Unforgettable Conscience

     Over morning yonder the fields of Happy Valley

     Lay the wastes of the Snowager's breadth.

     Always is the year to come until the next month

     Ripens and welcomes the celebration.

     Sleeping ixis bid time farewell

     Faeries kiss the floating souls

     Watchful of heights that once made

     Grounds in the sky.

     They say when yullies skitter between walls

     A statement passes unheard

     With ghosts surrounding the Money Tree

     And grey folks yearning for more.

     Destroyed and in ruins, her heart weeps

     For the rock that kept steady

     All the wishes impatiently growing

     throughout the crumbling bricks.

     Deep and unsettling throughout

     Wistful webs drowning in dust

     as the diamond fades into the tunnel

     forbidding those who believe in the undead.

     Lava seeps through cracks

     It peeks in secret of the glass

     Reflecting against the most foul air

     Burning up the island in mystery.

     Rain forms the arch above the fountain

     Rumbling streams in his hair

     Drenched in liquid that is nought

     Coherent unlike his eyes aglow.

     Shift unto the wings in space

     Shift into the metal cage

     Blasters ready to phase

     Often the sloth lingers

     On blank edges unknown.

      Does cruelty beg for mercy?

     Signage on the humble clay

     Crumbles away to nothing.

     Gnorbu shears cut through paper

     Slicker than dry plumes

     That seem endless across the sand.

     Towers upon towers build up emptiness

     Unsurmised by factions' blight.

     Bow upturned to the fight

     Pointed and maimed both ends.

     Darkened blares swell up the waves

     He cries out to the sea

     A siren answer returned from the deep

     The wary king rightful of his worries.

     She weeps into the sea

     A lone soul dulled with betrayal

     Salt retained within the fading coral.

     Cackles of late begin to hurl

     All energy lost between friend and foe

     Then regained the fire that burns underwater

     Blasting the Drenched from their home.

     Ruby pierces the haze unseen

     By his majesty droning on his throne

     Awake yet somnolent in tax

     For those he lost have yet to come back.

     Sapphire valiant in victory's shine

     Ward off advances long before

     Darkness seizes land's day.

     One dares to cloak the Count of Night

     Sharpened wit saves the least of concerns

     A chance that grows with fear

     A chance that marks beady eyes of death

     A chance that follows him to the grave

     Lo and behold! Moonlight dips in favor of you."

      Maggie holds in her snort for the eleventh time that night. Shadows dance across her thick mane and her face, nares pressed in a thin line. The clatters and clinks of dinnerware fade into white noise. She is unsure of their reaction or lack of. Half of the heads were turned elsewhere either in conversation amongst themselves or unbothered by her presentation. And the other half stares unblinkingly at her misty visage. When did their arms disappear? Actually, when did their bodies disappear? But their eyes and mouths remain, hollowed out and empty, almost resembling a coconut. Maggie shuts her own eyes, aware but unsurprised at her distress. Her audience is composed of kikos, for crying out loud. Probably the most peace-loving Neopians she's ever met.

      One figure bounces forward and takes a sip of his cornupepper lemonade floating in midair. He dramatically jerks his head to the side. Before she knows it, Maggie is stepping off the stage in confusion. Guess that's that. She shrugs away thoughts of regret before it overwhelms her. She pushes forward to the empty bar. There is already a drink sitting on the counter. Maggie looks around and reaches for the Kiko shaped bottle before a little squeak breaks her silence.

     "Hey, watch it!"

     Her hoof stutters. She tilts her head in awe at the source of the voice. The Kiko drink! It's talking!

     "You trying to poke an eye out with that thing?"

     Maggie relaxes her shoulders. It seems more amused than scared of her.

     "Sorry. I didn't realize beverages were able to express their concerns."

     Her tone is flat and to the point. The Kiko bottle arches a brow if it had one. Maggie ignores it and resumes her search for a drink. She really needs one at this point.

     "The name's Macmillion."

     "I'm Maggie."

     Where do they keep ice around here? The room temperature climbed higher than she liked.

     "You look like you lost something," the Kiko drink states.

     Yeah, her mind.

     When it realizes no response from her, it makes a strange proposal.

     "Have you tried a bubblegum-flavoured drink before?"

     Finally, Maggie shifts her attention to the talking Kiko bottle. She curiously asks, "No, I haven't, why?"

     Her eyes widen as Macmillion chuckles, "You should try some. It's very refreshing."

     Before she could blink, a chilled drink materializes in front of her. The ocean blue liquid ripples in the glass as it is gently placed on the marble counter. Maggie could trace tiny bubbles floating to the surface. She's always liked fizzy drinks.

      She eyes Macmillion in her periphery as she lifts up the glass. Maggie clears her throat and focuses on her drink. It's cool and sweet, but it doesn't taste like bubblegum which confuses her. Blueberry overpowers her tastes, and her mind is at ease as she finishes the last half of it. Not bad. She turns to thank the talking Kiko bottle, but it is nowhere to be seen. Maggie just continues sitting at the bar, contemplating whether the past few minutes were part of her imagination.

      'Did you really forget?'

      A song abruptly brings her back to her surroundings. She can't ignore the sorrowful notes permeating the low background noises. Maggie stands to follow the sound which leads her towards the exit of the building. Her hooves click against the hardwood flooring, and she feels a sense of growing panic that shouldn't belong to her. Why would she panic? She's not in any danger. She heaves against the exiting doors. Were they always this heavy?

     The first thing she notices outside is how she can see her breath puff into the air. Maggie quickly looks up. The sky appears washed out in grey. It's cold and dreary. She notices white-capped mountains in the distance when she ventures out further. She slowly lowers her head and looks at the snow-covered ground. No hoofprints. She looks behind her. There is no longer a door to the building. No evidence of her steps in the powdery snow. In fact, nothing and no one made an impression in the snow. Maggie wonders how snow can look so pristine.

      She scratches her head and pauses at the sharp tug. Claws? What happened to her worn down hooves? Is that a bandage on her head? And she doesn't know what to think of her baldness. She doesn't want to. I must be dreaming, she calmly thinks. All of this.

      'How can you forget?'

      The voice echoes in her mind. Forget what? Frustration is building up, she doesn't know where she is and what she is, and it's near freezing here. Maggie blames it on no one but herself. She should never have stepped foot inside that uptight establishment. She should not have shared her poem to a bunch of circles. And she definitely should not have trusted a magical talking bottle.

      A howling snowstorm rages near her, coming closer and closer. She picks up a deafening roar far away. Maybe the winds will take her away from here.

      'This time will be unforgettable.'

      She'll do what it takes to wake up.

     The End.