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"The Monster's Abyss"

by Payton Bame, Grade 9

“He’s hungry. It’s been getting harder to contain him.”, says an older woman, standing back in the shady corners of the room.

“And why don’t we feed him, then?”, questions a young boy, holding a clipboard. His pencil is slightly blurred from the speed at which he fidgets with it.

“He craves Light and Love. We’ve already given him Forgiveness, Warmth, Trust, Luck, and Peace. Only when there is no one else left, will I feed myself to him. But the others, they can give up on me whenever they’d like. I’m old, and what have I ever helped with?”, says the woman, stepping out of the shadows. Her long mustard yellow dress brushing the floor.

“Hope, don’t speak like that. You help us through, no matter how horrible things seem to be. The Monster will have to destroy everything and everyone before we give you to him.”, says the boy, staring at Hope. “I believe in you.”

The boy turned towards the others in the room. The rainbow of colors people were wearing didn’t match with their pale, fearful faces. He stepped towards a little girl, dressed in pink.

“Love.”, he said, caressing her cheek. "Please, remember me.” The boy gave her a small shred of his red cloak, and turned towards the Monster’s abyss. He threw himself over the edge, and just as quickly, Bravery was gone.

Everyone crowded together fearfully, Love clutching the piece of cloth so tightly her fingers turned white. Hope looked at the abyss, and then to the others. Without Bravery, their terror was so prevalent that it gave off a scent. The cavern smelled like urine and salty tears. A loud rumbling came from underneath them, and they held their breath. Light glowed in the back of the room, but even her brightness wasn’t enough to outshine the darkness creeping in around them. Love shot Hope a worried glance. When would they give up?, she thought, biting her nails. They shivered, bare feet turning blue with cold from the freezing stone floor. Warmth was a lot more important than they had realized.

“We shouldn’t have. Why… why did we?”, cried Love. Everyone stepped away from her. The Monster. He had gotten to her. Everyone in the cavern feared their opposite, the demon the Monster had made in their likeness to take over. Fear appeared in place of Bravery. Cold appeared in place of Warmth. Regret had now come to take Love. Love kneeled on the floor, pleading with Justice.

“What did we do? Was it right? Oh, Bravery. I miss you so much. You gave us strength. How could we make ourselves feel this way? Why do we feel like we have to give in? Give up?”, screamed Love, her pink dress soaked with tears and saliva.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have many other options. And now, look at you. Regret is bound to grab hold of you. We cannot… trust you. In the name of all that is good, we must give you to the Monster. I’m sorry, Love. It’s what needs to be done.”, Justice spoke clearly and sternly. Despite her apologies, there was no hint of remorse in her voice. She looked at Love, afraid and determined. She would get rid of Love. There was no doubt about it. The others crowded to the back, terrified of speaking up against Justice.

“Look at us.”, said Love, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Justice, you can’t possibly trust me. None of you can. You can’t even trust each other. You know why?” Love whispered. The entire cavern fell silent to hear her voice. “Because we gave Trust to the Monster!”, she shouted, startling everyone. Justice glared at Love, anger burning in her eyes. The others saw it too.

“She’s… her Opposer.”, they whispered, frightened. It seemed everyone they turned to was slowly being taken over. Who would be left?

“Enough!”, Justice yelled. “Who dares talk back? I am righteousness, good, defender of evil. I could never be possessed.”, she said, looking deep into Love’s eyes. “I know what needs to be done.” She grabbed Love by the sleeve of her dress and dragged her towards the abyss. “It’s what he wants, and you, Love, have been possessed by your Opposer. Unlike me, you don’t have the strength or willpower to withstand Regret. You are weak, worthless. A waste of time. You put us in danger, make us lose our senses. You must go.” Love screamed and her feet scraped against the cold ground as she fought for some leverage.

“I have Bravery! I will fight!”, Love shouted as she shoved Justice off of her. She waved the red piece of cloth Bravery had given her in the air like a flag. “This, this right here! It’s a reminder, a memory. Memories give us life, joy, meaning, purpose, desire. But this memory right here, it gives off different emotions. Sadness, regret. But it still gives us a purpose. To stand up, and try to right the wrong we have done. Justice, you said that we must rid this world of our Opposers, but they are there for a reason. Just like us, they serve a purpose.

“Love is right! We must fight!”, they all shouted.

The crowd swept Love away from Justice, and Love caught Hope’s eye. Hope smiled, her eyes twinkling with joy.

“Love, you’ve inspired us all.”, Hope said. “What should we do now?”

Love put her finger to her cherry lips, encouraging everyone to quiet down. She looked over to Justice, but Justice was sitting, frowning. This was one of the few times she didn’t get her way, but Love was never before the obstacle. In fact, most of what Justice did was for Love, but suddenly Love was a threat to all she’d done. Justice didn’t know what to do. “Well”, started Love. “We have a lot of work to do.”

…

Love sat on the warm grass, the sun shining down upon her. She allowed the fresh breeze to play with her hair as she watched Warmth and Cold holding hands by a tall tree with gorgeous pink flowers. This was the world she had created. She had freed them from the dark cavern Justice had made. Justice was no longer in charge of everything, only a few things, like the Monster. Whereas Sadness, Anger, Regret, and the others were just like us, the Monster was just pure evil. That’s why Justice threw them into his abyss, to remind them that they were evil. However, as Love watched Sadness help make the rivers, and Anger tested out the volcanoes, she knew they could never be evil. They just worked a little differently. She rubbed the piece of red cloth. Bravery’s little gift had gotten her so far. She rubbed her round belly, and smiled to herself. She had a gift for him too. She stood up and walked towards a small fruit tree, smelling the sweet scent of mango. As the sun went down, she looked towards the horizon, and saw Bravery’s silhouette making his way towards her. He had finally come back from helping the humans with their war. Love ran towards him and lept gracefully into his arms.

“What do we have here?”, he said, gesturing towards Love.

“Perseverance. Her name’s Perseverance.”

"A Good Read"

by Marley

One of the best, and most influential and thought changing pieces of media I’ve ever read was Fallout:Equestria. Written by Kkat, uploaded to the forum website, Fimfiction.

The premise of the story is a question. What would it be like if the events of the game Fallout, happened in the My Little Pony universe? And yes, I can sense the skepticism amongst those who listen to me. I am aware of how silly or absurd talking about this may sound, but please, I ask for unbiased attention.

When I first heard about this story, it was overwhelmingly loved by lots of My Little Pony fans, Fallout fans, fanfic writers, and everything in between. The story itself, told in over 600,000 words, spanning over forty-five chapters, with prologue and an epilogue, concluding with an in-universe 10 year update.

My hopes and expectations for this story were high, I was excited to read such a passionate and emotional piece of writing, written by someone like you and me. My hopes and expectations were far surpassed by this story. Many of the story's events may be confusing to lots, but its writing holds a big influence on not only the outlook on life itself, but the virtues within.

The story of Fallout:Equestria was a grueling, unforgiving, heart tugging, read. It deals with the hardest things life has to offer in a post apocalyptic wasteland. Death, violence, war, heroism, sacrifice, loss, destruction, and hope.

I have found myself many times feeling tears form in my eyes, the intensity of the merciless pain and suffering bestowed upon the characters and the challenges they had to face for a shred of a better future, I couldn’t hold back the overload of emotions.

Littlepip, the protagonist, is a gray unicorn with a short brown mane and emerald green eyes. She lives her life following in the footsteps of others, but once an opportunity was presented that allowed her to escape the painful cycle of life in a fallout shelter surrounded by hundreds of other ponies.

She took it, but for another pony.

She put another pony’s life before her own.

She sacrificed everything to give the wasteland of Equestria hope for a brighter and sunnier future.

A constant mental battle with herself throughout the story, seeing herself as a monstrous villain who wore the blood of other ponies, griffins, alicorns, and hellhounds. Not a hero, not a white knight amongst the battlefield, but the lightbringer. Lighting and paving the path of her sacrifices, for others.

She held the blood of thousands in her little gray hooves, so she could save millions in centuries to follow.

Her actions, the decisions she made for herself and her companions, put them into more danger than she could have ever imagined. Littlepip left her underground community, survived the attack of zombies, ghouls, and alicorns, killed others, started war with a full government by detonating a nuclear bomb that started the apocalypse, survived being in a slave city, and brought the new elements of harmony together in only 3 months. Every waking moment was filled with restless tasks and responsibility, getting little to no sleep.

I saw myself in Littlepip. She spent 3 excruciating months, getting shot at, torn to shreds, enslaved, and corrupted, all to discover her true virtue.

‘The portal to hell is opened with the incantation of good intentions’

Small Littlepip slaughtered those around her, in a grand effort for good and sincere intentions.

It's everyone's first time living, and it sure as hell was for Littlepip. But what makes her different, she was plunged into a corrupted, tainted, and irradiated world, and she rejected succumbing to it. She would not become a bloodied raider, a humble community pony, or the ruler of a tyranny land. Fate was laid out in front of her, and she rejected it. She rejected what the world presented to her, and paved her own path. Marched to the beat of her own drum.

I see myself in Littlepip, rejecting the paths presented to me. Instead of following other ponies' hoofsteps, or someone's footsteps. I light my own path, and maybe, it will open a new path for others to follow and branch from.

It may seem like it, but we can't all have the same destiny. The only thing that makes your fate different, is how you accept it.

Follow another's hoofsteps, but burn in a fire of glory different from them.

Your fate is your own, not one someone already laid for you.

‘The portal to hell is opened with the incantation of good intentions’

"in another life."

by Rhea Phuyel, grade 9

maybe next time
she wouldn't cry. it wouldn't be worth it, especially not in front of him.
memories of stolen moments swirl before her eyes, the tumultuous winds of her fleeting past now a thunderstorm surging inside her.
yet all she saw was him.
those damned, honey-brown orbs used to hold so much love in them, but now they are tinted with a cold kind of sadness. still so bright and captivating, they drew her in. like a bee to nectar.
each touch unravels her, each tightly knotted uncertainty he works loose; he unfurls a secret from the girl's luscious lips - a secret he already knows, but is hearing for the first time. traces of her meticulously crafted facade fade away under the warmth of his eyes, bottomless, understanding depths. she was exposed now. each kiss pushes past the once carefully drawn lines.
and so, she finally opens up to him fully, like a flower during the sweet scent of spring, basking in the sunlight before the merciless cold of winter.

Home

by Jessica Oliver, grade 11

Sparus was short, at least short by Persian standards. That was probably why he’d ended up a messenger, instead of a warrior like his brother, it was always a sore point to him. Except for now, right now he was angry. He’d been assigned to go to mainland Greece to demand a gift for King Darius from the people of Marathon agreeing to Persian rule. It was a pretty normal routine, but not a regular reaction. Instead of surrendering out of terror from the stories surrounding the Persians and their King, they’d thrown him down a dark, dank pit with a small circle of the sky visible above him.
Sparus leaned back against the muddy wall and closed his eyes, he didn’t know how long he had been down there. He’d stopped trying to count the amount of times the sun had passed over the hole and disappeared to be quickly replaced by the moon. All he knew was that he was hungry. He made a futile attempt to lick his lips, but his tongue had long been dry, swollen and numb. When he’d first been thrown in here, he had screamed his throat raw, then slowly subsided to incoherent murmurings. Begging for help, or calling out someone's name. Anyone’s name, he just wanted out.
But now, with the walls of this cursed hole seeming to be closing in around him, he felt no more hope of rescue. It seemed so stupid of him to think anyone would help, if they wanted to they would have done it by now.
He opened his eyes and saw the speckled night sky and moon. Sparus loved the night sky, especially the moon. His mind had started to grow fuzzy and he couldn’t seem to stay awake. He couldn’t remember why he had been angry, it seemed like such a silly emotion to have. His eyes sluggishly tracked a pair of leaves as they fell to the ground of the pit. A weak smile forming on his face as a song his mother used to sing to him came to mind.
Leaves from the vine, falling so slowLike tiny fragile shells, drifting in the flow
He could almost see her standing there in her plain brown dress. Hair wind blown and soft smile planted on her face as she stood in front of a small house.
Little soldier boy, come marching home
She would sing it before they went to bed. Which was perfect because all he wanted to do was sleep peacefully, in the calm white light of the moon. So he closed his eyes basking in the meager light of the moon. He felt his heartbeat slow, and his body didn’t seem like his own. He smiled inside then let the darkness surround him.
Brave soldier boy, come marching... Home.
Disclaimer: I do not own the song. That song belongs to Nickelodeon, Specifically the producers of Avatar the Last Airbender.

Silently.

By Abby Coate, grade 12

If I had to breathe, I wish I could breathe silently.

Right now, in this bathroom with dark crimson on the rough tile floor, even the pounding music outside cannot drown out my haggard breath. It’s muffled through the door, and I can see hints of the flashing lights through the crack in the bottom.There’s a man on the floor, the rings of his fingers glinting in the overhead light like mirror beside me, like the open barber scissors dropped inches away from his head. His eyes are pale, blank, staring up at the ceiling like it held answers - like it would soothe the shock permanently etched on his features. There’s a cut in his neck, liberally staining his shirt collar red. The shirt is a silky, cold blue, and his shoes are made of true, smooth leather. His whole outfit screams money. What was he doing at a college frat party? Aiming to drag some poor kid off and have his forceful way with them, that’s what he was doing.
I mutter at the thought, “Probably didn’t expect to be killed by that poor kid.”A shaky laugh follows my words, and he doesn’t react to the hysteria in it. Neither do I.
“I just killed a man.”
Nothing responds to my whisper; the laminated shower curtain doesn’t stir, the lights in the the LED bulbs don’t shift. There’s a thump on the door behind me. Drunken, careless laughter follows it then fades away into music.
“I never meant to, it was self-defense, I swear.”
I step out of the bathroom once my legs find the will to stand and walk, my brain not following my body as it shuts the door quietly behind it.Around me, the house is alive. People thrum about, drunken blurs in dim lighting. I walk on by, past the couple making out, past the vape corner on the couch, past the naive freshman realizing there’s a pool. The bass of the music shakes the foundation and beats in my chest, just seconds off from my heart.Around me, the house is alive. No one knows that someone just died a few rooms over.

My throat feels scratchy, my arms feel cold, my hands are still shaking. I need a drink. In the kitchen, the cup that chokes in my grip is glaring red. I see it spill onto my fingers.
“Out, damned spot,” I hear myself whisper. My English literature teacher would be proud. No one glances my way.
A trembling sip, then another. No one glances my way. Another sip, and my feet take me to the living room. No one glances my way-No one but Brian Jasons. The glimmer in his eyes is warm, reflected from the lamp beside him as he skips to me. He smells of sweet alcohol, of sweat, of chemicals from his time with the smokers on the couch . His lips are cherry red, stretched into a smile. They taste just as saccharine, but leave a bitter after tone on my own. Some girls nearby whine at him for their own kisses, and he complies, winking at them suggestively with a bounce of broad shoulders. Turning back to me, he chirps out a greeting.
“I just killed someone,” I mutter softly, looking him in the eye. He lets out a guffaw of laughter, which turns into a sound like windshield wipers in the rain. Many find his laugh strange, but endearing. It grates against my ears.
“Oh man, I did too! You know that freshman that’s been hanging around me lately?” he grins, as if I know whom he’s talking about. He answers for me anyway, “Their name is Jamie, and I just told ‘em that Professor Lingerall adores cheerios. Now, the poor kid’s taking a bag of them to him tomorrow - Lingerall’s gonna be so ticked, it’ll be hilarious!”
Others around us that have been listening laugh boisterously along, some of them grinning at me like I’m the butt of the joke. I walk on. Another sip, thick and warm down my throat, like blood.The front door opens with a light creak, and I step out through others entering just as it shuts. I’m shivering outside in the balmy air, the streets of campus dark and golden streetlamps comforting.I can’t stop shivering.

On the wide porch, there are others. One of them has a lit cigarette in a loose hand, but he looks like anything but someone dying of cancer, Chen Lim. Chen looks to me, eyes like a cat’s: dark and hazy. His stance is relaxed, like he’ll tip over any minute - but he either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice. He’s high anyway, his drug buddies beside him probably past that point. I go over to him.
“How’s the current campus valedictorian?” he purrs, but there’s no smile on his lips as he regards me with that lazy, cat-like gaze. It flickers to the window as the music inside shifts, the wooden floorboards underneath us trembling. He’s always bitter about not being able smoke inside, this school has a despicable percentage of kids with asthma.
“Someone just died,” I reply faintly, shaking my head at the stick he offers me. He shrugs without a care, the dark of his clothes fading into the black night and hanging limply off his form. They swallow him whole.
“We’ll all die someday,” he states matter-of-factly, taking an idle drag. A guy draped dizzily over the floor by our feet lifts a fist, “‘ear ‘ear!”
“But I killed someone, with my own hands,” I insist, wishing for a reaction out of him.Again, he shrugs, that infamous carelessness irritating me more. I open my mouth, wanting to gain some kind of serious response. But he speaks before I could.
“Join the club,” he drawls, gesturing to his cigarette, “But seriously, tell me who your dealer is. If it’s as serious as you say, I’d like to have a try.”
“Hit me up as well, hon,” one girl sings lazily. Her face is painted with makeup, rabid twists of hair curling around her face and her thick-lipped, delirious grin. Her long nails are painted with child-like, pink flowers as she waves for my attention, “The normal stuff just ain’t workin’ for me anymo’.”

I walk out, dumping the remnants of my drink into the street and the cup with it. The wind is cold and raises goosebumps on my skin. I’m only about 30 minutes away, the music already behind me, when there’s a shriek that sounds the whole campus. I look back, able to feel Chen’s gaze on me - even when I’m too far away to really meet it.I walk on; still feeling the red of the cup on my fingers, still seeing the glint of the rings in the streetlights. No one glances my way.
If I had to breathe, I wish I could breathe silently.

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