Various Weaknesses

by Dark Avenger

Rating: mature
Tags: Tragedy, Sex, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Other, Original Character
Length: 22473

A few short stories...

Short stories where I attempted to write stuff that makes me sick to my stomach. Inspired primarily by the music of the band Swans, as well as the writings of its frontman, Michael Gira.
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(Read by The Audible Blink: here and here)
(Also: contains a side story/tribute to "White Box." If you find the preceding chapters to be too abrasive for your liking, then I suggest you skip ahead to the last three.)
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To get the full experience, I recommend reading these and listening to the songs at the same time. (Right click ---> Open in new tab)

Published 2013-09-18 20:20:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-12 00:14:29 UTC

Stay Here

STAY HERE

push up... hold... go down... push up... hold... go down...

gasp

push up... hold... go down...

push up... hold... go down...

breathe

push up...

hold...

go down...

push up...

hold...

go down...

inhale

push up...

hold...

go down...

push up...

I groan through my teeth as I struggle against the earth. My voice comes out as a faint squeak. It repeats periodically, becoming more and more labored with each successive push. My lungs and throat feel like they're being scraped apart from the inside. The muscles in my wings are already shaking from the strain. The joints burn as the bones grind against each other. They scream at me as I work them relentlessly. I ignore the pain and focus on my task.

The motion begins to slow down. My face contorts. I try channeling more strength into it. My limbs struggle to comply. The sound I make is doubled as my inhalations gain a voice of their own. Every breath is like pulling a lead weight into myself. A slight rasp enters my squeaks. They are louder now. The irritating noise makes me grind my teeth together. I am nauseated by the sight of the ground zooming in and out before my face. I shut my eyes to stop it. The wave-like motion continues to make my head spin.

I open my eyes again and raise my head. I see them standing around me, towering over my prone form. They mock me with their unblinking gaze. A wall of eyes closing in around me. The wells in the sockets of my skull start to tingle again. The skin on my face is twitching. I suck in the air sharply. I try to stop it. My tears begin to escape from my eyes. I do everything I can to hold them back. They roll down the sides of my face, burning a path along the way. I collapse to the ground. It is no use. I don't have enough strength. My head buries itself under my forehooves. My muffled sobs begin to escape from the cocoon I try to wrap around myself. I begin the slow process of drowning myself in my own tears.

I hate this. I hate my useless wings. I hate my frail voice. I hate being weak. I hate being afraid. I hate having to do this. I hate that it doesn't do anything. I hate trying. I hate struggling. I hate having to hate anything.

I wipe my tears with a hoof and look up again. There they are, staring down at me.

No.

I sniffle through my flooded nose. The sound it makes infuriates me. I snort, then I spit. I dig my hooves into the dirt. I want to rip a hole into the face of the earth.

No.

I won't just lie here. I won't let them win. I will pound my weakness into submission. I will eradicate fear from my body.

If someone tells you you're weak, you rip out their noisy beak.

I get back up. I feel unending hatred welling up inside me. My tears are sucked back into my skull. I scream into their faces. No coherent words are formed. I snarl like a rabid, wild animal. I want to destroy them with my voice. I feel the mucus being torn out of my throat. I cough and hack and spit and scream again. They scatter like cowards before my furious outburst.

I lower my wings and continue where I left off. The words that granted me strength now bring a smile to my face. I fondly remember his imposing figure. The way he could assert his dominance over others without any hesitation. The ability to command fear and respect from anypony around him. The desire to achieve such power is what drives me further. It helps me ignore the pain and fatigue. It helps me get stronger.

I grin as I visualize the new me. I see myself walking through the town among the others. Shoving them aside. Trampling on them. Making them inferior to me. Letting them know their place beneath my hooves. Making them feel what it is like to be somepony else's doormat. The joy of the fantasy makes me push that much harder to lift my body. I grunt from the effort. My breathing is an inequine snarl now. My heart is beating faster. I feel it sinking lower into my chest as the violence in my mind increases.

I want to see them all bow before me and worship my power over them. I want a clear path to form itself before me through any thick crowd. I want to crush whoever gets in my way.

I summon up the image of my former self. The frail and weak little thing they all called their friend. I stomp on the pitiful vermin without mercy. I scrape the remains off the bottom of my hoof and bury them. Nopony will ever see that filth crawling around any more. That part of me I leave behind today. For all eternity, it will stay here...

Author's Note

It begins...

Weakling

WEAKLING

I close the blinds and turn around. I gaze at the world that I have sealed away. There is no more light. No more sound. I have banished the sun from my domain. The room is drowned in a pitch black void. The noise from outside can no longer penetrate. It will never trespass in here again. I purge the tainted scent of the air beyond the walls. The windows are closed to prevent it from contaminating my home. The doors are all locked. Complete isolation. My sanctuary shall only contain those that I accept.

Only my friends are allowed to stay with me.

I trot back to the table. It is too dark. I am blind. I try to guide myself with my hooves. They bump against something. It felt like one of them. I quickly babble an apology. She tells me it's alright. She thanks me for turning the lights down. The darkness slowly creeps back into the corners as my eyes begin to adjust. I see the table before me. It is heavily laden with all the treats that I have prepared. I see all of my friends sitting around it. They haven't touched anything yet. They were waiting for me. They look at me with friendly smiles on their faces. I smile back. They make me feel complete.

I sit down among them. I bathe in the sweet smell emitted by the food before us. I revel at the sight of the decorations all over the room. Even with such little illumination they seem to brighten the atmosphere. Colors of all sorts bleed out of their surface. They begin to fill my vision. My friends cheer for me. They tell me I did an amazing job again. They tell me they could never have asked for a better friend than me.

My eyes are losing focus. I stare blankly ahead. The cheers turn into a faint murmur in the background. The air goes thin all of a sudden. I close my eyes to hide from the glowing mess of colors swirling around me. My head feels light. Empty. It swims around in a nauseating haze. I feel sick. I cannot take it any longer. I open my eyes again.

I am alone. The chairs are empty. The treats all over the table are replaced by dry and crumbling piles of filth. The smell of rot and dust and decay hangs in the air.

I scream as loud as I can. My voice is consumed by the lifeless void. I can still hear their voices. I pound my hooves against the sides of my head. I tell them to shut up. I beg them. The pain in my skull intensifies. The murmuring will not stop. Even with the characters gone they keep calling out to me. I howl from the mental agony as I fall off my chair. I see them looking down at me. They point at me and ask me what is wrong. My hooves drag me away from them. I scrape my body across the floor to the corner. I get back up. I leave the room and trot up the stairs. Rushing into the bathroom, I curl up above the toilet bowl. My stomach is empty. I cough and retch, but nothing comes out.

I stare at myself in the mirror. A pair of sunken, sad, blue eyes peek at me from behind a pink veil. A pony of skin and bones is wearing them. The hide is dirty, full of wounds and bruises. I brush a trembling hoof through my mane and smile. The touch of the silky strands feels wonderful against my skin. I never knew they could be so soft. I have never straightened them out properly before. I have never really tried to discipline myself. I have always been a clown. A joke bouncing around on four legs, waiting for someone to point and laugh. But nopony comes to laugh anymore.

I see movement. My reflection winks at me. She uses her forehooves to pull her lips into a wide grin. She breathes onto the glass. Her hot breath forms a small white island. She carves the word "SMILE" into the fog with her tongue. She repeats this process dozens of times. Behind me, I can hear my friends walking up the stairs after me. My whole body starts to shiver. My teeth are chattering. I press my hooves into my mouth. I grind them against my teeth. I chew on their tips. My gums are bleeding and raw. I can hardly breathe. My heart is pounding its way through my ribs.

This isn't real.

Author's Note

By the way: Bonus points if you can guess correctly which character is being "discussed" in each chapter.

Come on... It's not that hard...

Why Hide

WHY HIDE

My dream crumbles apart. I helplessly try grabbing for the pleasant visions. They dissolve right before me. I hear the sound of your voice. I am slowly dragged out of my blissful state. You are calling me again, demanding that I get up. I groan as I wake from my slumber. My face contorts. My head is numb. My eyes are welded shut. I try forcing them open. They send a wave of agony through my skull. I smell my own sweat soaked into the pillows beneath me. My limbs are lead weights. I can barely roll over. The cool air rushing under my blanket dissuades any further attempt to get out from under it. I pull them over me tightly, praying for the swift return of the warmth underneath. I want to stay in the warm and comfortable embrace of this womb. My eyes finally relax, and I feel myself being pulled down into unconsciousness. The murky images of the dream begin to form in my vision again. I smile.

Your voice tears through my womb again. It scrapes me out like an unwanted growth. You must have come up to my bed, because I hear you much louder now. My smile disappears. The pain in my head returns. I grind my teeth together. Hatred flows through me. I wish I could seal my ears shut. I wish I could bury myself. Smother myself with the earth just to get some sleep. I try to commit as much of the dream to memory as I can. The pieces are drifting away. I hold on to what little remains vivid in my mind. I see her again. Holding me close. The warmth all over my face. The happiness that I feel.

You pull the covers off me in one swift motion. It feels like you tearing the skin off my flesh. The cold bites into me in a painful rush. I don't make a sound. I don't flinch. I don't even move. You say my name again. I finally manage to open my eyes. The blinding light boils their surface. I see you standing above me. There is a frustrated look on your face. You turn around and trot away while telling me to get up. I give a painful sigh as I will my body to obey. My limbs sluggishly lift me out of the embrace of the cot. The pillows still radiate their warmth. Your voice breaks me away from their attraction.

I drag myself after you. My legs shuffle in an autonomous fashion. They take me down the stairs. I am hunched forward. Gravity holds my eyelids half-sealed. My mouth is dry. I feel my sweat drying all over me. My blood is thick, crawling through my veins at a snail's pace. I walk up behind you while you stare at the shelves. You glance back at me and smile. Your tone now communicates that you are pleased. You begin to list my chores for the day. I nod in silence as you rattle them off. Once you are finished, you rub the top of my head with a forehoof proudly, then trot out the door. It becomes engulfed in an aura of telekinesis and closes behind you, leaving me behind all alone, surrounded by my labors.

I sigh again. My body moves on its own. I am detached from my limbs. I start collecting the things you left all over the floor. I stack them up, move them, then put them back where they belong. Once I am done I head for the closet. I grab all the necessary tools and proceed to clean every surface in the room. The air becomes tainted with clouds of dust. It clogs my nose and makes me cough. I do not complain. There is nothing to complain about. This is my job. Your own work is too demanding for you to do this yourself. I pay attention to keep everything organized. You always demand that everything stays in order. You need me. You depend on my servitude.

I just toil away without saying a word. Without stopping for a moment. I lose track of time. I don't feel my limbs. My motions are not guided consciously. My mind is all that I am aware of now. I think back to that dream that I sometimes have. About the creature that I am said to be. The creature I am believed to be growing into. I remember seeing the others. A horde of giants migrating across the sky. Their majestic forms inspiring fear and awe. I remember the longing that I felt. The will I tried to channel into myself to grow and evolve. The wish to defy the force nailing me to the ground. The fantasy of soaring among the clouds with the rest of them.

I remember your words. Your hooves holding on to me. Your look of pity. The way you pull me down every time. The power you have over me. You remind me of my place. I do not resist. I can't. I have been stuck to you like a growth my whole life. I am an infant. You were the one to deliver me. I need you. I am small. I am weak. I cannot fly. My scent is no longer my own. You hold me so close that I smell you on myself all the time. The others could sense it too. They said I was not one of them. You have managed to absorb me. I am a part of you. I need you to live.

I finish my work quietly. There are still hours left before you get back. I look at the door. You did not leave any keys. You expect me to stay here. I start crawling back upstairs. My arms are trembling. My footsteps blur together into an enervated flow. I slump back into my bed. My breathing is shallow. I stop moving. I stare up at the ceiling. My heart is pulsing in my chest. A tiny lump of flesh. It keeps me alive. I have no control over it. I raise my hands. The claws need to be trimmed again. You don't want them growing too sharp. I smell my own breath oozing out of my belly. My stomach gurgles. I don't get up. I am too exhausted.

I lie there without moving a muscle. Minutes tick away. Hours. I cannot sleep. The dream will not come back. I try to remember it. I close my eyes. My memories are hazy. They become corrupted. I shake my head. They disgust me. I banish them from my mind. Better to forget than to hold on to something foul.

I hear the door opening downstairs. Your voice calls out to me again. You aren't alone. The others are here. I hear them talking and giggling to themselves. I hear my name being whispered. More laughter.

I take a deep breath and roll out of my bed. I crawl toward the stairs again. Why should I even struggle? Why be ashamed of my state? Why hate what I must accept? I will hide my identity among your kind. I will curl up and conceal myself. This is all that I can do now.

Author's Note

...

Your Game (Your Property)

YOUR GAME
(YOUR PROPERTY)

I'm worthless. I'm a waste of space. I sit here alone in my room. I'm on my bed. I'm staring at the walls, waiting for you. The window is shut. It lets the warmth and light inside, but does not allow the air to move around. The air is heavy, contaminated by my own stench. It makes it hard to breathe. It makes me sick. It feels like the punishment I deserve for my existence.

I look out the window. I see colts and fillies playing on the square before the town hall. They keep running around, laughing all the time. They look so helplessly ignorant. I turn away. I hate the sight of them. I wish you would crush them all when you get here. I wish the sun would fall from the sky and burn everything in this place to ashes.

I look again. I still can't see you. You should have gotten here by now.

No. I have to punish myself for that thought. I am not allowed to think that way. I turn my head toward the wall and scrape my horn against it. The plaster rains down in a stream of white dust and starts piling up on the bed. There are mountains of it now. My horn is aching. Its smooth surface grinds into the concrete. I am disgusted by it. I try grabbing it with my forelegs. I try to rip it out of my skull. I pound them against it. They are thin and sickly, too weak to do anything to it. I want to destroy it, but I can't. I'm not allowed to. No matter how hard I try, I am not strong enough anyway. The pain becomes too much before I can do enough damage. I am so weak and cowardly that I always give up before I could deal myself enough pain. I can take it from you, but I can't do it to myself. This is why I love you. This is why I must punish myself.

So I just scrape it against the walls. I feel the vibrations it makes all over my bones. It sends shivers down my spine. It sends pain shooting straight into my skull. I don't stop. I have left more marks on the wall than the number of days that I have lived. Maybe more than I will ever live. They form an enumeration of my countless sins. My horn is throbbing. A few bits have cracked and broken off. It is no use. It heals way too fast. Like the hooves at the end of my legs it will just keep growing back. It is a worthless piece of bone. I want to put it between my teeth and chew it off. I want to use it to stab myself in the stomach.

I look around the room again. It is a perfect description of me. Small, filthy, decaying, and almost empty. The old wallpaper is slowly peeling away. All that this room contains is a bed. It is not mine. I have no earthly possessions. The only thing in this world that I could have called my own is this body, and I don't want it. I despise it. I hate my own stink. It reminds me of every breath that I have to take without you. My soul is equally worthless, but I gave that to you a long time ago. It must be worth something to you, because you still keep it.

I start feeling horny. I am ashamed of myself. My discipline is about as pathetic as my bravery. I cannot stop myself. I lean forward and lie down onto my stomach. I push my ass into the air. I levitate the pillow before my face. There is a ragged hole in it where I have defiled it so many times before. I levitate the dildo up to my ass. My head thrusts forward. My horn enters the hole and the dildo penetrates my ass at the same time. I hiss through my teeth and close my eyes. I visualize fucking myself up the ass with my own horn. It makes the rhythmic motion pick up the pace. My breathing becomes faster. My teeth stab into my lips. I start chewing on my tongue.

This is how I masturbate. It makes me sick. I want to masturbate to you, but I cannot allow myself to do that. It would be a desecration. You would find out, because you know everything. You are my god. You would hate me, and I would deserve it. You should kill me for it, and I would welcome it. I don't deserve any better.

The final thrust hits home. My face distorts. My cock spasms against the mattress. I can feel my fluids spilling all over my belly. I let out the breath that I've been holding. My sperm leaves a stain on the mattress again. I wait and let it dry up beneath me. I want it to remind me of what I am.

I hear hoofsteps approaching. This is it. My heart starts beating faster. I put the rubber plaything back in its place, on display. I leave it filthy, so there will be no doubt about what I've been doing. I know it will only be used on me anyway. There is no need to clean it. I want you to know how pathetic I am. I want you to punish me.

The door opens. You enter. Your hooves move with their usual grace. They stop at the center of the room. I jump up and fall to my knees at your hooves. I bow my head down, averting my eyes from your beautiful figure. You smile at my obedience. You laugh when you notice my lack of self-control. I silently await your judgement on the floor. Your blue-coated forehoof reaches under my chin and raises my head. I look up into your eyes, drowning in the wonderful purple irises. Your silver-white mane encapsulates your pristine soul.

You are the most wonderful creature in existence. I live only to serve your purpose. You use my body to rub off your own impurities. My degradation allows you to shine. It fills me with happiness. Your eyes gaze hungrily at the heap of flesh that I am. I see your horn glowing. A rope snakes forth from behind your back. It coils around my legs, tying them behind my back. My mouth is shaking as I whisper my gratitude.

Author's Note

"Was there ever any doubt?"

Seal It Over

SEAL IT OVER

My hoof grabs the cool handle. The faucet gives a loud creak. I cringe at the sound of rusty metal parts rubbing against one another. The water starts pouring out of the shower head above. My body instinctively pulls away as the cool liquid hits my skin. I inhale sharply and wrap my forelegs around myself. I start shivering. I look back at the two handles. The one for the hot water is turned all the way. I bite my lip and wait a few seconds to let it heat up. My hooves tap nervously on the wet tiling. Every passing moment is agony. I reach out and touch the water again. Still cold.

I can't take it any longer. I thrust myself under the shower head, crying out as my body is drenched by the ice-cold spray. I don't care anymore. I'm filthy. My smell is all wrong. My hair is a matted mess. I need to get cleaned. I start rubbing myself down. My breathing becomes labored. My arms are trembling uncontrollably. My teeth vibrate against each other, creating a horrible clicking sound. Pain shoots through my skin wherever I touch it. I start crying, but I cannot stop now.

I grab the sponge from the floor. The material is worn, small chunks of it breaking away. Its surface is rough. Artificial. Lifeless. It was meant to clean dishes. I start rubbing my belly with it. A burning sensation accompanies the cold consuming my flesh. I move on to my face. My eyelids feel like they're going to peel away from the rough treatment. My ass is next, then my crotch. I use the tip of my hoof to get a corner of the sponge into every orifice. I moan as I feel the material squirming inside me, then I yank it out. I don't enjoy this, but I need to be clean.

I turn the water off and step out of the shower. I walk in front of the mirror, hugging the towel around me. My lips are trembling. My eyes are red. The skin on my face is raw. My mane is a tangled mess of wet ropes, stuck to the surface of my head and neck. I smile as I inspect myself. I am clean. I am ready. I can take on anything now. All I have to do is get myself cleaned, and nothing can harm me.

I open the door and trot out of the bathroom. The sound of my hooves on the bare concrete echoes off the walls. I lie down on my bed and stretch my legs while I wait for my mane to dry. I stare at my hooves, searching for any imperfections. Their surface is smooth and clean. The soft, white fur is without any flaws. I feel proud of my work. I need to take care of myself. My body is all that I own. I work hard for it every day.

When my mane feels dry enough, I grab my comb to get it straightened out. I wince when it gets caught and pulls at my scalp. I waste five minutes struggling with just one hoofful of it without getting anywhere. In my frustration, I start reaching for the scissors again. I stop myself when my hoof touches the metal. There is a slight tingle at the end of my spine.

No. I cannot do that to myself again.

I put the comb down and lie back on the bed. My hoof brushes through my mane. It feels good. I imagine that it looks good on me. I want to look good. That's all that matters to me now. I fantasize about those magnificent purple locks. Those elegant curls I used to shape them into. My mane needs to be as sophisticated as I am meant to be.

I think about you again. The way you looked at me the last time. Your gaze caressing the surface of my skin. The warm feeling it gave me when you said my name. It brings a smile to my face. Dreaming about the two of us is one of the few things I have left to enjoy. I long for you. It becomes a pull that I do not want to resist. It drags me off the bed and onto my hooves. It makes me trot out the door. I can barely contain myself as my hooves pick up the pace. My body wriggles from the excitement, and I even giggle slightly. I can't wait to see you again.

The mannequin was a pale silhouette against the darkness. It stood silently, motionless, head trained slightly downward, like a condemned prisoner waiting for the executioner to carry out the sentence. She obliged. The fabric slowly wrapped itself around the pony-shaped statue, slithering around the outstretched limbs and torso that were a part of its eternal pose. It concealed the blank shape under multiple layers of colorful material, arranging itself according to the seamstress' vision.

She sometimes wondered whether it could feel any discomfort, as she imagined any of the beings that it resembled would if they were petrified in such a way. But the faceless creature did not complain. It bore witness to and endured the birth of every single one of her creations without any response. There was no reason to respond. No amount of exotic fabric could change what was underneath, and it all came off just as easily as it was attached to it.

The door bursts open as I slam my entire body against the handle. I collapse against the side of the bed. My face melts together into a nauseating mix of tears and mucus. I bury it in the mattress as I cry and howl and choke at the same time. The muffled sound this creates resembles an old machine ripping itself apart at the end of its life, the steam and fluid keeping it in motion bleeding out from every portion of its surface.

My whole body is shaking from my sobs. My face hurts. My lungs and throat are burning. The smell hits me again. I taste it in my mouth. Through drowned eyes I look down at my hooves, staring at the layer of filth sticking to them. My stomach twists around in my belly. I retch. All over my body my muscles tense up as they try to pull me apart in every direction possible. I want to rip myself out of my own flesh.

I stumble into the bathroom, throwing my limbs around as if they were dead. I grab and twist every handle as far as my strength will allow. The old pipes rattle and whine, but nothing comes out. I scream at them, pounding my hooves on the rusty metal until they become covered with bruises and cracks. The filth all over me is burning into my flesh. I collapse onto the floor, wrapping my legs around myself.

I could see it the moment I walked in. Your sluggish motions. Your low voice. The slurred, half-formed words. Your eyelids losing the struggle against gravity. Your musk tainted by that awful smell. I tried to ignore it all. I still tried to make you happy. I tried to comfort you. Embrace you.

You grabbed me. Forced me to the floor. Your hot, putrid breath was in my face. I could feel something warm and damp against me, exploring my rear. I screamed. I began struggling. My legs pounded against your belly. You tensed up, then collapsed onto me. A gurgling sound. My face consumed by that burning smell. Something warm flowing all over me below.

I ignore the scissors this time. I reach for the knife. The cool metal presses against my skin. It penetrates. I grind my teeth together. The blade trails around my midsection, cutting deep. Warmth trickles down to my legs. I howl through my closed jaw. My horn can barely hold on to my tool. It nearly lets go when I reach my spine. Metal scrapes against bone. My bladder releases. The foul odor makes me gag.

The incision is complete. I drop the knife. My tears flow as a continuous stream now. I feel exposed. Naked. I want to seal myself away. I grip my own skin this time, then take a deep breath and close my eyes.

I pull. The burst of agony destroys every conscious thought. My voice nearly gives out. It takes all of my effort to focus. The fleshy fabric slowly peels away. A thousand tiny, red-hot ants are squirming under my hide. They bite and scrape it off of my flesh. I keep pulling. My breath releases with another long howl. My voice is hoarse now, my throat finally strained to its limit. I struggle to take another breath. A white veil begins to obscure my vision. It crawls up from below at an agonizingly slow pace. I raise my trembling forehooves. I curl them up above my head.

My skin wraps around my upper half. My vision is now a dull, reddish haze. My breathing is shallow and labored. I sit there, my face hidden under the obscene veil. The air is licking at my exposed flesh. I feel nauseous. Every heartbeat is a thunder in my ears.

I can hear hoofsteps. You are approaching me. I try to turn around. Pain rips into me from all sides, making me scream. I stop. I can't see you.

Something punctures the skin above my head. I can no longer feel it directly. The tugging against my grip is all that I can sense. Another puncture. Something dragging in between. A pull against my skin. Pain. The veil becomes tighter.

The process repeats dozens of times. The tightness increases every time. Then you stop all of a sudden and step back. I let go of my grip. The veil now stays in place.

My heart is beating faster. The air is heavy. Warm. I can only smell myself. My own blood. I feel your hoof caressing my side gently. I hear you whispering my name.

My stomach finally empties itself.

Author's Note

This one made me a bit nervous...

Young God

YOUNG GOD

I don't know what I am doing. My senses aren't working properly. My memory is hazy. I have no consciousness at this moment. I stand alone inside an unlit void. My body is numb. My mind is only a passenger inside it. My limbs control me. They move me closer to the mass hiding in the darkness. The air is thick and warm. I take a deep breath. The smell is unmistakeable. It is fresh. I start shivering. Looking down, I notice the contents of the table before me. The blank expression on the bulging, green eyes. The gaping mouth full of broken teeth. The lines along which the orange colored hide has peeled away from the flesh. Thick, red blood pooling around the pile of organs that have erupted from the torso.

My mouth begins to water. I dig my hooves into the pulverized heap of flesh. The wet noises this motion creates makes my ears twitch. I tear out chunks of it, staring at the mangled tissue as it breaks apart from the slowly building tension. It fascinates me. It excites me to no end. I lift up the dripping hoofful of gore, taking in its sight for a moment. My eyes roll back into my head as I rub it against my face, spilling the fluids inside all over my hide. My tongue laps at it during each pass over my mouth. The flavor begins to overwhelm me. I let it hang out, tasting the flesh that is now my own.

I give a long moan, twisting my head around in a rhythmic motion as the warm substance caresses my face. My mouth hangs open, drooling. I stuff it with my flesh. I pick up more of it to stuff and cover myself. I brush the mane and tail against my skin, enjoying the tingling feeling this creates. I pull out the intestines, sucking in their heavenly scent. My entire upper half is drenched in blood. I lose myself in this embrace, letting out a gurgling sound as my mouth is overflowing with flesh. I feel light. Ecstatic. My head floats away into a different plane of reality. I am in a wonderful dream. My body dissolves into a sea of warmth. It fuses together with the flesh surrounding it. My blood is replenished by the fluids that I absorb. For but a brief moment, divine power flows through me.

I am whole once again.

My blissful state does not last. The warmth inside the flesh begins to fade. My heart is pounding. I'm hyperventilating. The life is fading from my flesh. I panic, hugging the intestines against my belly, cradling them as if they were my own. They are my own. I need them. The offal within smears onto my fur. For a moment I am relieved. They are still functioning. Then these tubes of digestion go cold as well. I cast them off my body. I shake my head, rubbing my hooves against it furiously. There is dead tissue all over my body. I struggle to get it off. The smell is mind-numbing. I taste blood in my mouth and spit it out. It no longer feels right.

I look at the butchered figure before me again. A feeling of disgust wells up inside me. The rest of it is no longer of any use to me. It is no longer my flesh. It never was. I move to dispose of it, but then stop myself. There may still be some use for it. I grab the sheet at the edge of the table and unfold it over the remains. Blood begins to soak into the material as it settles over the motionless heap. My hooves begin to tremble again. My heart feels like it's sinking into my guts. I grab the edge of the table for support, shaking my head as I try to regain my composure.

I couldn't wait any longer. The pressure was too strong. I couldn't hold back.

All I can do is kill.

She looks up at me with a pleading look in her eyes. There is blood flowing from her forehead. She hugs the pink bow against her chest while she whimpers my name. Her eyes light up when she sees me hesitating. I lick my lips.

All I can do is kill.

Her pupils become pinpricks when I produce the blood-stained hammer. She starts breathing rapidly. Her hooves scrape against the floor as she scrambles across it to the other side of the room. The back of her head bumps against the table, making her yelp. Something brushes against her ear. She turns her head to look, then lets out a high-pitched scream when she notices the arm dangling limply over the edge of the table. The hide on it had since faded from its original bright orange to a sickly, lifeless tan color. I slowly walk toward her.

All I can do is kill.

This is what I am. A big, strong, yet stoic and humble workhorse in the eyes of my peers. A dependable pony who works harder and better than any other in town, yet hardly ever speaks, let alone boasts about it. They see that as another virtue. An ideal.

But none of that is true. I am weak. A failure in every sense of the word. A slave to my craving for the soft flesh in their bodies.

All I can do is kill.

My struggles were all in vain. I was but an infant when they left us. She was all the family we had. I couldn't save her when that stroke took her away as well. I couldn't stop the decay of the soil as it destroyed our livelihood. Everything that I've ever tried to do to occupy my mind and body has failed.

All I can do is kill.

I tower over her. She is still squealing, calling my name. I raise the hammer.

All I can do is kill.

Author's Note

Sweet Apple Massacre sucks... so I tried to make it better... :pinkiecrazy:

Nobody

NOBODY

My existence is agony. My consciousness is torture. My mind is paralyzed. I am a prisoner inside my skin. I hate every moment that I must witness. I despise every molecule that sustains my biology. I am powerless against their function. My survival is my punishment. This body anchors me to the life that I wish to escape from.

I gather as much strength as I can. I wish to break out of this cage of flesh. I slam my prison against the walls. Every surface that could damage it is a beacon of hope. I feel a rush of pleasure as I experience matter being destroyed around me. I imagine my body breaking apart. My life bleeding out of the wounds that I create. My final breath granting me release.

The obscene shell drains most of the energy that I channel into my actions. The weights pulling down my brain impede every such attempt. The cell that contains me resists the abuse. It heals itself, and I have no control over it. My bones remain intact. My muscles scream in agony, but are otherwise functional. My skin is unharmed. The pain is but a sour reminder of how close I am to my escape, and yet how far. When the others see what I am doing they stop me, thinking that I am just making another mistake. I have no way to communicate my intentions to them. I don't have the strength to fight them off.

I am stuck in myself.

I try to use my anger as motivation, but my mind is defective. I have no coherent thoughts. No emotion is able to grasp me. I feel the currents running through my nerves, but not one of them is strong enough to displace my derelict state. My pulse never gains any momentum. My breathing is never any more forceful. I am unable to become overwhelmed by the chemicals my brain produces. They roam aimlessly throughout my blood vessels, finding no organized system to derail.

Let me go...

My vision is impaired. My eyes cannot align properly. If I focus on correcting them, I lose control over my body. My motions are erratic. I drift around like a dead leaf. A helpless victim to the slightest gust of air. For a being that has been granted flight, I possess the worst possible combination of weaknesses. No sensible ecosystem would support my continued existence.

Let me go...

Against my expectations, they have given me a job. They must assume that I am able to work. Why they would choose the pegasus who is the most inept at flying correctly is beyond my understanding. I just perform my duty as best I can. I struggle with it just to give myself a purpose. I make mistakes constantly. The things that pass through my hooves rarely do so without any damage. They don't seem to care. They don't even notice.

I'm nothing.

I stumble around in the air above them as I carry my workload. They smile and wave at me when they see me. Nopony looks a second time. Nopony cares about my condition. I am a natural phenomenon in their awareness. My role is that of "the ditzy mare." They see no reason to dwell on that matter any further. Even the destruction I sometimes cause just fades into the background.

I'm nobody.

I wish to scream at them. Slam my entire being against them to let them all know. My obscene flesh does not obey me. It does not grant me escape. I am a useless creature. A mistake. An obstacle in the path of evolution. I wish I had never been born.

Author's Note

"I just don't know what went wrong..."
...
...
...
...
...
...
I was so fucking drunk when I wrote (most of) this...

By the way, I recently bumped into a really good story that follows a similar concept. In a way, one could imagine it is a prequel to my abomination. I believe it deserves your attention: (link)

Failure

FAILURE

The dull chime of the clock tower announces the late hour of my departure; it is half past eleven. The streets are all empty. Sighing again, I drag my creaking wooden tomb after me, staring ahead blankly as I make my way down the dirt road that leads out of town. My mind submerges itself in the constant, gentle drone of the pebbles crunching under the wheels of my coffin. The wide array of bright colors and fancy shapes that decorate its surface suggest a most spectacular funeral. One that I intend to accomplish when the time comes.

The noise of the final crescendo begins to die down. One by one, the strobes of magical fire drifting above are extinguished, leaving the square shrouded in darkness for a brief moment.

Until that day, however, it is the only company I have on the road. And somehow, despite everything, I feel less lonely this way. I find more comfort here, away from everything else, than when I am lost in a crowd as just another nopony struggling to get through without being stomped on.

The lights slowly turn back on. I stand there at the center of the stage, motionless, head held up high as I bask in the applause that I imagine to be loud enough to rattle my bones. Behind my closed eyelids, I see a vast ocean of creatures before me, cheering for me wildly, screaming, stomping, throwing themselves all around, chanting my name as they worship it.

My eyelids droop. My joints ache. They scream at me through my nerves. I feel exhausted, to the point that I am convinced I should have collapsed long ago. Strengthened by the abuse, my heart and lungs no longer have to work overtime to keep me going. They function at a constant, mechanical rate as they sustain my body. If anything, they seem to be slowing down, convinced by my mind that I am unable to continue.

I see a host of colts and fillies as they wrestle and clamber over each other before the stage. Dozens of tiny hooves grab the edge of the wooden planks and reach out to me, only their size and lack of strength keeping them at bay.

My stomach audibly grumbles, making me cringe. The gutted purse hanging from my neck resembles its condition. It is the only organ in my body that I wish to be able to burden with something. The agony emitted by it is like a lead anchor hooked into my belly, pulling me down mercilessly into the ground. It makes me grind my teeth together. My hooves tense up, but there is nopony around for me to act out my frustration upon.

I see my name and my face plastered on every surface available around me, the colors that I wear and employ taking dominance over all others as they pay tribute to my excellence.

Despite all of these things, my hooves just drag me on, no longer enslaved by the fatigue consuming me. They move on their own, seeming determined to take me to my destination no matter what, as if they knew where that is better than even I do. Nothing can stand in their way, least of all myself.

I see father looking at me, beaming with pride. There is an odd pain in my chest when I notice something wet shimmering in the corners of his eyes.

The visions fill me with joy. I smile and hold on to them for as long as I can.

But I am a deceiver. A conjurer of illusions. And while I may be proficient at fooling an audience, even I am not good enough to fool myself for very long.

My pride has always been my source of strength. My vanity has always been the force guiding my actions. I felt powerful with them by my side. They were invincible, and they made me feel that way. All it took to destroy me was for someone to damage them.

Slowly, I open my eyes, removing the veil of my fantasy and exposing them to the truth. A vast emptiness stretches out before me, devoid of any light. The hollow void feels enervating, draining the very life out of my body. The magnificent sound of thunder is replaced by just a few whistles and shouts here and there, combined with the lackluster thumping of maybe a half-dozen hooves concealed within the darkness.

As my vision begins to adjust, I manage to make out a few silhouettes standing before the stage. My senses did not lie about their approximate numbers. They give a few more stomps and cheers, some of them even shouting my name. Then, one by one, they turn around and start drifting away, their need for entertainment satisfied for the evening.

It is only so long that one can drown out their consciousness using whatever substance that proves strong enough. Only so many times can you forget yourself in the warm embrace of someone else's body. Your nerves overriding every thought as they fire continuously from the stimulation. Your mind intoxicated by the dominance you are able to assert over the other.

They penetrate your flesh, but you penetrate their very soul. Such power should only be reserved for gods, yet I have been able to claim it as my own.

My legs are trembling. I feel it again. That tingling in my eyes. The twitching of my lips. I do my best to ignore it. My forelegs bend, and my muzzle brushes the floor as I give the most generous bow of my entire life. I imagine being overwhelmed by the deafening calls for an encore. Every ounce of my strength tries to sustain the illusion.

It isn't enough. Something wet crawls along my face. I feel it traveling down to the tip of my muzzle. The sound of each individual drop hitting the wood beneath my hooves is all that I can hear.

But I cannot escape any longer. Power is meaningless when you are weak, your dominance only extending over those even weaker.

My ears twitch when something penetrates my cocoon of despair. A rhythmic sound coming from right before me. The steady beat created by a pair of hooves pounding the dirt. My heart nearly stops when I hear a high-pitched voice calling my name. I look up, quickly wiping away the tears flooding my vision to maintain my composure. A small, purple-coated earth pony filly is standing alone on the square, cheering and stomping her hooves proudly. She then walks up to the stage all of a sudden, climbs up over the edge, and presents me with what appears to be a small coloring book, begging me for an autograph.

I am too stunned to react at first. My muscles tense up, and I take a deep breath as I prepare to throw myself into my usual majestic act. I stop myself at the last moment. Seconds pass, and I just stand there, staring at her awkwardly. Her wide smile and friendly expression is unwavering as she looks up at me, eyes filled with admiration.

There was no sense of accomplishment when I saw his decaying form shriveled up under the thick blankets. No sense of superiority when I heard the most desperate struggles of his entire life for every additional breath. No amount of condescension as I watched the water bleeding out of the sockets of his skull. The great tremors of his sobs running through his chest and head. No desire to interrupt when his voice could no longer rise above a gentle whisper.

I shake my head, letting out a strained laugh as I place a hoof on her shoulder. My horn lights up, lifting the book that she is holding up to me out of her grasp. I then levitate one of my spellbooks out of my bag behind the curtains and bring it out before her, opening it to the very first page. She gasps as I begin to manipulate the ink with my magic, reshaping it into the curves that form my signature.

I place the book in her still outstretched hoof, then stuff the one she gave me into my bag. She just sits there, jaw hanging, staring at the gift in disbelief. She then notices me slowly walking off the stage and trots after me, almost dancing with joy. I fold up the side of the wagon as soon as we are inside, then throw off my costume into a pile next to my cot while I give her a moment to take in her surroundings.

Maybe I deserve this. Maybe I don't. Maybe nopony in the world truly "deserves" anything. Who should be the judge of what a pony deserves in return for their actions? If anything, that sort of privilege is something no one should be allowed to call their own.

No, there is no such higher judgement. Life simply deals you a certain hand, then tells you to live with it. And I have not gambled very well with my own.

Her excitement brings a smile to my face. I give her a few more minutes to explore my abode to her heart's content, then escort her out through the back door, giving her gentle a pat on the head before saying goodbye. I strap myself into the shafts at the front of my wagon, then start grunting as my body strains against its weight. Slowly, the dead husk of my career begins to lurch forward.

She stares after me with a confused look on her face, holding my book to her chest tightly. Through my gasps for breath I can hear her calling my name again, worry creeping into her voice. I don't look back.

My legs almost buckle under my weight as I finally halt in my self-inflicted march. I throw off the belts tying me to the shafts of my wagon as I look around. I am standing on top of a small hill overlooking the town that I left behind. There is no more sound, save for the droning buzz of the crickets around me. Only a few streetlights remain lit to provide a faint illumination for the streets of the sleeping hamlet.

I couldn't have asked for a more kind and respectful audience. Yes, this will have to do.

I deploy the stage again, its individual elements snapping into their respective positions on their own, as always. The years of constant use do not seem to have been able to wear out the mechanisms just yet. The wooden planks creak under my hooves as I walk out from behind the curtains onto the stage once more, taking position at the center. The moon shines brightly in the cloudless night sky. It becomes a spotlight for me, announcing my presence on stage. The noise of the crickets around me seem to fade into complete silence.

My lips curl up into a soft smile. This is it. One last, brilliant performance to take me where I need to go.

I take a deep breath, then rear up. My hind legs, my whole body is trembling from the exhaustion. My horn lights up as I focus my magic, mentally aiming it toward the equipment hooked up around me.

That's it. No need to rush. Just like you always do it. Concentrate on the end of each fuse. Raise the temperature. Be careful not to—

A sharp stab of pain in my skull makes me scream. There is a crackling sound as the tip of my horn begins to vomit tiny sparks. The aura of light around it flickers, then dies out completely. I fall to the ground, my hooves clutching the sides of my head as I roll around and whimper from the agony.

Minutes pass before the pain becomes tolerable enough. I manage to sit back up, my still throbbing skull making me wince with every inch that I move it. I blink away at the tears filling my eyes as I attempt to pull myself to my hooves. My limbs wriggle about in a futile struggle. They are no longer able to obey me. I suck in the air through my teeth, trying to focus my magic instead. The pain in my skull intensifies, my horn shooting fire straight into it. There is no other response.

I start shaking my head as I laugh despite myself. My tears are flowing freely now, not even making me grimace as I let them go.

I guess that's it, then. In the end, it seems even magic has failed me...

I lie on my back and gaze up at the stars. My silent audience stares back at me, their gentle flickers voicing their demand for the show that they have been promised. I close my eyes, nodding to them in response.

I apologize for the delay. It is my fault. Why did I ever waste my time with an illusion? After all, the products of science have never failed me before.

My hoof reaches for the box of matches lying next to me.

I rear up, throwing my forehooves into the air. A final, brilliant explosion illuminates the night sky with a thunderous roar. For but a brief a moment, the bright flash allows me to see every one of their faces. I smile as I take in the sight of awe frozen into their expressions. Their wide eyes. Their heads turned up, jaws hanging limply from their skulls. I feel myself shining, blinding them with the same light as the kind that my illusions create, burning with energy that could rival a deity.

Father would have been proud.

Author's Note

The "recommended videos" actually brought up the "peanut butter crackers" scene one time...

Is that supposed to be a sign, or something?

Miracle of Love

MIRACLE OF LOVE

Hold me!

Could this be it?

I need you.

This is that feeling that they all live and die for? This is the sensation that takes hold of so many rational people, driving them insane? The one that inspires all those songs and books and poems and plays and whatever else there exists as a form of expression?

Do you love me?

Such notions used to make me laugh. I used to pity those that I heard musing and complaining about it. I never believed I could have feelings for anyone other than myself.

Hold me tighter!

To be fair, it wasn't entirely egotistical. My ambitions left me little time to worry about such trivial things as relationships. They bored me. I felt like they were wasting my time. Life is short enough as it is for you to properly leave your mark on it. To spend any of it on such vapid dreams seemed pathetic to me. The desires of the flesh are easy to satisfy, after all. The desires of my soul were so much greater.

I love you.

I still cannot make any sense of it. There is no rationality involved. And yet, whenever I recall my memories of burying myself among your arms, submerged in the warmth radiating off your chest, placing my head against your chest to hear that wonderful sound, I can feel it overwhelming me once again.

Say it for me!

I could never forget that day. Try as I might, I could never do it. I don't want to. I want to remember it for all of eternity. The turning point in my life. The decisive moment in the stream of events that has led us all here.

I wandered about aimlessly, lost and all alone. They all gave me strange looks, perplexed by my delirious state. None of them would look twice. I was abandoned to my fate. There was nothing I could do. I did not know where I was, or even what I was. I was out of place. My surroundings were foreign. They were crushing me, and I had no strength to support myself. I stumbled around like a helpless fool. The very sight of the world around me was blinding.

We collided. Your gaze fell upon me as I lay on the floor. I remember you smiling. Your hand extending toward me. You did not know me then. I was just a small, helpless critter in your eyes, cowering under the weight of the world around it. The purity of your spirit did not conceal itself. You took pity on me, even though I did nothing to deserve it.

That was the first time that I felt your warmth. Your soothing voice. The feel of your hand on my own making me shiver. Your firm but gentle grip as you helped me up. My strength failing me, and your own rushing to keep me on my feet.

Whether it happened through fate or through mere coincidence, I could never understand. Such a great thing should have some meaning attached to it, the timing being given some sort of significance. I never decided to care, though. I still don't. All I can remember are tears. My eyes letting them all go. All the tears that I tried to hold back rushing forth in one continuous stream. I did not yet know how to steel myself. I was weak. Fearful. I took shelter in your comfortable embrace. You held me tightly, keeping me above the waves that threatened to consume me.

I don't know for how long we stayed that way. Whenever I try to immerse myself in the memory, it either feels like an entire lifetime, or a mere instant. Eventually, we both just let go, then went our separate ways. Thoughts swirled around in my head, emotions that I could not even comprehend, let alone control.

I looked at my face in the mirror. A miserable, tear-stained weakling stared back at me. The sight was repulsive. I felt anger welling up inside me, and my mind finally reached a moment of clarity. I remembered what I came here to do.

I needed to be strong. Erase the embarrassment that this incident had been. Pound them all into submission. None would ever dare question my authority. They would scatter like rats as I walked among them, my very sight instilling fear in their minds.

I couldn't help but smile as I imagined their pathetic sight. I felt strength returning to my spirit. It was time to begin my ascension.

Then I met you again. Your friendly smile greeted me, completely ignorant of what I have become. That feeling returned. The divine sensation evaporated from my body, and I became mortal once more. My strength left me as you approached. I shrank together as your voice washed over me. My mind became lost in a swirling torrent of thoughts as I held your hand.

I can see us walking side by side. I can feel your body against mine. I can hear myself whispering all those lies to you. I can hear you responding with your own. Our embrace tightened with every word.

I tried to conquer you as well. Every moment without you I spent fantasizing about it. Making you my own. Seeing everyone else bow down before our combined might. I gathered all my strength in preparation as the moment approached. Each time, my resolve ended up escaping my body, and I became that weakling in your grasp once more.

You were the only one that I allowed to see me that way. I did not forget my other self. I couldn't help it. My authority had to remain unyielding. I did not think it would go wrong. I hoped that you would be pleased. Proud to see the strength that I managed to gather on my own.

I tried to ignore it for as long as I could. The disapproval showing in your expression. The subtle shift in your mood. Your words of caution. I refused to notice any of it. I would not allow anything to meddle with the perfect world that I have built for myself.

You were the only one to ever catch a glimpse of my true self. But even you never managed to see all of it. That night, I revealed myself completely.

Pain stabs into my heart whenever I think about it. It is the only memory that I wish to banish from my mind. Your frown expressing your disappointment. Your voice no longer delivering warmth. Your distance from me as we faced each other. My anger taking hold. The way we shouted at each other.

You told me that you could not accept me this way. I would not relent. I wanted you beside me the way I was. I even mocked you for siding with those worthless creatures. They did not deserve to be on my level, thus I saw no reason to be kind to them.

You did not share my sentiments. My confidence fell apart instantly when I saw the look in your eyes. I knew what would come next. There was no turning back. The words struck me mercilessly. Each one felt like a blow straight to my head, delivered by your own hands. You would not even say goodbye as you left me.

I could not show myself for days after that. Even after all that has happened, I wanted my image to remain flawless. No matter how hard I tried, my body would vent itself at every opportunity. I wanted my emotions to turn into anger, but they would not obey me. I refused to let anyone see me that way.

Weeks passed without another word between us. Whenever we would cross paths, we refused to acknowledge each other's existence. We were like a pair of ghosts, drifting past each other silently before being whisked away by a cold breeze. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to be repulsed by your sight. I wanted my tears to stop betraying me.

Thinking back now, it could have turned out better for us. I could have done better. Forget myself in your embrace and leave my plans for ascension behind once and for all. After all, there is no need for something as elaborate as that when you are enough to bring me happiness.

The thought made me smile. It was tempting. Bit by bit, I slowly began gathering the courage to approach you again.

Say it for me!

But then I saw you with her. The two of you dancing. Hugging. Smiling at each other. The look in your eyes when you stared at her. A look that I recognized.

Do you love me?

I felt something twisting around within me. My insides wanted to crawl out of my belly. I could feel a steel vice gripping my heart. My legs were trembling, ready to buckle under my weight.

Would you do anything for me?

My brain was the only thing in me that would not react. It could not process the sight nearly as fast as the rest of my body did. Despite myself, all I could do was smile. It was the only response that the chaos in my mind could generate.

I love you.

Even now, as I see them all lined up in front of me, fixing me with an angry gaze, I can only smile. I feel my very soul draining out of my body, removing all of my weaknesses that have anchored me before.

Trust, faith, compassion. Love. None of these things were ever of any use to me. Nothing else in the world matters to me anymore. Power. That is the only thing that I truly need to get what I want.

I love you.

My fists are shaking as their grip tightens around the cool strips of metal. The excitement running through my nerves is almost too much to handle. It makes me laugh maniacally as I raise it above my head. Despite its thin shape, the ornament feels heavy as it rests on top of my skull.

Unimaginable heat flows through every portion of my being. I can feel my limbs twisting out of shape. The agony is beyond anything I have ever felt before. It sends a continuous stream of tears from my eyes, which is soon evaporated by the otherworldly fire consuming my body.

The pain, however, is nothing compared to the pleasure that I feel at this moment. The moment of my ascension. The sensation of infinite power within my grasp.

I love you.

Do not worry. You have no reason to fear me. I forgive you for not accepting me before.

Everything will be alright. I will make sure of it. We will be together again, as we always should have been.

Author's Note

People didn't like the movie because... well, the reasons are varied. In my opinion, however, the only real problem with it was that they didn't have enough time to properly explore all the little tidbits that they tossed up.

Take this "subplot," for example. We never get to know what exactly went down between the two of them, and I bet that if we did, her character (not to mention the whole movie) could have been given infinitely more depth...

Meh... What do I know?

The Sound

THE SOUND

Every night begins the same way.

Lying here, staring up at the odd patterns on the ceiling, I spend what feels like years in anticipation. The scene plays itself out in my mind over and over again. My body is restless. I do my best not to even move. There is an odd pressure on my chest as I feel the moment approaching.

My ears perk up. The sound is interrupted. I hear metal clinking against metal. The clicking sound of the turn of a lock. The creak of the door as it opens. Hooves striking the metal mesh floor. There are no echoes. No imperfect melodies. No odd rhythms. No loss of synchronization. I can hear every single note clearly. If I wanted to, I could even tap my hooves to the beat that dictates the whole process.

They crowd around me, choking me with their hold. Their voices reach me. I close my eyes and smile, immersing myself in the beauty of the well-organized composition. I do not move, signaling to them that they are acting without my consent.

My joints scream in perfect unison with their hooves pulling my limbs apart. I feel every inch of the fabric as it materializes over me. It tightens around me like a second skin. My forehooves are twisted around my torso. My muzzle is buried under the odd-scented material. They force me back down to the floor. A groan escapes my body as the straps dig into my flesh.

Their hooves release me. I stare after them silently as they file out of the room. The door slams shut. I close my eyes again, visualizing myself as I lie here. I look and feel like I am hugging myself. The idea always makes me smile. It is a perfect description of me. I have to give myself a hug every night before I go to sleep. I have to hug myself all night. The skin that is not my own prevents me from hugging anything else.

The lights go out. The room is now immersed in darkness. I stay completely still. My muscles all relax. An odd buzz enters my ears. My senses go numb from the lack of stimulation. I exhale as gently as I can. My form loses its coherence. I fall through the floor. My body is now floating in an empty void.

This is the lullaby that helps me find my dreams. I welcome it, because it protects me from thinking. It helps me forget. Even the sound fades into the background for a while. The only thing I can hear is my own breathing and the blood flowing through my ears.

There never is complete silence. I never escape, but this feels good enough. It is beautiful. It fills me with joy as my consciousness gradually slips away.

You hold me up. I can feel your warmth caressing my skin.

My eyes land on you. I can hear your soft voice.

You are whispering to me. I can see your loving smile.

You are trying to get me to sleep. Terror grips my mind from the darkness surrounding me.

You caress my head, trying to calm me down. I hold on to you more tightly, smothering my tears in your chest.

Your voice rings out again. You start humming to me. I can feel the vibrations in your chest going straight into my skull.

I take a deep breath. The rapid pounding of my heart slows down. A smile is tugging at my lips. My eyelids begin to droop. I drift further and further away with every shift in the soothing melody.

The progression of the notes is unmistakeable, however. It is a style that I know all too well. Recognition shatters the illusion instantly. I no longer feel you against me. When I open my eyes again, you are not there.

I never escape. I cannot hide. The sound has caught up to me again.

The noise of the door knocks me awake. I feel the tremors in the floor as it presses against my face. I feel their hooves grasping my body once more. They pick me up and drag me out of the room. I do not resist, but I refuse to move any of my limbs to assist them.

They take me into the large chamber down the main hall. I'm thrust into a chair next to the others. It's another meeting. Another dose of lost sleep next to ponies I don't even know, let alone care about. Another half hour of pointless droning about "needing help" and "being helped by ponies who only want to help."

I used to despise these gatherings. From time to time they would interrupt the calm rhythm of the composition that is our existence here. It wasn't long before they could only bring me here while I was restrained. Then I realized that these are a part of the greater work as well. They simply follow a much more complex pattern than the lesser elements. I managed to keep calm after that, but they would never take chances with me again.

Something is different today. There's an unexpected halt in the monologue drilling into our skulls. They bring in somepony new. An outsider. I lose track of everything else that's being said. Her presence alone sets off an unpleasant feeling in my insides.

I hear her introduce herself. Her voice is grating on my ears. I shake my head as the sound makes a violent shift. It drowns out the rest of her words, but I can still sense the noise coming from her mouth. One of the guards starts eyeing me when he notices my nervous fidgeting. It takes all of my strength to hold myself back.

The meeting ends a few minutes later. They drag me back to my room.

I wake up to the sound of my cell opening again. I let out a groan of frustration. I feel exhausted. They never seem to let me rest enough, though I can't even tell how long it's been since I went to sleep.

Time is meaningless here. I have no control over it. No knowledge of it. Not even my body can give me any sense of it. They control time, as well as my awareness of it. Light means day. Darkness means night. There are no in-betweens. No deviations. No improvisation. No false notes. Just one more measure falling into place in the symphony that is my daily schedule. It is perfect harmony.

They pull me to my hooves and hold me steady. One of them brings in a chair and sets it down against the wall facing the door. Another one is brought in and set down in the center of the room. They take off my restraints. My half-conscious mind is immediately jolted awake. I'm fidgeting again, wriggling against the tight hold they have on me. It doesn't feel right.

They force me into the chair facing the door. One of them calls out to somepony waiting outside. My limbs start twitching the moment I see her walking in. It's the mare from yesterday, or however long ago it's been since then.

She sits down in front of me, gives me a friendly smile, and introduces herself again. A clipboard and quill are levitated up to her face. She jots down a few notes, then turns to the others and tells them that they can leave us. This surprises them. They hesitate a little, then reluctantly trudge out of the room.

She turns back to me with that unwavering smile, asking me my name. I don't respond. Seconds tick by in awkward silence. Her brow furrows slightly. She repeats the question. I don't make a sound. I don't even move. I just sit there, hunched forward, staring unblinkingly into her eyes.

We stare at each other like that for a while. Her expression appears more and more perplexed with every passing second. She asks me if there's anything wrong. The quill keeps scratching on the paper. My ears are ringing. Every muscle in my body is screaming at me. The noise she is making is like a knife pressing into my skull, cutting my brain in half.

I don't know for how long we just sat there. She kept trying to start a conversation, asking me about my room, my condition, mentioning the things she had read or been told about me. Occasionally, she would stop to jot down a note while eyeing me pensively.

It doesn't take long before she simply gives up. She thrusts the notepad and quill into her bag with a frustrated sigh and gets to her hooves. I watch her trot outside, pausing in front of the door to glance back at me with a worried expression on her face. I still do not react.

They come back in. My restraints are put on again. The lights go out. I welcome the embrace of my dreams, no matter what might await me in there.

*****

The door opens again, tearing me out of the bliss of unconsciousness. I grind my teeth together. The ache in my skull is now too strong to ignore. I almost lose control of myself. There is no rationality involved in this. All they ever manage to accomplish is deny me some much needed rest.

They trot in and repeat the same unusual procedure as before. Anger blinds my thoughts as they work around me. Day after day, the same visit takes place. The result is always the same. It does not seem to deter her at all. Not until the fifth time, when they take one look at me and insist on not letting her stay with me alone. She gets the message and does not bother me any further that day.

My respite is short-lived. The noise of the door not opening when it's supposed to is physical agony now. I actively resist their efforts this time. It is no use. I find myself sitting in that chair again. I hear the sound boring into my head with ever increasing intensity.

They let go of me and leave the room. I still feel the grip of the fabric. Apparently, they "forgot" to remove my restraints this time.

I hate them for it, but I don't blame them. It's the natural order of things. Besides, they probably hate themselves just as much as they hate me. They probably hate having to work in such a place, trying to help ponies that don't want to be helped, trying to show compassion for those who don't return it, and struggling to employ restraint while facing those who do not. Maybe they don't even want to hate me, but it's easier that way.

There's that new colt for example. He tried to be nice to me. The others did not like him for that. I did not like him. He was upsetting the balance. He was disrupting the harmony that I was accustomed to. I took every chance to give him a painful reminder of my opinion of him.

It didn't last long. His attempts at sympathy gradually lost their effort with each passing day. Eventually, he became like the rest of them. His eyes lost focus while he was around me. His face became an unmoving veil, devoid of any emotion. His hooves grasped me as if I were a lifeless husk.

He had discovered the harmony that guides us all here. I had succeeded again.

As I lose myself in these thoughts, I don't even realize that somepony has entered the room. My eyes have lost focus as the patterns surrounding me distort my vision. The sound is all that I can hear, swirling around and consuming me from the inside out.

"Um... h-hello?"

I nearly leap out of my seat. The restraints reduce that motion to a mere jerk of my upper body. I hear a small yelp. My eyes quickly focus on the source of the noise.

I see a mare standing before me. A pegasus. Small body, yellow coat, pink mane. A pair of big, aquamarine eyes, only one of them visible behind the long and thick veil of her hair.

She blinks a couple of times, lowering her head and pulling the veil even tighter. "Um... excuse me, uh..." she stutters. "C-c-can you... hear me?"

I just stare at her, making her shrink even more.

"A-are you... okay? Um... Twilight said that... you might be... well... that I could..."

I don't move a muscle. My eyes keep scanning her up and down, puzzled by her sight.

"Um..." She begins to shudder a little. "Aren't you going to... talk to me?"

I blink in disbelief. She keeps looking at me innocently. I roll my eyes and sigh, then flex my jaw against the muzzle a couple of times. The tight fabric squirms a little, barely allowing any movement.

"Oh..." she mutters and looks away. "I see..."

I raise an eyebrow. The longer I stare at her, the smaller and more unnerved she seems to become. I give another irritated sigh, wondering why they would waste my time with somepony like her. She's a pathetic weakling, even more useless than every other pony to ever walk in here.

Then again, at least her voice is not as unpleasant as that of the others. I expect the usual grinding sensation in my ears whenever she makes a noise, but to my surprise it never comes.

I feel a slight vibration in the chair. My eyes open again. I did not even realize that they've slipped closed. She seems to have taken it as a good sign and tried to approach me. For a moment, I get to see her at full size. My gaze makes her freeze and shrink back again.

"Um... would you like me to... ask them to... take it off?" she asks cautiously.

I stare at her wide-eyed. Her proximity should unnerve me. I should become violent right about now. Instead, I am overwhelmed by the thought that she is capable of such silent movement. I can't even begin to process what is happening. In my confusion, I find myself nodding in response.

Her eyes light up, and she straightens herself a little. "Okay!" she says, "I'll be right back!" Her voice is a bit louder than before, though still barely above a mere whisper.

I watch her trot outside. Something inside me wants to go after her, but I don't let myself move. I just sit there and wait.

She never comes back.

They come in. My restraints are taken off for the rest of the day. I still do not move, even after the bite of the straps is long gone from my limbs. I keep hearing her voice. Every time it echoes in my skull, the sound reacts to it.

I get up and start pounding my hooves against the floor. The noise is consumed by the odd surface beneath the mesh. There are no echoes. I sit back down, staring at the walls again. The strange pattern surrounds me, covering every inch of my cell. It eats every manifestation of sound that tries to exist within it. All but one.

I throw my whole body against the floor. I slam it against the walls. I do it over and over again, ignoring the pain. Every bit of noise that I am able to conjure drives me to keep going. I don't stop, even when they rush in to restrain me again.

I'm standing at the edge of the square. The cold wind bites into my hide, making me wince. I can hardly breathe. My limbs struggle to keep me upright among the strong currents of air.

An endless crowd of ponies is shifting around before me. The wide spectrum of colors all fade into a mess of dull gray smears, swaying back and forth in a sea of white. Their voices and the noises they make coalesce into a senseless and distorted roar.

My hooves raise themselves off the ground and drag me into their midst. Every now and then, there's an odd, disjointed melody ringing out over the commotion. It guides me like a beacon as I stumble through the crowd, eventually leading me to a small fountain near the center.

I stare at the miserable figure sitting on the ground. He is a shivering pile of rags, filth, wrinkled skin, and old bones. Nopony is paying any attention to him. They simply give him a wide berth and move on.

His hooves are cradling an instrument against his chest. A guitar. As I look at them, I can't tell which one is older than the other. Both instrument and pony have been worn down to their bones by the merciless teeth of time.

The melody comes to a sudden halt. The old stallion lifts his head to look up at me. He seems confused. I just smile, then trot forward and sit down on the cold stone next to him. He doesn't say anything. I close my eyes and hold my breath. I can hear him shifting around nervously. My ears perk up in anticipation.

He gives a deep sigh, then goes back to playing his strange composition. The aging metal strings buzz and whine as his hooves brush against them repeatedly. I place my back against the side of the fountain and let myself be submerged in the beauty of their sound.

The performance isn't very impressive. His instrument is out of tune. He's constantly making mistakes, playing foul notes, losing rhythm, or pausing for too long and in the wrong places.

I don't mind at all.

I'm thinking about you again. I picture myself rushing back home to drag you here. I can see that look on your face as I whine and tug at your legs. I feel my heart leaping in my chest when you take that first reluctant step on your own.

I imagine that you are here with me. I can see us embracing each other, sheltering ourselves from the cold while we listen to his masterpiece. I can see the stallion smiling at us while he plays with renewed vigor.

I feel your hoof on my head as you stroke my mane lovingly. I hear your voice escaping your lungs to caress my ears.

The melody emitted by his instrument makes a sudden shift. It now follows your song note for note. Their harmony surrounds me, holding me tight and lulling me into a wonderful dream.

The familiar progression jolts me awake. I open my eyes. I'm still sitting next to the fountain. The square is empty now. Everypony around me is gone, but I can still hear it.

The sound is all that remains.

I'm holding my breath for as long as I can. Every time I have to exhale, I do it with a grunt of frustration. My body won't let me sleep any more, so I'm forced to wait consciously. I take another deep breath.

I can't get her out of my head. She has infected my consciousness. No matter how hard I try to banish her, she just keeps coming back. Something inside me wants to hear that voice again. It is an enigma that tortures me with every passing second.

Now I spend every waking moment waiting for her to return, as I am certain that she will. I would rather face this pony again than allow her memory to slowly drive me insane.

The noise makes my ears twitch. My eyes widen as the door opens again. My heart skips a beat at the sight of yellow and pink fur flowing in. She drifts gently into the center of this womb. Her forehoof flies to her mouth, and she gives a short, almost inaudible gasp when she notices the bruises covering my body.

"Oh my gosh!" she whispers, "Are you hurt?"

Pain radiates from every portion of my being. Every breath stabs into my ribs. I shake my head.

"Are you sure? I could, um... have a closer look... if you don't mind, that is..."

The gentle throbbing intensifies every time I move, making me wince. I just shake my head again without saying a word.

"Oh... well, if you're sure..." she mutters.

Her wings fold closed as she lands on the chair before me. Every move she makes is as silent as a soft breeze. Her legs shift around nervously, while her hooves grip the edge of her seat as if she were clinging to it for dear life.

"Umm... by the way, sorry for leaving you like that yesterday," she says, "They... they told me that my time was up, and that I had to leave, and... well..."

She trails off, looking away for a moment, then clears her throat and turns back to me. "I, um... I had Twilight ask them not to tie you up this time. Does that make you feel any better?"

I sigh and quickly nod in response, not wanting to waste any more time. I need her to keep talking. I have to know why she is different from the others. Her voice is the key.

"So, um..." Her hooves tap idly on the floor. "Would you like to talk to me now?" she tries with an awkward smile.

This catches me off guard. I was hoping that our conversation would remain one-sided. My mouth opens, then closes again, struggling to answer without me willing to do so. The words are stuck in my throat. I have no idea what to respond, and the very idea of my vocal chords creating any noise is unthinkable.

She eyes me curiously, trying to decipher my confused expression. "How about we start with something simple?" she asks after a few moments. Her hoof points to her chest. "My name is Fluttershy. What's your name?"

My jaw drops from the sudden change in her tone. Her voice is no longer that of a frail little filly cowering from the mere glance of a stranger. Now she is the adult, struggling to work with the non-compliant foal that I am.

I respond without even thinking. Without even realizing it. The air is forced out of my lungs. I feel it traveling up my throat and out of my mouth. My tongue and lips shape the words without a single conscious decision on my part.

"Smooth Song."

I hear my voice ringing out like a deafening roar. It is a noise more foreign to me than any other I've ever experienced in here. The sound barks into my ears with renewed violence.

My eyes fall to the floor. My breathing becomes more labored. Sweat beads all over my forehead. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest.

None of this is right. How can my voice escape me this way? What is she doing to me?

I look back up at her in desperation. She is back to her full size, her gaze no longer trying to wander as she stares at me.

"Oh, that's a lovely name!" she coos. Her smile is wider than ever. "And how old are you, Smooth Song?"

"Twenty-one."

"And what are you?"

"An earth pony."

"And what is your cutie mark?"

"A guitar."

"Do you know why it's a guitar?"

"..."

"Hmm?"

"Something to do with... music?"

"And do you like music, Smooth Song?"

"I don't know."

We trade short bursts of speech. Every time I open my mouth, it feels like there's a tremendous amount of pressure inside me, threatening to rip me apart as it tries to escape. Every time she speaks, her voice radiates an otherworldly warmth that washes away some of my tension. The sound repeatedly spikes in my ears, then retreats to the background again. I try not to even think about it and focus on keeping the conversation flowing.

"Have you ever listened to any music?"

"I... I think I have..."

"Do you remember it?"

"No..."

She blinks a couple of times, puzzled by my response. I look away. There's that odd pressure in my chest again. I think I was trying to lie, but I don't even know whether any of my answers are true or not.

"Well, um..." she stammers, "I could... show you some... if you want. I'm into music quite a bit myself..."

"Really?" I mumble as I turn back to her.

She smiles at me and gives a small nod. "Mm-hmm. In fact, I practice quite often with some of my songbirds back home."

"Songbirds?"

"Oh yes! I have more than a dozen little birdies that train with me twice every week. They make a wonderful team! We even got to perform on all these big ceremonies... like the Summer Sun celebration!"

She brushes her mane out of her eyes. Her gaze wanders through the room as if she were watching those birds circling around her right now. "They are all so lovely! Sure, some of them have trouble with the rhythm from time to time, but they all have such amazing voices, and..."

She seems more enthusiastic than ever, judging by her volume now approaching other ponies' normal speaking voice. Everything becomes a blur around me. I'm drowning in the stream of her words. The smooth voice lifts me up and carries me far away. It's an odd, yet comforting feeling somehow. I feel a smile tugging at my lips.

"Smooth Song?" Her voice eventually slips through the haze that I'm drifting in. "Are you alright?"

"Huh? What?" I blink and shake my head, then slap myself with a hoof. "I'm... I'm fine..."

She raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" I snap at her, flushing. She winces at the sudden outburst. "Just... never mind me! I'm okay. Better than ever. Stop asking!"

"Um..." she whimpers, "okay..."

We remain silent for a while. I watch her forehooves tugging at her mane nervously, while her eyes keep turning in every direction but toward me. My own limbs feel restless as well.

"And what about this place?" she asks.

My legs jerk involuntarily. I feel a stab of pain as my teeth sink into my lower lip. "What do you mean?"

"Well... is it good? Do you feel alright in here?"

The air starts to feel heavy again. My eyes dart back and forth, peeking at the door several times, expecting it to burst open at any moment.

"I... I can't..." I stammer.

They are listening. They're always listening.

No. There's no need. I should just keep quiet.

"No," my voice answers for me. I bite my tongue, desperately trying to hold it back. "I don't."

"Oh, you poor thing! What's wrong?"

"It's... it's the noises." I can't stop myself from speaking. "Everything is too noisy!" My hooves grab the sides of my head. "They all make terrible sounds! They hurt me!"

"Did the guards hurt you?"

"What? No, I... they only... it's just... just the noise. I can't stand all the noise!"

"Um... what kind of noise?"

"Everything! Every sound that everypony makes in here!"

Her eyes widen, and she shrinks back a little again. "You mean..." she whispers, "even when I'm talking to you?"

"No!" I shout, making her recoil. I lower my voice somewhat. "No, you're... you're different!"

"H-how?"

"You're... you're the first pony that... your voice... it doesn't hurt..."

I slam a hoof onto my mouth. My teeth scream at me from the force of the impact. I clench my eyes shut and let out muffled curses while I bash the side of my head repeatedly. I do it about a dozen times before the pain becomes unbearable.

"Go!" I grunt between gasps for breath. Something warm and wet trickles down the side of my face. "Get out! I've had enough. Leave me alone!"

She does not move. Her eyes are locked onto me, a mortified expression on her face. Her hind legs are trembling, making her seat rattle on the metal floor. The noise irritates me. For the first time today, I genuinely despise her presence.

"Why?" I hear her voice caressing me once more. "Why did somepony like you... end up in here?"

My gaze descends to the floor again. "Why do you want to know?" I mutter. "Didn't she tell you?" My skull is throbbing. I let the blood trickle down my face and onto my hooves.

She shakes her head slowly. "No, but..." she stammers, "I don't think you belong in here." Her hoof points at the wound on my head. "Look at you! You're hurting yourself! And... all these bruises, too... it was you, wasn't it?"

I notice her trying to get up and move toward me. The sudden change in my expression is all that it takes to make her back down.

"Please!" She's almost crying now. "Let me help you! You need help! You can't just... just stay locked away like this!"

I don't respond. One by one, I just count each individual drop of blood that hits my legs.

"Why did they bring you here?" she asks me once more.

Our eyes meet. My mouth is hanging open again. The air starts to travel up my throat. This time, however, even my own voice refuses to answer for me. All I can do is cough up a series of incoherent sounds.

She silently watches me struggle with myself for a few moments. Her hoof reaches out to grab mine and holds on tight. "Wait!" she says, "Okay! It's okay! I don't mind if you don't want to tell me."

I breathe a sigh of relief, then wrestle my hoof out of her grasp and turn away. We don't speak for a while again. Our breathing is the only sound and motion within the room.

"Um... I think I'll go now," she finally says. I hear the chair's legs grinding against the floor as she gets up. "See you next day?"

I nod without even looking at her. I can faintly hear her hoofsteps as she moves toward the door. As their volume decreases, the sound takes their place with ever growing fury. I welcome it. I want it to help drown out her presence.

"Wait!" I call after her. She freezes halfway through the exit and turns back to me. "Could you... could you show me?"

I get a puzzled look from her. "Wh-what?"

"You know... the music..." I speak through grit teeth, keeping my voice low. "The kind you practice with those birds..."

"Oh!" She hangs her head, letting her mane cover most of her face. "Well, um... I can't exactly sing that to you..."

I nod silently and close my eyes, letting out the breath I've been holding. In my mind I can already hear the door close. The sound absorbs every trace of her.

My hoof rises before my face. My jaws open. I feel my teeth stabbing into my flesh.

A grunt of discomfort escapes my throat. There's a coppery taste in my mouth. I still hear myself asking her. With every passing second, my jaws try to increase the pressure on my limb.

"Foals of mine who glide around
Hearts set to fly free
Tell me, can't you hear the sound
Of child who fell from me?"

My eyes shoot open. My hoof drops to my side, leaving my jaw to hang limply.

She's standing next to the doorway. Her head is raised as she sustains the final note. She takes in another deep breath.

"Ask not where or why or how
Come to mother's nest
Fold your little wings for now
Lay your heads to rest"

I barely have time to comprehend the sensations. For a moment, I'm taken back into that beautiful dream. I start to lose myself, drifting away in the miracle that is her voice.

Something strange happens. It is a mere noise in the background at first. Then, as her song progresses, the two melodies become entangled in one another. Every note soon becomes a perfect match.

My blood runs cold. I can no longer differentiate between her singing and what is in my head.

The sound has morphed to follow her voice.

"You will fly another day
No need to despair
Sun and sky are here to stay
Sleep now in their care"

I have no control over what happens next. A large dose of air enters my lungs. The chair I've been sitting on topples over and hits the floor behind me. Through my own eyes I'm forced to watch as my body lunges forward, homing in on the unsuspecting pegasus before she can react.

We collide. My momentum throws her off her hooves. I pin her against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. My voice almost deafens me as I start screaming into her face.

"How did you do that? How? Tell me! Who are you?"

Her pupils become pinpricks inside the huge whites of her eyes. I feel every inch of her body trembling. I can hear her rapid breaths, the tiny squeaking noise they make as they move through her lungs and throat. I feel them against my face. They only serve to add to my tension.

"What did you do? Please! Tell me! What was that? What is happening?"

The door bursts open. They storm into the room and surround us. They start shouting. I don't pay any attention. I don't care if I'm hurting her. I can still hear it. Even with her silent it just keeps playing her song.

"What have you done to me?"

A pair of hooves grab my neck from behind. Another two lock around my midsection. They start pulling me away.

"No! Stop! Let me go! Stop it!"

I lose my grip on her. They drag me further and further away. With each step backward, more hooves grab hold of my body to try and get me under control. I thrash around as hard as I can, still screaming.

"Let go of me! To Tartarus with all of you! I have to know!"

I start punching and kicking them. A limb moves near my face. I sink my teeth into it. One of them starts howling. There's that odd taste again. It almost makes me laugh despite myself.

A hoof connects with my abdomen. Hard. I throw up the air in my lungs. Another smashes into the back of my head. My vision fills with spots. My limbs go limp as I am overwhelmed by agony.

They throw me to the floor. I'm on my back, looking up at them as they surround me, panting from the exertion. There's a moment's pause that seems to last entire minutes.

I know exactly what will happen next. I stay still, embracing the inevitable.

They descend upon me as one being. Every trained and strengthened limb is connected to a single consciousness, and it now thirsts for my blood. Out of instinct, my limbs weakly lift themselves up to try and protect me. They are bludgeoned aside in an instant. Dozens of powerful blows start tossing my body around as if it were stuffed with hay.

Everything goes numb. Their blows barely register anymore. I taste my own blood again. I hear things breaking under my skin. The sound becomes muffled, then continues to fade out. I exhale one last time, ready to submit to the darkness consuming me.

"STOP!"

The sudden shriek throws me back from the abyss. Everypony becomes paralyzed in that instant. One by one, their heads slowly turn toward its source. I watch, baffled, as their expressions change from surprise to that of fear.

Trembling from the agony, I lift my head to see what is happening. She is right where I left her, now in a low stance facing toward us. As soon as our eyes meet, I freeze, an otherworldly terror taking hold of me.

"Let him go!" she commands. Her voice is a roar as she speaks. Her eyes are like giants. I feel myself shrinking before them, unable to even think about the creature that now holds us in her grasp.

In an instant, all the foreign limbs retreat from my body. "Get out!" she shouts. They obey without hesitation. She keeps her gaze fixed on them as they crawl out of the room. Not one of them dares to look away. As soon as I'm out of her view, the petrifying sensation disappears. A wave of nausea runs through me. My head hits the floor.

"Wait outside!" she calls after them, "Don't move a muscle!"

The door slams shut. She gives a deep sigh, then turns around and immediately rushes over to my side. She lifts up my head, her other hoof checking the damage on the rest of my body. I struggle to lift my eyelids as I hear her calling my name.

Her gaze no longer inspires terror. Tears are streaming down her face. She starts babbling incoherently. She tries to tell me that she's sorry. She's asking me where I'm hurt. She's telling me that everything will be alright.

I grab her foreleg, cutting her off. My lungs stab and burn as I breathe in. Without giving her another moment, I let loose my own voice.

I tell her everything.

I visit him every day after that.

Every single day, I find him in the exact same spot. I just sit down next to him and listen. He never asks me why. He never tells me to leave. He never even speaks to me. He just keeps playing, and I keep listening and dreaming.

I stay here all day. I wait until he packs up and leaves, but I never follow him. There is no need. I already know when and where to find him.

For months, this is how I spend my spare time. There isn't much to do at home. You always have to work so much and for so long. I still wish I could bring you here, but I know how hard it is for you and I don't want to cause any trouble.

Sometimes, this doesn't seem right either. I feel like I should be doing something more useful. I want to help you, but I don't know how. I want to get up. I want to stop coming here, but I never can. The old stallion keeps playing, and I just sit still and listen.

One day, however, he stops in the middle of one of his songs. I'm jolted awake from my pleasant daze. He sighs, then turns to me with a tired look on his face. Before I can say anything, he places the guitar in my lap.

I spend the next couple of hours struggling with the ancient instrument. It isn't easy. My limbs are too small to hold it. My hooves are too small to work with it. I am too small in every sense in order to make it sing the way he did.

My hooves touch the strings. I cringe. The noise I make is torture for the ears. A couple of ponies even turn to look as they pass by. They roll their eyes and huff in annoyance.

I hang my head low and stop playing. I imagine you standing before me. You look disappointed, just like the rest of them. It makes me want to bury myself.

Then I feel the stallion patting my back. He's smiling at me. He tells me to continue.

We keep at it all day. Every time I stop, he urges me to keep playing. Only once it's time for him to leave does he take it away again.

The same thing happens the following day. Then the day after that. An entire month. I lose track of how long we do this. I never stop trying, but I don't make much progress either.

Something is wrong. I realize that early on, but I can't figure it out. No matter how often he shows me what to do, I keep making the same mistakes. I try to play the way he does, but all that comes out is an awful noise.

-----

*****

-----

There's an endless sound in my head. A melody that changes constantly. It reminds me of you. Whenever I think about you, it becomes stronger. When I play something else, it drowns it out. If I try to ignore it, it punishes me.

I stop playing abruptly. The old stallion gives me a confused look. He pats my back again. He says I shouldn't give up.

I can't take it anymore. Nothing else seems to work. I give a deep sigh and close my eyes, ready to surrender to its will. My left hoof moves into a new position on the fretboard, and the right one carefully begins to strum the new melody.

It's a bit difficult at first. The sound is too elusive for me to follow correctly. I can only bring out a shoddy imitation of it.

As if sensing my attempt, it calms down a little, allowing me to catch up. Within moments, we manage to reach harmony. It now flows out of my instrument with absolute clarity, granting my audience the full experience of my inner voice.

The effect is almost immediate. I open my eyes again when I hear the stallion gasping next to me. I follow his gaze. The guitar nearly drops from my hooves at the sight.

A huge crowd is forming around us. Young and old alike squeeze each other as they struggle to get as close as they can. Colts stop in mid-sprint, throwing away their toys and ignoring all of their friends as they fight their way to the front row. Foals are bawling as their parents leave them behind without hesitation, then go silent and start crawling toward me as well.

I keep playing, despite my amazement. Whenever I pause, they erupt into cheers. They start showering us with money, gifts, and praise. They're begging me not to stop.

A strange sensation takes hold of me. I no longer feel fear or shame. Instead, I find myself wondering how far I can take this.

I tell them to give us more.

They do not hesitate. Mares and stallions empty their pockets, then tear off all their fancy clothes and jewelry, placing them at my feet while shivering in the cold wind. With nothing else left to give, some of them even drop to their knees and bow before me, offering their servitude.

The excitement brings a smile to my face. I can't get enough of it. My heart is pumping fire through my veins as I announce my will to them.

I demand that the wealthiest step forth. I point to my friend and tell them to give everything they possess to him. The old stallion can only shudder as they lift him up and carry him away, surrounded by the thunderous cheers of the rest of the crowd.

I point down at their offerings next. I tell them to pick up as much as they can carry, then give it all to the first pony that they run into on the street. A few dozen more depart, but it barely thins the enormous herd.

I tell the rest of them where I wish to go. Moments later, I'm riding on top of a swirling ocean of ponies. Their cheers are almost deafening now. My smile grows even wider.

I lead them away from the square. My guitar starts to sing again. The sound travels through the busy streets, ensnaring all within its reach.

We arrive at a large building at the center of the town. The moment I see it, the sound shifts from its soft progression to a more violent passage. In response, my audience becomes restless as well.

I stand before the entrance and turn around to face them. Thousands are staring back at me, eager to obey my every command.

I point at the building behind me. I announce its true nature. The fancy structure is nothing but the accursed dwelling of all those who oppress and feed off of us.

It must be torn down.

They roar in response, bursting into motion as one being. I step aside as they rush forward and break down the doors, pouring in like an unstoppable tide.

The windows on the upper floors burst open. Those inside are crying for help. Smoke starts to bleed out of the openings. I hear things breaking. Ponies shouting at each other, some begging for mercy.

I grin as I watch those pathetic vermin drop before me. Their wails are music to my ears, building up a unique rhythm. Every contributor adds a single note, followed by silence once they hit the stone below.

I decide to join in. It gives the sound an entirely new orchestration, which fuels their rampage even further.

"No..."

I hear my name being called. My heart nearly stops when I recognize your voice.

"No."

I slowly turn around. My whole body is shaking from the knowledge of what I'm about to see.

"No!"

You're standing at the edge of the crowd, looking straight at me.

The guitar falls to the ground and breaks in two. I don't even flinch. I hear you calling my name again.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

You try to move forward. The crowd is too thick and violent. You are screaming now, unable to get any closer.

"No! Wait! I'm sorry!"

I start galloping toward you. That's when I meet them for the first time. These ones are wearing gold plates all over their hide. They descend from the sky and surround me.

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I got carried away! I didn't mean for this to happen!"

They are closing in. Whenever I try to move, they block me. In my desperation, I rush them, still keeping my eyes on you. I cannot lose you.

Their hooves lock around my limbs.

"No! Let me go!"

They're dragging me away. I struggle to lift my head above them. The last thing I see is your hoof reaching out among the frantic herd.

I can't hear your voice.

"Mother!"

I don't know what is happening. Everything is a blur. All I comprehend is the agony, as well as a great sense of urgency that drives us both.

She is leading me down the halls. Whenever I collapse, she wrestles me back to my hooves. I keep telling her to leave me behind, but she hushes me every time.

We run into a few of them along the way. When they try to stop us, she uses what she calls "The Stare" on them. Not one of them can stand up to its power.

We keep moving. I don't understand how she knows where we need to go. Everything looks the same: endless hallways that don't lead anywhere, connecting rooms that don't contain anything.

She stops after a while and opens one of the doors. We enter a chamber full of fancy-looking equipment. On one side, there is a thick glass window behind a large console. Beyond it, there is a small room, its walls matching those in my own.

I recognize this place. This is where they would take me every once in a while so I could "make myself useful." The rarest passage of the symphony.

At first, they just gave me a pen and paper. They told me to compose something that they desired. It took them a while to realize that no amount of beatings could teach me how to do that. After that, they would just hand me a guitar, lock me into that room, and tell me to play it for a few minutes.

I did exactly as they told me. Somehow, that was enough to satisfy them. I never understood it.

There's only one of them inside now. He quickly succumbs to her power. She orders him to set everything up. His hooves shake uncontrollably as he starts fiddling with the console.

I let go of her and limp my way into the small room. The guitar is there in the corner, as always. I pick it up and turn around. She waits for him to finish, then smiles and gives me a small nod.

"You might want to take cover," I tell her. My hooves move into position. "This is going to be loud."

A giant wave of pressure slams into me the moment I strum the first chord. The speakers behind me crackle as I drive them past the volume they were designed for.

The agony in my limbs flares once more. I hold my breath and do my best to keep calm. This progression demands it. I let go of my tension and allow the sound to guide me. With every following chord, the piece gains intensity.

The mare is still standing there, amazed by what is happening. A swirling torrent of energy is released, ripping apart all the equipment around me. Her eyes grow wide, and she ducks for cover as the next wave smashes right through the window.

The ground beneath me releases a strange glow. Dozens of swirling tendrils burst forth, their forms composed of the same light. The sound envelops me completely. It feeds off its own power, using me as its medium.

The ceiling explodes outward as the appendages collide with it, easily tearing through concrete, steel, and earth. I look up, watching them swirl as they explore the space outside. The currents they create with their motions lift me up as well. Beyond the shattered walls above, I now see stars pockmarking the night sky. It makes me smile.

A few of them rush into the room. One of them gallops forward and tries to grab me. I wish I could warn him. I wish I could stop him, but I can't. They cannot help it. Even in the face of such power, they have to obey their purpose.

His hoof touches the vortex. Another wave of energy blasts him apart. The others stare horrified at his remains. They don't dare to move.

I guide the limbs back toward this place. My awareness expands along with their reach. I go from room to room. Alarms are going off everywhere. I can see the rest of them running back and forth, unsure what to do.

I can see all the other residents. Some of them are confused. Scared. Others are angry. They just want to sleep.

And then there's one more.

Oh, you poor, senseless little thing.

I can't help but laugh at the sight, despite myself.

Why the hay did you do it? Couldn't you have waited another minute or two?

The strings of light arc through the air. They break into structure once more, homing in on his lifeless body hanging from the rope.

Maybe then you could have seen what I am about to see. You could have escaped your precious white boxes and painful lights.

His legs jerk a little as the tendrils swirl around him. Then his whole body convulses. His eyes open, and I hear him gasp as he takes in his surroundings.

Don't you worry. I won't let you go just yet.

I smile as I watch his eyes dart back and forth while he's being hoisted into the air.

This will be our last gig. We're going to finish it together.

I take us both outside. Another immense wave of energy is released, followed by several more. Each one sends my song further out into the rest of the world. Wherever the sound goes, my awareness is able to follow it.

The otherworldly limbs spread out, reaching for many miles. Foreign lands stretch out before me, full of all sorts of wonders. Magnificent beings of all kinds stare at the sky in a mix of fear and wonder.

But they are not what I wish to see right now.

One of the strings passes by a castle on the side of a mountain. It brushes against one of the large windows, allowing me to peek inside. I see Her lying in bed, fast asleep.

The glass cracks from a sudden dose of pressure. I watch silently as She is jolted awake by the noise. She quickly gets up and moves to the window to look outside. A look of utter terror appears on Her face once She realizes what is happening.

At this moment, I could do whatever I want to Her. I choose not to. There is no quarrel between us. The sight of Her at Her weakest is more than enough to satisfy me.

A burning sensation is eating away at my limbs, starting at the tips of my hooves. The more I stress the sound, the burning spreads further and becomes stronger.

I grit my teeth and focus on my search. I sift through their ranks as fast as I can. I watch a pink earth pony cradle a bag of flour. She rocks back and forth while crying herself to sleep. I watch a large red stallion weep as he stands before a trio of fresh graves. One of them is still empty. He lowers his head, then slowly crawls into it.

The burning intensifies. I clench my eyes shut, now starting to lose hope. A thousand lives of misery are revealed before me. A million stories of success. A genius being born. A mother being murdered. A single glance is all it takes once I find them. All worth knowing, but none what I seek.

No.

There you are. The one place where I didn't want to look.

No.

The other strings all double back. They rush straight toward the city near the sea, converging on an old house on a forgotten street.

You never left it.

No!

Your eyes are closed. Your breath and your pulse are weak.

Open your eyes! Wake up! Please! Don't leave me! Wake up! Don't leave me again! Don't let it end like this!

The strings caress your sides. They touch your face. I can't feel your warmth.

Not after all this! Please don't leave me!

I channel as much energy as I can through them. The sound howls into my ear, but I ignore it.

Please! I'm begging you! Open your eyes! Wake up!

Tears are streaming down my face. I can't breathe. The fire has all but torn my hooves apart.

It hurts! It hurts too much! I can't keep it up any longer!

The light is almost blinding. I can hear her screaming in the distance. From pain or from fear, I cannot tell.

You are still asleep.

Please! I beg you! Open your eyes for me! Please! Just wake up! Just open your—

The veils of skin retreat into your skull. I stare into a pair of emerald lakes on white domes. The dark pools at the center contract as the light hits them.

My hooves stop moving. They drop down and hang limply at my sides. Everything falls silent. I breathe hard as I try to focus among the pain consuming my body. A foreign sensation awaits me. There is complete silence.

The sound is gone.

Glass pearls bleed out of the corners of your eyes. They roll down the sides of your face. I can see your mouth moving. I recognize the words shaped by your lips.

There is no sound accompanying them.

I throw my head back and scream. I howl from the bottom of my guts, as if trying to turn myself inside out. My whole body deflates from the effort. My throat burns, a tidal wave of air ripping it apart as it erupts from my lungs.

Agony consumes my skull as the pressure grows inside it. My limbs feel like enormous jaws are rending them. I don't stop, compressing the sacs in my chest even after my air runs out completely.

There is no sound.

Your mouth is still moving. I watch your face contort as you let go of your own tears.

My vision becomes blurry. I want to wipe my eyes so I can see you. My hooves are stiff. They will not respond.

I look down and notice her again. She is curled up on the floor, covering her head with her hooves, the pulverized remains of the room surrounding her.

I try whispering her name. She stops shaking and peeks out from under her hair. Those beautiful eyes find me once more, looking over my body as it writhes from the pain.

She says something. Her expression allows me to guess what she sees, but I'll never hear that voice again.

"Thank you!" I whisper. "Thank you for everything!"

I turn back to you. I lift one of the strings to caress your face. You can't see me, but I can tell that you know.

For just a little while longer, the entire world is my audience. The guitar is still hanging from my shoulders. I place my throbbing hooves against it, close my eyes, then take a deep breath.

My last performance is for you. It is the loudest song in existence.

I'm the only one alive that does not get to hear it.

Author's Note

Side story/tribute to the fantastic work entitled White Box by Chromosome. This chapter is also the conclusion to this particular series.

"Goodbye, thank you very much for your kind and avid attention, and good luck to each and every one of you!"

— Michael Gira

Fluttershy's song (more or less) follows the pitch and rhythm of the melody at the beginning and end of the "title song." I tried to do something like this because I figured everyone was sick and tired of seeing "Hush now, quiet now" for the billionth time. I know I am, at least. Also, I know the last line of the first verse messes up the metre somewhat, but whatever. I like it this way...

(Also, in case you were wondering what Smooth Song is playing at the end: link)

EDIT: Now with a reading by The Audible Blink here: (link)

EDIT 2: Sequel here: (link)

Mother, My Body Disgusts Me

MOTHER, MY BODY DISGUSTS ME

I am foul. My body is rotting flesh. A walking abortion that slowly putrefies under the sun. My sickening odor oozes out of every inch of my skin. The filth has built up in several layers now. A crust of dirt, blood, and offal grows over my hide. It is this shell that separates me from the rest of the world. It protects me from outside influence while it slowly consumes me. A long, unkempt mane forms a veil of dirt over my face, hiding it from the light. My stomach occasionally erupts, sending a wave of my inner decay out through my mouth and nostrils. I tense up for a moment, then let my intestines exhale through my rear end. My insides are evaporating, rushing out of every orifice as they try to escape me.

I drag my corpse down the street. Everypony stares at me. They give me looks of disgust. Most of them try to avert their eyes and pretend that I'm not there. They hold their noses. Some of them even gag. Others just point and laugh, or start whispering among themselves. I walk past them as they all give me a wide berth.

The mare gives me an awkward smile as she hands me the bag. Her face had gone pale the moment I walked in. It has stayed that way ever since. She is holding her breath. I turn around and head for the door, hearing her cough before I even get outside. It makes me smile. Another victim, another victory.

I don't mind their disgust at all. I share it. My sight is revolting. I despise my smell just as much as they do. Perhaps even more. But their disgust also makes it enjoyable. It is the only way I have power over them. I can control what they feel. My greatest strength is this manipulation through my obscene form. Even those who could easily destroy me are overpowered by it. The mark on my flank confirms this. Even the symbol of my destiny is a container for the filth this species produces. It burns as if it were branded onto me. I only keep it because it is honest. It does not lie about me. The inequine filth all over my body is the only thing that preserves my identity.

I slowly trot back toward the outskirts of town. Mother awaits my return. In my mind I can already hear her voice grating on my ears. I grind my teeth together. The rotting fragments wiggle in my soft gums. My tongue squirms around in the dry hole, restless from the constant, foul taste.

The door creaks open. The hinges are barely holding on to the frame. A wave of hot air tainted by dust and decay pours out. There is no sound; she is still asleep. I step inside and place the bag on the floor. I find her lying in the corner where I left her, moaning from the light hitting her face. Her hooves shift around under the torn rags covering her body.

I crawl over to her slowly and nudge her awake with my forehoof. Her snout twitches as she discovers my scent. She opens her eyes, unveiling a pair of blue gems under the thick crust of filth. They widen when she notices what I am holding. She does not say anything as she pushes herself off the floor, grunting from the effort. Her mouth opens. The gaping, black maw is devoid of teeth, screaming her hunger without making a sound. She is like a slowly dying plant, still begging for water to sustain itself even though nothing grows on it anymore. I feed her like she used to feed me. Stuff her while she begs to be stuffed. I turn my gaze away from her while she feeds. Her scent repels me. It takes most of my strength to keep my proximity to her, and I don't have a lot of it.

I don't blame her for conceiving me. She did not agree to it, and she was too weak to do anything against it. I don't blame her for not destroying me while I was inside her. It was not likely that she would have survived it if she had tried to remove me. I don't blame her womb for sustaining me and for letting me survive my birth. She had no control over her body then.

My face scrunches up when my odor hits me again. No, that is not her sin. I blame her for letting me live. For keeping me alive, even after I was no longer a growth inside her. For letting her fluids sustain my existence. For not choking me the very moment she was able to hold me. She allowed me to mature into the pile of refuse that I am now. For all I know, she enjoyed it. She wanted to own something that she could control. Nurture and shape it into something more miserable than she is. The mark on my rear is the greatest testament to her success.

However, she had made a slight miscalculation. Time is not on her side, and she spent too much energy into shaping me. I may be obscene, but I am not the lifeless husk that is lying before me now. I no longer rely on her, but she needs me to survive. And despite my contempt for her, I did not abandon her. I work hard every day just to sustain this life we call our own. She holds on just barely, anchored to her survival by the scraps that I feed her.

The food is gone. Lying back down, she keeps rolling the last of it around in her mouth. I cringe at the sickening noise this makes. She rubs her forehoof against my own and smiles. I smile as well, then wrap my hooves around her, and rest my head against her chest. It gives me pleasure to feel it rising and falling. I breathe in her putrid scent.

This is what I have been working for. She whispers her gratitude for the effort I make to sustain her. I smile. There is some truth to it. What I give her is only a fraction of what I earn, only enough to keep her breathing. I want her to be this way. My greatest pleasure is the absolute control I now have over her existence.

Author's Note

"Too short
Too tall
Too clean
Too..."