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After Mare-day Gras...The light from Celestia's noontime sun brightly shone into Twilight's sleeping face, causing the unicorn to cover her face with a foreleg. "Mmmph, 5 more minutes... I was up studying, ma..." Twilight's voice, still drowsy, didn't want to give in to the warm sun ray's urging her awake.
But, try as she might, the warmth from the sun gently urged her from her slumber. Giving a sigh, the unicorn slowly opens her first her left eye... Then her right eye creeps open as she stumbles out of her sleeping nook. Still half-asleep, Twilight trips down the steps and into the kitchen. "Mmmm, need tea... Wha-what happened last night...?" The last thing she remembered as she trotted drowzily into the kitchen, was being at the local Mare-day Gras party Pinkie Pie threw last night...
"Twilight!" The ever-hyper pink pony bounced over, her neck laden with what looked to be hundreds of beaded necklaces as she wore a mask in the shape of two lollypops over her eyes. "TWILIGHT!" the hyper pony screamed ag
Look before you sleep CelestiaLuna stood on the balcony of her bedroom in the royal palace. She loved her room. Then again, she would love anything that had walls and something soft to lie down on. The moon wasn't exactly a comfortable place to get some shuteye, after all.
It was a warm evening in the early summer, and from her balcony she could see that the lights in Celestia's room next door were still on.
"She's probably working, still used to handling all the state's affairs," Luna thought to herself as she smiled devilishly. "But she won't be for much longer."
As she trotted towards the door of her bedroom, she decided that it was time to put her carefully laid plans to action.
She opened the door and turned to her guards.
"Yes, your highness?" they responded in carefully trained unison.
"It is time. Execute order 41!" Luna said with a diabolical grin.
"Are you sure Miss Luna? I mean isn't it too soon?" One of the guards asked, the other looking as unsure as the former sounded.
"We have prepared
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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