up and down.
>These were not natural. Someone took a cutting tool and exposed the white chalk underneath the rock.
>This face of the cliff was also facing towards the mainland. Was it to serve as a signal of some sort?
>As luck would have it, you found a small boat that was abandoned on the beach with the hull breached. There were a couple of small crates that were filled with miscellaneous items such as clothing and fresh water.
>But it would only last for so long.
>As time went on, the pain became more intense, especially in your brain.
>The sensation was akin to someone pouring acid into your skull.
>Journal Entry # 22: I dreamt that I was standing in the middle of a void and there was a singular white speck just out of my grasp. This is the third time I’ve had this dream. If I could stomach it, I would try to eat. All I am able to manage is water. I am convinced now that I am not alone. The sheppard’s and hermits of old still reside here, although they do not speak when we meet. One who waits at the north ridge always turns to walk away into a cave whenever we see each other. Whether I am delusional or not, I feel as those he is trying to tell me something.
>There were times when you paced back and forth along the shore, cursing the name of the yellow pegasus.
>This incredible feeling consumed you at times, wishing harm upon those who would have betrayed you. Radios and books held little interest to you at this point.
>When you regurgitated, there was little to nothing to give up. You could feel traces of acidic liquid fill your throat as you became sick.
>The veins along your arms and legs became darker.

>You are now Twilight Sparkle.
>Anxiously you wait for Rainbow’s return. It’s been weeks since Anon ran away.
>As you nervously pace back and forth in your study, you occasionally glance at your books. A part of you was hoping something new would be revealed to you.
>Rainbow has been leading teams to the far south and eastern parts of Equestria, Celestia even sent some of the Royal Guard to aid in the search.
>You haven’t spoken to Fluttershy since.
>The thought of Anon slowly dying was agonizing.
>You even began to question your decision to send him to Canterlot.
>The clock in the room ticks away, almost taunting you.
>You hear something approaching overhead.
>It’s Rainbow Dash.
>Quickly, you make your way to the front door, and just on time Rainbow lands in front of you.
“Anything? Please tell me some good news.”
>But Rainbow’s expression was all the info you need. She shakes her head solemnly, “I’m sorry. We’ve been searching for weeks and nothing’s come up.”
>Your ears fall flat against your head.
>Then an idea strikes you.
“Thank you Rainbow Dash. I know you and the others are tired, but I think we should try other areas now.”
>”But didn’t the letter say he was heading to the southeast area of Equestria?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he can’t change his mind. Or he might’ve been taken elsewhere.”
>You trot back into the house with Rainbow following you. Over by a large map of Equestria, which was already dotted with marks, you look to other areas and point to them.
“We should begin searching here now. Can I count on you?”
>”You know it. I can’t leave a little squirt like Anon hanging.”
>She almost takes off before turning around. “Wait, what about Fluttershy? We could use the extra help.”
>You felt your blood begin to boil again.
“Now’s not a good time, Dash. I’m still trying to think of something to do with her.”
>”Yeah, but...”
“Just go.”
>Rainbow knew when to back off sometimes. With a nod, she takes off and you’re alone again.
>For you, there was nothing Fluttershy could do to redeem herself.

>You are now Anon.
>As you try to sleep through the pain, your dreams become more vivid and wild.
>Like a wild bush fire, your mind raced and burned with images and memories. The inky blotches of your mind began to overflow and those dreams became unbearable.
>There was a time when you were alone.
>No words.
>A man would come in and hit you in the head continuously. The thumping in your brain felt as if you were going to explode.
>You wake up.
>All alone in the dark with nothing but the light of the moon pouring through the shattered glass of a window.
>You are not from here.
>The dreams have become so vivid you fear to sleep. You’ve heard of the term ‘insanity’ and feel as though you have surpassed that stage.
>They came.
>Others like you came and took you away.
>You said nothing as they did so.
>Although confused, they opened up something inside of you.
>Hope.
>Joy.
>A second chance.
>You slowly walk along the sandy beaches at night, staring at the moon.
>At times the moon would descend into your hand and act as a guide. Your attention would be drawn to the bright red beacon beyond the rolling hills.
>The next morning you sat on the pier staring off towards the misty horizon.
>In your reflection you couldn’t see the faint inky traces that made their way up the side of your neck.
>You remember being in a room. People would come to you with food and speak to you. Although you didn’t understand, it was comforting.
>Sitting until you went numb, you were deep in thought.
>Why were you here?
>Are you the only one?
>Your eyes, dry and heavy, begin to burn as you blink on occasion.
>For the past five years you were being taken care of.
>Why?
>But from that love you felt, there was also the estrangement and isolation. Not only from those who alienated you, but from Fluttershy as well.
>Did you do something to deserve this?
>You were scared of what might happen to you. But in the here and now, you felt euphoric.
>The pounding waves resonated with the heart of this island along with the red beacon.
>As if it were calling out to you.
>That night, you turn on your radio.
>It’s been weeks since you heard music. But tonight you want to break the silence for a brief moment.
>There you hear the radio hiss, but as you tune the channels, there is no music to be heard.
>Just a loud, long monotone static hiss.
>You check the radio to find that everything should be working fine.
>Turning it off, you look to the distance and stare at the rhythmic pulse of the radio tower.
>Like a moth drawn to a flame you couldn’t ignore that beacon any longer. You pack a few things, including your radio, and begin your pilgrimage.
>Your body ached, your neck in constant pain, you gulp a small handful of painkillers and set off.
>Your view of the aerial stars was clear and pristine. You felt spellbound to follow them, lest they lead you to your death over a sheer cliff.
>Across the beach you find scattered pieces of paper.
>They were yours.
>An account of what has happened to you.
>Letters of anger, forgiveness and joy.
>No one will ever have a chance to read them.
>You begin your ascent up the western slope through the tall grass. Surefooted you were as you made your way, you have been up this pass so many times it was second nature to you.
>In the distance you could see the Sheppard. He disappeared over the edge of a hill, as if he too was beginning his journey to the beacon.
>You didn’t hope to catch up to him, you knew he was showing you the way.
>There, along a steep edge, you do your best to climb. But the pain in your leg was so severe you feel as you will pass out from the pain alone.
>After you finish the climb, you take a few more painkillers and become more lucid.
>You could feel your leg become numb.
>Pausing for a moment, you notice a discolouration in your leg.
>Your vision would sometimes become clouded with dots of light and lines of wire in the aerial above.
>There you walk along this long stretch of beach; from there you would have to ascend once more a flight of stairs to the beacon.
>Here there were lit candles strewn about.
>In your stupor, you would light candles, but their wax never gives in to the flame.
>They will be eternal.
>But not you.
>Looking up, there stood the radio beacon, a silent giant of metal.
>The urge to stop was great, but you were drawn to it.
>The moth will continue to follow the brightest light until it dies.
>The mild ocean breeze becomes stronger as you go higher up. If only you could become one with the sky and the wind...
>You stop to tune the radio once more.
>Still static pouring in.
>There at the top of a ledge you could see the old pony sheppards and the hermit standing there.
>You manage to hobble along quicker, but by the time you reach the ledge, they were gone.
>The radio tower was close. You have run out of places to climb.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BF5QNkLPVEs
>You push open the chain link fence and stood at the foot of the giant structure.
>Taking off your backpack, you pull out your journal, photos and the radio. There you place everything except the radio into a small pile and place a heavy rock on top.
>You look straight up to the top of the beacon.
>The pain in your body was excruciating. There were no more painkillers.
>With your radio, you climb the ladder further up into the sky. Why you left your journal and photos at the bottom, you can’t say.
>The strong winds push you around, but you are resolute in your effort to climb.
>You hear your radio make noise as the signal becomes stronger. The top was within your reach.
>With a final pull, your shaky arms manage to hoist you up and you stood at the edge of the sky.
>You could reach out and grab hold of the moon if you so desire.
>The radio coughs and hacks as you hear a mix of messages but it finally settles on the same static it was so fond of.
>Nothing works.
>It never did.
>You stood there in silence as your radio continues to mock you.
>As you stood there on the edge of the world, you felt your eyes burn with tears.
>You had nothing.
>The static etches into your mind and thoughts.
>You look to your arm and saw it began to fade and wash away.
>Your mind begins to slip and this indescribable but familiar sensation overcomes your senses.
>You hear a familiar voice whisper through the radio. “Anon…”
>It sounds like... Fluttershy. “Come back…”
>As your leg loses strength to the infection, you stumble over the edge.
>Your body becomes weightless as you look up to see the radio tower growing taller as you descend.
>The wind rushes past your face and you can still hear that static in your brain.
>You weren’t scared.
>You felt nothing.
>Almost in slow motion, you could see everything in clear detail as you plunge to the rocks below.
>Your vision begins to fade.
>The stagnant hiss of the radio becomes louder.
>No matter what happens, you were finally free.
>The ground below is the last thing you see.
>You close your eyes to fall asleep for the last time.
>Everything goes black.
>No noise.
>No pain.
>No you.
>...
>A loud static fills the void. Your lungs gasp for air as you open your eyes.
>Painfully, you crane your neck to the side and there you see the square box. Its screen hazed with the black and white static.
>As your vision returns, you could see that you’re in a room.
>This.... was the same place from before.
>The place where they took you. A hospital.
>The box in front of you was the TV.
>Looking to a window, you could see light shining through the curtains.
>You remember...
>That night you came to watch the TV all those years ago.
>You try to move, but your body was still racked with pain and numbness.
>The door latch rattles and there in the doorway stands a lady in odd clothing. You hear her gasp as she rushes to your side.
>The rest after that was fuzzy.
>You could remember people carrying you, placing you in a bed and after that you pass out.
>Waking up, you see a whole team of nurses and doctors stand around you talking amongst themselves.
>”Are you sure it’s him? There’s no way he could’ve grown up like that overnight.” One of them retorts.
>The doctors argue while a nurse sits beside you. “How are you feeling Anon?”
>You lick your lips but you manage a harsh whisper.
“I’m fine...”
>The room falls silent over hearing you utter words.
>The next few days were a blur to you now. They asked you questions about what happened.
>Even you weren’t sure.
>Was it all a dream?
>Here they were saying you’ve grown up overnight and were found almost half dead on the floor in the entertainment room.
>You were incredibly sick. Some kind of meningitis syphilis was spreading through your body.
>You were passed out for a few days.
>The hospital did its best to keep it away from the media, but soon news spread about this unexplained mystery.
>You didn’t say anything about what happened. To you it was all a dream.
>Even your memories of Fluttershy and the others were a blur.
>But you could speak a bit for the doctors and nurses. They were awestruck by your ability to write.
>But like everything else, things come to pass.
>You recovered from your injuries and sickness.
>The media is onto bigger, flashier material.
>And the research team loses its funding on their research of you.
>Now, it was time to be with a family.
>A foster home, where these new people will be your mom and dad.
>You still had visits from your speech pathologist to check up on you from time to time.
>He said you were getting better with your speech.
>It was late afternoon and you were settling down in front of the TV to watch your favourite cartoon.
>You hear your new mom yelling from the kitchen. “Don’t get too involved, dinner’s going to be ready soon.”
“Alright...”
>You push the power button on the set and hear that familiar high pitch whine as the TV comes to life.
>As the screen starts to come through, you hear the sound fade to a static.
>You crawl to the TV and tap the side of it. Dumb thing must be on the fritz again.
>The monotone hiss becomes unbearable as it gets louder, yet no one else seems to notice but you.
>Through the sound you could hear something.
>A familiar voice.
>It was crying and whispering to you.
>”Come back...”
“... Fluttershy...?”
>”Come back...”