And here I am again. Aren't I just the eagerest beaver you ever saw? (Flamboyantly giggles). Dear Dog (Spelling intentional), I might as well change my name to Maximillion... Anyhow, This story takes the stereotypical "Creepy dollhouse" concept, and removes any actual happenings, as I am a time-constrained fop. Enjoy.
Knock knock.
"Pinkie! Open the door! It's me, Twilight! Open the door!" Shouted the Purple Unicorn, banging desprately on the velvet, wooden door.
"Pinkie Pie is not here now. Please leave a message after the beep." The being formerly known as Pinkie Pie replied, in a faraway, harmonious voice.
Pinkie pie has had a rough string of mental catastophies befall her throughout the months. Between a barrage of bullying, blackmail, one beastly break-up, and basically utter bullshit, it came as no surprise that Pinkie Pie would eventually lose it.
Pinkie Pie wasn't a very stable pony to begin with. To many she was fun incarnate, yearning nothing more than to selflessly make people happy. Of course, the main reason the pink pony really did anything, was for attention. In her twisted, lonely mind, where nothing she did fit her peak standards, attention and praise were the morphine that kept her from cracking.
"That's it, Pinkie, I'm coming in!" Twilight declared, her horn becoming enveloped in a transparent lavender aura. Seconds later, the door's latches clicked and snapped, the door instantly creaking open in one sleek motion. Twilight slowly entered the room, her motion becoming increasingly slow, many striking things suddenly catching her eye at once.
Twilight took in every detail she could see, beginning with the walls. The walls of Pinkie's room was bathed in beautifully cryptic doodles, sketches, and elegantly bizarre phrases, done in the highest grade of calligraphy imaginable, not a single spot wasn't covered in graphite.
Twilight walked around the room, noticing that Pinkie Pie was doing more than just wall murals. She noticed piles and stacks of sketchbooks, each one of the same size and color, with every single one filled with the inpony depictions of various vistas from her friend's psyche. Twilight picked one up off the floor, flicking through the pages with a mother-like curiousity.
Many of the drawings contained queer, unimaginably alien creatures, wearing elegant, victorian fashions that would make Rarity blush, with equally alien buildings and vehicles in the background. The Creatures in the book were anthropomorphic, very vaguely resembling animals found in Equestria. These unfathomable beings were often depicted doing actions drastically different than the ones they would be doing on the page before, with one showing them slaughtering a common goat, and the other one showing them having tea in what could have been a ferris-wheel in the shape of a terrasect. Speaking of which, the buildings themselves also were quite extraordinary, from having no defininate form, to being composed of three and four dimensional shapes, to being completely comprehended, despite the amount of effort one put in, trying to descern what it truly was. The only way you could tell they were buildings in the first place, was, despite their lovecraftian forms, they still had explicitly building characteristics, such as doors, and windows.
But the most mortifying, if not heavenly thing of all was the level of skill and care that went into the intelligable gibberish that appeared througout her work. Her words, like a changeling, would take different forms at times. One paragraph could contain simplistic, almost pony-like sentences, while another looked like a celestial mix of Kanji and Anochian, with sprinkles of hebrew throughout.
Twilight's mind was set ablaze as she beholded her friend's sickeningly amazing artworks. Twilight, who spent a good deal of her life, mastering every single aspect of life, from cooking, to history, to psychology, had not the slightest idea of what these images symbolised, and to be frank, she was afraid to ask. And yet she had no other choice, no other attempt to save her good friend's mind from falling further into limbo.
"These... are very talented and beautiful drawings, Pinkie.". She said, giving a glance at her friend as she did so.
For the entire time, the Earth Pony had her back facing the unicorn, simply sitting in her family's traditional rock farming attire, undisturbed by the unicorn's presence. Until now. She slowly turned her head, gradually forming eye contact, and when she did so, Twilight could instantly tell something was dreadfully wrong- her hair was down.
She mentally scolded herself for not noticing sooner. This WASN'T Pinkie Pie, the prank loving, optimistic, reality bender. This was Pinkamena, the embodiment of all her torture and suffering, and unfortunately, the original Pinkie Pie.
"Beauty...?" she inquires, intrigued, and quizzical by her complement.
"...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."
"You must be a bigger monster than I am, to see my work as beautiful dear." As she spoke, she flashed an unsettling smile in Twilight's direction, before turning away, pulling a nearby box onto her lap. She placed the various objects by her side neatly, before tossing the empty box upside down, deciding to use it as a make-shift table. She placed the contents of the box on the "table" before turning back to Twilight.
"Have a seat."
This took me, what an hour to write? Maybe two? Who cares? I do, I got art homework to do, damn it! Anyhow, I guess a bit of elaboration is nessisary. Well, this is VERY loosely based of someone very close to my heart, who is also unfortunately insecure. Like Pinkamena, she has standards of perfection beyond human understanding, failing to understand how beautiful she really is, in all respects. What I wouldn't give to help her...
Well, I suppose you can see how personal and deep this is, compared to my usual crap, huh? I genuinely put in some of my heart into this.
Though I didn't plan it. It all happened on the spur of the moment... or hour. Though I probably won't continue, until another event triggers my need to build on this. Don't know what I mean? Well, I don't either. Let's hope I don't have to, alright?
Though, I must say, I am impressed. I do like how beautifully it came out in the process. Very lovecraftian, I must say.