Chapters Lying on her back, that’s what they’d always told her was best. But she wasn’t sure, didn’t seem very likely. So she preferred to lie on her stomach. Better for the digestion that way, too. Any else and she’d be squinting the eyes in discomfort, bowels agitated and giving their best complaints. But she knew now how to quell those. Didn’t deal much with that sort of trouble anymore.
Really made her miss the good old days. Ah yes, the good old days, dragging her bum down the road, carrying her knapsack of assorted brushes and lints. Sky a hodgepodge of substance, cheery periwinkles in the horizon, and she’d pass by other ponies all the while whistling a little tune. It could certainly be said, back when she’d still had her teeth, there’d been little she’d loved more than ambling down gravel whistling of the mulberry bush.
No more of that now. Time had passed and carried happenings with it, like a flock of thieves, robbing her of everything short the privates. Wouldn’t have been proper at the time. Their loss, she knew. So she’d gathered her items and carried on as pleased and done just fine for herself, until the legs had gone out. But that couldn’t be helped, a natural nature of it. Gave her a chance to enjoy laying on the stomach at any rate.
A. A pony, in a familiar kitchen, no view outside. Features not needed or would be said. Light shines on, as if there could be different. As if there could be better. Laying on floor, features stretched out. Hunger in belly. Would get food but no how. Used to know how but forgotten. Told how but rejected. Stares at wall, close enough to touch. Does not touch. Remains still. In body but not thought, never able in thought. Infused with vitality, a tragedy.
B. A voice, deep with charge. Asks if hungry, asks if desires sustenance. Turning head toward voice, pony is unsure how to respond. Nature of voice not clear. Certain of hunger, uncertain of action. Meant to be the death of it. Thinks on it, as tended to do, powerless in most manners. Futility familiar. But cannot refuse a debtless gift. Nothing required except affirmation, asks so. Silence. Repeats inquiry. Silence. Turns head to search, kitchen still empty. Same walls, same light, same pony. Naught else, voices affirmation.
C. A fish, drops from above and lands within reach. Bloat and beryl, carries stench of vitality. Stares at fish. Not seeming particularly fit for food. Never seemed particularly fit, never quite enough. In spite of refusal. Worth going on? Would mean moving the body. Did ask for it anyhow. Reaches a limb.
D. A pony, in a familiar kitchen, eating a fish. Life sustained a time longer.
All confined to a room of time. Dash across time. Time goes on. Can’t go on so, soon. Nothing but going on, always. Nothing ever. Much took place. No place for it. Always a space. All there is able, all there is desired. All contradiction there. All dwindled to this. Merit, some way to show merit. Say on. Forth a step then. Naught to forward. Nohow naught. Know how not. Know how not naught. Nohow know how not naught. Not nohow know how not naught. Know not nohow know how not naught. Nohow know not nohow know how not naught. Clearly misunderstood. Not so, went all wrong. Nothing to be right. Words didn’t carry their weight. None to carry. Intended to mean. Result always failure. Effort must count. No, counting is beyond. Contrary, was the first lesson. You’re only imitating. You’re only irritating. Spitting out what was taken in. What else has point? It’s all the same. Nothing really can be. Yes, all boils to nothing. No, don’t say it here! I have no apologies. Can’t give what you are. Think yourself sharp hmm. Undoubtedly, that’s necessity for you. If necessity is itself. Think you know something. Ever aware the inverse. And if the inverted is inverted? You understand nothing! Expected given how long been with it. You used nothing well. That may be the best thing. Of them all? Against them all. Failure then, time after time. Granting duration? Merely mention what you know. Changing stance? Only ever sat. Virtue to be easily summed. Nothing can be thus. Already did that. All read, he did that. Misappropriated. No base for the other. No base for the other. Nothing more to go on. Nothing resolved. Then we’re satisfied. Nothing to go on. Well.
He sat at the table with the rest of them. The room was a bit too dim for comfort and he had to lean at an odd angle on his chair. The pink one stared at him, and he stopped to wonder. All this time and he’d gotten on without knowing their names. How curious.
“Would you like to know my name,” she offered.
“Sounds like a good deal, certainly I’d like that,” he gave an honest answer.
But she giggled in response. “Oh it’s not that easy. What are you going to give me first?”
A complication. He did a quick check of the inventory, carrying nothing significant other than a horseshoe. He wasn’t about to barter away that. “How about the soul then, for whatever that’s good for?”
“Well not much,” her grin broke, “but it’ll do.”
A purposeful look from her and he felt much lighter and free, as if relieved of a weight he’d been unaware of carrying or leaked some excess liquid. He found either enjoyable.
“Now,” she prompted, “are you sure what you want?”
“I want to go forward,” he spoke without knowing what he was saying, always preferring sense in these matters.
And the pink one cackled, “Oh you’re daft!”
He gazed down in shame and thought to try a proper response. But when he looked back up, the table was gone. Here he was in a sunny landscape with an inviting stretch of road. A strange happening, but he thought it was what he’d wanted and followed it.
