“I seldom look at a bust or a piece of art the same way now. Any of the statues I see, I make it a point to walk into their vision, stand there for a while and then leave. Some of the privately owned or museum pieces were easier. Standing there, staring at them directly. A warm smile crept across my muzzle, and sometimes I’d feel that they would stare back, knowing I was looking at them. Some I would caress gently, feeling the shape of their form.
 
I have to check, use the slightest bit of magic. It floats out into the room, into the statue, sending a spark, an awakening. It sings into the pony’s ears, calling all their attention to it, none have failed to answer the siren’s call. Greeting are exchanged and I ask, “Are you a statue by choice?”. Most answer ‘Yes’, the few say ‘No’. The rest are truth-be-told statues.
 
I keep a list of all the statue ponies. I prefer someone know, so that they didn’t fall into obscurity. It was a feeling that even though some were age old ponies as statues, that someday they may want out. That was always one thing I wished was there for me, some ray of hope that it will end.
 
It was no accident that I’m the head curator of Canterlot Histories and Antiquities, the world renown museum. There’s a special division of the museum that I run, we keep track of statue ponies. Everypony in the department was a petrified pony once. I say petrified because it wasn’t something we wanted, it was an accident or forced upon us. The willing ones are statue ponies, whatever their decision, we track them but leave them be.
 
I will admit, that it was probably my interest in petrification that snared me. A little burst of energy, seeing a rock or an open plinth and jumping atop, posing a bit and wondering what it would feel like if the stone beneath my hooves left up and solidified me in place. To wonder what it would be like if I were a statue, to be seen as nothing but art and watch the world pass. It was probably the thrill of the experience that drove me to do those impulsive things, and ultimately one day, petrify me. The magic of Equestria rearing it’s head again and it happened to me.
 
It wound up being a dockside delivery, a mail mare went everywhere those days, probably still do. I fluttered down and handed off the letters, spotting a rather tantalizing sight. A shipment from Griffonstone had pulled into the Manehattan port and the delivery of stone and magical gems had been unloaded into a yard nearby. Griffonstone was said to have the best marble in the world and I had to see it for myself.
 
The uncovered yard heralded many of the distinct stone blocks, an electric blue coursing through the marble. It was smooth, slick and pleasing to feel. The marvelous stone should be used to make statues, it was beautiful. I spotted an odd stone in the yard though, it pulsed with a detectable ring and I thought nothing of it. It was just an object where I could enact my spur-of-the-moment impulse to be a statue. I shed my courier’s outfit and stuffed my mail bag near the back of the stone and jumped into my practiced pose.
 
I stood on one hoof and posed as if a ballerina was mid-turn, wings flared open and fluidly curved to act as they were ribbons from her mane swaying in the air. I wanted more than anything to be frozen in place as a statue, I held my pose, the soft eyes looking over the pea-gravel yard, the space out in the yard adjoining, an atrist’s shop apparently.
 
I felt a change, something sweep through my body like a pulse or a wave. I was alarmed as my body was stuck, frozen in place, nothing responded or moved. Had I realized at the time the stone I posed upon was a Wishing Stone, what happened next was alarming.
 
As interested as I was in petrification, I wouldn’t have ever sought to get petrified. It was a fantasy that I only let go so far, quivering in the alchemist’s store as my hooves became unsteady, reaching for the bottle with the grey liquid inside. I never let myself touch the petrification potion, because I knew I’d do something stupid with it. Reality was different than fantasy, and I built up an entire world of fantasy around being a statue. I was afraid of the real thing, that it wouldn’t meet expectations.
 
The tip of my hoof touching the stone began to tingle, my mind exploded in a mix of ecstasy as my stomach collapsed in on itself. So many thoughts raced through my head, the right half was emitting a primal scream that would shatter bones and the left half felt like a rainboom, an explosion of glee that echoed with the black abyss.
 
The stone wash crept up my hoof, a lovely blue veined marble to rival those around it. The accompanying sound of stone-on-stone grinding it’s bass though her hooves and into hear ears was a symphony. The magic pulled in tight, tighter than a pair of socks two sizes too small, though it was a comfortable pull, equal across the entire hoof. It felt safe, the hug of my body turning to stone that elicited a great deal of pleasure. It felt like the deep seated ‘numbness’ of a massage that calmed the muscles into a level of relaxation you felt for a week. The toe injury I suffered, the constant twinge that reminded me daily that it had been broken, it had vanished under the stone’s wake.
 
I would have been laughing, smiling as this fantasy became reality, and it was better than expected. My expression was solemn, but on the inside my mind was dancing in pleasure as the stone moved upwards and flooded out, drawing my body into it’s firm embrace. I felt relieved when it passed over my nethers, they were happily aroused, though only at the level that makes the body warm with the first burst of chemicals. I didn’t want it to progress to a bothersome level.
 
The stone seized my chest, the first real impact that this was happening and not an errant day dream. My heart froze, lungs turned to stone through and through and the glorious haze I had been floating in as my body was slowly converting to a statue was torn away. It felt like a vice, but when it increased the pressure, nothing moved after it. Mentally I was hyper-ventilating, chest breathing in and out as if shock was taking hold and numbing my brain to what was happening.
 
The stone marched onward without stop onto my fore hooves and neck, compressing it down. I kept cursing in my mind as the sound of stone cracking louder echoed in my ears. I felt myself pulling at the stone’s advance crying out for help, though no sound was made. As my hooves were turned to stone infront of my eyes, my jaw became numb. The petrification began to feel like being slowly lowered into water, my head fast going down into the water where I knew I couldn’t breathe.
 
Somepony had to hear me, I screamed as loud as I could for help, right before my muzzle turned to stone. My ears were ringing, somepony HAD to have heard it! The ‘water’ feeling crept up over my bridge and then washed over my eyes without hesitation. I watched the line of stone wash up, tainting the world a creamy white with a blue tint in the corners. I saw normally as before, but through the filter.
 
The stone flowed over my ears and the world gained a muffled filter. The crane down the dock turned from a whine of cables and sharp squeaks became a near undetectable drone with near silent bump in the droning bass. I don’t think anypony could have been heard or understood if they were more than several trots away.
 
I panicked as the feeling stopped, the magic had finished it’s job. My entire body was compressed and I was unable to feel any difference in temperature, it was warm, then nothing. It felt wrong, not feeling sun’s warmth as before, the air around me was a stranger, I no longer felt it’s embrace ready to lift me into the sky. I called for help, more times than I could imagine, but that stopped. I was panicking and not enjoying what had happened.
 
It felt like I let my head down, it didn’t move, but it felt more at rest. I calmed myself slowly, letting each limb go and feel less tense. It might have been imaginary, but when I relaxed, my entire body became ‘weightless’, there was no up or down, merely an equal amount of… being, existing. I felt happy.
 
The huge grin I was wearing on the inside lasted for a long while. At least until Celestia’s sun fell below the horizon. Many ponies passed me, none bothered to look over in my direction, I felt my heart rise as they moved about, hoping they would see me, become concerned. Normal things ponies do when they see a statue appear out of nowhere. I had no idea that there was a larger magic at work.
 
I screamed for close to three days after I became a statue, after the first night. I screamed in my head, to my bones and muscles, to anypony or anything. Nothing listened, because nothing could hear me, nothing knew I was there. Not the cup at home, or Marielle in the bakery, the ponies that passed me. Nopony knew.
 
The wishing stone granted one’s desires whenever they touch it. The size of the stone dictated the amount the stone could influence the world. Mine was an un-refined deposit, meant to be broken up and sent wherever it was needed. Making contact with the stone and a deep desire to be a statue had set it off, and released a magnitude of magic to fill this desire.
 
For a week the ponies at the dock looked for the missing Wishing Stone. Time after time they passed they passed the space where it was, or had been. They saw only another monolith of marble. One day the pony across the yard came over, stared at me for an hour and left. I began to watch him, an artist with problems, but he did amazing work.
 
 
GET THE REST OF THE STORY HERE:  
http://www.furaffinity.net/view/19895682/
 
I FEEL I NEED TO SHOUT SO NO ONE ASKS IF THREE IS MORE. CHECK THE LINK.  
/RCV off