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Description
Verse 1
Silver Spoon was dead and everyone in Ponyville knew it. Truth be told, with all of the events that had happened in Ponyville over the last few years, it was a wonder more ponies had not died unnatural deaths. Fortune had smiled on the town, if that could be said of a town so often in the center of calamitous events. It had only suffered the one loss, but that one loss was of a filly. And so the death of Silver Spoon had been the talk of the town.
        Did Diamond Tiara know that Silver Spoon was dead? Yes, she did, even though she had been out of town when it occurred, accompanying her father on a business trip. No pony knew that Silver Spoon was dead more so than Diamond Tiara, other than maybe Silver Spoon's parents, for Diamond Tiara was Silver Spoon's best friend. One could even say that Diamond Tiara was Silver Spoon's only friend, that she had none other, but one should not speak ill of the dead. And so while that would be the truth, I shall not say it.
        Silver Spoon had also been Diamond Tiara's only friend. And with Silver Spoon's death, she now had none. I say this because, unlike Silver Spoon, Diamond Tiara was not dead. She was very much alive, at least in the sense that she was a walking, talking, and breathing pony.
        Inside, the fire had gone out of her with the death of her friend. Her heart was as cold and hard as a diamond. Even her father's affection, which she so craved before, did nothing to stir the embers. She was without genuine joy, without kindness, without sympathy, and without friends. And if she could have none, then no pony else deserved any either.
        It was the day before Hearth's Warming Eve, and Diamond Tiara was at school. Not because school was in session, no, but because it was the final dress rehearsal for the school's rendition of the Hearth's Warming Eve pageant. Each year, one class performed the traditional play. The fillies and colts played the parts. They made the costumes and the sets. They handled the lighting. And one of them directed.
        This year, that class was Miss Cheerilee's. And the director? Why that was none other than Diamond Tiara. How had a filly with no friends, who only smiled when she brought misery to others acquired such a key role? Well, it is possible that a influential businesspony had influenced a certain mayor who had in turn influenced a certain school teacher.
        And so Diamond Tiara was in charge, and she had done her best to spread as much misery as she could get away with. Where she could, she had picked the worst choices for each role. When Miss Cheerilee had asked if Diamond Tiara was sure about her choices, Diamond Tiara had explained that she was sure they could do it, they just needed to be given the chance. Of course, what she was actually sure of was that they would fail.
        Puffs of breath were visible from the ponies within the theater. Occasionally, one would shiver as a gust of cold air passed through the open doors of the building. Whenever one of her fellow ponies complained about the cold, Diamond Tiara would say it was to help the actors get in character, to understand their plight under the assault of the windigoes. The reality was she just liked to see them suffer.
        It was for that same reason that this last rehearsal was being held tonight. Diamond Tiara had known that Miss Cheerilee would be busy with her family and so had taken the opportunity to cause some unsupervised mayhem. One last chance to cause misery and insure everything was on course to be a horrible tomorrow.
        "Fly higher, Scootaloo, and keep that helm on straight. It keeps slipping," Diamond Tiara called out. "You are Commander Hurricane, not Private Pansy, remember?"
        "I'm trying," Scootaloo called back, between gasps of breath, as her ill fitting helm once again slid down covering her eyes. "Gah, stupid helm!" she cried out as she ripped the helm off, sending it spiraling toward the ground. With everypony watching the helm as it bounced, Diamond Tiara smiled and looked for another target.
        "Sweetie Belle, you're hiding in the back again. You're a princess. You should be the focus of attention. Just imagine every eye in the place focused on you." Tiara watched with satisfaction as Sweetie Belle shrunk further back. Tomorrow night, Sweetie would no doubt be spectacularly bad. Another one down and on to her current favorite pair of targets.
        "Apple Bloom, you need to lose the accent. You are Smart Cookie, not Creamfilled Spongecake. Do try to sound intelligent." As Apple Bloom started to sputter a response, Tiara cut her off. "Ah, yes. Exactly my point.
        "Twist, you're the announcer. You need to speak clearly. Haven't you been practicing?" As Twist hid her face in shame, Tiara barely suppressed a laugh.
        Two weeks ago, she had swapped Apple Bloom and Twist's roles, the culmination of a month of planning. Since the idea had occurred to her, Diamond Tiara had slowly changed the announcers dialogue bit by bit, adding more sounds that would draw attention to Twist's speech impediment, while priming Cheerilee so that, when the change came, she wouldn't object. The idea had been a stroke of genius and worth every bit of effort.
        Rumble took a step toward Diamond Tiara, a scowl on his face, but before he could say anything, she turned on him. "Rumble, Private Pansy. Pansy. Now, I know Scootaloo isn't giving you much to work with, but you need to act meeker." Tiara was pleased as Rumble looked properly flustered, while Scootaloo dropped to the floor, head down, beside her troublesome helmet.
        "Truffle Shuffle, you did great as usual. Puddinghead will definitely be the high point of the show this year. If only the others could do as well as you." He blushed under the praise and shuffled his feet, embarrassed to be singled out from all his compatriots, while the others grew gloomier and glowered at Truffle. Even compliments could cause misery, in the skillful hooves of Diamond Tiara.
        "And you, Snails. I don't know what we're going to do with you," Tiara said. And that was true. She had picked him for the role of Clover the Clever because he was the least clever foal in the class. However, despite all of her attempts to make him feel worthless, nothing seemed to take; he remained upbeat. Still, she consoled herself, six out of seven was not bad.
        She looked over her actors, watched as they squirmed, clearly wanting to ask her something but afraid to do so, afraid to attract attention. She knew what they wanted to ask and it pleased her that they did not do so. "I suppose you all want to get going, don't you? Have parties and such planned?"
        Heads bobbed eagerly in response and Snails gave one of his dopey grins. Diamond Tiara sighed, and as if it were the greatest concession in the world, nodded. She had done about all the damage she could do tonight anyway. "Fine. Everyone, that's it for tonight. But I'll expect you all to show up extra early tomorrow before the big show.."
        Relieved, the ponies picked up their things and filed out the door, one by one. The last to go was Snails. He stopped at the door, before leaving. "Good night," he offered.
        "Bah humbug," Tiara uttered in reply.
        Alone at last, Tiara locked up the theater and proceeded to walk home through the chill air, as though the chill did not bother her. She had no need for warmth, she told herself.
        Around her, other ponies hurried about their business, moving briskly to minimize their time in the cold. They offered each other greetings of "Merry Hearth's Warming" as they passed, evoking a muttered "Bah, humbug" from Diamond Tiara. Any that approached her, she turned an icy glare upon, causing them to shiver and step out of her path.
        When the young foal walking in front of her besides his mom dropped his toy, she casually kicked it under some nearby bushes before he noticed it was gone. She passed as he noticed his toy was missing and pulled his mother to a stop. Moments later, she heard the foal break into tears. It was this, rather than the merriment around her, that brought a smile to her face, and it was all she could do to restrain an evil laugh.
        At last, after pushing rudely through a group of carolers, Diamond Tiara arrived at her house, a large building made up of dark grey slate blocks, with engraved stone and windows trimmed with dark wood. If it was dark outside already, it was even darker by the house, as if the very stones devoured whatever light there was.
        With a determined stride, Diamond Tiara walked down the stone path toward the door, eager to be inside her fortress from all the foolish ponies and their merriment outside. Arriving at the door, she grabbed the handle, turning only to utter one last "Bah humbug" back toward the street and the town below.
        It was when Diamond Tiara turned back that she saw a most peculiar sight. The knocker on the door, a knocker she knew well, was changing. What should have been a base with a large brass key shaped knocker hanging from it shifted. It was a sight that left her unable to look away, unable even to blink, as slowly, the key became a spoon. And not only did the shape change, but the very metal began to shine.
        Diamond Tiara gasped, lifting up one hoof to brush her necklace, a necklace that had once hung around the neck of her best friend. Before her, the knocker completed its transformation. What was brass was now silver, and the spoon that had been a key now sported a bright pink heart on its handle. It was a design she knew: the cutie mark of her best friend. Her very dead friend.
        With a cry, Diamond Tiara clamped her eyes shut and looked down. Trying to dislodge the vision from her mind, she shook her head. And then slowly, she opened one eye and looked toward the knocker once more, too afraid even to breathe. The brass key was back, as if it had never left. Relieved, she took a deep breath.
        "A trick of the mind," Tiara said to herself, as she opened the door and rushed inside. "The cold is responsible."
        "Is that you, princess?" her father called from within the dining room.
        "Yes, daddy" she called back, examining herself in the hallway's mirror. She lifted a hoof to straighten her tiara and stopped, observing its shaking. "It is just the cold, that is all. It will pass shortly," she said quietly to herself. She stared at it, until it ceased to shake. Only then did she adjust her tiara and proceed to the dining room.
        "Are you okay, pumpkin? You look as if you've seen a ghost," Filthy Rich said.
        "A ghost? What makes you say that?" Diamond Tiara asked, alarmed. "Everyone knows ghosts aren't real."
        Filthy Rich eyed his daughter curiously. "You just look a bit cold. Not to mention a bit jumpy. That is all I meant."
        "The cold. Colder outside than I'd realized," she said. For good measure, she put on an insecure little filly face and added, "And maybe I'm a bit nervous about the play. The big night tomorrow."
        "Yes, it is a bit nippy out, isn't it? I'll have Praiseworthy throw another log on the fire. Now, sit down, sit down. You're just in time for dinner. You can tell me all about how things are going while we eat."
        Dinner was served by Praiseworthy, the family butler, and it was spectacular. It was made from the finest grains, the best grasses, and even fresh fruit, imported by train. For Diamond Tiara though, it might as well have been mashed alfalfa. Eating was something she did to sustain life, not because she got any enjoyment out of it. Oh, she might put on a show of enjoying food if a hungry pony was watching or if she felt it would help her get something she wanted, but it was just that, a show.
        With her dinner finished, Diamond Tiara pushed back her chair. "I'm going to bed," she told her father.
        "Isn't that a bit early?" her father asked, for it was barely past eight PM. "Aren't you going to any parties tonight? You know how you used to love parties."
        Diamond Tiara nodded. She had indeed enjoyed parties in the past. But they were another thing that just were not the same without Silver Spoon. Without her, Diamond Tiara had nopony to appreciate the wit of her snide remarks, and parties had too many ponies intent on having a good time for her to effectively cut down one party goer all by herself.
        "No. I'm tired. And I've got to be ready for the play tomorrow," she said, taking advantage of the convenient excuse, while adding a fake yawn for good measure.
        "Oh, okay then. I'm going out later tonight. Some last minute bit of business I need to take care of. Sleep well." Filthy Rich held open his arms toward his daughter, and she slipped into them, giving him a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.
        "Night, daddy."
        She left the dining room and climbed up the stairs, her hooves echoing off the darkly stained wood. Down the hallway she went and into her room, shutting the heavy wooden door behind her. She turned the key to lock her door, as was her habit. This was her domain, her fortress to hide within from the world.
        It was the type of room one might expect from a dour, old spinster, not from a filly. Navy blue drapes of heavy cloth hung in front of the window, while matching cloth formed the canopy of her bed. Her bed covers were the same shade of blue. The walls were painted, not in a bright, cheery color one would expect from a pony, especially a young filly, but rather in a dark grey, a grey that not coincidentally matched the color of Silver Spoon's coat.
        There were no toys visible within the room, and the dresser had only the barest of what would have expected laid upon it. A single hair brush, a statue, and a single book, a book of sad poems by a long dead poet. And over the cabinet, hung a single poster sized picture: a picture of two fillies, from happier days. The only other furniture was a nightstand, upon which sat a clock and a lamp. On its lowest setting, its light barely illuminated the room, yet that meager light was enough for Tiara. She did not turn it up, to brighten the room. She liked the gloom.
        For a while, Diamond Tiara read until she grew bored of the words and returned the book to its place. Beside it, she placed her signature tiara. Picking up the brush, Tiara flopped down upon her bed and began brushing her mane. Every stroke was fast and harsh, as if the knots in her mane were her worst enemy and the brush a whip to use upon them without mercy. She did this without thought, as she had every night for too long now. And all the while, she stared at the picture.
        And it was then that things got strange for the second time, for it seemed with every stroke, she heard the rattling of chains. Not of light chains, the soft rustle one might hear if one played with one's necklace, but of heavy chains, the sort of thing one might find in a lumber yard or other industrial area. When she stopped her strokes, so did the rattling stop. And when she resumed them, the rattling resumed as well.
        Curious, Diamond Tiara set down the brush and checked outside the door in the hall. Satisfied that nopony was there, she locked the door again and resumed her brushing. Another trick of the mind, she told herself. That the sounds she had heard and the bulges shifting the paintings surface were not real. The brush dropped to the floor with a clatter as her jaw did its best to do the same.
        The surface of the painting did indeed some to be moving, as if large bugs were moving behind it. But it was not bugs, for the painting itself warped, the figure within animating, the forelegs within it moving from side to side and also stretching outwards. It was as if a pony was trapped behind a wall of taffee, trying to break through. No, not trying, but breaking through.
        Diamond Tiara scrambled backwards, until her head collided with the headrest of her bed. There she sat, caught with no chance of escape, able to do nothing but watch, like the unfortunate victim of an oncoming bunny stampede. Eyes wide as saucers. Not the small children's tea set saucers, but full sized adult saucers.
        A chain of silver dropped out of the picture, and then two more, each landing with a rattle and a thunk on the wood of the dresser, knocking the book to the ground. With a suctioning noise, a foreleg stepped through, followed by another. The next thing to burst through was a head. With a slurp, the picture recoiled back, leaving a pony standing upon her dresser. A pony with a dark grey coat, a lighter grey mane, glasses, a necklace, and chains.
        For the second this night, Diamond Tiara grasped the necklace around her neck, for it was a twin for the one around the neck of the translucent pony upon her dresser.
        "But... but you're dead," she managed to utter. "This cannot be real."
        "Can't it?" Silver Spoon asked.
        "No. You are not real. Nothing more than an apparition. If I but look away for a moment, you'll be gone. Just like the knocker."
        "Then do so, my friend, and see what happens." The pony jumped down from the dresser, dragging the chains behind her. Chains made of silver links, of varying thickness, draped around the filly, weighing her down, and stretching back into the painting from whence she had come.
        Now that Silver Spoon was closer to the solitary lamp, Diamond Tiara could see her better. It was not a pleasing sight. Where once her friend had been hale, now Silver Spoon was gaunt and worn. With a shudder, Diamond Tiara looked away, only to quickly look back.
        "Still here," the apparition said with a sad smile. "Not just the strange imaginings of a disturbed mind."
        "Are you... are you here to stay?" Diamond Tiara asked, a slight tremor, almost hopeful, in her voice.
        "How I wish I could be, but no, alas, I am not. Cursed I am, cursed to wander this world unseen, dragging behind me the sins of my life. Every wandering, never resting."
        "But why? What did you do wrong? You never hurt anypony."
        "Oh, but I did. Every time I uttered a cruel word. Every time I could have extended a hoof in friendship, but did not. Each time I saw something and passed it by, as it was not my problem. Each and every one of those things forged a link in my chains. And just look at how many links I forged in my short life." Silver Spoon's head hung low with these words, regret never felt in life weighing down upon her as much, nay, more so, than her chains.
        Suddenly, Silver Spoon looked up, staring intently into Diamond Tiara's eyes. "But I was not alone in those actions. You were there with me for so many."
        Gasping in fear, Diamond Tiara tried to merge with the wall behind her. "Is this revenge then? Do you blame me for your suffering? Have you come to kill me like a ghost in some campfire story?"
        Silver Spoon's rear legs collapsed under her as she sat down, her mouth open in surprise. She spoke, but with a wavering in her voice, an uncertainty that Diamond Tiara had scarcely ever heard from her. "How could you think that? You're my friend, Tia. Always my friend. My only friend. I would never hurt you." She reached forth a hoof and gently stroked Diamond Tiara's cheek. "No, I come to you not as an vengeful spirit, but as someone who has never stopped caring about you. To spare you the torment that is my lot. It is too late for me, but for you, there is still time to turn away from the path you are on. To shed the chains you are forging.
        "For you had as many as I had when I died. And since then, you have added on ever more. Each time I passed you by in my torment, your chains had grown more numerous and longer. Oh, if you could but see what I see, the sight would make you weep. I can no longer cry and yet it almost makes me do so. Oh, Tiara, my friend."
        Silver Spoon paused then, as if to gather herself. When she spoke again, the tremble in her voice was gone.
        "This night, you will be given the chance to set a new course for your life. But it will not be easy and you will need help to do so. Before this night is through, three visitors you shall have: spirits of past, present, and future. The first will come at midnight. The second at one. And the third at two."
        The lamp flickered, as if the power threatened to go out. Silver Spoon looked around rapidly, then groaned as the silver chains started to rattle, beginning to retract into the painting, slowly but steadily. Desperately, Silver Spoon struggled against the pull of the chains, trying to brace herself, but to no avail. Her time was up once again. Still, Silver Spoon fought, as her hind quarters were pulled in. She thrashed from side to side, until at last only her head was left free of the painting. She ceased to struggle then, locking eyes with with Diamond Tiara, and uttered two words as she was pulled fully into the painting.
        "My friend."
        The room was still once more, the lamp back to normal. Diamond Tiara got up off her bed, brushing her hooves along the painting. Nothing, it was just a normal painting. "Humbug," she tried to say, but the word would not leave her mouth.
        Shuddering, and whether drained from her activities of the day or the strange happenings, she crawled into her bed, barely remembered to turn off the lamp, and was instantly asleep.

Description
Verse 1
Silver Spoon was dead and everyone in Ponyville knew it. Truth be told, with all of the events that had happened in Ponyville over the last few years, it was a wonder more ponies had not died unnatural deaths. Fortune had smiled on the town, if that could be said of a town so often in the center of calamitous events. It had only suffered the one loss, but that one loss was of a filly. And so the death of Silver Spoon had been the talk of the town.
        Did Diamond Tiara know that Silver Spoon was dead? Yes, she did, even though she had been out of town when it occurred, accompanying her father on a business trip. No pony knew that Silver Spoon was dead more so than Diamond Tiara, other than maybe Silver Spoon's parents, for Diamond Tiara was Silver Spoon's best friend. One could even say that Diamond Tiara was Silver Spoon's only friend, that she had none other, but one should not speak ill of the dead. And so while that would be the truth, I shall not say it.
        Silver Spoon had also been Diamond Tiara's only friend. And with Silver Spoon's death, she now had none. I say this because, unlike Silver Spoon, Diamond Tiara was not dead. She was very much alive, at least in the sense that she was a walking, talking, and breathing pony.
        Inside, the fire had gone out of her with the death of her friend. Her heart was as cold and hard as a diamond. Even her father's affection, which she so craved before, did nothing to stir the embers. She was without genuine joy, without kindness, without sympathy, and without friends. And if she could have none, then no pony else deserved any either.
        It was the day before Hearth's Warming Eve, and Diamond Tiara was at school. Not because school was in session, no, but because it was the final dress rehearsal for the school's rendition of the Hearth's Warming Eve pageant. Each year, one class performed the traditional play. The fillies and colts played the parts. They made the costumes and the sets. They handled the lighting. And one of them directed.
        This year, that class was Miss Cheerilee's. And the director? Why that was none other than Diamond Tiara. How had a filly with no friends, who only smiled when she brought misery to others acquired such a key role? Well, it is possible that a influential businesspony had influenced a certain mayor who had in turn influenced a certain school teacher.
        And so Diamond Tiara was in charge, and she had done her best to spread as much misery as she could get away with. Where she could, she had picked the worst choices for each role. When Miss Cheerilee had asked if Diamond Tiara was sure about her choices, Diamond Tiara had explained that she was sure they could do it, they just needed to be given the chance. Of course, what she was actually sure of was that they would fail.
        Puffs of breath were visible from the ponies within the theater. Occasionally, one would shiver as a gust of cold air passed through the open doors of the building. Whenever one of her fellow ponies complained about the cold, Diamond Tiara would say it was to help the actors get in character, to understand their plight under the assault of the windigoes. The reality was she just liked to see them suffer.
        It was for that same reason that this last rehearsal was being held tonight. Diamond Tiara had known that Miss Cheerilee would be busy with her family and so had taken the opportunity to cause some unsupervised mayhem. One last chance to cause misery and insure everything was on course to be a horrible tomorrow.
        "Fly higher, Scootaloo, and keep that helm on straight. It keeps slipping," Diamond Tiara called out. "You are Commander Hurricane, not Private Pansy, remember?"
        "I'm trying," Scootaloo called back, between gasps of breath, as her ill fitting helm once again slid down covering her eyes. "Gah, stupid helm!" she cried out as she ripped the helm off, sending it spiraling toward the ground. With everypony watching the helm as it bounced, Diamond Tiara smiled and looked for another target.
        "Sweetie Belle, you're hiding in the back again. You're a princess. You should be the focus of attention. Just imagine every eye in the place focused on you." Tiara watched with satisfaction as Sweetie Belle shrunk further back. Tomorrow night, Sweetie would no doubt be spectacularly bad. Another one down and on to her current favorite pair of targets.
        "Apple Bloom, you need to lose the accent. You are Smart Cookie, not Creamfilled Spongecake. Do try to sound intelligent." As Apple Bloom started to sputter a response, Tiara cut her off. "Ah, yes. Exactly my point.
        "Twist, you're the announcer. You need to speak clearly. Haven't you been practicing?" As Twist hid her face in shame, Tiara barely suppressed a laugh.
        Two weeks ago, she had swapped Apple Bloom and Twist's roles, the culmination of a month of planning. Since the idea had occurred to her, Diamond Tiara had slowly changed the announcers dialogue bit by bit, adding more sounds that would draw attention to Twist's speech impediment, while priming Cheerilee so that, when the change came, she wouldn't object. The idea had been a stroke of genius and worth every bit of effort.
        Rumble took a step toward Diamond Tiara, a scowl on his face, but before he could say anything, she turned on him. "Rumble, Private Pansy. Pansy. Now, I know Scootaloo isn't giving you much to work with, but you need to act meeker." Tiara was pleased as Rumble looked properly flustered, while Scootaloo dropped to the floor, head down, beside her troublesome helmet.
        "Truffle Shuffle, you did great as usual. Puddinghead will definitely be the high point of the show this year. If only the others could do as well as you." He blushed under the praise and shuffled his feet, embarrassed to be singled out from all his compatriots, while the others grew gloomier and glowered at Truffle. Even compliments could cause misery, in the skillful hooves of Diamond Tiara.
        "And you, Snails. I don't know what we're going to do with you," Tiara said. And that was true. She had picked him for the role of Clover the Clever because he was the least clever foal in the class. However, despite all of her attempts to make him feel worthless, nothing seemed to take; he remained upbeat. Still, she consoled herself, six out of seven was not bad.
        She looked over her actors, watched as they squirmed, clearly wanting to ask her something but afraid to do so, afraid to attract attention. She knew what they wanted to ask and it pleased her that they did not do so. "I suppose you all want to get going, don't you? Have parties and such planned?"
        Heads bobbed eagerly in response and Snails gave one of his dopey grins. Diamond Tiara sighed, and as if it were the greatest concession in the world, nodded. She had done about all the damage she could do tonight anyway. "Fine. Everyone, that's it for tonight. But I'll expect you all to show up extra early tomorrow before the big show.."
        Relieved, the ponies picked up their things and filed out the door, one by one. The last to go was Snails. He stopped at the door, before leaving. "Good night," he offered.
        "Bah humbug," Tiara uttered in reply.
        Alone at last, Tiara locked up the theater and proceeded to walk home through the chill air, as though the chill did not bother her. She had no need for warmth, she told herself.
        Around her, other ponies hurried about their business, moving briskly to minimize their time in the cold. They offered each other greetings of "Merry Hearth's Warming" as they passed, evoking a muttered "Bah, humbug" from Diamond Tiara. Any that approached her, she turned an icy glare upon, causing them to shiver and step out of her path.
        When the young foal walking in front of her besides his mom dropped his toy, she casually kicked it under some nearby bushes before he noticed it was gone. She passed as he noticed his toy was missing and pulled his mother to a stop. Moments later, she heard the foal break into tears. It was this, rather than the merriment around her, that brought a smile to her face, and it was all she could do to restrain an evil laugh.
        At last, after pushing rudely through a group of carolers, Diamond Tiara arrived at her house, a large building made up of dark grey slate blocks, with engraved stone and windows trimmed with dark wood. If it was dark outside already, it was even darker by the house, as if the very stones devoured whatever light there was.
        With a determined stride, Diamond Tiara walked down the stone path toward the door, eager to be inside her fortress from all the foolish ponies and their merriment outside. Arriving at the door, she grabbed the handle, turning only to utter one last "Bah humbug" back toward the street and the town below.
        It was when Diamond Tiara turned back that she saw a most peculiar sight. The knocker on the door, a knocker she knew well, was changing. What should have been a base with a large brass key shaped knocker hanging from it shifted. It was a sight that left her unable to look away, unable even to blink, as slowly, the key became a spoon. And not only did the shape change, but the very metal began to shine.
        Diamond Tiara gasped, lifting up one hoof to brush her necklace, a necklace that had once hung around the neck of her best friend. Before her, the knocker completed its transformation. What was brass was now silver, and the spoon that had been a key now sported a bright pink heart on its handle. It was a design she knew: the cutie mark of her best friend. Her very dead friend.
        With a cry, Diamond Tiara clamped her eyes shut and looked down. Trying to dislodge the vision from her mind, she shook her head. And then slowly, she opened one eye and looked toward the knocker once more, too afraid even to breathe. The brass key was back, as if it had never left. Relieved, she took a deep breath.
        "A trick of the mind," Tiara said to herself, as she opened the door and rushed inside. "The cold is responsible."
        "Is that you, princess?" her father called from within the dining room.
        "Yes, daddy" she called back, examining herself in the hallway's mirror. She lifted a hoof to straighten her tiara and stopped, observing its shaking. "It is just the cold, that is all. It will pass shortly," she said quietly to herself. She stared at it, until it ceased to shake. Only then did she adjust her tiara and proceed to the dining room.
        "Are you okay, pumpkin? You look as if you've seen a ghost," Filthy Rich said.
        "A ghost? What makes you say that?" Diamond Tiara asked, alarmed. "Everyone knows ghosts aren't real."
        Filthy Rich eyed his daughter curiously. "You just look a bit cold. Not to mention a bit jumpy. That is all I meant."
        "The cold. Colder outside than I'd realized," she said. For good measure, she put on an insecure little filly face and added, "And maybe I'm a bit nervous about the play. The big night tomorrow."
        "Yes, it is a bit nippy out, isn't it? I'll have Praiseworthy throw another log on the fire. Now, sit down, sit down. You're just in time for dinner. You can tell me all about how things are going while we eat."
        Dinner was served by Praiseworthy, the family butler, and it was spectacular. It was made from the finest grains, the best grasses, and even fresh fruit, imported by train. For Diamond Tiara though, it might as well have been mashed alfalfa. Eating was something she did to sustain life, not because she got any enjoyment out of it. Oh, she might put on a show of enjoying food if a hungry pony was watching or if she felt it would help her get something she wanted, but it was just that, a show.
        With her dinner finished, Diamond Tiara pushed back her chair. "I'm going to bed," she told her father.
        "Isn't that a bit early?" her father asked, for it was barely past eight PM. "Aren't you going to any parties tonight? You know how you used to love parties."
        Diamond Tiara nodded. She had indeed enjoyed parties in the past. But they were another thing that just were not the same without Silver Spoon. Without her, Diamond Tiara had nopony to appreciate the wit of her snide remarks, and parties had too many ponies intent on having a good time for her to effectively cut down one party goer all by herself.
        "No. I'm tired. And I've got to be ready for the play tomorrow," she said, taking advantage of the convenient excuse, while adding a fake yawn for good measure.
        "Oh, okay then. I'm going out later tonight. Some last minute bit of business I need to take care of. Sleep well." Filthy Rich held open his arms toward his daughter, and she slipped into them, giving him a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.
        "Night, daddy."
        She left the dining room and climbed up the stairs, her hooves echoing off the darkly stained wood. Down the hallway she went and into her room, shutting the heavy wooden door behind her. She turned the key to lock her door, as was her habit. This was her domain, her fortress to hide within from the world.
        It was the type of room one might expect from a dour, old spinster, not from a filly. Navy blue drapes of heavy cloth hung in front of the window, while matching cloth formed the canopy of her bed. Her bed covers were the same shade of blue. The walls were painted, not in a bright, cheery color one would expect from a pony, especially a young filly, but rather in a dark grey, a grey that not coincidentally matched the color of Silver Spoon's coat.
        There were no toys visible within the room, and the dresser had only the barest of what would have expected laid upon it. A single hair brush, a statue, and a single book, a book of sad poems by a long dead poet. And over the cabinet, hung a single poster sized picture: a picture of two fillies, from happier days. The only other furniture was a nightstand, upon which sat a clock and a lamp. On its lowest setting, its light barely illuminated the room, yet that meager light was enough for Tiara. She did not turn it up, to brighten the room. She liked the gloom.
        For a while, Diamond Tiara read until she grew bored of the words and returned the book to its place. Beside it, she placed her signature tiara. Picking up the brush, Tiara flopped down upon her bed and began brushing her mane. Every stroke was fast and harsh, as if the knots in her mane were her worst enemy and the brush a whip to use upon them without mercy. She did this without thought, as she had every night for too long now. And all the while, she stared at the picture.
        And it was then that things got strange for the second time, for it seemed with every stroke, she heard the rattling of chains. Not of light chains, the soft rustle one might hear if one played with one's necklace, but of heavy chains, the sort of thing one might find in a lumber yard or other industrial area. When she stopped her strokes, so did the rattling stop. And when she resumed them, the rattling resumed as well.
        Curious, Diamond Tiara set down the brush and checked outside the door in the hall. Satisfied that nopony was there, she locked the door again and resumed her brushing. Another trick of the mind, she told herself. That the sounds she had heard and the bulges shifting the paintings surface were not real. The brush dropped to the floor with a clatter as her jaw did its best to do the same.
        The surface of the painting did indeed some to be moving, as if large bugs were moving behind it. But it was not bugs, for the painting itself warped, the figure within animating, the forelegs within it moving from side to side and also stretching outwards. It was as if a pony was trapped behind a wall of taffee, trying to break through. No, not trying, but breaking through.
        Diamond Tiara scrambled backwards, until her head collided with the headrest of her bed. There she sat, caught with no chance of escape, able to do nothing but watch, like the unfortunate victim of an oncoming bunny stampede. Eyes wide as saucers. Not the small children's tea set saucers, but full sized adult saucers.
        A chain of silver dropped out of the picture, and then two more, each landing with a rattle and a thunk on the wood of the dresser, knocking the book to the ground. With a suctioning noise, a foreleg stepped through, followed by another. The next thing to burst through was a head. With a slurp, the picture recoiled back, leaving a pony standing upon her dresser. A pony with a dark grey coat, a lighter grey mane, glasses, a necklace, and chains.
        For the second this night, Diamond Tiara grasped the necklace around her neck, for it was a twin for the one around the neck of the translucent pony upon her dresser.
        "But... but you're dead," she managed to utter. "This cannot be real."
        "Can't it?" Silver Spoon asked.
        "No. You are not real. Nothing more than an apparition. If I but look away for a moment, you'll be gone. Just like the knocker."
        "Then do so, my friend, and see what happens." The pony jumped down from the dresser, dragging the chains behind her. Chains made of silver links, of varying thickness, draped around the filly, weighing her down, and stretching back into the painting from whence she had come.
        Now that Silver Spoon was closer to the solitary lamp, Diamond Tiara could see her better. It was not a pleasing sight. Where once her friend had been hale, now Silver Spoon was gaunt and worn. With a shudder, Diamond Tiara looked away, only to quickly look back.
        "Still here," the apparition said with a sad smile. "Not just the strange imaginings of a disturbed mind."
        "Are you... are you here to stay?" Diamond Tiara asked, a slight tremor, almost hopeful, in her voice.
        "How I wish I could be, but no, alas, I am not. Cursed I am, cursed to wander this world unseen, dragging behind me the sins of my life. Every wandering, never resting."
        "But why? What did you do wrong? You never hurt anypony."
        "Oh, but I did. Every time I uttered a cruel word. Every time I could have extended a hoof in friendship, but did not. Each time I saw something and passed it by, as it was not my problem. Each and every one of those things forged a link in my chains. And just look at how many links I forged in my short life." Silver Spoon's head hung low with these words, regret never felt in life weighing down upon her as much, nay, more so, than her chains.
        Suddenly, Silver Spoon looked up, staring intently into Diamond Tiara's eyes. "But I was not alone in those actions. You were there with me for so many."
        Gasping in fear, Diamond Tiara tried to merge with the wall behind her. "Is this revenge then? Do you blame me for your suffering? Have you come to kill me like a ghost in some campfire story?"
        Silver Spoon's rear legs collapsed under her as she sat down, her mouth open in surprise. She spoke, but with a wavering in her voice, an uncertainty that Diamond Tiara had scarcely ever heard from her. "How could you think that? You're my friend, Tia. Always my friend. My only friend. I would never hurt you." She reached forth a hoof and gently stroked Diamond Tiara's cheek. "No, I come to you not as an vengeful spirit, but as someone who has never stopped caring about you. To spare you the torment that is my lot. It is too late for me, but for you, there is still time to turn away from the path you are on. To shed the chains you are forging.
        "For you had as many as I had when I died. And since then, you have added on ever more. Each time I passed you by in my torment, your chains had grown more numerous and longer. Oh, if you could but see what I see, the sight would make you weep. I can no longer cry and yet it almost makes me do so. Oh, Tiara, my friend."
        Silver Spoon paused then, as if to gather herself. When she spoke again, the tremble in her voice was gone.
        "This night, you will be given the chance to set a new course for your life. But it will not be easy and you will need help to do so. Before this night is through, three visitors you shall have: spirits of past, present, and future. The first will come at midnight. The second at one. And the third at two."
        The lamp flickered, as if the power threatened to go out. Silver Spoon looked around rapidly, then groaned as the silver chains started to rattle, beginning to retract into the painting, slowly but steadily. Desperately, Silver Spoon struggled against the pull of the chains, trying to brace herself, but to no avail. Her time was up once again. Still, Silver Spoon fought, as her hind quarters were pulled in. She thrashed from side to side, until at last only her head was left free of the painting. She ceased to struggle then, locking eyes with with Diamond Tiara, and uttered two words as she was pulled fully into the painting.
        "My friend."
        The room was still once more, the lamp back to normal. Diamond Tiara got up off her bed, brushing her hooves along the painting. Nothing, it was just a normal painting. "Humbug," she tried to say, but the word would not leave her mouth.
        Shuddering, and whether drained from her activities of the day or the strange happenings, she crawled into her bed, barely remembered to turn off the lamp, and was instantly asleep.