Roses Are Red...

by Slip Kid

Rating: mature
Tags: Roseluck, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 1038

One night there was an unusual sound in a forest, quite foreign to the animals residing there, the sound of laboured breathing... and sobbing...

One night there was an unusual sound in a forest, quite foreign to the animals residing there, the sound of laboured breathing... and sobbing...

Quick story inspired by the conversation on this blogpost. Now with a reading by IceColt.

Published 2013-07-28 23:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-07-28 23:20:02 UTC

...Blood Is Too

The sound of laboured breathing shattered the illusion of a tranquil night. Plant matter could be heard crunching under heavy hoof beats and the air was thick with the stench of grass, sweat and fear. So much so that the pungent odour would almost overpower the senses of any casual wanderer. The source of most of these scents was currently taking a brief respite amid the dense vegetation of a fairly non-descript forest; it was a pony. Tears glistened upon her magenta cheeks in the waning moonlight and her infrequent gasps were now intertwined with quiet sobs.

There was a brief rustle in the the bushes behind her, she slowly tried to move to her hooves from the her position on the forest floor but she fell just as soon as she had fully extended her unstable legs. Her sobs became more noticeable now that she wasn’t panting, though she was far from unalert as her ears swivelled about constantly. Trying to discern any unusual sounds above the constant din rustling leaves and the cacophonous noise of the local insects. This didn’t calm her nerves, not in the slightest.

Another slight movement. Her muscles involuntarily tensed in hopes of evading her pursuer, but even she held no illusions as to how far she would be able to run in her current state. She was spent. She simply decided to lie down on the forest floor and wait for the inevitable. The thin covering of damp leaves on the ground felt cool on her fur and the forest noises could be seen as being a relaxing serenade.

The noise of twigs cracking and bushes being pushed aside grew closer, her breath briefly hitched in her throat. She began to hyperventilate, the sharp rise and fall of her rib cage barely visible in the dim light the moon offered.

“Please don’t find me... Please don’t find me... Please.” She began to chant this mantra over and over again, vainly hoping that it might save her inevitable fate. Like a child wishing upon a star; utterly devoid of meaning.

Eventually she turned her gaze to the source of the encroaching commotion, her azure eyes wide with terror and her pupils dilated to their full extent. Even then she could only see a vaguely pony shaped mass approaching, but one thing was very clear. A knife, pale moonlight producing a muted glint on the steel blade; it was clearly well cared for. The slight nicks in the blade, however, betrayed that it was very well used.

The figure stopped a few hooves away from her, one of the only visible features of the knife-wielding pony was a cream coloured muzzle displaying a wide grin full of flawless white teeth. The pale moonlight suddenly seemed very harsh when highlighting that joyful grin, it wasn’t manic or deranged, just joyful. The other feature visible was a pair of twinkling green eyes, looking for all the world like they had just witnessed something hilarious.

Trying to bury her trepidation enough to articulate something, something she had vaguely wondered since she had started running but was only now acutely aware of. The pony still stood there, unmoving, with the grin still proudly displayed and merriment clear in all of her visible features. Though, if the cowering mare was paying attention she would notice the knife slowly rising as her hunter prepared to strike. The mare, in her disoriented state, failed to notice this.

Finally, she asked her last question:

“W-why?”

The blade swung through the air with a soft hiss, the strike as final as death and the blade cold as the grave. That was the answer. The short single-edged blade easily cleaved through muscle, sinew and arteries with a wet noise. There was otherwise no noise except the the gurgling of blood issuing from the dying mare’s slashed throat as she desperately tried to breathe. Soon, these weak noises of protest grew quiet, leaving the gentle pitter-patter of falling blood impacting on damp leaves to fill the silence for a short time before the insects resumed their song.

Except now they no longer sounded like a relaxing serenade.

Their cries now sounded sombre. Like a mournful ode to the dead.

The pony looked at her abused knife, now coated in a deep red sheen; she slowly turned it over in her hoof, remembering the times she’d had with it fondly. She tore her gaze from her slick knife and onto her hoofwork, she saw crimson rivulets still lazily flowing down the dead mare’s mutilated neck. The blood flowed sluggishly because there wasn’t anything to pump it around the body, she was quite familiar with how blood flowed from ponies both live and dead. And the pony before her was undeniably, irrefutably dead.

Her grin grew slightly wider at the grim sight, a sight that would have traumatised any other, normal, pony. She began to giggle. It wasn’t the giggle of a madmare, no, it was a giggle of sheer joy. Like a filly getting a present on Hearth’s Warming Eve. That’s all they were to her; toys. To be used and abused as she pleased; chasing them down was simply sport to her. She took one last look at the body and gave it a cruel smirk before turning around and cantering away from her latest source of entertainment, knowing that the animals would take care of any evidence.

She began towards her home at a leisurely pace before something occurred to her.

I was supposed to help Lily unpack her seed order tonight, I should probably hurry if I want to keep my business partner. I wish I could get rid of her and take everything for myself, but they’d probably go looking for her if she disappeared. It’s only fun if they run, anyway.

Nodding her head resolutely, her two toned red mane following its movements, she steadily cantered towards the sparse lights of Ponyville in the distance.

.

Author's Note

I'm not sure if I should make this a fully fledged fic or not, I may persue it after I finish Beyond the Vale. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, leave reviews and all that jazz.