My Final Confession: Relapse

The black screen flitters to life. Rolling static falls like rain until an image appears within the pixelated snowstorm steadily falling from the top of the screen to the bottom border and repeating in a cycle of falling.

The image is strangely distorted and stretches diagonally with a hissing audio track before righting itself. A wicker picnic basket swings in the mouth of a young mare wearing a sunhat. She looks back and laughs whimsically at the camera. She and whomever is holding the camera are following a worn path surrounded by old, thick trees.

The picture distorts and changes with a quick crackle. Inside the frame is a beech colored table edge that the camera appears to be lying on. Gingerbread walls connected with cemented frosting and adorned with too many assorted sweets and candies to be able to recognize them all fill the shot.

A gash of red evening light splays across the various confections-turned-construction and the solid wood of the table. The view remains fixed on the aged leather-colored wall for a few seconds while muffled, unintelligible voices are heard as if something is covering the microphone. The picture moves subtly as though the camera is being tampered with from outside of its field of view.

“ ..err nat … ca … umblic. Cozy! Why do … gler,” an unknown voice sputters.

“Ung … No, listen …, “ replies a second faceless voice.

The first returns, an alcoholic slur paints what words are decipherable, “ … aste of time! I don’t understand … t’s the big deal with … ref... ing.”

The microphone continues to chop up the voices as the second unknown retaliates, “ … old you it would be … we nev… any fun.”

The video suddenly cuts out and reappears staring off of a light wooden table, dark with unknown stains. A window is centered in the frame, and a sliver of darkness pokes through the cotton candy draperies. The blade of a large gleaming knife is buried in the sanded table edge barely within frame. In the background the wall that had been previously viewed can be seen with the shadows of the speakers. One is the tall, lean shadow of an adult pony while the other is far smaller and more rounded, indicating a foal. Judging by the voices both are female. The sound quality is no longer muffled.

“I swear to the stars that I should have just put you in an oven when I found you! Is that what you want?” The original voice is somewhat deeper than the second, a slight wavering of age wears on the timbre.

“It’s better than being bored to death! Why don’t you do it, then? I won’t even try to fly away. I’ll just stand right here and let you do whate ... Hey!”

The tall shadow grows on the wall and eclipses the small one. A pink face appears but before the camera can focus enough to identify the owner, the points of filed teeth clamp down on the knife and tear it free of the tableThe camera bounces away to a warmly glowing oven. Something can be seen through the window cooking but only as a silhouette.

“Ooh, scary. Now you’ve got a knife. I didn’t ask to be here, you know. Someone brought me here. Someone who is boring and sad and lonely!” the younger, filly voice strikes like the charge of a bull.

The mare speaks around the hilt of the knife, giving a muffled reply, ”Lonely am I? I’m going to split your belly open and make friends with your kidneys. Who will be lonely then?”

Exasperated, the filly lashes out, “Do it, then! I dare you! You don’t scare me and I’m tired of hearing you cry and whine all the time about those losers you used to be friends with.”

“Shut up!”

“Oh no, I made my pegasus friend into cupcakes. Boo hoo hoo! She tasted like spoiled nanners.”

There’s a loud screech followed by slamming and cursing before the table upends, jerking the camera free of gravity and sending it spiraling towards the floor.