Don't Eat The Parasprites!

I can’t move, the pain is greater than I can bear, and worst of all is I feel bloated beyond anything I knew before. The indigestion must be from flu, and luck have it strike me on the same day the princess is due to visit. Suppose this serves me right, I should’ve just thrown that orange out, especially since it was on the ground and all. The fluttering in my gullet is only getting worse, and I’m trying to cough it up but there isn’t any point, nothing’s coming out. Besides, I’m getting more tired; I can hardly make a noise now.

It’s only getting worse, and I can’t even complain any more. I figure that my stomach should’ve melted whatever the hay was in it, but that just doesn’t seem to be the case. I could’ve sworn I wasn’t this rotund earlier either, so I suppose the bloated feeling is more real than I’d like to think. I can just feel my stomach expanding, stretching, slowly but surely. It’s like a stabbing pain, like a stomach cramp you’d get if you ate too much and then did too much work. I can feel my stomach pushing against my skin, like it’s bursting to get out, and I can’t say I’d blame it on account of me treating it so poor. And I’d maybe walk around to help myself settle but it seems my body would rather have me lay prone on this bed of mine.

Normally I could do everything without a problem, whether in the worst heat wave, the wettest and most powerful storm, or even in the winter time when all the ground is covered in snow, even if I were all sore and tired I could still get myself out of bed and tend to the onion crop outside my home. And yet all my strength is gone, I can’t even step out of bed, pull my covers back over me, or even holler for help. It seems like all my body’s focused on is keeping me awake, a sorry effort on account of this horrible pain that is only growing worse as time goes on. I wish I could just go to sleep, not have to put up with this awful soreness but I suppose I ain’t going to get that comfort any time soon.

My hoof, I can move it, hardly though. I feel my side, and I don’t know whether it’s the pain, my own bloated state, or something from this terrible flu, but something’s gotta be a matter when my stomach when I can feel something wriggling, pushing against it. Well to be honest “something” seems to be a rather bad description of this, since it seems there’s more than one “thing” in my belly. I can feel it, them, pushing against my stomach practically bursting to get out. Oh please don’t burst, please! I swear, I’m trying to get whatever you are out, but please don’t burst, or else I’m sure to die!

Now I can hear it, the buzzing, the horrible buzzing. My whole body is shaking, they, whatever the hay they are, they have the power to force me to move against my will in this very small way. And it’s always accompanied by the stretching, the pulling, the bloated feeling, the pain that would cause me to convulse if I could move a hair on my own body. I could fix this, or at least make it not as big a problem if I could just cough up these things, if I could just force myself to get them out of me then I might be safe, no more pain, no more stretching, no more quivering, but I can’t and my own body refuses to do what I tell it to.

I never hurt a soul, I never harmed anyone. Sure I wasn’t as enthusiastic as everyone else, but I was at the very least a good pony. And I wasn’t particularly dim either, I made sure to clean my foods often enough, I never did anything that seemed dangerous, sure I ate that orange on the ground but do I deserve this sort of punishment for all that? It’s not fair, and I know this world is often unfair but I don’t deserve to die, especially in such a horrible way as this. I wouldn’t wish this on anypony. This might not be so bad, maybe this’ll be just like that time when that one farmer helped out the baker when they made treats for most the town. Those others survived, so maybe I will too. At least I hope so; the buzzing is growing louder, and getting worse.

Worse, so much worse, I think my stomach is full and they’re all stretching it worse. Please, whatever sort of creature you are, please stop. I don’t want to suffer, I don’t want to die. You’re actions; can’t you see that I am suffering because of them? You have the power, please stop!

And the constant stabbing grew sharply worse, precise though, in the side of my stomach before it began to gradually settle down. Then there was an itchy feeling, then stinging, and then burning. I can’t continue like this! But the swelling seems to go down; however the buzzing seems only more aggravated. I can feel myself being poisoned, dying.

It’s only a matter of time; I suppose I best spend what few moments remaining remembering better times of the past and trying to get used to the pain. Would be a lot easier, but it seems that the whole land of Equestria is trying it’s hardest to keep me from peace. Screaming, broken property, and all around chaos seems to be going on outside. I can’t even open my eyes to peer outside the window to get a look at what is making everybody so panicky. But considering all the events lately, I suppose I wouldn’t be surprised if it was another bunch of rabbits eating up all the plants in sight again, and this time I won’t be able shoo them away from my garden.

Here I am, prone and poisoned, with all of Ponyville hollerin’ and wrecking everything up. I suppose at least I’m able to drift away finally, and accept what’s going to happen. Sure, it ain’t even close to peaceful, but at least I can finally just lay down, and find myself in my final moments. An end that although I would have much rather avoided, it seems I would not be allowed the kindness of this because of what manner of creature continues my suffering.

The mayhem ensued, the parasprites consumed, and one pony lay in his bed on the brink of a terrific death. However, a wave of magic spread forth from near the center of Ponyville, and the mayhem stopped abruptly but briefly. The insectoid creatures were befuddled momentarily unsure of their abilities, dumbstruck by the spell. It seemed that peace had finally been reached and now the rebuilding may commence. But alas, this short period of momentary comfort was shattered as the insects went on to consume, disregarding the common food of the ponies and instead focusing on what was normally inedible. Metal, glass, wood, nothing appeared to be distasteful to the maw of these insects; all was eaten, except for the very flesh of these ponies. For those outside of the onion shack were the spawn of one parasprite who had lacked the knowledge of hardship that its sibling learned.

The onion shack dweller was not so lucky. The parasprites chewed their way to freedom, aided by the corrosive acids of his gut which both damaged them and their surroundings, making it suitable for them to burrow their way out. A number of them chewed straight threw his gut and found their way into the area inside the shack, while a few continued to feast upon the corpse, bone, blood, marrow, and meat all giving them more and more sustenance. The buffet before them was yet to be discovered.