Author's Note

'Bugs' still being fixed.

Eternal Darkness

?:??

Nočnà took a tentative swallow of the saliva developing in his mouth as he stumbled into the monotonous darkness in front of him. Everything was shaded in grey and black, as if the universe had gone to greyscale. The cave was darker than anything he could have imagined, he thought he could see something in front of him. Nočná stepped forwards once more, the cold and damp stone slid beneath him, sending him sliding down into what seemed oblivion.

He heard himself hit the ground right before he was knocked into a comatose state. He wandered in this world, he seemed as light as possible. He floated freely, staring at the pure white walls surrounding him. He heard someone call him, he turned his head curiously. Nočná hacked up the water in his lungs as he struggled to get back up. He had been under for, who knows how long, and he needed to get to his objective quickly. He paused, and thought about it. He had no past memory of a briefing or anything, all it seemed was he was simply born in front of that cave, and natural instinct told him to search for something inside it. He sat upon a nearby niche in the cold, damp, cavern wall. Memories soon returned to him, luckily.

He thought of his marefriend, Honeybird. She was fascinated by nature in general and often dragged him along on some nature trail, promising nothing in return but perhaps some admiration for bearing through it. She wouldn't admit that, but she knew the trails were monotonous, little there besides flora and fauna. He then violently shook his head, he had remembered what he had done last night. Tears were the only measurement of his sorrow, he hadn't killed her for the joy of it, he was forced to. He closed his eyes as the haunting images reappeared before him.

12:06AM
Nocna rolled across the bed and snuggled against Honeybird. He ran his hoof against her long soft mane and closed his eyes. She was fast asleep yet it felt like the two were conversing deeply. He smiled to himself as he thought of the day he'd propose to her.

As cliché as it seemed, he would take her out for a nice (vegetarian, of course) dinner: champagne, wine, bread, and such. There would be the soothing aroma of roses and scented candles in the air. The soft wind blowing against the long red curtains on a nearby open window, looking out into a cobbled walkway, either side with Parisian style housing. He could hear the romantic musette so clearly, the jazzy yet classy tone that so many post-Victorian countries embraced.

All those dreams, unrealistic as they were, could possibly happen in the afterlife- if there was one to embrace those who found themselves either at the end of their luck, or just giving up the hope of succeeding. Nocna knew if the afterlife did exist, it would bring Honeybird much pleasure and soothe her soul, in its purest form. Be there a god to watch her, he would gladly take her hoof and welcome her to the life after death, the oasis at the end of the long, scorched, desert road. Now he was thinking of the purpose of all these nonsensical thoughts. Ponies must've made religion to give themselves reason to live and not hopelessly throwing themselves off cliffs, like that of lemmings. Except lemmings didn't purposely kill themselves, they just misjudged the length of the field. So perhaps Ponies were lemmings, not known to them, but ending up killing themselves out of ignorance. And the stupidity of the lemming was thinking their purpose was to spread the donkey-shit they were told. So as everypony spread their stupid beliefs, naturally wars and fights accumulate, being the cliff's edge. Ponies being slaughtered over nothing more than a fairy-tale. If there was no Heaven, there wouldn't be a place for Honeybird. Temporarily he had to place his faith in such fairy tales and pull the trigger.

He lifted the small, yet deadly, silenced .22 caliber pistol up from beneath the covers. The weapon was beautiful to him, he cherished it much in the way he had cherished Honeybird. But all things must end eventually, the universe's life is ticking away every damned moment they live. He slowly directed the barrel of the gun at the back of Honeybird's head. He drew in the cold air surrounding him and slowly released it, though a silent exhale. "I die every moment I live, and live every moment I die." He said aloud, not trying to play the silent-killer card any longer. Honeybird let out an unintelligible mumble, presumably telling him to go to sleep. But that would be the last thing she would ever speak.

Click.

He did not feel the recoil, nor the ejected shell blasting out the slide of the gun, hitting him. He quickly closed his eyes, preparing himself for the scene he'd soon awake to. He opened them, perhaps too soon for him to take it. Honeybird's head lay mangled in a impossible degree, a large portion uncovered, a pool of stagnant blood inside, along with scattered bits of grey matter. Portions of her brain were forcibly ejected trough once were her eyes, and scattering on to the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind. Across the room on the classic, red and white, brick wall, were many scrapes and indents, made by the shrapnel. The round he had used was a hoof-loaded, hollow-point, designed specifically for maximised damage. All of this, in a fraction of a second was shot into his mind as a permanent image of what he had done. He once again closed his eyes. He blindly slid off the side of the bed, inadvertently stepping on some blood, and forced himself to not turn the gun on himself. He opened his eyes and opened the door, his adrenaline was running, he would not let anything stop him. He slammed a hole in the wall with his hoof, directly hitting a stud, cutting his hoof. He screamed out of pain and rage, and head butted the wall, once again hitting the stud and hitting himself once more.
He fell over forcefully, making a distinctive thud against the wooden flooring. He clambered back upwards, now all rage resolving back to depression. He slowly made himself to the telephone, picked it up and hit the three buttons which would seal his fate. 9-1-1.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"She's dead, she's fucking dead!"

"Sir, calm down. Who is the deceased?"

"My- my- my..."

"Sir, please calm down and slowly speak, okay?"

"Uh- Honeybird.. My mare.. I- I..."

"What happened to cause her death, sir?"

"It was- ... It's murder."

"Can you confirm it was murder?"

"I shot her myself... Fuck.. Fuck!"

"Put the phone down and we'll come to you. Okay?"

"Fuck.. Shit.. Why the fuck?.."

Nocna slammed the phone against the ground, sending broken plastic outwards, along with various circuit components. Everything in his world had been shattered in that moment. Life itself ended temporarily, giving way to hell itself, consuming everything in its path.

?:??

He awoke covered in a opaque, dark substance, with a distinct cold characteristic- blood. He panicked quickly, leaping off the niche and nearly impaling himself on a stalagmite. He checked himself quickly for any signs of major injuries. He couldn't be sure, though, as the visibility was pathetically low; the only light source was coming from a small opening in the ceiling, consisting of zig-zagged cracks, eventually leading to the surface. By the time the sunlight reached the cave, it was so diluted, that it'd hardly make a difference if it was removed.

What he could make out was an equine-like figure, laying on the stone floor, and a P08 along side it.
The pony had a black mane and a light grey coat. The body was decayed slightly, and the position of the hoof near the P08 and the gunshot wound to the head suggested suicide. The black, dried blood, laced the would and was scattered about on the floor.
This hardly answered his question, however. The blood on him was slightly newer, as it wasn't entirely blackened yet. Upon moving the corpse of the pony, he found a saddlebag, containing a kerosene lamp, containing a paltry amount of fuel.