Goodbye, Everypony...

by UniqueSKD

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Slice of Life, Dark, Sad, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 9861

My name is Happy, and these are my last words to anypony who may be reading this. My last words before I put an end to it all...

Happy laid his quill down upon the writing desk, and sighed. He picked up the collection of notes he had been writing, reading all of them aloud in his head and making sure he had written everything he wanted whosoever should find it to read. Satisfied with what would be his last words and thoughts in this world, he laid it down upon the desk, and got up from his seat. He walked across the room, over to the stool by the window. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, before climbing up onto the stool, and fitting the hanging noose around his head, tightening it around his neck. Happy took one last look around the room, and closed his eyes.

''Don't cry for me,'' he whispered to the nothingness around him. ''I was already dead.''

And Happy tipped the stool over. His story remained nearby upon the writing desk, illuminated by the light of the candle, which flickered as the stallion choked and gagged in the darkness of the unlit shadowed area of the room.

And when Happy finally ceased his incoherent tone of agony, so did the candle suddenly extinguish, casting the room into complete darkness, until Celestia's sun dawned and brought with it the light of day.

These are the last words of Happy, a pony who nobody knew, and who was nobody to those who had known him.
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Hopefully, somebody out there who has lost a loved one due to the traumatic effects that bullying causes, as well as the depression that comes with being singled out as an outcast, discriminated by others for who and what you are, will be able to relate to this story. I wish to point out that it is not my intention to cause any painful memories to resurface for those who have experienced similar pains and losses in their own lives through this story, but hopefully such people will be able to bond with Happy and understand his pain.

Also, I am not a great writer, so of course this story is going to be awful, but I am trying to put my best effort into writing it, so try not to judge me too harshly for my way of writing. I am comfortable with my writing style and preference, and I'm not going to change it to suit the needs of others. Just wanted to say that. Now, enjoy the story, and prepare thyself for many feels.

Published 2013-09-28 17:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-18 22:33:30 UTC

My Last Words (Intro, and Beginnings)

MY LAST WORDS

If anypony is reading this, then you already know what has become of me. After all, it's hard to miss my corpse when it's hanging from the ceiling so close to where you found this note. That's assuming, of course, that somepony actually had concern for my well-being to come to my home and check up on me, unless you were some thief who has broken into my home in search of valuables, which you might as well take since I no longer will be needing them, considering where I am now. Otherwise, who knows how long has passed by the time you find this note.

However long has passed, and whoever you may be, it doesn't matter anyway. The deed has been done. You can't save me now. I've committed a terrible sin through my final act in life, and my soul now resides in the fiery pits of Tartarus. Listen carefully - maybe you'll hear my damned screams. Or maybe not. It wouldn't surprise me. Nopony ever heard my cries in life. Why would you hear them now?

Oh, but of course. You most likely don't even know who I am, do you? Well, my name is - was - Happy, and it was a name so ironically given. I never felt happy in life. Life was cruel to me, and in the events leading up to my departure from this world, it succeeded in breaking me, tearing me apart, until I ultimately lost the will, the desire, to continue living this futile existence.

Maybe you are wondering why I have chosen this path? What in Equestria could have made me decide to take my own life, within my own home? Well, if you are willing to read onwards, then my story I shall share with you.

As I already said, my name is Happy. I was born in a small hospital - the name of which still eludes me, even at this time before my death - in the bustling city of Manehatten. As you can see from my lifeless body, I am a Pegasus. Assuming my body has not yet fallen victim to the ravages of time, and has not decayed, and the flesh rotted, I was a stallion, my coat yellow in colour, my mane hazel-brown. If you've the courage to look into the face of death, you'll see in mine that I was fairly young, with eyes a beautiful sky-blue.

My eyes were the only part of me that I ever truly took pride in. They used to be full of hope, hope that things would get better for me. Hope for a real future. But this is reality.

There is no hope. Hope is a delusion. A way of ignoring the inevitable.

My parents always told me that, when I was born, friends and relatives would come over to our old home just to see me. They told me that everypony would say that I was a beautiful baby colt, and then congratulate my parents on conceiving me, for bringing me into the world. If I had known what the world was going to be like back then, I would have done all in my power to crawl back into my mother's womb, and hide myself away forever.

When I was finally old enough to learn to talk and walk without falling onto my backside, my parents sent me to a school downtown Manehatten. I will never forget that day. How could I forget the day when everything that led up to this decision began?

It was my first day. My very first day of school. I still remember it now as I write my last words upon this parchment. My parents had lacked my lunch - cucumber sandwiches and a cupcake made by my mother. Oh, she wasn't a baker, if that's what you were assuming. My family are all Pegasi, and my mother worked as the head of the weather control team for Manehatten. My father was a window cleaner, using his ability to fly as a means of getting around a skyscraper and the like. My parents worked very hard at their jobs, doing all they could to survive in a so-called metropolis where those without bits quickly spiralled into a hellish nightmare of depravity and unthinkable acts in their attempts to survive.

Anyway, as I was saying, it was my first day of school. I remember being something between half-excited and half-nervous about the whole place, but after my parents had came up with the money to pay for getting me into a school, I walked on into the place, not wanting to let my parents down.

I remember the teacher making me stand in front of the whole class, asking me to introduce myself, and telling a little bit about my family and whatnot. All those multi-coloured pairs of eyes staring at me made me feel really nervous, so I was glad to hear the teacher announce recess, and see everypony dash out to play. Trotting out into the playground, I tried to build up the courage to make some friends.

Let me ask you something, whoever is reading this note. Did you have your cutie mark when you were young? Did you find it easy to make friends when you got your cutie mark? If so, then I envy you. And I also loathe you. For me, school life without a cutie mark was a nightmare, plain and simple.

I was mocked by everypony in the playground for not having one of those accursed images adorning my flank. Everypony! They didn't even know me, and already I was the odd one out amongst an accepted crowd of colts and fillies who had found their special talents in life long before it had actually started, before I even had a chance to find mine. Nopony wanted me to play in their games, the thought of a 'blank-flank' playing hoofball with those with a cutie mark was apparently something of a taboo. And if that wasn't bad enough, I met the first of what would later become many bullies in my life. Bruiser was his name, and quite befitting as well. The threats he made to me afterwards sounded promising enough for me to lie to my parents about the bruising on my body when I returned home that evening.

On my very first day of school, I had been singled out as an outcast, and I had become a target for another colt, my abuse being his entertainment. And the following days was no better. Again, nopony would have anything to do with me. They turned aggressive if I dared tried to join in on any of their games, and they cared not if Bruiser came along and pinned me to the cold, stone floor, as he beat me whilst throwing insult after insult at me, and stealing what food I had with me afterwards. And I would end up having to lie to my parents about my injuries, knowing that eventually I would be unable to give them a believable excuse, and they would become suspicious.

You have to understand; I was young back then. I feared for my life. I was afraid and alone every day until the time came to return home. I gave up trying to make friends a couple of weeks after I began at that school, and just focused on learning. When recess came, I took myself into the far corner of the playground, where there were bushes in which I used to hide in and wait for the sound of the bell, signalling the need to return to the classroom.

Being a Pegasus, you would think that it would have been easy for me to escape from Bruiser, right? Wrong. I do not know how the education system works now, or if it is even still the same as before I hung myself, but back in my days, it was custom for everypony to wear a uniform when attending school. Since Manehatten is home to a population majorly consisting of earth ponies, it was difficult to attain appropriate attire for me, on account of my wings, and in the end, I had to fold my wings in so that I could wear clothing over them. This made it impossible for me to stretch my wings in order to fly, thus grounding me to the earth, to walk as one of the earth ponies, despite not being of their kind.

And the uniform was uncomfortable, to say the least. My wings would ache from being cramped whilst wearing that stupid monkey suit all day in the classroom.

Ah, the classroom. If the time I spent in the playground was hell, I'd like to say that my time in class was akin to Limbo. Everypony continued to shun me, hate me for not having a cutie mark, but the teasing and the bullying wasn't as bad. When I tried to leave my desk for whatever reason, somepony would sometimes stick their hindleg out to trip me, eliciting mocking laughter at my humiliation, and whispers of praise for the one who caused me it. I recall a number of times when somepony would deliberately cause trouble in the class when the teacher was not looking, or when he had left the room for something, and upon his return or noticing something was going on behind his back, the hoof of blame was pointed at me.

I could have, should have said that it was not me, but maybe I forgot to mention that Bruiser was in the same class as I was. A deathly glare from him was all I needed to know what the consequences would be if I did not continue to lie.

So I did. I lied and took the blame for somepony else's crime. And I would receive detention and be scolded at by the teacher. My parents were contacted on several occasions, and I had to carry on with the lying, and admit to things I was being accused of, but hadn't actually ever done. All because I was young, and scared of the consequences that would have befallen me if I ever spoke up and told the truth.

I did, however, get some relief one day, when my teacher walked into the classroom with an important announcement; Bruiser had left my school, as his family had chosen to move to another town (I do not remember which town, and neither do I care at all), and my heart literally jumped for joy when I heard that wonderful news. I remember practically almost squee'ing with joy at the thought of having no more fear of being caused physical harm, or having to live with the fear of Bruiser causing me great injury - or worse.

Everypony still continued to treat me as an outcast, since I still did not have my cutie mark. I was being bullied every day, so obviously I never had the time to try and find my special talent in life. But it didn't matter to me that they acted like I was invisible air to them. With Bruiser gone, life at school slowly began to get a little easier. I was able to concentrate better in class, and when the time for the exams came, I scored pretty well on them. Maybe more than pretty well, given the look of surprise on my teacher's face when he announced my results. My parents were elated when they heard the news, and things actually seemed to look good for me.

Oh, how foolish I was to think such a thing...

Unfortunately, my admirable scores did not sit well with my classmates, and soon, problems began surfacing again. I went into school the next day, a smile on my face and feeling as though nothing could go wrong. But the moment I stepped through those doors, I was pelted with a hailstorm of screwed-up paper balls. Mostly. Other objects thrown at me included pencils, erasers, and one pony even went as far as to throw a stapler my way. I was lucky to avoid it.

My fellow 'classmates' would have nothing to do with me before, but now they would push me into walls as I or they passed by in the corridors, or tripped me as I tried to get past them. When I eventually summoned the courage to demand why they treated me like this, I couldn't believe the answer I was given. They told me it was because I had made them look bad during the exam! Because I had succeeded where they had failed! Because I had the tenacity to study as they did whatever it was they would do besides studying! The thought of somepony with a cutie mark being outsmarted by one without was apparently an insult to these foals, and they showed their resentment of me for the rest of my time at that Celestia-be-damned hellhole.

First I was rejected and ignored because I had no cutie mark, and now I was loathed and resented because I worked harder than the others. And this...hatred, continued for the rest of my time at that place. Each day, I tried to not to let it get to me, but deep down inside, I was hurting, scarred with an inner wound that I felt would not heal. I could not understand how I had become so disliked at such an early age. Why me, I would ask myself at night, as I curled up in my bed. Why me? Why was I the focus of this, this hate? Why did the lack of a cutie make me an outcast? Why did my wanting to be the best I could become make me so unlikable?

After several years of hell in that school, I was finally able to graduate from that place, and you have no idea how relieved I was to escape that dreadful place in the end. Well, I say it was a dreadful place, and it was. At least, until I emerged outside into the big wide world of Equestria.

And that's when I found myself in a new kind of hell...

Author's Note

Yes, I know. It's such a crap start to a story if you ever saw one. But I just write whatever comes into my head. I didn't write this expecting to get many viewers, nor do I believe this story even has a chance of being featured on this site or any other. It doesn't bother me.

In the next chapter, we shall explore Happy's life after school, and how he struggles to find a job without a cutie work, as well as a significant loss.

Oh, and by the way, I want to give a shout-out to an author on this site by the name of Bad_Seed_72, whose story, 'Tangled Roots', which is the first of a trilogy by the by, painted the picture of what life without a cutie mark must be like for those living in a world built from bloodied steel, cold stone, and tainted money, all fouled by the stench of greed and corruption.

Middle finger to all the haters out there who be hating like a hater.

My Last Words (Looking for Work)

If I thought school life was bad - and trust me, it was - then going out into the big wide world was like jumping head-first into the pits of Tartarus.

Of course, I didn't know that yet. I had only just graduated from that Luna-be-cursed school, no friends by my side and a lot of bad memories. And the worse part that neither the teachers nor my parents knew anything about it. That was my own fault, since I could have, should have, said something. But it was too late now, and it was no longer a problem I was concerned with. I was out of that hellhole, and I now needed to find my place in the world.

I had graduated from that school with high marks and grades. Funny enough, I owed it to the lack of friends during my time in that place, since with no ponies to hang out or converse with, I ended up devoting my time to studying. I had documents to prove my competence, and many a good word from my tutor, so you'd think I would have had no trouble at all finding somepony to employ me, right?

Have you forgotten I didn't have a cutie mark? I still didn't have one when I graduated. My precious documents were proof to anypony I showed them to that I was a competent and determined character, but ultimately, here in Manehatten at least, it is one's cutie mark that decides one's career in life. It was that image, that symbolic representation tattooed upon our flanks, which spoke volumes of our destinies, of our 'special talents'. I never had the chance to look for mine. I was always worrying about what cruelty I was going to be subjected to the next day of school.

Without a cutie mark, I had no clue at all about where to go, which direction I should go in my life. My parents would tell me to take my time, that I would always have a place at home until I had found a job. My parents, they were so caring and kind. I always thanked the princesses each day and night (respectively) for blessing me with a mother and father such as them. After the horrors I faced during my education years, my parents were pretty much my lifeline, proof that there really was some good in the world, a reason to endure all the crap I received.

I accepted their offer, though reluctantly. I did not feel comfortable with having to still live at home. I loved my parents, and I cannot make that any clearer, but I just felt like a burden to them, a jobless son relying on his mother and father for shelter and food. I did not want that lifestyle. I wanted to find myself a job as soon as I could, and begin working to earn enough bits to rent an apartment, so I could move out of my parent's home and release myself from the shackles of dependence and reliance on others.

For most ponies, it's not that difficult to find a job here in the bustling metropolis that is Manehatten, where there is always somepony looking for a new shop assistant, or to advertise their company's newest product. Heck, even my parents tried to help me along, suggesting I looked into entering their line of work, which was nice enough of them, though I politely declined as I wanted to find employment my own way. But then, most ponies have a cutie mark. I didn't.

I would spend hours upon hours searching for 'WANTED' ads in newspapers and window signs. I would find out about a company or some small business looking for workers, and I would immediately set about making arrangements to attend an interview or meeting with whoever was in charge. I would make myself look presentable as best I could, and head out of my childhood home to meet with what I would assume was my destiny, confident and hopeful.

And I was always turned down, told that I was not who they were looking for. Why? Take a good bucking guess.

Each and every time, the moment the pony in charge saw my cutie mark-less hide, he would immediately ask me to leave, and they all said the same thing; that they weren't sure that I was cut out for whatever job I had tried to apply for. It turned out that they weren't convinced that I could do the line of work I tried to get into. One pony who interviewed me, an old greying earth stallion as I recall, turned me down simply because he disliked pegasi!

Without a cutie mark to show that I had the competence and potential that they were looking for, they just weren't convinced that I was worth giving a chance. I ended up in a routine where I left my home in the morning to attend an interview, confident and sure of myself, only to return home that night in great disappointment, and even greater annoyance as I thought of the time I had wasted for nothing, and all because I lacked something which I never had the chance to find.

I suppose what made the whole thing worse was how my parents would wish me luck as I embarked on my journey to those interviews, and how they would always be waiting for me when I returned home, with hopeful looks on their faces, as though they were sure that I had managed to find employment this time. Those looks quickly turned into expressions of disappointment and sympathy when I gave them the same answer each night. This same cycle continued for several months, and each day that passed by saw my hopes of ever standing on my own hooves and starting my own life becoming more and more of a fantasy than a possibility.

It was, however, at the end of those several months that I finally did find a job. I was looking through a newspaper as usual, and I saw an ad placement from a packaging business by the name of 'MANEHATTEN PACKAGING CO', located on the far end of Manehatten. At this point, I had almost given up on ever earning my own money, but nevertheless I tore out the ad, and made an arrangement for an interview.

The location of the workplace was, to say the least, a shithole. I had never really been anywhere around the far end of Manehatten before, so this was my first time visiting this part of the city. And it shocked me just how bland and colourless it looked. The whole area was nothing but a poor image of industry at its worst, with small factories pumping smog from towering chimneys, and graffiti sprayed all over the walls and on the sides of buildings, and even to this day I can still recall the smell of raw sewage masking the stench of urine and Celestia-only-knows-what else. The atmosphere here was...well, actually, there was no atmosphere here at all. It was grey, dull, and depressing. I remember feeling relieved at the fact that the lack of any housing or residential structures meant that nopony was living in this awful place.

How I had never known that such a horrible environment like this existed in Manehatten was beyond me, but I could understand why such a place was located so far away from the brighter, more cheerful-looking part of Manehatten that I knew.

Despite how bad the appearance was though, I had come here for a job, and if I had to put up being in a place like this, then so be it. It wasn't hard to find the workplace which turned out to be a small building with a large sign upon it that read, 'MANEHATTEN PACKAGING CO', and it, like the rest of the buildings around here, looked just as grey and bland. Still, it was probably my last chance to find employment, so I swallowed my pride and proceeded forth.

The interior of the building was no different than it was on the outside. Dull, colourless, and severely lacking in atmosphere. There were a couple ten ponies here and there, fiddling around with machinery and conveyor belts, or sealing up large cardboard boxes and wheeling them away on trolleys, probably to some shipping area I had imagined. And everypony wore an emotionless expression on their faces, their eyes tired and exhausted. I got the feeling that most of them were actually younger than they looked, wrinkles and creases in their facial features likely caused from working in such an awful environment.

And they moved from place to place in an un-nerving zombie-like trance. Like they weren't of flesh and blood, but machines in disguise. They didn't even bother to acknowledge my presence. It was as though they didn't even care about anything other than their mindless servitude to the maintenance of the machinery, and to the preparation of whatever supplies were being sent out. It was creepy. It was as though their souls had been drained from their bodies, leaving behind mindless, unthinking slaves.

I was soon greeted by the stallion who owned the place, somepony by the name of Serious Business. I remember him as a grey-coated stallion with a darker grey mane and tail. I think his cutie mark was of a stern face or something like that. It was hard to see it clearly beneath that suit he wore. He took me aside and into his office, and I basically told him the same stuff I told the other employers before, and showed him my graduation papers when he asked to see them.

As he was examining them, it was only then that I realized the newspaper ad never actually said what sort of work was going to be given. When I asked Mr Serious about what I was applying for, it turned out to be a janitorial position. That's right. Cleaning other ponies messes and waste.

Needless to say, after all of my hard work back in school, I felt very much insulted, especially when he told me what my wages were going to be. Ten bits a week! I was never going to move out of my parent's house with that kind of money! I wouldn't even be able to afford an apartment!

But I needed work. I needed to make my own money. And nopony else had wanted to hire me. Serious Business was offering me a job and a wage, regardless of how crap it was. What else could I have done?

I took the offer. He shook my hoof. I was told I started work first thing tomorrow morning. After somehow managing to swallow my pride, I was able to bring myself to thank him for giving me the job, but it took every ounce of my willpower to keep myself from complaining about the poor pay. So that was that. Despite all my hard work back in school, and after searching for so long for somepony to employ me, it came down to me with a mop and bucket. Need i say how i felt about that fact?

On the (somewhat) brighter side though, at least i got to leave that foul-smelling place. I dreaded to think if and how the awful stench of the environment would affect my sense of smell. Guess it was just good fortune I was born a Pegasus, otherwise I would have had to walk the way home, and starting with going through that nostril-offending shithole. I still couldn't believe a place like this could exist in Manehatten, and in such a state. But i suppose that is industry for you.

One thought occupied my mind during the flight home; how was i going to explain this to my parents? How would they react upon hearing that their son, a competent and young graduating colt, ended up becoming somepony whose responsibility was cleaning the floors and making sure that the staff toilets weren't clogged up with Celestia-knows-what? I feared they would be disappointed, or worse ashamed, and if I were them, I would have been myself. I cursed myself for ever taking that job now, despite knowing why i did anyway.

I felt like as though some higher deity had just played a cruel joke with my life, like it had decided that the suffering i put up with in school wasn't amusing enough, and that i had to be humiliated further. That i was the unlucky pony in some messed-up comedy sketch show, a toy for some twisted puppeteer pulling all the strings.

If this day had been some kind of a sick joke, nothing could have prepared me for the punchline when i finally arrived home...

Author's Note

In the next Chapter, we'll see how Happy struggles to deal with his greatest loss yet, and his descent into depression and madness.

If you guys are keeping up with this story, then I have to say that first of all, well done for enduring this crap I'm producing, and secondly, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this crap I'm producing. I know I'm not the best story-teller, so just seeing the view count go up by even just one point lets me know that somebody out there decided to give my story a chance. My only hope is that my story was worth your time, because i don't like wasting people's time.

Be Unique and stay Unique, ya'll!

My Last Words (The Tragedy, and Loneliness)

I will never forget that night. Never. Hopefully, I'll be free of that memory once I lay down this quill and end my time in this world. It hurts to even write about it, but I must, for how else am I to make you understand why you have found me the way I am?

As I had said before, I was flying on my way home, worried about what my parents were going to think once I told them the news; that I had become, basically, a janitor for a packaging company located in what must be the most unsanitary place in the whole of Equestria. I have always tried to do my best, to be something, somepony, whom my parents would be proud of. They always told me that they were already proud of me, but that didn't stop me from trying harder.

But my worrying what they would think of my new job would quickly become the least of my concerns.

It was getting dark outside by the time I arrived home. I landed in front of my house and folded in my wings. I recall purposely taking my time walking towards the front door, as I tried to plan out how I was going to explain the situation to my parents, and how I was going to answer whatever questions they were likely to ask. I must have devised a hundred scenarios through my head by the time I was actually standing before the white wooden door, before I sighed and gave up. I would just have to come out and tell them the truth. Simple as that.

Oh, if only it was...

I raised my hoof to knock on the door, but the moment my hoof touched the wood, the door creaked open a bit, which I found odd since my parents would not simply leave the door unlocked. Unless they were expecting visitors perhaps? No, that couldn't be right. Why would they expect visitors at this time?

I reached out for the handle to open the door some more, and that's when I noticed it. The door handle was damaged, as if something - or somepony - had hit it with enough force to break the lock within. That's when I began to fear the worst.

I pushed the door open some more. Although it wasn't that dark yet, the street lamps nevertheless came on some time before I had arrived, and as there is one right outside my house, the main hallway was illuminated just enough for me to see inside.

It was a mess.

Next to the front door, there was a little table and a set of drawers with a vase of flowers on top that my mother had insisted was placed there. They were now scattered around the floor, the vase smashed and the flowers lying in a puddle, the small table broken and the set of drawers disassembled. The wallpaper was also slightly torn and ripped here and there. My heart was racing now, and I was panicking.

What had happened here? Were my parents alright? I slowly entered the house, quietly and discreetly, as though I feared to awaken some shadowy entity. I closed the front door behind me, and searched the rooms of the lower floor for my parents. Every room was a complete mess, in disarray and looking as though a hurricane had been magically summoned indoors and laid waste to everything. The dining room, the kitchen, and the living room - all showed signs of damage and destruction., objects torn and broken, thrown aside carelessly as though somepony was - had - been looking for something.

Since my parents wouldn't have done this to their own home, there was only one other thought that came to mind. And that thought was what really sent me into a panic. I took my search upstairs, silently praying to Celestia, and Luna, hell even Discord himself, that my parents were alright.

The rooms upstairs were in no better condition than the ones downstairs. My room barely resembled the bedroom it used to be, and the bathroom was in complete ruin as well, the medicine cabinet apparently had been ransacked, and what pills and items weren't taken were scattered everywhere. And my parents room - well, right away I noticed that a number of valuable items, family heirlooms that were dear to my parents, were gone, stolen by whoever targeted my home.

But where were my parents?

I got my answer when I looked out of my parent's bedroom window, which faced the backyard of our house. My answer came in the form of two pegasi ponies lying on ground next to each other. Lying very still. Not breathing. A pool of red beneath them...

I...I...can't even begin to tell you how broken I was at that point. I don't recall much after discovering my parents, but I do remember falling onto my haunches next to them. I remember a loud roar of anguish and grief escaping my throat and piercing the darkened heavens. And the last thing I remember is the sound of an ambulance blaring away its sirens before I felt dizzy, and blacked out.

When the police eventually informed me of what transpired that night, I had already managed to piece together the whole thing myself. To hear it being repeated again to me just meant reliving the awful events again, but from my parent's perspective. Some low-life scum gang had ventured into the neighbourhood looking for a place to raid. They had settled on my house, thinking it abandoned. It was assumed that my parents were upstairs asleep, awakened by the thieves breaking the door lock.

My parents must have went downstairs to confront the intruders, not thinking that there could have been more than one. They were taken by surprise, though there was evidence later found that suggested my parents at least managed to put up a fight, which eased the pain a little, knowing they at least didn't die straight away and so easily. It also helped to explain most of the damage around the house. My parents must have really given those murdering bastards something to remember them by. I took a small comfort in that.

But in the end, two ponies against how-ever-many intruders inevitably led to the obvious outcome, and my parents were overpowered. The thieves then quickly finished their raid, fearing that the neighbors had heard the struggle. The police believed it was only after they had finished searching the house for valuables and anything worth selling that they had...my parents...

The police think the thieves might not have been wearing masks or anything to obscure their identities, or that my parents had been able to remove whatever they used to conceal themselves, and knowing sparing the lives of my parents would mean allowing two witness to inform the authorities, and describe the culprits to aid in their arrest...

I..I don't want to write about it anymore. It's hard enough as it is to bring those memories back, even as I prepare myself for the forthcoming end.

Torment and loneliness at school. A poor and under-paying job despite my competence and possible potential. And now the loss of my beloved family...What more could life do to me? What more misfortune could I be put through?

I didn't have to wait long to found out.

I spent the whole night at the police station in Downtown Manehatten. I never got a single second of sleep. How could i? My parents had been robbed and murdered. Nopony would be able to sleep with that on their minds. Of course, there was a lot going on in my mind in that time. So many thoughts raced through my head. Mostly, they were ones of regret. Why did i go to that interview? The interview had turned out to be a humiliating and degrading position in the end. If i hadn't gone out that day, if i had just decided to give up on looking for a job, i could have been there when those bastards came. I could have done something at least to help my family.

And even if i couldn't, if i had died with my parents that night...well, at least those scumbags would have saved me the trouble of ending my misery early for me, i suppose.

But those thoughts quickly disappeared when an officer stallion approached me and spoke to me. I recall him being quite large, with a moustache the same shade of brown as his mane. He informed me that there was somepony on the phone demanding to speak to me. I was puzzled at first as to who it was that would have wanted to speak to me, since the police had not released any information regarding the...'incident'...to the public yet. Also, i had no friends, and any relatives of the family lived a long way away from Manehatten, from what my parents had always told me.

He led me to a small phone booth and left me alone with the phone. I picked it up and asked who it was.

It was Serious Business, the pony who had given me my job just yesterday. He did not sound at all pleasant. In fact, to say he sound angry would have been an understatement. He was furiously demanding where i was, and why i hadn't shown up for work. After what i had gone through just hours ago, i was in no mood for this shit. I angrily told him what had happened, about my parents and my home being burgled. At the very least, i expected him to show me a little sympathy, and apologize.

I guess i never learned anything from my misfortunes, did i?

He told me that the death of my parents was no excuse for me not showing up. That he had a business to run, and that he did not tolerate workers who didn't show up on time. He then told me to show up to work within the hour, or else I was going to be fired. The tragedy of my situation meant nothing to that, that prick! He dared to believe that I should come to work when i had lost the only two ponies in my life who had cared about me, who treated me like i was a somepony!

There had been a long silence between us, before i politely told him to 'go fuck yourself'. And then i slammed the phone back in its place. In that moment, i felt strangle a little better, having exerted my anguish and grief into that little act, even though i knew that right there and then, i had just lost myself a job. But it was a small loss - no, correction. It wasn't even a loss at all. It was more of a relief, because it meant i didn't have to go back to the filth-ridden part of Manehatten again, and i would not have to degrade myself to cleaning up after everypony in that Luna-be-damned factory.

But that small relief did nothing to lift my mood. I was jobless once more, and this time, I would have nopony to go home to. To greet me with a heartwarming smile and a loving hug. To make me feel like I mattered to anypony. To give me that small bit of hope for tomorrow to be a little brighter.

The reality was clear. Transparently clear. And when it hit me, it struck with the force of a tidal wave.

Until now, i had felt alone in the world. Only my parents had been there for me, to be the friends i never made back in my school days. The motivation for getting up in the morning, and going out into the world. They were the only ponies in my life who had made me feel...well, no so lonely.

But now? Now i was well and truly all alone.

I lost it there and then. I fell to the cold hard floor, curled up into a tight little ball, and i cried. Each tear that ran down my face fell to the floor, slowly forming a small puddle of emotions, those being of fear, loneliness, and grief. And i continued to lie there, and i continued to cry, not caring how pathetic i would have looked had there been anypony around. Even as my throat grew sore, and my chest assaulted with aching pain, the floor - along with my mane and fur - became ever more dampened with the tears of a broken spirit so ironically named.

When one of the officer ponies came looking for me about an hour later, he found instead a pegasus shivering on the floor next to the phone booths, his bright once-blue eyes now reddened and sore, his mane an untidy mess, his fur soaked with sorrow, and with his face contorted into that dead emotionless expression.

I did not fear Hell anymore. No, it had been replaced with a new fear. What I now feared was a fate more terrifying than Death itself.

And that was waking up tomorrow.

Author's Note

And asked did the Reaper to the little lost child,
''Why hast thou abandoned the joys Life doth bring?''
Answered the boy, his voice chillingly cryptic and mild,
''I fear not you, Death. I fear the Living''

In the next Chapter, we'll see Happy's life finally fall apart, as he truly starts to lose everything around him, in the events leading up to his final moments...

I hope you will join me for the next Chapter, dear Readers. And until then, may the sun shine upon you by day, and may the moon watch over you by night.

Also, be Unique and stay Unique!

My Last Words (My Desperate Measure, and My Error...)

A month had passed by since that night.

I was sat in my father's chair, in the home I once shared with the only ponies I had ever cared about, and who had ever cared about me. The house was devoid of life, save for the sole occupant residing within it, and even he was feeling dead inside. The atmosphere, the ambience, everything felt so cold, so wrong...

The funeral took place about two weeks ago. Only I was there to bid them farewell. Our relatives and friends were either dead themselves, or had moved away from Manehatten a long time ago, wherever to I did not know. The sky was bright and sunny as my parents were laid to rest, a beautiful day for any other pony, but not to me. I found the happy cheerfulness to be insulting to the moment. There was nothing to be happy about. There was nothing to be cheerful of.

After the funeral, the keeper of my parent's will approached me, and asked to speak with me in private so as to discuss the terms written upon the parchment. According to the document, upon my parents' passing, I was to inherit the house, along with all items and possessions within. I would also inherit any and all savings left behind by my mother and father, so I had some money to see me through the coming days for a while, at least long enough until I was able to find work.

But not matter how hard I tried, nopony would hire a Pegasus without a cutie mark. The bits left by my deceased family soon began to dry up, and I was no closer to finding a source of income. Worse still, I began to receive letters from tax collectors, demanding payments within short deadlines. They were accompanied by threatening messages promising that if I did not fulfil the debts, I would lose my parents home.

This house...Only a sole lonely Pegasus lived in it now, his only company being the memories that he treasured dearly, for they were the only good memories he ever had in life. I had to do something. I had to! I,I just couldn't let them take my home away from me! I couldn't let them steal my memories of my parents, and move some strange foreign family or recently married couple into it, to desecrate everything my family had worked for, had sacrificed much for!

But I regret, I truly and sincerely regret, what I brought myself to do in order to find the money. With every fibre of my being, on my own worthless soul, I hate myself for ever stooping to such a level.

I was walking down the streets of Manehatten one afternoon, after succeeding in deluding myself that a stroll would help clear my mind and put it a little more at ease. I needed to get out of the house, especially after I had received that letter earlier on that day. The letter that threateningly swore my house was to be taken two days from now unless I (somehow) managed to find the money that was owed. Still jobless, despite my best efforts, there was no way I could succeed in fulfilling such a task.

I turned off into an alleyway as part of a detour I usually took to get home faster. It was starting to get late, and I did not want to be out during the night. My days were bad all the time, but it was when night ell and blanketed the city in darkness that the true horrors crept onto the streets, and began once more their acts of depravity and sin. I was heading down the alleyway when I noticed a shadow spring up upon the brick walls to my side. Turning around, I saw a unicorn stallion, a pale blue colour and with a feathered hat for a cutie mark - damned cutie marks - adorning his flank. His eyes, a purple haze, stared into mine with a shady expression which accompanied the smirk on his face.

I felt...uneasy, to say the least about him, so I turned around and continued on my way. That was when he chose to call out to me. He said my name, which caused me to stop in my tracks. I had never met this stallion before, so how was it possible for him to know my name? I stopped still, but did not turn around. He saw my attention was his, and so he carried on.

He told me that he and 'some friends' of his had been 'observing' me for a few days now. He and his associates had wanted to offer me help. Somehow, they knew about the money problems I was currently going through, struggling with, and that he and his friends could help me resolve those troubles if I offered a helping hoof. I was sceptical, uncertain as to what his motives were, and how he intended to 'help' me, or why he wanted to 'help' me.

But you must understand, at the time, I had two options; the first was to lend an ear to this stallion, and at least hear what he had to say. The other was to ignore him completely, and return home to the house I was inevitably going to lose in a few days time. Would you have done anything different in my position? Perhaps you would have. After all, you're not in my position.

Out of curiosity, I let him speak.

It turned out that he, along with several other ponies, had been spying on a local bank for some time now, and were planning on pulling a heist on the place tomorrow. The bank was supposed to have raked in well over a million bits, and all that money would be shared equally between the participants of the robbery. Nopony was going to get hurt in the process, and the whole heist was planned out carefully so as to be swift, simple, and precise. The way I played into the plan, was that the thieves needed a lookout, somepony who could alert the others of any law enforcement activity in the event that something went wrong. Apparently, I was to be the lookout.

All I would have had to do was stay outside, and keep an eye open for any guards or officers. If I saw any, I just had to let the rest of the group within the bank know of their presence. I was promised a share in the profits, which was more than enough bits to solve my debt woes, and leave enough left over to keep me comfortable until I had managed to secure a real job.

My mind told me that this was the only chance I'd ever get to solve my debt problems here and now, but my heart screamed that this was wrong. I wasn't a thief. I couldn't aid in the theft of a bank! Could I?

After the shit that life had thrown my way, and after the demands for money I had been receiving, what did I really have left to lose? Besides the last good memory I had left?

I wish I never went along with the plan.

The next day, I found myself walking towards the bank, along with the unicorn stallion from the alleyway, and his accomplices, who turned out to be two earth ponies, strongly built and with serious expressions on their faces, wearing sort of cloak that concealed their bodies, and obscured their cutie marks beneath the fabric. They entered the bank, and after the unicorn reminded me of my role, I took my place outside as the lookout. It must had only been a couple of minutes before I heard the commotion inside, and I turned around to see the unicorn preparing some sort of offensive spell with his magic, his horn glowing a sinister crimson light, aimed towards the poor mare clerk behind the counter. The earth pony thugs were holding vicious, sharp daggers in their hooves, which had probably been hidden underneath those cloaks they were wearing. I noticed they also were wearing masks, obviously to conceal their true identities.

There were probably about ten ponies at that bank that day, besides the thieves and myself. An elderly couple, huddled together in a corner. A young pretty mare, with her hooves wrapped around a little foal in a protective manner. A few other stallions and mares all cowering on the floor, fearful looks on their faces. I imagined myself in that position; to have came to the bank that day, perhaps to deposit some money, or maybe to withdraw, and suddenly find myself staring into the crazed eyes of a mad pony, charging a deadly spell that clearly looked like it had the potential to serious injure, if not kill, somepony.

It was so wrong of me. I couldn't believe I was doing this. And for what? For money? Was what I was doing really worth this? It was too late to back out now, and in a way, even at the moment of writing this note, it still feels like it is. I heard the unicorn yelling loudly to the ponies cowering before him, and saw the earth pony thugs casually walk up to the mares in the room, no doubt with with despicable looks on their faces beneath those masks as they inappropriately 'flirted' with their hostages, who cried as they were touched suggestively by their captors. And all the while, I was outside, acting as the alarm, not doing anything to stop them. I thought we were here to take the money and go, not traumatize the poor souls!

The unicorn robber telekinetically levitated a bag over to the mare behind the bank counter. I still remember her shaking in fright as he approached her. He mumbled something I couldn't hear from where I was, and she nodded her head. I assume he was giving her his demands. She took the bag, got up and walked over to the vault behind her. I could just about hear the unicorn urging her to hurry up, though the agitation in his tone was clear. Meanwhile the other thugs were stroking two mares forced into a corner with their daggers. I still can picture their faces - wide-eyed, frightful, crying...

My attention was immediately brought back to the bank mare stuffing the bag with lots and lots of shiny gold Bits, still trembling, and flinching every time the unicorn raised his voice to her. I should have walked away from it all. I should have ran and called for help, tell somepony, or do something other than aid these criminals. But part of me knew that if i did, I'd lose my parent's home, and you must understand how dear that place was to me then! What good memories there remained in my life were all locked away within that house, along with the bad ones. But there were still good memories! I, I couldn't just - I had, no I needed that house! If i lost it, I lost all of the memories within!

The bank mare came back to the counter and, with a shaking hoof, passed the bag of bits back to the Unicorn, who snatched the precious prize with his magic. As he took the sack of Bits, the earth pony thugs immediately stopped harassing the mares and trotted over to their leader.

The magic he had built up in his horn from earlier started to gradually fade as he and his cohorts backed up from the counter and towards the door. I felt relieved that the ordeal was finally over. I won't lie and say i didn't feel any guilt over what I had just been a part of, because i assure you that there was nothing BUT guilt for the crime I had partaken in. But the only thought on my mind besides that was to getaway with the thieves, collect my share of the loot, and just go home and never look back upon this day again, let alone speak or even reminisce over it.

But life just didn't want me to have my way for once.

Suddenly, before I realized what was happening, the unicorn's horn quickly flared up, and the magical build-up returned, only this time, he didn't hesitate to release it. The energy shot from his horn like a bullet, towards the bank mare clerk, who could only stand there with dread, pure horror, plastered all over her face. As could I.

When that magical projectile struck her, she...she...was...no more. She was just...obliterated. Just a horrendous splatter of red, across the walls and on the floor, was all that remained of her. Everypony in the bank, save for the smirking unicorn and his chuckling affiliates, just screamed and wept. I yelled out as well, joining in the chorus of cries, which very nearly drowned out the sound of the sirens as the law began to stir and respond to the chaos.

The thieves ran out of the bank, and began to run away down the street. I chased after them, screaming at the unicorn as I ran after the murdering son of a whorse. He promised me that nopony was going to be hurt! This was meant to be a simple robbery; go in, get out, share the Bits, part ways. What had transpired was nothing of the sort! I galloped after him, demanding an answer. Quite a way behind me, I could hear the officers shouting at me, telling me to stop where I was at once. I couldn't let that happen. I wasn't going to let myself be put in prison for this. I wasn't going down as an accomplice to a theft and a murder.

As the thieves turned off into an alleyway, the unicorn suddenly spun around, his horn glowing a bright light. I fell over backwards, momentarily blinded by the flash which he had conjured up. All i could see was white. Nothing but white. For a fraction of a second, I thought I had died, and that this was how the afterlife must have looked. How i wish i had died that day. But sadly, it wasn't, for when i heard that bastard's voice, i knew immediately that i was still alive. And that son of a bitch laughed at me. He called me a fool for believing that I was ever going to get a stake of the stolen bits, that I wasn't actually acting as a lookout at all.

I was the fall pony. The one who would take the blame for the crime.

His hooves echoed throughout the alleyway as he darted off, my world still white from the blinding flash he conjured. I still laid upon the cold ground, mortified with this revelation. And even as the sound of the officer ponies approaching began to ring in my ears, i still only thought of one thing; that at this moment in time, i was well and truly bucked.

The touch of cold steel hoofcuffs wrapped around my hooves, and when my vision finally returned to me, I was walking down the street, marched along the sidewalk by three officers. They led me towards a cart with a cage in it. I was thrown into the cage, and the iron door slammed shut. But it didn't matter to me anymore. Nothing mattered. Why should it have mattered?

I had let myself be tricked into 'helping' those thugs steal from that bank. I had stood there and let them kill an innocent mare. I didn't even think about finding somepony and getting help.

What had I done to deserve this life? What cruel higher being mocks me with every step i take in this cruel excuse of an existence?

Why me?

Why?

Author's Note

One more chapter remains, before the final conclusion...
Sorry it took a while to get this chapter finished. Been working on some new videos for my Youtube channel. You should check them out if you get time. Just a suggestion...

Be Unique and stay Unique, you wonderful readers out there!