What it's february already?!?

Hey there, It's me again.
MViaH: 427 words and working on it.
Frequencies: 227 because I felt inspired for about an hour.

Now that everyone has left, let me tell the rest of you about the fact that I sometimes write other stuff that I just don't publish, or even really finish.
This next thing is one such thing, that has been sitting in my " writtin' " folder for a bit more than a year because I feel it's just not worth it all that much. It's pretty short, and I think it lacks substance. Don't get me wrong; I like it. But I just don't think it would even pass moderation or would be received with anything more than a general "meh". It is what it is, and I'm not going to force it on here if it means changing any of it. Halfway artistic integrity and halfway lazy, that's my excuse...
So here's "Flare", one of the stories I'll never bother to try to publish.

Flare

She runs. She gallops into the night, no time to stop for a breath. The stars in the sky are flickering, going out one by one. Most constellations are gone or disfigured. The ground is shaking, rattling her bones with every stride. One step comes too short, a brief moment of vertigo, then the next slams into the ground too hard. Pain.

The horizon, in its entirety, is bathed in a green glow. A sickly yet vivid green, a lime lit from within by some form of glowing poison. A stained-glass window depicting a field of grass through which a city is seen burning.

The wind is howling, clouds of ash and dust flying overhead at unbelievable speeds. Small twisters are forming everywhere, throwing dust and earth up above in the air. Her mane whips around on her face, repeatedly, with enough force to cause pain.

Fire is raining down. The embers dance and twist, spiraling through the atmosphere like a deadly snowfall.

She stops, for a moment, trying to think of a place that would be safe, somewhere to escape this. The mountains? A hole somewhere deep underground? Cloudsdale?

To her left, far in the distance, Canterlot is collapsing. Some of its towers of marble and gold tumble down the mountainside. Then, a huge flash blinds her as lightning strikes, a bolt as wide as the mountain and stretching thousands of miles in the air, off into space. The whole city is instantly vaporized, leaving only a cylindrical crater boring down through the earth.

The shockwave hits her as she screams, throwing her a few dozen feet away. In flight, she sees a column of magma erupting where Canterlot stood, just before she hits a tree. She slumps down, beaten, with blood dripping from her ears, as the thunder deafened her.

She rises back up, crying from the pain, and sees… tendrils, towers of green rising over the horizon, snaking across space.

The ground shakes more than ever, other monstrous lightning bolts striking in the distance, cracks forming every which way she looks. Distant waves of sound batter her body as the thunder from afar reaches her. She cannot hear it, but doing so would be redundant; the rib-shattering vibrations she feels are louder than any sound she could perceive.

A few hundred feet from her, a gigantic tongue of fire, lime green, bursts from the ground. It lifts Ponyville clean off the earth on a mile-wide island of rock, throwing it several miles up before the whole village collapses, crumbles and burns in an instant. Cracks spread from the gouged crater, shining red with the glow of magma beneath.

She runs in the opposite direction.

More fire, more burning stones and gravel rain down all around.

The green tendrils writhe in space, growing ever taller, twisting and turning, collapsing on themselves, exploding.

The moon cracks, split in two as a pillar of fire akin to a tentacle rips through it, from side to side.

The horizon burns green, and she runs. A tree explodes to her right, blasted by a meteorite, sending shards every which way. She can see mountains drifting apart, geysers of magma shooting into the sky. Tornadoes, bright red with fire, rend the countryside. The wind blows her off her hooves a few times. She feels lighter somehow.

She stops, simply looking around in awe and horror. The destruction is unimaginable.

The cracks in the earth spread further, all around her, widening. The horizon seems higher somehow. The rumble intensifies, shaking her ever more.

Suddenly a chasm opens before her, the other side dashing away in an instant. The mile-wide gaping mouth vomits forth a torrent of molten rock, a geyser of magma shooting into space with a thunderous roar. Her mane and coat get singed by the heat of merely looking at it.

The flow increases even more, a mountainous pillar of liquid fire soars past her, seemingly infinite.

It never comes back down.

The light assaults her from every direction. Green and red and orange, dancing on and around everything in sight, bathing the world in a battle for dominance. It gets hotter and hotter.

The green pillars of flame reach ever higher, smothering the stars, seeming to bend overhead to touch each other. Bolts of green lightning, of titanic plasma, arch around the world. The moon is no more, battered away by the green flames. A field of asteroids scattering away remains, sole reminder that it ever existed.

The column of molten lava before her runs out, replaced by only the green glow shining through the chasm. Her hooves leave the ground before smashing back down with much violence, as she is suddenly thrust downward. She feels incredibly heavy, her mane plastered around her face, her skull sinking in the earth.

She finds herself feeling weightless again. The world has scattered away, billions upon billions of pieces of broken rock and molten fluid floating around her.

Through what used to be Equestria, through the ground where “down” used to be, she sees the sun, now an orange ovoid, stretching away from the green glow as if trying to flee the tendrils and the bolts and the globs of plasma.

She can see what remains of the atmosphere blowing away, the shrinking bubble of oxygen around her distorting the few stars she can still see. The few stars that are still there.

She grabs the grass in her hooves, using it to pull herself forward, to get closer to the edge of the broken island she accompanies through space.

When she gets there, she gasps at the green. A wall of green fire, as wide as space itself, stretching into infinity. A new horizon has replaced the previous one, one covered in gargantuan tentacles of flame. She’s hovering over a forest of green fire. The plane is advancing, and she’s in its path. Everything is in its path.

The last of the air around her dissipates, taking the smoke and dust and ashes with it.

With a final sigh, the last breath she will ever taste, she climbs over the edge of what used to be a chasm, which in turn used to be a plain.

She plants her hind hooves firmly in the dirt, raises her head towards the green wave, and gives a kick to propel herself forward.

As her fur roasts away,

She lets go of her worries.

As her blood dries in her veins; cooked by the light and the heat of the green inferno before her,

She lets go of her regrets.

As the sun exploded minutes ago and the light of its demise only now reaches her dead eyes,

She lets go of her fear.

As her body plummets in the sea of flame, swept away by the cosmic tsunami rocketing through the void,

She lets go…

…

…

Inspired by and required listening:

Man, I'm so Ducking depressing sometimes.