The Woman

Dear friend.

It has been a while, hasn’t it? Not for you, I imagine, for you know everything that ever was and ever will be, and yet…

And yet here I am, telling you my story as if you don’t know it already. Then again, I suppose this is the nature of storytelling, isn’t it? Every story told we already know, yet we still yearn to hear it again and again, each time freshened up with a different coat of paint.

But you seem upset, today, dear friend. I wonder why. Is it because I directly disobeyed your request and looked into the pond of regrets? Surely not!

I apologize. The one thing you told me not to look at. The neverending path. But I had to know.

I had to know.

Do you want me to tell you what I saw?

I saw a train chugging away towards the city. I saw people inside, of all ages and places, the early afternoon sun bathing them with its warmth.

I saw a woman, too. Thin, and tall, and wise. I want to say she was about forty years old? Maybe late-thirties. She seemed to be very different from the other people in that middle-class compartment. As though she were one of them, but not really.

Fitting in, but not entirely.

She didn’t notice, too enraptured by the blurry sights beyond the window. Her gloved left hand toyed with the clasp of her long, black coat, while her naked right hand was occupied with anxiously tapping her fingers against her pants.

I must confess, I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful. I was staggered by her, by the hidden maturity that she so completely exuded. I’m convinced that the saying ‘aged like fine wine’ was created for her and her alone.

Not to say she hadn’t been beautiful when she was younger–she had been–but the beauty of her youth was silly in a charming way. This version of her, however, was everything she was but sharpened to a point. Broken and damaged and remade until perfection had been achieved.

I sound trite. But it’s true.

This woman was nothing more and nothing less than a lady.

The grandest of them all.

She didn’t stand up when the train stopped at the station. She was distracted, watching a woman sweep the platform in slow, precise movements. It wasn’t until she heard someone clearing her throat that she turned around and was surprised to find no one in her compartment had moved.

They all sat, unsure, looking right her way.

She smiled, amused, and tilted her head to the side. “You don’t have to wait for me to leave first, you know?”

A chorus of embarrassed laughter rang out, all of them instantly at ease. She watched them as they got up and fetched their belongings, returning with nods their quick effusive farewells.

I watched this happen through the pond, completely transfixed. How they treated her! The nervousness of some when they asked to shake her hand, and their joy when she obliged. Their awe when she simply flicked her wrist and her suitcase floated down from above, hovering in the air for all to see.

“She’s magical,” whispered a child, and she was.

I wanted to be there. My God, I wanted to plunge into that pond and see if I too could clumsily shake hands with Lady Twilight Sparkle herself.

Even the way she jumped down onto the platform was graceful, precise, divine. The way she closed her eyes and breathed in. Everything!

I missed her. This Twilight Sparkle I’ve yet to meet.

A man was waiting for her at the station. He seemed important, wearing a suit and looking very much like the men and women I’d seen Lady Celestia conversing with as a child.

They spoke as they walked. Spoke of idle things like the weather and the seasons, and of important things like an upcoming meeting with the Mayor and an event in the Lunar District.

They spoke and spoke of so many things, financial and social conversations that made me feel completely out of my depth. That made me realize just how desperately I wanted to know the life of this woman who was grander than anything I’d ever seen.

And it hit me, stronger than ever before.

I was suffocated by my very existence, by the very nature of my being that allowed me to be in a place where I could glimpse the future.

I stepped away from the pond after that. I didn’t want to see more. To see more would seal my fate.

Now.

Let’s play a game. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s called ‘two truths and a lie’.

If Twilight Sparkle wanted to go to a place where she could think of me, she could go to:

The café in front of the East River Hospital.

The bench near King Pike’s Station.

The Cemetery.

The funny thing about this particular instance of this game is that it’s me who doesn’t know the answer, not you. You know perfectly well which is the lie.

I don’t.

I fear I know the answer, but I refuse to believe it.

You’re smiling? Why? I don’t know why you are. Death isn’t permanent. It isn’t. You’re smiling again, but I don’t care. You who takes us all when the time has come.

You think you’re smart.

I know why you have that rule. Why we who inhabit this realm of the beyond must never look into the pond of regrets. I know it’s because seeing what could have been will only result in an eternity of regret.

But you’re mistaken.

When I looked down into that pond and saw a Twilight Sparkle logic dictates I will never meet, I wasn’t discouraged. I wasn’t upset.

On the contrary!

I was encouraged. Determined as I was the moment I first arrived here and you sat me down for tea.

You should know I’m stubborn, by now. You should be very well aware that, Lady Rarity, always get what she wants, sooner or later.

I will continue to tell you this strange little story of Twilight and me, of the tangled web that is selling your body but not your mind. I will ensorcell you as I already have, and there will come a time when this story will end in life’s greatest cliffhanger.

And when that time comes, mark my words, you will be so desperate to know more…

You’ll have no choice but to bring me back.