Just a Game

Entry one, hour zero,

For anyone who is reading this, you most likely will have found me lying in a pool of my own bodily waste. By the very slim chance that I do survive, I will leave this journal for anyone who happens to come across it. I will try and track the time as best I can, writing a new entry every hour if possible. Here I go.

I currently live with a group of four. Three stallions and one mare. At the moment I will not disclose their names, as it is useless to do so. It’s not like it will matter anyways. I first met them after waking up in some sort of cell. It was too dark to see much, but as my eyes adjusted, I wished I had kept them closed. The room was musty and moldy. It seemed like it hadn't been cleaned in years. To my left was a steel bed, the mattress worn out and springs pierced the cheap material. The walls were drawn all over with crayons and paint. Red paint. They read:

We are chosen. We must follow the path.

It wasn't long until I realized it was not red paint. I gazed upon a stallion, hung from the ceiling by several bed sheets. Dark red lacerations across his forearms were possibly used to write the words. I’m still not sure how he got up there, or what the sheets were tied to. As fast as I could, I quietly walked over to the door. There was no way in hell I would be able to open it. It seemed to have been locked from the outside. From a little latch hole near the top I managed to make out a hallway and the room across from me. There was a pony in the adjacent room, just sitting in the corner.

“HEY!! HEY YOU!” I called out to them.

The pony didn't answer, but I had heard several voices from my left approaching. It was a group, and they ever so kindly unlocked the door for me. I am still unsure how they acquired the key. As I made my way down the hall with my new-found allies, I turned to inspect the pony. They had passed a long while ago, it had seemed. Their body had become so mangled and disfigured that I could not tell its gender. Barbed wire had been wrapped around the body, entering and exiting the mouth, eye sockets, and every bodily orifice. A large incision had been made in the belly, intestines and other bodily organs overflowing out of the slit. It reminded me of a biology class I used to take. Huh…It reminds me…Of her…I wonder if she notices that I’m gone.

Entry two, hour one,

We have found a new place to set up camp. We are actually well defended, believe it or not. Everyone is armed with a weapon; let it be a rusty pipe, scissors, or a large nail. Everyone is able to defend themselves, all except me. I don’t mind it. Soon they will learn to trust me.

Entry three, hour five,

That puppet…THAT DAMN PUPPET!! He murdered one of our own today; I think his name was Envenenado or something. He was given a choice to eat two apples. Both identical in color, shape, and size. They were both a glistening shade of golden yellow. He was told that one held the key to salvation, and the other his demise. The bastard was always cocky. He felt like trusting his gut, and he chose the right apple without hesitation. Must have been a sick day. Before long, he began to cough. Then he began to vomit. And when he could not vomit, his body violently convulsed until he coughed up his own stomach. Let’s just say he became twenty pounds lighter.

Entry four, hour six,

I caught Cecile eyeing my just now. Not exactly sure if she was checking me out or she was deciding whether to trust me. I think she’s pretty cute. She reminds me so much of Christine. Her eyes, her nervous smile, the way she swings her hips when she walks. I wonder if she smells the same…

Entry nine, hour nineteen,

Don’t be afraid of the dark.
Don’t be afraid of the dark.
Don’t be afraid of the dark.
Don’t be afraid of the dark.
Don’t be afraid of the dark.
Don’t be afraid of the dark.
Don’t be afraid of the dark.
Don’t be afraid of the dark.

Entry fifteen, hour thirty-six,

I swear I didn't do it. Just…I just couldn't…She would not stop squirming. She kept on telling me no, no, no. She kept screaming…ARRGHHH!! STOP FUCKING SCREAMING!! TURN IT OFF!!! TURN IT OFF!!!

Entry twenty, hour fifty,

And then there was one. I didn't think I could take much more. I kept asking myself how I could make them stop, how I could turn off the voices. Christine just reminds me to keep on doing what I love. So I do, and then they just disappear.
The voices finally go away.
They don’t stay gone for long though. I have to really keep cutting if I want a few hours of silence. Some of them even want the head. I never waste the head. Christine always knows best. She taught me this neat trick. I believe it was a Saturday, and she had just baked apple pie for me and…For me and…No, no, no…What was her name…Her name…WHAT IS HER NAME…Christine, please tell me her name…I’m sorry…I’m sorry for everything…

Entry twenty-one, hour fifty-five,

I've reached the end of my journey; I have found the light at the end of the path. For anyone who finds this journal, take this as a guide. A helpful hand along the path. We are cho-