Pace of Only

You are not loved. You do not love those around you.

You are death. You are alive. You are death to those around you.

Being a pony has not gone well. Events have not gone as you intended.

Didn’t have the good decency to cease when meant to

Cannot speak. Has no voice. No mouth, nothing to speak with. No proof of a mind either.

Only an empty shell.

She spent much time enclosed in small spaces. Red sickness cascaded from her mouth.

There was no end in sight.

None of that. You knew when it began.

Yes...but it is... different when still so far away.

When you are young and eager to travel.

To see so many sights.

Too many.

Always you to cast the first stone.

There were a few things I never could believe.

Not the table

Please step away from the table.

I can’t

How so?

I like this table. It’s done me good.

She knew the rabbit was not blue, but blue this time was preferable to the alternate, such being red, and of course blue is always preferable to red, don’t you agree, so on with it, this neverending story of ours, let sail on and over the edge, under the tide, under the moon, come out the other side to the fishery, yes, that’s it, the priceless fishery of the moon. I love the fishery of the moon, fish and chips, of course there is no alternative to that, not chips and fish, oh that would just be silly, none of that tricky reversal here, not even particularly clever as such, so the fish, trout, always trout that’s the best, this trout would get up and walk on its fins just like legs, I’m sure you’ve already seen this somewhere in some unremembered cartoon, it would walk and walk like a little fish man, and why not, why shouldn’t it, equal rights distributed equally among all objects composed of matter, oh next it’ll be the dish soap or some such even more nonsensical, but that is not our current subject, no our current subject is the trout, and this trout would walk with a cowboy stagger, just like the old westerns, trouts love the old westerns

...hell, time to step away from the keyboard

Couldn’t he do that? No. Why not? I don’t see why not. Give me a credible or legitimate reason to occupy the fingers and mind, that’s what’s necessary, my wheels are turning, always turning, I need the gears greased ever now and then to sustain efficiency.

Life is not such a significant matter, whether living or dead Pinkie Pie did not care. She was living, so she’d go on. She also supposed she was addicted to cannibalism by now, but still did not mind. The taste of a raw organ was the greatest thing she could imagine, better than the sweetest candy. Even the soggy bladders, nothing could match. Lips perpetually stained with blood as though she were wearing the reddest lipstick. Pinkie supposed she’d be caught soon now, having lost track of the body count awhile ago, but this was yet another trivial issue as well.

They weren’t particularly deserving to live anyway. For example, the remains of Fluttershy that lay at her feet. That had been a relief, removing such a sad sack from her life. No more frustrating visits with the feeble, no more trying to pry words out of those pathetic lips and when successful having to listen to empty drivel about animals. Oh her mane smelled like butterflies, Pinkie would give her that, but the pegasus always refused to let her smell it and it was a rare occasion she was able to receive the benefit of its flea-ridden aroma. On the whole, Fluttershy had been awful company and her death was no loss.

Spindling about through the dark hills, dusty and dusk she moves on. Rarity does not recall her destination, walking for all known span, perhaps there is none, need only the travel as end.

Let her be alive sometimes. This moment for instance. She was alive at this moment. Yes, it’s unfortunate, spare her some pity, yet it is understood to be necessary. So that she be not another rotting corpse, enough talking of those. On Fluttershy, she is in the kitchen. Much of her time is spent there providing food for herself or her creatures or sitting on the chairs. At the table, that was the important part, so that she might pretend to be civilized. Learned her lessons well, a pony must be civilized, a pony must eat at the table. Must use a fork even though all she has are hooves. Not for her to question, never for her to question. Fluttershy never did question anything. She’d been top of her class.