Rarity's Little Secret

Chapter three: Out of the dark-
Twilight grew intensely pale.
“Y-you can't be-”

“I am serious, Twilight. I am done living this double lie.” Rarity turned around to look into the mirror. Her blue eyes met the reflection’s eyes. They stared back at her, menacingly. Taunting her once again of her false nature.

“Why don’t you eat yourself, you stupid cow?” a weak and shivering voice hissed.

The harsh words is something Rarity grew to accept. No matter how she assured herself that it wasn't her, it still taunted. Just a dark and depressing realization of her inner psyche. Another reality that she couldn't come to grips.

But she knew it was time for a change. Rarity just shut her eyes to the scene.

“I know that when I confess to this…” she opened them, giving off a placid look. “I will be able to stop my nightmarish thoughts.”

Twilight wiped away three thin streams of tears away from her cheeks and muzzle. She tried to speak maturely above her sniffles. “Rarity I had no idea, really. I am-I don't know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, Twilight.” Rarity turned to Twilight and embraced her in her pony arms. “You are the first pony to know about this. But I am starting a new chapter in my life. Lets...go out.” Rarity smiled against Twilight's mane.

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Rarity, now grown and capable of nourishing her self, was finally pleased to leave this manipulated trap of a household.

Wrapped in lies and deceit, no comfort resided in there anymore. They were dead to her.

She trotted away toward the more populated area of PonyVille. Bags on both sides of her back and a straw hat fully decorated with a light pink sash to match the Spring season, cat eye sunglasses and mane in ponytail, he made quite the scene. She would start off fresh, new, and a pony! Not a gelatinous fluffy monster that knew such a disgusting fact….but a pony. Yes, she was ready, ready to wipe it away. Ready for no regrets. No more regrets ever.

That night in her newly purchased home/fashion studio, Rarity busied herself with all the furnishings she could do. Some of the neighbor ponies brought her housewarming objects and frilly things. And some just brought tales of nothings to cheer Rarity up and warm her up to her new surroundings.

One pony brought a bouquet of roses, another bought her a glass vase.

A colt made her feel welcome by talking about the weather, but also complimenting her hair curls; which made her blush.

A blue earth pony-mare and a younger grinning pink earth pony with the curliest atrocity she saw on her head came over and gave quite the warm welcome and added a yet steaming batch of blueberry-almond strudels and a jar of spiced eggnog, to top it off.

All was coming along nicely that day. But as the weeks came by and the strudels ran out...one day Rarity found herself alone at home.

No one was at first buying her products, no food was available and hunger overwhelmed her. One certain night, however would start to open a door of squeamish horror.

“Oh! What is a pony to do around here to pay the bills!” She shrieked. Sniffing the cold air around her, no foodish scent trail was near.

Her cannibalistic inner self was winning over, mixed with indifference, and frustration turning to anger.

“Perhaps...I could…” She tried to reason with her self helplessly, gritting her teeth together, then biting her lip. Anything to get the gnawing, cannibalistic streak slicing up in the back of her head.

She looked up at her horn. “No.” She sighed “my magic doesn't work that way.” Liquid watered down her further vision.

She fell on the sofa, but a gelatinous jiggle faintly ran across her body.

She remembered…. her stomach growled. Her past came to haunt her from weeks of breaks.

NO, she thought, trying to erase the idea. Suddenly, memories of failed piano recitals, a burning of the stove, the smell of butter, the crack of glass….She looked at her leg...longingly. Was this a perfect way to end this once and for all? For good?

The vanillin smell was never smelled by Rarity, but it seemed to distinguish itself now, finally. Perhaps...it is time.

Her mortality was prevalent, flesh of a gelatinous pony would soon to be chewed up, swallowed whole, and found in the next few days a dense heap of salivated flesh in the middle of an abandoned and lonesome hall, where it might have belonged.

Was this the conclusion she was going to choose, after all? It was her destiny, to be eaten. But who would be the best at it, than herself?