Chapters The Mysterious Case of the Pinecone Killer (Revised Edition)
1
It was seemingly like any other day. The sun shined brightly over my head and the critters scampered among the wilderness. Last night's rainstorm had left the grass moist and dewy, and every blade glittered individually in the light. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Then, the sun became obscured behind some clouds, but I was sure that the Pegasi would clear them up by midday. I forgot about nature as I approached the herd of ponies gathered at edge of the Everfree Forest. I ducked under the yellow caution tapes and trotted over to the scene of the crime.
I quickly spotted the sheriff standing in the middle of the crowd and approached him. "How far gone is this one?"
"A day - maybe a day an' a half."
"Cause of death?"
“It's... it's strange. Take a look for yourself."
I lifted the black tarp that covered the corpse. Her body had been found in a ditch, not far from her cottage bordering the forest. It was obvious that this was the work of none other than the Pinecone Killer. Deep gashes tore across her body in random directions and black blood seeped out of them. Her body had been forcefully stuffed with pinecones through her mouth and her marehood. It was disgusting to even think that another pony could do something like this.
"Ponyfeathers!" I swore out loud. I turned back to the sheriff, "Do we have a lead?"
"Excuse me - just a moment." He held a hoof to his mouth as if he was about to be sick. "No, the trail's cold. Whoever the killer is, he's a professional. Nothing ever like - this has ever happened in Ponyville before."
I've been on the trail of the Pinecone Killer for about three years now. I've declared myself as an expert on him - I've reviewed every single one of his crimes ever since his first appearance on the radar. Speaking of which, the first victim was my wife, Annabelle. I came home that night from my private office to find her limp body hanging from the ceiling with a bloody heap of pinecones by her side. Since then, I've moved away from Trottingham swearing that I would bring justice to her killer. I've been traveling all throughout Equestria, searching far and wide for anything that could lead me to him. And still, I have nothing at all!
I looked back up to the sheriff. "Is there a reason anypony would do this to her?"
He seemed to be hesitant to answer. "Nope. Poor mare, everypony loved her dearly. I don't know how I'm going to break this to her friends. Excuse me, again." He turned his head to the side and doubled over.
"Get the Pegasi squad to scout a five-klick radius for anything out of the ordinary. Report anything to me immediately that can help at all."
"Gladly" The sheriff said as he quickly flew away.
Another dead end. All of the Pinecone Killer's victims would meet the same fate. They were brutally raped and tortured to death, and then they would have their bodies mutilated by pinecones. The body would be disposed of and be found in a few days, if not a week. This was the seventy-ninth mare who was found just like this. Yet, even still I'm no closer to finding out the identity of the bucking murderer.
Everypony in Equestria is frightened to death. They hide indoors even in the daylight, and some even refuse to leave their homes. I have to find this guy before he strikes again, if not for vengeance then for the goodwill of all these ponies.
I looked around if anypony in sight could see what I was about to do. The Unicorns were too busy magically brushing down leaves for any clues. The Earth ponies were sitting around gambling on which pony would be murdered next. When I was sure nopony could see, I lifted the tarp once more and looked at the decaying body. I pressed my hoof down on her head and images flooded into my mind.
Unicorns would call this ability magic, after all, they knew that some Earth ponies possessed strange innate abilities. For me, touching the bodies of dead ponies would allow me to see and relive their last minutes of life with vivid detail. I've learned about this ability, sadly, when holding and crying over the my wife's corpse. I've never told anypony about this power, fearing that they would think I was insane. I even questioned myself at times. Was it fate that granted me this horrible power? Or was I destined to use this gift to bring justice? Either way, it was my sole responsibility to carry out the investigation.
Time around me seemed to slow down to a standstill, and the mare's last moments played inside my head like a horror movie.
I stood in a field of posies and in one hoof was a basket half-filled with flowers. I was barely touching the edge of the Everfree Forest, which I know becomes especially dangerous in the evening. The sky was orange and red, and the sun was setting quickly.
I trotted around the edge of the forest, collecting flowers and fruits for the little critters back at home. I knew it was getting late, and that I should return soon; after all, Applejack reminded me to watch out for a murderer on the loose. But, Angel wouldn’t eat anything other than the special carrots which grow in a secret patch a bit ways into the forest. I glided carefully into the forest and soon found the carrots. I plucked two, one for Angel and one for me, and placed them in my basket. As I was placing them down, I heard a strange buzzing. In the basket, I spotted a small bumblebee which hid in between two petals.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Bumblebee."
The bee buzzed back, and flapped it's tiny wings excitedly.
"What's wrong little guy? Are you-"
I didn't have enough time to comprehend what happened next. Something blunt struck the side of my face and I fell down onto a bed of moss. The last thing I saw was the blood stained flowers scattered over the forest canopy and glistening crimson red in the sunlight. Then everything went dark.
When I came to, I was blinded by a bright light shining in my face. I tried to block it out with my hoof, but I couldn't move at all; my legs felt as if they were strapped to something below me. I faced the ceiling, and I could manage to make out nothing more than a few crude wooden boards. My heart began to beat twice as fast. Where was I? I could feel something dripping from the side of my forehead. But in my peripheral vision there was only a pool of deep red. I truly hoped it wasn't blood. No, it couldn't be, not that. Anything but that! I became nauseous thinking about the blood and turned away from it before I became sick.
Then somepony moved the light away from my face. After shaking the daze off, I could clearly see the room. It was made of solid wood, except for a single rusty metal sink in the corner. There was a small window near the ceiling, but it was boarded by several planks. A sliver of sunshine shone through it and it was the only source of light for the whole room.
The pony didn't answer. Instead, he calmly walked over to the sink and turned the tap on. He pulled out a rusted and jagged dagger from the basin and began to wash its length.
"Help! Somepony help!" I screamed, wildly trying to pull myself away from the restraints. "Applejack, Rainbow! Somepony please hear me!"
I saw that the pony finished cleaning his tools and placed them neatly on a tray. He didn't show any hint of emotion as he sat beside me and waved each tool in front of me one by one. He scratched two knives against each other, sharpening the blades. I could hear the coarse metal-on-metal contact as the blades became razor sharp. I squeaked when the fiery sparks flew from the metal and landed on my coat.
"Please," I begged for my life, "please let me go."
The masked pony didn't listen. He threw the tools onto the floor angrily and climbed onto the table, menacingly unsheathing his stallionhood. No, not that! He began to rub it against my marehood vigorously and moans escaped my mouth involuntarily. He became even quicker and rougher, but then he stopped. I looked up, still panting, as he carefully pointed its tip vertically down me.
My eyes were in tears by now. I shouted at the stallion. "Please no! I-"
A sharp pain radiating from my lower half stopped me speechless. It was like no other pain I've felt before. It was as if a knife was jammed deep inside me and was jerked and twisted around. The pain was so intense I forgot how to scream.
He forced himself inwards, digging his entire length into me. I only screamed as he pumped himself harder and faster. I was immobile, trapped and held defenseless, as he finished to defile my body. He thrust once more and let out a great whinny. I felt something hot rush deep inside me in a torrent as he stood there, fully mounted into me.
After an eternity, I felt him exit my marehood. Every inch of my body screamed out in pain, but my body was shaking more from the shock of what just happened than the physical damage. I looked down cautiously, but I wasn't prepared for what I saw. Between my legs was a puddle of red blood which spread out from the teared skin. This had to be a nightmare. This couldn't be real, it just couldn't.
The stallion didn't wait for me to recover; he took a rusted nail with serrated sides and jammed it into my forearm. This time I screamed wildly. I saw in horror as he began to drag the nail through my arm, shredding through bone and muscle like butter. I could hear the end of the nail scratching the back of the table, making a screeching clamor. The rusted sides of the nail disintegrated as it left a trail of broken metal fragments embedded in my arm. I prayed to Celestia for the pain to disappear. I thought of my friends, still hoping that they would come to rescue me.
Memories of my friends flashed in front of me. From that fateful event that connected us all to every single adventure we shared, I yearned to see them all just once more. But out of the five friends, I especially remembered one rainbow colored mare. In the last memory she and I lay together, with my head gingerly resting on her side. "Don't worry, Fluttershy, I'll always be here for you. Forever." I remember her covering me with her soft wings and falling asleep to the sound of her heartbeat. The pain vanished and the struggle was over.
Before I faded away from the world I could clearly see what he held in his hooves. A pinecone.
"Hey, you alright?"
I was laying in the mud with the sheriff staring down at me. "Yea, I was just..."
"A bit nauseous? It happens, don't worry. I've seen lots of terrible things in my younger days, but nothing ever like this - this crime is just terrible."
I stood up on all fours and brushed the dirt off myself. I must have been out for only a few minutes at most. I was depressed; I still had no leads.
"Here," the sheriff said, hoofing me a packet of papers and pointing his face towards Fluttershy's corpse, "this is everything we could find on her."
It wasn't much, only three or four pages. "Is this it? I mean, her whole life record?"
"It's nothing much. Her record is cleaner than Celestia's... but there's something here," he circled something at the bottom of the page, "that might help you out."
Last week, she had a run-in with a griffon named Gilda. Witnesses say that the griffon verbally assaulted her, and threatened to kill her. It's the only lead I've got for you.
"Thanks."
"No problem." The sheriff turned around and faced the other ponies, "Alright, we're done here. Everypony move out!"
I walked away from the crime scene while trying to put together the pieces of this mystery. On the last page of the report was a short description of the prime suspect: Gilda. She's been raised by her adoptive father near Cloudsdale for the majority of her life. She's worked in a factory that produces knives after she dropped out of flight school. Then she's just been wandering around job to job every month. Criminal record? Felonies, abusive relationships, and attempted murder. This griffon's a mess. And what's this? She lives in a cabin, homemade, right under Cloudsdale. I was excited. My first real lead in years! I couldn't wait until morning, I had to investigate now.
The sky behind me turned black. It was getting late fast, I quickly trotted away from the lights of Ponyville and towards Cloudsdale. It was only a few kilometers away, but I knew about the dangers of the Equestrian night; there were wild beasts that roamed the paths this time in the night. And of course, I didn't want to get caught by the killer myself. But, I've got to be brave and face the danger within the darkness. I galloped forwards, following the unlit pathway barely able to see the road in front of me.
"Hey! Hey you!" somepony yelled at me. In the light of the setting sun, I could see a cyan pony with a rainbow mane hovering above me. She had dark circles underneath her eyes, and she was panting heavily. "You! Have you seen a yellow pony with a pink mane around here?"
I knew that she was looking for Fluttershy. I couldn't be the one to break this to her, no, not now. "No. I'm very sorry."
"Where is that mare?" I could see tears in her eyes. "I've been worried sick ever since I saw her house torn up yesterday." She was trying her hardest to stay strong, but I could see that even her bravery was no match for the overwhelming pain. "I'll search all of Equestria twice if I have to." With a boom she bolted away, leaving a trail of rainbow dust behind her.
I knew that she would never be able to speak to Fluttershy again, or even see her the same way. It shattered my heart to pieces, seeing how even the strongest willed ponies struggled to keep from crying at the loss of a friend. I knew what Fluttershy meant to her. She was special. She loved her.
I swear, I will bring justice. For myself, for her, and for everypony else.
The Mysterious Case of the Pinecone Killer (Revised Edition)
2
I reached Gilda's hut in the dead of night. It was silent - not even the crickets dared to chirp tonight. The sound of my thumping heart was omnipresent around me, and no matter which direction I turned I would only hear the thumping. Every so often I would hear a sharp scratch, the sound of talons against the stone streetwalk. I would turn around, only to see nothing. I broke out in a cold sweat. I could feel some evil presence lurking around near me trying to corner me into the darkness.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to keep calm by humming Annabelle's lullaby. That always worked. Oh, how much I missed her. I remember the last moments I shared with her were in love. It was during the Hearth’s Warming season, I believe. We rode through the pure white snow and the chilly winter breeze with only each other to keep ourselves warm. A few days later, she was gone. Her body was stone cold, and not even my warmth could bring her back. I would never forget that day.
It’s funny that I learned something that day. I learned that there was nothing to be afraid of, perhaps, but fear itself. Annabelle was never prissy like the other mares; she was strong and brave. Nothing could make her cry, well except for when we were in each other’s arms. We found comfort in each other, something so rare in the world of ours. Fear or no fear, I still had a job to do - to find the truth.
What I could make out in the dim moonlight was a home in shambles: the roof was missing tiles, the windows were cracked into pieces, and nothing grew on the mud lawn. I tread across the dirt and peered into a window. Inside was a dust laden bed, matching the miskept room full of tears. It was a ghost of a house, at most. I couldn't believe that anybody lived here. I pressed my face closer, trying to make out something large that stuck out from underneath the bed, when my hoof slipped and pushed the window inwards. The whole frame fell off of the wall and I bounded onto the floor. I heard the flimsy wood crack as it hit the floor.
"Bucking hooves." I hoped that nopony was around to hear that. The streets were still silent and I could see nothing move. I took a deep breath and bravely ventured into the hole where the window should have been. "A little private investigation," I reassured myself, "for safety." The problem at hoof wasn’t that I might not find any evidence, but that what I’m doing wasn’t quite legal.
When I climbed through the hole in the wall, I immediately began to search for clues. I brought out a small flashlight that the sheriff was so kind to provide me with. It was blue, oh, how I do love that color. But, it wasn't a very strong light. I narrowed my eyes and at last I could see something in the pitch black night. Several brown broken bottles littered the floor, and the scent of hard apple liquor lingered in the air. The door to the only other room, the bathroom, hung ajar. I quickly glanced inside and saw even more empty bottles filled up in the tub. I wondered if all griffons were uncouth like this.
Careful not to leave hoofprints, I carefully made my way over to the bed. I grabbed the mysterious dark shape under the bed that I saw from outside and yanked it out into the open. A pile of newspaper clippings. I swore at myself, again, for hoping that it would be something that would connect her to the crimes. I was about to toss it away, but I noticed that all of the articles were of the Pinecone Killer. Interesting. I flipped through the papers with notes scrawled over them. Then I stopped in front of one article. On the top in bold was the title, "Killer Strikes!", and underneath it was a picture of my very young Annabelle. I forced back the painful memories and the sudden urge to cry. This was no time for that - I must be fearless. But, what in Equestria was she doing with these articles?
Displeased with finding nothing of any value, I turned to the sole night stand leaning against the bed. Interestingly, as I peered into one of the open drawers, I saw several long nails crudely jammed into the wooden planks. I hastily pulled the drawer further out, which turned out to be a terrible mistake. The whole stand fell over and its contents scattered all over the floor. I'm really messing things up tonight, aren't I? A hammer, some rope, a bottle of sleeping medicine, and a book slid onto the floor. My instincts immediately told me, for whatever reason, that I needed this book. I flipped through its pages and realized that it was her diary.
An alibi. Look for an alibi. My detective skills told me that I should look for her alibi. If nopony couldn't prove that she was somewhere else yesterday and with all this evidence, then I think... good Celestia, I think I can prove she's the killer! I looked back down to the rope and hammer. Yes, she could have used these for the murders. I flipped through and found the most recent entry, dated from yesterday:
"Things aren't going well today. I've been kicked out of my job by that dweeb of a boss at the rainbow factory. Somepony offered me another job through, delivering the morning post. I've never been the morning type and the pay isn't good, but either way I don't think I'll be working anytime soon. There's things that are more important than money. This whole incident with Fluttershy has been pretty intense. I made sure that she won't be hanging around her “little” Dashie anymore!"
Something cold wrapped itself around my neck. I felt the presence of something large and feathery stand behind me, breathing in and out heavily.
"You have ten seconds to tell me why you're here," she brandished her other set of talons in front of my eyes, "or say goodbye to your face."
My throat grew dry instantaneously. I stuttered as I fumbled to recite the rights. "Y-you have the right to r-r-remain silent..." And with a great force, I was overturned and slammed onto the bed.
Then she screeched at me mockingly like a banshee. "On what grounds, oh great officer?"
I regained some confidence, but if it weren't for the bed supporting me I swear I'd already fallen over and fainted. "You, Gilda the griffin, have been accused of threatening the pony Fluttershy -"
Hearing the name, Gilda suddenly lost her composure. Even though I couldn't see her, I could tell that she was extremely uncomfortable speaking about Fluttershy. "Oh, that dweeb, yea I forgot about how dweeby she is, the princess of dweebville and-"
“Care to explain this?" I said, holding up the page in her diary.
"Hey! That’s mine! T-That’s nothing!" she tried to snatch away the book away from me.
"You know, you're the prime suspect."
"Prime suspect my flank." She swiped the diary, nearly taking my hoof with it.
"Where were you this time of night?"
"I've just got back from my job."
"Lying won't help you, Gilda."
“W-what do you mean?" She began to sweat from her brow.
"You work delivering the morning papers. It's past midnight."
"W-well. I, uhh."
"Evidence is stacked against you. I know that you committed the crime." I've got her now. There's no way I could be wrong now.
She looked alerted, but not surprised. "Of what crime?"
"The murder of Fluttershy."
The room became silent as the wilderness outside, then came a wave of swears. "Buck! Buck!" Gilda began to sob uncontrollably. "I was too late!"
"Too late for what?" I was completely taken aback by her reaction. This wasn't what she was supposed to say. She was supposed to say that she was the murderer so that I could turn her in.
I could see that her eyes were fiery red in rage. With a menacing voice, she confessed: "It doesn't matter anymore. So, helping you won't matter." She pointed a talon to the window, "somepony threw a pinecone at me with a note attached to it, a week ago. It said it was from the Pinecone Killer. It said that Fluttershy was going to die."
"Wait, why didn't you report this to the sheriff?"
"The note also said that he was always watching, and if I told anypony that Fluttershy would be punished."
"What else did it say?"
"It said that I had one chance to save her by proving my worth as a friend by finding her before time was up. I just didn't know what to think of... I mean, Fluttershy, she was my friend."
"Friend? It didn't sound like that when you threatened to kill her."
"T-That was long ago, before I really knew who she was. It was that day, when I did say I would kill her - but I never meant that! She came to me that night and asked me - asked me if I was alright. At first, I thought she was mocking me by trying to be all nice, but then I knew, I knew for certain that she genuinely cared for me. Growing up in the life I was born in, always abandoned and alone, I've always wondered what friendship could be. She was my first... friend. I was always jealous of Rainbow Dash because they were such close friends. I just... I just loved Fluttershy. I would never have done anything to hurt her - ever!"
"So, you aren't the killer then?"
"No. I'm not the killer! I've never killed nopony! Everypony thinks that though! Oh me, from the ghettos of the city, of course I must be a criminal. But I'm not! I just want to escape this life, go somewhere else and start fresh. I just want this nightmare to end." She sighed and threw the diary at me. "Here, take everything I have. It's my research. I thought - I just thought that I was good enough to save her. But I was wrong. This might be more useful to you now than it is to me. Just please, stop with the questions, I want to be alone now."
I was speechless. Gilda was not the killer. In fact, she was the opposite, a victim of the crime. I apologized for the window, but she just sat on her bed silent. I was about to leave the building without saying anything else and let her alone in the dark room, but she stood to face me once more.
“Before you go,” she said with a somber voice, “promise me you’ll catch whoever this is. He’s a mad stallion, insane. He thinks that playing with lives is like a game... just a game...”
“Thank you, Gilda.” I turned to the door and walked out with diary in hoof.
Poor griffin, she's had a hard life full of sorrow and Fluttershy was the only one who she could ever talk to. Now she had nobody; Nobody to talk to, and nobody to trust her. I knew the sadness that came from losing somepony close - and especially the guilt for not being strong enough, not brave enough, to save them. It's a terrible feeling to have the burden of somepony's death on your shoulders. I remember a time, not too long ago, when I... Annabelle... she...
I snapped myself back into reality. This was no time for nostalgia. In my hooves, I held the only lead to the killer. I guess it wasn't a total loss coming here. I took a brisk gait back to Ponyville, as I was in no rush. I was tired from the night and as Celestia began to raise the sun, my eyes became heavy with sleep. The world around me became illuminated by the sunlight and I could see everything so clearly. I avoided the harsh light, as it threatened to burn out my night-accustomed eyes.
I dragged myself to the nearest hotel and checked out the closest room. The receptionist gave me a strange stare, but happily accepted my bits. I didn't have the time to sit down and read the journal. I needed to sleep now. I threw myself onto the bed, closed my eyes, and drifted away into a dream.
I woke up to the sound of a clock’s steady ticks. For some reason, it was driving me insane - that tick followed by another tick repeated itself endlessly. I found the clock by the bedside table and knocked it off onto the floor. I heard the sound of the glass face shatter as it hit the floor. I groaned at my stupidity. I'm going to have to pay for that now. How long was I out for... what time was it? I leaned over to the floor and saw the gears of the clock scattered about the floor. Oh, the irony. I wandered out my room and into the corridor. But something was terribly wrong. The hallway extended endlessly, literally. I looked left and then right, but I couldn't see either ends.
The hall was amazing and nothing like I've ever seen. Jewels lined the walls by the thousands, a fortune that would be the envy of any dragon. It seemed as if the sparkling chandeliers were made of diamonds, and the royal carpet woven with gold. What was this magical place? Was I in Ponyville anymore?
Then I heard another ticking noise. It was a clock, and it read five minutes until midnight. It couldn't be. No matter how tired I was, I couldn't have slept through a whole day. Could I? I had to see if it was dark outside, but I was surprised to find that all of the windows had suddenly vanished overnight. Panicked, I started to quickly walk down the hallway. With every step I took, nothing changed. It seemed as if I were running in circles. The patterns of the wall and carpet repeated in a loop and the doors remained in identical positions regardless of where I stood.
I shouted. "Anypony here? Can anypony hear me?"
It was silent.
I began to enter into a gait. Something was terribly wrong and I had to know if this was real. I walked up to a portrait of an unknown mare and touched it with my hoof. Suddenly, the lights flashed, and the mare’s face had transformed into Annabelle’s. The lights flashed once more and the original figure came back. This had to be some trick, or an illusion.
“Annabelle?” I whispered.
This time, something answered back. “Why... why couldn’t you save me?” The ghostly whispers continued to call out to me. I circled around, trying to find the source of the voice but there was nopony to be seen.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “Who are you!”
From the ceiling, the ghostly apparition of sweet Annabelle floated down like an angel. She was as beautiful as I remembered her. I didn’t care if this was reality or not, just as long as I were with her. She was all that I needed. She was everything I had.
Click. A clock on table behind me read four minutes until midnight. My mind was in a frenzy by now. That clock was not there a moment ago. I swear, it just appeared out of nowhere.
“Annabelle! Where are you?” She had disappeared.
I nervously shifted around and turned back to the painting which was now streaked in red. I turned back to where my room was, but I fell on top of something. My leg hit a stray clock, one that I was sure was not there a moment ago. Laying on the floor, I now saw that the whole hallway behind me was now full of hundreds of clocks, ticking in perfect unison. This isn't real. This can't be. The walls began to lose their texture and the golden floor began to rust away and turn blood red.
Click. Three minutes until midnight. Wherever I was, I had to escape. They're following me. I was sure. I ran as fast as I could away from all the clocks. But as I ran through the hallway, even more clocks began to appear hanging on the walls. The ticks became distorted and random, some clicking earlier than others. It seemed as if some of them were beginning to tick even faster. The lights in the chandeliers exploded, spraying shards of glass in all directions and leaving me in the darkness. I didn’t know where to run but forwards.
Click. Two minutes. I was out of my mind. I didn't care anymore about anything, other than to escape. I flailed around, bumping into the walls, desperately trying anything I can to reach the end of the dreaded halls. The walls seemed to close in on me as I walked further down the hallway. I swear, they seemed as if they wanted to crush me to death. The clocks now ticked twice as faster than before.
Click. One. I saw something far in the distance. The end of the hallway! Vision around me returned, but everything was colorless like a black and white film. I ran through the darkness blindly, until I saw the exit. There was a single white door with a pearl knob directly in front of me. Above it was a neon sign that read 'EXIT' in bold and bright letters. I had to reach the exit, or the walls would crush me to death. I just knew it. I had barely enough room to put my next hoof in front of the other.
I glanced at a clock. Ten more seconds. Click. Just run. Click. Don't look back. Click. You can make it. Click. Don't give up. Click. Four more seconds. Click. I'm so close to the door. Click. Almost there, just a second more! Click. I touched the cold doorknob. Click. I turned the knob. Zero.
DING. DING. DING.
I woke up, this time to the sound of the town bells. It was just a nightmare. The large bells of Ponyville Elementary rang twelve times, signaling that the noon has arrived. I was in the bed, the same bed that I remember going to sleep in, and the diary lay safely on the table beside me. I ran to the door and opened it, half expecting to be trapped in another dream. I looked to my right and saw the receptionist's table. Nothing had changed. It was all just a terrible nightmare.
“I’m so sorry, Annabelle.” I couldn’t save her, again. I sat there, staring at the ceiling unable to remember what was reality from imagination.
I put the memories on hold in the back of my head, and picked up the book. I told myself to investigate first. I skimmed through the book, which to my surprise was filled with amazingly intricate details. Every single crime was thoroughly analyzed, and somehow she had even found pieces of evidence that I missed from several years ago. A small red bookmark was wedged in between two pages. Curious, I turned to the page and found that it was titled "suspects". I couldn't help but be eternally grateful to Gilda for giving me this book. There was only one name written on that page: The Great and Powerful Trixie.
The Mysterious Case of the Pinecone Killer (Revised Edition)
3
I was still half asleep when I reached Trixie's camp a few kilometers north of Ponyville. It was a long trip to the mountains, but it was well worth it. Strangely, her bright purple tent and golden carriage rested on a high plateau too far for most ponies to scale. Really, Trixie? What’re you trying to hide up there? I was uneasy while scaling the steep cliffs, still finding it strange that she had isolated herself here. Even with magic, it would be a dangerous climb to the top.
Trixie was quite infamous in Ponyville for her 'magic' acts. Better yet, she was known by ponies all over Equestria. She would visit unsuspecting towns at random and scam the ponies for their bits. Then, she would hit the road as fast as she could before they discovered that she possessed no magic at all.
I grabbed the edge of the cliff and lifted myself up, landing on the dusty rocks with a thud. It was like a desert up here. Everything around me was barren, and the dead brush screamed for water. Withered plants were shriveled from the intense sun beating down rays, leaving only dust and dirt. Trixie's tent, up close, was battered by the turbulent wind.
I approached the tent, which was modified to be a semi-permanent home. It was made of some cheap plastic like a child’s toy and it was torn in the corners. I found the entrance and knocked on the door. Nopony seemed to be home, judging from the eerie silence.
I shouted for her, "Trixie. Are you here?" I stood there, waiting, but it was still too quiet. I can't waste time just waiting for her; who knows when she'll come back? I walked around the tent, looking for the back entrance. The rear door creaked in the breeze; perfect. I tiptoed inside, making sure that Trixie really was away.
Surprisingly, the interior of the tent was simply decorated with nothing more than a few potted plants. By the stories I've heard from everypony at Ponyville, I half-expected a couple of self portraits or at least lavish decorations. There were no intricate designs to be seen anywhere. Added to the ominous atmosphere was the single lantern, lit by a half melted candle, which swayed from the ceiling. It was barely enough for me to see anything at all in the room. The only notable objects in the room was the bed made of straw in the dark corner, next to a cluttered pile of trunks. Well, I guess that makes my job easier.
I didn't waste any time. I scavenged around the pile of trunks, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Well, everything was abnormal from my perspective - seeing that Trixie's profession was illusionist magic. I opened the nearest one and found that it was full of toys: smoke machines, confetti cannons, and fireworks. I opened another chest, this one tucked away under others. Inside was a large tattered book. I excitedly opened it, but was disappointed to see that it was nothing more than a scrapbook. Curiosity got the better of me as I flipped through it to find clues.
I opened the book to see a picture of Annabelle and me. I remembered that scene when we were in the snow snout-to-snout. It was when a cruel twist of fate separated us in the dead of winter. It was a story straight out of the fairytales.
“Do you love me?” She asked.
“Forever and ever,” I would reply.
And in the end we did see each other again.
I blinked and found myself back in reality with the picture gone. What what that? Maybe, I didn’t get enough sleep because of that awful nightmare. I reminded myself that Annabelle was gone, and that nothing I could do would make her return.
I lay down and opened to the first page. The first picture was aged brown and dated over a decade ago. In it was a blue stallion holding a white bundle, which I assumed held a child. On the next page, there was a photo of a filly, Trixie, solemnly standing alone in front of a building that read "Las Pegasus Orphanage". Immediately underneath that one was a sketch from a courtroom, and Trixie stood crying on the podium with hoofcuffs on all four legs. Scrawled in red, in the margins, was a short annotation: "I didn't do it." I flipped through the pages faster, flying through the most important events of Trixie's life. The subsequent photographs followed a common theme: Trixie was always standing alone. With every photo, her face became more sullen and lifeless. The photos continued like this consistently throughout every single year of her life up to today. Red annotations littered the book madly, making space between words and around the corners. The same words appeared again at least a hundred more times, "I didn't do it". But this time it was followed by, "Would life change for me?" I placed the book back gently into the dark trunk.
Maybe, she’s out for revenge. After all, she does have quite a few enemies. But, her seemingly arrogant personality was due to years of sorrow and abuse. She was just another pony, like me, hurt and frail inside. Still, I knew that my emotions shouldn't impede the investigation. If anything, her history only supports the profile of the killer.
Finding nothing else of interest, I moved away from the trunks and searched around the bed. It was makeshift, made from two bales of hay and a wooden frame. But what could I expect? Trixie never made any bits from her gigs because nopony wanted attend them if they knew who she was. I began to feel ashamed that I was accusing her, somepony who already had enough problems to deal with. I was about to leave before she came back, when I felt something strange in the hay. I grasped whatever it was and pulled it out. A pinecone. She had a pinecone hidden away in the bale. I grabbed the whole bed and began to tear it apart into shreds, and hundreds of different sized pinecones spilled onto the floor. Pinecones don't grow in Ponyville or in the Everfree Forest. Where did she get these, and why does she have them hidden here?
"Don't move, or the Great and Powerful Trixie will call the sheriff."
I turned around to see the blue mare, brandishing a manebrush as a weapon. I got her now. "Trixie," I said, "what is this?" I held up the pinecone.
She broke out in laughter. "The Great and Powerful Trixie is almost insulted that you asked the Great and Powerful Trixie what that is! That, mister robber, is what ponies call a pinecone."
She continued to laugh, but I stared her down. "You know about the recent murders, don't you Trixie."
Her eyes dilated in fear, "W-why yes, the Great and Powerful Trixie is aware of that Fluttershy but-"
"And you are aware of the killer's name." I held the pinecone in front of her face.
"The Great and Powerful Trixie knows that the Pinecone Killer is-"
"And you are aware that pinecones are extremely rare around these parts."
"I-I don't know what you mean! These fine pinecones are imported from Trottingham."
"It's the middle of summer, Trixie, we're far from the Hearth’s Warming Eve celebration."
"The Great and Powerful Trixie has - other uses - for the pinecones! They... the Great and Powerful Trixie does not have to explain herself! Now, out!" She waved her hooves at me, as if casting a spell.
I didn't know whether to believe her or not. The evidence was too compelling: a troubled childhood, a criminal record, and the pinecones; especially the pinecones. She avoided my eyes as she rambled on. She was hiding something, for certain. I grabbed her shoulder and pulled out my hoofcuffs. "You're coming down with me to the sheriff to answer some questions."
She immediately backed away from the cuffs, as if they were venomous. "No, please no, not those," she cowered away behind the trunks, "please, no, don't take me away."
But she seemed to ignore me, as if she was lost in her own world. "No, don't take me away from daddy. I-I swear, I didn't do it! It wasn't me!" She began to rock nervously on the floor, "Please, no! Please, don't leave me, I don't want to be alone." She began sobbing violently as she curled up on the floor.
What was she doing? I can't get her move when she's like this.
“Please don’t take me away. I p-promise I’ll be a good filly, please, no!”
Then it came to me: her memories as a child. She must be remembering the things that happened to her in the past... like me.
Then she stopped moving. She turned her head in confusion and stared at me blankly. She then resumed laughing at me, as if nothing had happened.
"What is wrong with you?"
"What? There is nothing," she flicked her mane back, "absolutely nothing wrong with the Great and Powerful Trixie!"
"Then why were you bawling over the floor like a foal just a moment ago?"
She gasped, "You call the Great and Powerful Trixie a foal? Well you must have been bucked in the head because the Great and Powerful Trixie never cries."
I was becoming frustrated. Was this a part of her act? Didn't she remember what happened? Apparently not. By the sincerity in her voice, the episode never occurred to her.
"Anyhow," she continued, "the Great and Powerful Trixie can prove that you are wrong. The Great and Powerful Trixie has her schedule locked away in the back of the carriage, and the witnesses are more than willing to claim that I was out of Ponyville for the last month."
"Don't move, and wait for the Great and Powerful Trixie's return with the papers to prove innocence." And as quick as a rainboom, she bolted out of the tent.
I sat down on the floor, warmed by the noon sun. I rested my head down, and soon my eyelids began to feel heavy. I attempted to remain conscious, but the thought of sweet sleep won and my eyes fell shut. Just for a minute.
I opened my eyes. I was lying sprawled on the floor, and nopony was in sight. I faced the ceiling and through a small opening at the top, I saw the orange sky. Trixie! I hoofed myself across my face for my naivete. I just let Trixie, the prime suspect, leave my sight and it was now well past noon. She could be anywhere by now!
I galloped outside to find any sign of her - but I couldn’t see anything other than the wasteland. The carriage! I saw that the side door was swinging wide open in the air. I ran as quickly as I could, hoping to salvage any clue that Trixie would have missed. But as I approached, I knew that something was terribly wrong. The window of the door was splattered with deep red blood. The blood trailed from the carriage, as if something was dragged through the rocks, and ended at the edge of the cliff. I trotted towards the end of the blood's trail cautiously, too shocked by the sudden turn of events to do anything else. I stared down the cliffside, and several meters below me in a patch of dense forest was the skewered body of Trixie.
No, this couldn't be. It couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour? But more importantly, how did the killer strike without me noticing? Where did he go? I looked around, but found no sign of a struggle or of the killer. I nearly tripped as I ran down to investigate the body.
The scene would have been serene if it weren't for Trixie's body suspended in midair. Her body was barely held together by the branch that ran right through her chest. A stream of blood trickled down from the trunk of the tree and created a festering black pool under her. All over the ground were streaks of blood, radiating outwards from the epicenter of the fall. Everything was covered in her blood, the bark, the leaves, and everything else in sight. Her clouded eyes were wide open and they seemed to stare right into my soul. They almost seemed as if they were still full of life. I took a step forward, but she still swayed unmoving. I took more steps, until I was right underneath her. A note attached to a pinecone was lodged in her mouth. I reached up and touched the tip of her hoof.
"Don't move, and wait for the Great and Powerful Trixie's return with the papers to prove innocence." And as quick as a rainboom, I bolted out of the tent.
This was all just a terrible misunderstanding. I understand why somepony like me would be the prime suspect. It was just like before - when I was only a little filly. I was involved with a crime - a crime that I didn't commit. I pleaded and pleaded to the stallions that carried me out of the courtroom, "Please, don't take me away." But they wouldn't listen. Nopony would listen to ponies like me. We had no family, no friends, and no one to believe in. But this time, this time I can prove that I'm innocent! Oh, yes! After this mess is cleared up, everything will be better. At least, I'll know that somepony would believe in me for the first time in my life.
I wondered why the strange pony thought I was a foal. Was it... the visions? No. It couldn’t be. I was stronger than that. I let go of my past, because I wasn’t that pony anymore. I told myself that the memories couldn’t hurt me any longer.
I approached my carriage, and unlocked the side door. Inside the front compartment were several records of my traveling shows all across Equestria. I started to file through the papers, searching for the ones that would prove my innocence. I quickly found them: my tour schedule from last week and the shipping orders for my delectable pinecones. Everypony found my taste for pinecones odd and I haven't heard of ponies ever consuming pinecones like I do. I would explain everything to that investigator, after all, I haven't introduced myself to him yet. We'll have a big laugh about this. Everything will be fine.
I grabbed the papers and turned around, but found myself facing somepony.
"You!" I didn't expect this, "What, are you doing here?"
Something was wrong. He said nothing, but instead held out a single slip of paper.
I read the first line, and I was horrified at what I'd just read. I looked up to him in disbelief, "You. It was you ?"
He brought out a ticking pocket-watch for me to see. Only a few minutes remained. He quickly grabbed me, strangling me by the neck and slamming my head into the carriage window behind me. I felt something break inside my skull as everything became dizzy.
I tried to scream, hoping that somepony would hear. But everything was not fine. There was nopony around, and if there was, would they care enough to save somepony like me? Well, I did have her, Twilight Sparkle. At first, I wanted nothing more to humiliate her, but secretly I just wanted to be her friend. After I was driven out of Ponyville I became homeless without friend. What surprised me was that of all ponies she came to the rescue. She brought me into her library away from the ridiculing eyes of the public and taught me magic. Real magic! She was the only pony who reached her hoof out to me. She was my only friend.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie deserves to live. She didn’t do any of those terrible things! Please, give her a second chance!” I screamed as a last attempt to gain somepony’s attention.
He slammed my head once more against the glass and then threw me to the ground. The impact left me further dazed and barely conscious. I felt my body being dragged by the tail, away from the tent.
I was lifted up into the air by my mane. The ticking of the watch would speed up as I dipped in and out of consciousness.
Tick . The In the confusion of the strange sound, I managed to make out the grimace on his face, right before he let go.
My body entered free fall and I flew down the cliff. I fell blissfully, but my mind was in torment. I remembered everything since I was a foal. The death, the orphanage, the false crime, and the suffering. Every moment of life was filled with regret, and the choices I've made that further separated me from society. I fell into a pit of self-perpetuating disaster, and I had nopony to hang onto or pull me out. I've lived in a life of a lie. I was not 'great' or 'powerful', no matter how much I tried to believe so. The life I've lived in was a fantasy that I could hope for; a dream where I was loved. No, this couldn't be the end.
A tear rolled out of my eye. I couldn't accept what was happening. I don't want to die. I could still change. I wanted to change.
In the last possible moment, I realized what I've yearned for in life. The one thing that was missing from my life, and the thing that could have made me a better mare. A friend.
I took a deep breath. Trixie saw the killer, whoever he was, and he threw her off the cliff. The note! It was submerged in the blood. I reached into the liquid and rescued it before the words were erased by blood.
"I've been watching you, little investigator, ever since dear Annabelle's death. I thought she was beautiful, especially when I saw her lifeless hanging body. How does it feel? Are you angry? Do you want to kill me? You were too weak, too pathetic to save her in time. It's all your fault. But don't worry, because I'll give you what you truly desire: vengeance. Meet me at midnight deep in the heart of the Everfree Forest, that is if you're willing to face the truth. Come alone, we'll settle this alone.
-The Pinecone Killer"
I accepted his challenge. I crushed the note and stomped it into the blood. I now carried the burden of Trixie's death on my conscience, along with the several other ponies. I knew that I had to end the murders, and I knew that only one of us would be alive tomorrow. I just hope that I’d be strong enough to survive.
The Mysterious Case of the Pinecone Killer (Revised Edition)
4
It was almost time. I trotted to the entrance of the forsaken woods where the killer lay. Nothing moved that night; not even the wind. The sky was lightless: there was no moon nor stars to brighten the path to the Everfree Forest. The clouds covered the entire sky like a menacing fog, threatening to swallow up the entire world. They rumbled ever so slightly and began to cry their tears. But I stood tall and brave, and rushed into the heart of the darkness blindly. I ran forward, not knowing where I would arrive, if I would arrive anywhere at all. I ran deeper inside the depths of the woods and I lost all of my senses. I was blind, deaf, and mute. I couldn't feel the coarse dirt on my hooves anymore. I was merely a spirit running in a dark void of space, and all I knew was to keep running.
This running, for some reason, reminded me of some sad memory. I didn’t know why, but I began to cry. I galloped faster and faster, but something deep inside me told me that I wouldn’t be able to make it. Memories began to return: I saw myself running through the snow with tears on my face. But, why?
Then I heard the faint beats of my heart. They continued to beat with every stride I took, hoof by hoof. The sounds grew louder and louder, faster and faster. I couldn't tell how fast time was passing, only that I was accelerating through it.
Lightning boomed above me. The amazing light flashed in front of my eyes or a split second, and I could only see white. I wandered through the forest, this time blinded by the light. I stumbled off the dirt and into the wilderness. I ran through the dense weeds and thorn bushes, still only seeing white. As my sight returned, the world around me became visible. I looked up at the heavens, and there was a ring in the sky without clouds; the eye of the storm. In the center of the ring was the full moon and the stars dancing around it. Everything around me became so clear, illuminated by the intense lights.
I looked down to the land below it and spotted a small wooden shack in the clearing. A sliver of golden light shone through its small boarded windows. Something deep in my heart convinced me that this was the lair of the beast known as the Pinecone Killer. I approached the shack and immediately felt the presence of the putrid stench of blood hovering around the atmosphere. Bones of ponies and other creatures littered the muddy yard like a overturned graveyard. I trotted up to the door with my head high. There was no place to hide inside the small shack, and I knew that the killer was right behind this door. I would see him right away and then take my revenge. I didn't hesitate and bucked the door off its hinges.
The door was smashed to bits, and I immediately rushed inside to see who the killer was.
“Come out killer!”
Nopony answered.
The room was empty, except for the small rectangular table in the center of the room. I cautiously approached it, half expecting for it to be a trap. I took steps hoof-by-hoof, floor squeaking with every movement. The walls were painted red with streaks of what seemed to be blood. On the center of the table was a golden pocket-watch. I lifted it and flipped the cover open.
Inside was a small photograph of myself with Annabelle. T-This was mine! She gave this to me for our engagement! How could I forget about this? But, why is it here? Wait. No. I remember! I remember everything.
The watch rang once, signaling midnight simultaneously with a flash of lightning. Everything became so clear. Then, in horror, I realized that the streaks on the walls were words written in my hoofwriting. They repeated themselves a thousand times in blood: "You are the killer ." The repressed memories in my weak mind blossomed in a overwhelming surge of truth.
There I stood, above Fluttershy's butchered corpse, without a hint of remorse for the things I've done. My 'magic' abilities were as fake as Trixie's. These visions were only the memories of the crimes I've committed and nothing more. Her face was frozen in a demented expression of true fear. The griffon was too late to save her, same as every other pony who couldn't save the ones they loved. I released the restraints binding her to the table and stuffed her body into a bag. I really thought that she'd live. Gilda was close. I threw the bag with the others in the pile.
Even after all these years, I couldn't find the one - the one true friendship. None of these ponies were strong enough, brave enough, or willing enough to go the distance in order to save their loved ones. I asked myself: why do this? Was it really to prove that true love doesn't exist? Or was it to rid myself of the guilt from Annabelle's death? I loved her so much, yet my love was unable to save her. I wanted to know: can love save anypony? Or was I foolish in believing that I do anything at all to save her?
I saw my other conscious, oblivious to my presence. Nopony ever expected me, the good investigator, to be the killer. It was the perfect crime. I stared down at Gilda and laughed, for she was depressed beyond her limit. The only pony that'd ever love her was now gone, all because of her. I'd give her a week before she’d kill herself, like the rest.
I wanted to ask her so many questions. How does it feel like to lose the one you love? How does it feel like to know that you were the only one she depended on; that their life was completely in your claws? How does it feel like to know that she will never come back? It took all my strength to not laugh at her there and then.
I stood by the edge of the forest next to a bonfire and holding Gilda's journal. I read through every article, reliving every single experience. None of those ponies could prove their worth. I tore out each page and tossed it into the flames. The pages shriveled up and disintegrated into ashes. Not even one pony could show me what true friendship was; not one! On the last page was the same note and sentence I wrote to every one of those ponies. Sometimes, it was written in blood of their beloved: "How far would you go, to save the one you love?" I gave them three whole days, no more and no less. Nopony has ever passed the tests, and nopony has ever survived.
The journal disappeared from my hoof and was replaced by a light blue mane. I held Trixie high up on the cliff, half-stunned by the blows to her skull, but she still well alive. I let go and frowned as she fell into the trees. She was now nothing more than a red smudge on the earth.
Well, except for Twilight Sparkle. That note I wrote to her three days ago? It was ignored. Oh Trixie, only if you knew the truth. Twilight never loved you - she pitied you, nothing more. Why did you cling so desperately onto such foolishness as hope?
It's so easy to hate somepony, especially when everypony else does. This was Trixie's life. She has never done any wrong in her life; instead, it was the injustice of the world that was stacked against that that made her into the mare she was. How could she have a friend, when she was a monster by the eyes of society? This is what ponies do, being only evil and selfish beings. They say they love, but when faced with death they cower away pathetically. No love exists in the world.
The memories rolled in reverse once more. This time, it flew back before all the pain and suffering began; the time when my Annabelle was still alive.
The clouds above us were pure white, like a newborn bunny's cotton tail. The Trottingham snow fell lightly, and we embraced each other for warmth. I stood next to Annabelle, who was at this time barely entering the years of her mareness. We had been young lovers, deep in the infatuation of our youthfulness and innocent years. She and I were inseparable, and it was no surprise that were were fated to be wed. However, this would be the last time we were together before I left for the war.
She cried as I boarded the train. "Don't leave me alone."
The train started its engines and let out a cloud of black smog.
"It'll only be a few years." I promised her. "I love you."
"Please, be careful."
I let go of her hoof and the train accelerated into the blizzard. I rode the train into the front lines of the battlefield. Fighting was a daily ordeal that was unavoidable. Every night, we would count off the remaining men, and the numbers would always grow smaller. It was terrible, knowing that I might not wake up one day to see my home again. The cannons exploded above our shallow bunkers, and there was no doubt that we were all afraid.
But everypony asked me, "Why do you smile?"
"Her." I would show them my golden pocket-watch and the picture inside of Annabelle, my fiance. "Someday, I'll go home to see her."
The war progressed, becoming bloodier every year fought. But in the last raid, on the day I was supposed to return home, our squad was reported dead. I was the only one that managed to survive, but just barely. The captain, my brother in arms, lunged at the last possible second to take the magic bolt into his chest for me. When I managed to return to camp, everypony had left without me. I was a dead pony, as far as anypony knew. I wandered aimlessly through the foreign land, hiding among the enemies who would have executed me without remorse if they knew who I was. Four years passed, and I managed to escape.
For every single day in those four years, I counted every sunrise as I thought of Annabelle. I never lost hope that we would be together again. The thought of us together in each other's hooves was the only motivation to live.
I stepped off the train. I was home. The snow fell, just like it had when I left seven years ago. Everything seemed to be exactly the same as I remembered: the post office, the bakery, and the park. I galloped to the door of my house, which hadn't faded a bit in the years. It brought a calming sensation, returning to an unchanged home untouched by the horrors of the war. I prepared to present myself to her. It'd been a long time, but I still remembered her warmth and the fragrance of her sweet perfume. I still loved her dearly.
I raised my hoof, ready to knock, but the door creaked open. I stepped inside cautiously. A Hearth's Warming tree and ornaments decorated the room from bottom to top. There were, after all, only three more days until Hearth's Warming Day. I wandered around the house, remembering all the familiar squeaks of each floorboard. Everything was like I remembered, until I heard a strange noise from above. I climbed the spiral staircase up to the door of the bedroom. I slowly placed my hoof on the knob and pushed the door open.
"Belle, Belle?" I stood, shocked and facing our bed. Under the covers was her small body, and on top of her was a stallion.
She gasped in disbelief when she saw me, and let out a loud moan as the mounted stallion rode her.
I couldn't grasp what was happening. I ran out of the building, ignoring her pleas for me to stay. I denied what I'd seen. I wouldn't believe what she was doing with that stallion. She tracked me down to the old inn a little ways from the town. I sat in the room against the locked door, and refused to speak to her. On the other side, she cried and pleaded for my forgiveness. Three days passed, exactly three days, and she returned in front of the door with every sunrise.
But I was silent. For three days straight, I hid myself in the little inn while listening to the ticks of my golden watch.
I decided to revisit my private office late that night. It was an hour until midnight on Hearth's Warming Eve. I filed through the yellowing papers and the dusty cabinets. I immediately froze when I found the pink letters written by Annabelle to me when we were once young. I read through them, one by one, crying as each one tore a hole in my already broken heart. I stood up and held my head high. I hoofed myself twice for my stupidity. I loved her. I realized that no matter what that I would love her. Those blissful memories of the past with her weren't illusions or lies. Even after everything that has happened, she was the same Annabelle I loved, and I knew that she truly loved me.
I ran through the city in the darkness to our house. I swore I wouldn't miss another Hearth's Warming Day without her. There was still time! My watch seemed to tick faster, with minutes passing in seconds. The snow froze my hooves and the wind pierced through my coat, but my love for her was eternal and burning passionately for her. I finally reached the door, with only a second left, and opened it.
I was just in time to see her body falling from the banister of the second story, with a rope of decorative ivy and pinecones tied around her neck. My watch struck twelve. I heard the sound of something snap, but the banisters weren’t what was broken. Her body hung limply from the rope, neck bleeding from the sharp spiked scales of the pinecones.
A note was stuck between her hoof. I pulled it out and I shook uncontrollably as I read it.
"To my little soldier, There is no excuse that I make can which can clear away the shame of what I've done. Guilt has become a monster that tears me apart from the very depths of my soul. The pain I've caused you is unacceptable - and I can no longer live like this anymore. I'm sorry... I’m so sorry."
The next lines were rendered unreadable by tears. I skipped to the last words, still wet from fresh ink.
"Please, if you're reading this, never stop believing in love.
- Until death, and well after, your’s forever, Belle."
That is when I, the Pinecone Killer, was born. I was created out of the depths of depression and deceit. I couldn't accept that she was gone, so all the memories and pain of love were locked away forever. I had to lie to myself. I wasn't strong enough, and I'm still not strong enough to face the truth. If I was just a second faster she wouldn't have died. The truth is that I killed her. I didn't want to believe that I killed her. But that's why I was born, to be a substitute in order to hide myself from this truth.
So, the killer and I are one of the same. I saw the truth, and was destroyed by it. I let the darkness, the guilt of my memories, possess my body. Innocence died and the detective you knew is gone; the killer won.
I quietly closed the lid to the pocket-watch. I gazed off the golden reflection to see the red-eyed beast before me. This is who I truly am, and my question still remains. "How far would you go, to save the one you love?" I still desired for truth, if there was one at all. I wanted to know if there was a pony in all of Equestria who could become the image of the pony I never was.
I threw aside the table to reveal a hatch that lead underground. The basement was damp and dark, except for the lamp directed at the mint green pony strapped to the table. There was a sink in the corner, rusted from the blood that drained through its pipes. I grabbed a bloodied knife off the floor and checked my watch once more.
Twelve o’ clock.
