Mad ponyby Insomniac_FoalChaptersForeshadowingEscapeLostZecora (Zecora's Perspective)The ZebraA Sudden RealizationAmnesticForeshadowingAuthor's Note This chapter has almost no plot. It's only purpose is to foreshadow events of the future. I apologize if you grew bored or if you didn't read through it completely because you didn't like the way I wrote or something. I also really want critique so when you are done reading, let me know if something stood out to you in a negative way.. Please? I also apologize for my grammar. Foreshadowing For today, I am a horseshoe. Why, you may ask. Because horseshoes get thrown about. Just like I have for most of my life. Only, who am I? For I, your dutiful narrarrator am the non compos mentis blue equine of P.M.I (Ponyville Mental Institution). It reached back in my throat and let out guttural bark; to me it was the Lay of the Firmaments, to others it was just a sound spat from the mad. One of the guard ponies let me know to ‘shut up’ by knocking into me as he led me to my room. I responded usually with, “Egads! If you don’t care for mac and cheese then be quiet.” but today, I felt an unnatural feeling in my gut that made me be quiet. I don’t know why I say the things I do, I just know I do. It felt like there was a thing inside of my throat that made me do these things, but I like these things so it is ok. I call it Monsieur Savvy, why, you may ask. Because Monsieur Savvy told me to. The trip to my residence was short and forgettable somehow. Inside of my room, I sat and poured over the thoughts of my past that were written inside of a journal. Such as, “The cruel and obtuse world will never understand the Way of the Mad. Impervious; they are abominations to intelligence and acumen,” and, “Stupidity is the opiate that consumes what you love,” The scribbles I had wrote, I stared at for hours. They were literal scribbles. Only I could understand them and the meaning behind them. It was a strange and spiritual idea that I had formulated a while ago. That thought made Monsieur Savvy bellow. The sound resonated and bounced across the white walls of my room. T’was an odd sound; an odd music that made the aether melancholy, but why was it melancholy? Am I melancholy? If so, why? Do I crave to extend my extremities beyond the whitewashed walls of the facility? The monotony had surely gotten to Monsieur Savvy and I: Wake up, go to breakfast, go to room, go to lunch, go to room, go to therapy, go to room, go to dinner, go to room, go to bed, sleep and then wake up day in and day out. I was depressed about it. It was a terribly repetitive way to live and it hurt. I did in fact want to break the cycle, but how? Monsieur Savvy told me to run up against the door, see if that will work. It didn’t. It only resulted in my thoughts being fuzzed and a headache. I lay sprawled out on the floor for a few moments until the nurses came and put me into the pad room and gave me vitamins. I didn’t like the vitamins; they dull my thoughts and put Monsieur Savvy to sleep. I really disliked when Savvy was asleep, for he was my entertainment. You see, the hardest thing to unlock is randomness, and that is exactly what Monsieur did. He provided me with things to do. For example when a sense of lassitude would overcome me, he would make a grumbling noise that tickled the top of my mouth. I trusted Monsieur and I’m pretty sure he trusted me. I did not care that he was domiciled within my throat; he was still a friend, and an only friend at that. I could never get along with any of the other patients. I may be insane, and I recognize that; but they are insane and senile and that is much worse. For it is an arduous task to handle 90 year olds losing their marbles all around you about simple things. Few people at this institution that I have met are intelligent. I have met Al Coltone, Edgar Allan Pony, etc. Al was malicious; he actually resided within the padded room next to mine. I called out (of my own will) to him. “Oi! Coltone!” “Your voice is a ticking too much, it could bother one,” His voice was riddled with a Manehattean accent and through the padded walls it sounded muffled. He was about as off as I am. “I do apoligi *hiccup* ze” Monsieur had opened his metaphorical eyes for just one moment, and then passed out again. “Goodbye,” “Adieu, darling,” I blushed. For you see, I…uhh, loved Al. He didn’t share the same feelings though. Now about Edgar Allen Pony, his was a sad story. He had lived here for the last few years of his life. He wrote many stories and poems during his life, most of them relatively dark. He had lost most of his loved ones to a deadly disease, and they had taken a toll on his mentality. One day the nurses found him lying prone in a pool of vomit inside of his bedchamber. Nopony knows what happened to him. Anyway… I sat in that padded room and tried to think. I could feel the medicine taking affect in my frontal lobe and cerebral cortex. I wriggled inside of the straitjacket I was forced into. It was quite an uncomfortable position; I can give you that. My frontal lobe felt less…Alive. I took a moment to cogitate. My frontal lobe is the center of almost all behavior. The vitamins were to make my behavior…calmer. After a few hours of monotonously tapping my cranium against the soft padded walls of the chamber for no reason in particular, the entropic seed planted within my esophagus started awakening. First a growling sound, then the beauteous barking noise I had fallen in love with. I let Savvy go about his business. He threw forth and I ejaculated a cacophony of grumbling noises, imprecations, barking noises and bunkum. “Shiihihihihihit! Ruff RUFF! RUFF! Celestia-damn these pubescent mangos!” T’was a glorious vibration throughout my throat that continued for a few minutes until my mouth got sore and Savvy proceeded to stop. I lay there until I felt myself getting drowsier and drowsier until I fell asleep. EscapeI awoke inside of my chambers. Apparently Nurse Red Heart had moved me over night. I pulled myself from my bed and trotted around the room repeatedly. This was part of my morning routine that I had put together a while ago. I did this until my cannon bones and my pasterns got tired. Then I planted myself on my haunches and dove into in a philosophical orgy. I sat and thought and scribbled in my journal occasionally, a doodle and a squiggle here and there. I poured over them. What it read to me was: "Jocundity is the same thing as pain, only on the other end of the scale," I had no idea what I had just written. What did it mean? Did it have a meaning? There was a clicking sound and then a creaking sound. “Miss Loose? It’s time for breakfast” Monsieur Savvy barked. I didn’t want him to though. “Wait, Madame,” I ran up to the nurse with the journal in my mouth and then placed it at her feet. “What does this mean to you?” I watched as a quizzical expression came over her face. “I don’t understand, c-can you explain a little further?” We both knew that if I tried, I would fail. “I just wrote this, it say *bark* s ‘Joy is the same thing as pain, only on the other side of the scale.’ What does it mean?” Her face was twisted into an expression of obtusity. “Uhh, s’lovely dear… Lets get you to breakfast, how ‘bout that, darling?” What a load of nonsense. Did she even hear what I said? What did I say? Did I say what I meant to or just rubbish? Sometimes Savvy would do that: utter utter BS when I had something to say. It was extremely aggravating, but I had to manage. I exited my room and she led me down the hall to the Mess Hall, which was adjacent to the door out of here. We arrived and I found my food already prepared at my seat. With shaky hooves, I grasped a fork between them and ladled the mush into my muzzle. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door opening; new cuckoo bird (as I like to say instead of new fish). Wait a minute: the door opening. Monsieur ran towards the still opening door and I was forced to follow. I realized why, the thoughts of the previous night had now influenced Savvy. Before I knew it I was galloping to…well, I don’t know where. I had been out before. The first few years of my life, and a few weeks ago; when I had gotten to run with the doctors around town. I picked up my gait. I was now in the center of Ponyville; the doctors behind me yelling and shouting, ponies ahead of me, gaping at the tiny fracas in their midst, and Savvy barking madly. I was now circling the Town Hall for no particular reason. Breathing heavily, I tried to avoid slowing down. I wanted them to get tired so I can go further than them. I ran to an apple orchard. I could hear a cacophony of upset rustic accents and the shouts of clinicians and therapists. I kept running. I came across a cottage of some sort; when I drew nigh unto it, the windows closed. I circled it a few times, enjoying myself. Beneath the din of the doctors, I could hear whimpering from inside. Why was the resident whimpering? Was she afraid of me? Am I to be feared? I slowed down to a canter at the thought, only to realize that I had and then picking it back up to a gallop. I continued on to the forest and once I reached a clearing surrounded by brambles. Then and only then did I stop. I breathed heavily and sat on my haunches. So… I had no idea where I was, at six o’clock in the morning, in the middle of a forest. Well, Celestia damn this situation… Author's Note This chapter was very fun to write, for it gets deeper into the conflict between Savvy and Screw. It also foreshadows the next chapter, for which I'm working on right now. I hope you enjoy it! LostI was lost; yes, your psychologically stunted narrarrator was lost. I turned around and scanned the area for any familiar surroundings; I couldn’t spot any. I was tired and scared. Emanating from all around me were the terrifying sounds of wild animals. The ether was sultry, like a jungle. But why? This certainly was not the jungle; this was but a simple forest. I had heard old mares expressions in the facility about how the forest was unearthly and ghostly, yet I’d never believed them. I passed it off as them being either insane or religious nuts. I could believe them now. Each musical note expectorated from the shrubby and leafy blackness was a new injection of fear into my veins. I backed away slowly into the bramble, hoping to run away from this place. Every thorn pricked into my coat, puncturing the fur and epidermis and causing an efflux of crimson ichor. I struggled through my dolor and eventually made it to the other side, only to run into a strange looking creature with the head of a cock and the body of a, well I don’t know. Its eyes were staring into mine. I could feel the essence leaving my body. It was absolutely terrifying. Its red eyes carried with them a feeling of hopelessness and forlornness. I shed a tear. It rolled down my cheek and onto my throat. That woke Savvy. He jerked me out of my hypnosis and we ran. I don’t know where we ran, we just did. I could’ve sworn we passed a Hydra. I kept running. My lungs burnt and my veins hurt. Savvy screamed profanities into the daybreak. I kept running. My hooves were on fire, yet they were freezing. I couldn’t feel them. I kept running. With each shaky and frightened breath, new oxygen was deposited into my bloodstream. Immense amounts of adrenaline were spread throughout my brain and my blood vessels. I kept running. I eventually fell into a hole that was obscured by bramble. I rolled around in the dark until I came across an underground pool of water illuminated by glowing fungi and flora, and also strangely from the pool itself. I knew that this place was spiritual. I could feel the atmosphere surrounding this place. It had a deep history. I was starting to believe that Celestia and Luna did exist. Did they make this place? There was an angelic aura and it felt, oddly cold. I really disliked it. I wanted to leave; but if I left, there would be the monstrosities of that forest. So I sat my haunches down right there. Hey, it’s better to be scared than dead. Anyway, so I sat there and drew doodles into the loam. Some were words, some were philosophies, some were thoughts and some were just plain doodles with nothing behind them. I had no idea what time it was. I had no idea what time was. Time at that point was just an idea put together by pony-kind; it had absolutely no meaning. I just was conscious until I needed to sleep, sleeping till I needed to wake. I had eventually grown bored and started to examine my surroundings. It was a relatively large underground cave; there was an uncannily reflective pond in the center amidst sand-like detritus and glowing caps. I (like anypony would, or I think would) decided to plant myself down where the detritus was softest and take a nap. Zecora (Zecora's Perspective)I sipped my chai and levitated within my hollowed out tree. From behind my eyelids I could see the flickering of the candlelight. I basked in its modicum of warmth and I smiled. For it was a nice day in the Everfree; the trees decided to part slightly to let some sunshine in. I would go outside, but I had meditating to do. What was I meditating on? You may ask. I was meditating on suppressing my lonesomeness. It was very lonely out here in the Everfree. The unforgiving animals were enough to put up with, not to mention having to find food and occasionally having to hollow out another tree because some Ursa Major sees yours as a chewing toy. Why in Luna’s holy name did I live here? It was hot, uncomfortable and scary and quite frankly I hated it here. But it does provide wondrous and beautiful pieces of art, herbs and more. I heard a loud thump extramural that shook me from my suspended state. I didn’t know what to think. Was the Ursa Major back? Egads, it aggravating! I began throwing all my belongings that were rare or had sentimental value out the window. “Damn it all to Tartaraus! You’re so Luna-damned annoying!” I shouted. I know it didn’t rhyme, but at the moment I didn’t care. Once I had gotten all of my belongings out the window I ran out the door, only to find there was never any Ursa Major, or Ursa Minor for that matter, only a sickly blue, sweaty and starved looking pony with a messy, tattered hospital gown and a nasty looking welt/gash on her forehead. I looked down at her and I sympathized with her. I felt bad for her. I couldn’t just leave her here, so I carried her frail and emaciated body in my front forelimb and went inside. It wasn’t that hard because of how light she was. I sat her down on my bed and began preparing a broth for her. I also incensed the room with Zebraharan perfumes. The while hovering over the broth, I began hymning Shamanistic Solitude, a song I had pieced together about the lonesomeness of being a shaman, in Zebraharan dialect. The while, I thought. I thought about this stranger I had brought into my home. Who was she? I looked at her hospital gown. It said “Property of Ponyville Mental Hospital” down near the bottom. I was taken aback by it a bit. I had taken one of the mad into my home. Was I not okay with it? No, I was just…surprised. I removed myself from the tree and began picking up my things outside and thinking. I picked up the mask my father gave to me and put it through the window. Would my rhyming confuse her? It would certainly be amiss to her. Wait a minute, what type of mentally ill was she? I picked up the crystal ball from Saddle Arabia. Was she genuinely insane? Was she schizophrenic? Was she sociopathic? Just who was she? I saw that her cutie mark was of a screw. I picked up the Archaic Monokeros book. Maybe, just in case, I shouldn’t rhyme. I picked up the rest of my belongings and placed them inside. I ultimately decided I wasn’t going to rhyme. I went inside and began tending to the broth. I resumed Shamanistic Solitude and lit another incense. I saw her opening her eyes. The ZebraI awoke to the smell of broth and incense and the beautiful voice of something. It was singing unintelligible hymns about…well, I didn’t know. I refused to open my eyes, for if the scenery were as beautiful as the singing, it would be an overload of the senses. The gorgeously aesthetic and infectious aroma of the incense was enough to bring one to tears of joy. The plus of the beautiful voice was almost too bewitching and elegant to comprehend. If I awoke in Elysium I would have curled up into the fetal position and wept right then and there. So I sat there, for a few minutes listening to beauteous vocal ejaculations of Celestia knows what and embracing the redolence of the incense. I couldn’t take it anymore; I had to see what lied beyond the back of my eyelids. They opened slightly. I knew what lay beyond the back of my eyelids: I saw bottles hanging by threads everywhere, I also saw shelf upon shelf of them. Also spreads across the room in various locations were baskets, candles and trinkets. It wasn’t Elysium but it was undoubtedly beautiful. I noticed in the corner a pony, but she had a Mohawk and was covered in stripes and had a slightly different shaped head. She turned and looked at me. Then she emptied out the broth she was cooking into a wooden bowl and walked over to me. “Drink this, darling; it’ll help with the pain,” Her voice was deep and sonorous. Yet I had to question, who was she, where was I and what was she talking about? “Who are you?” I asked frantically. “Where am I and how did I get here?” “Calm down, my little pony; I guess we got off on the wrong hoof? My name is Zecora. I am the shaman of the Everfree forest and that’s where you are right now. I took you into my home to keep you from harm out there. As of how you got out there I cannot answer.” Zecora flashed a smile. “Now, darling would you please drink this? It will help with the pain.” “I’m not in any pain.” “Then it will help with the healing.” “What healing?” “Have you not seen yourself, dear?” At that I looked down. Oh Celestia, I looked starved, bruised, cut up and quite frankly like the events of the past few days (whatever they were) hadn’t been so good. I decided trusting this stranger would be the best option I had right now. I could faintly remember who I was, and what happened before the events of the past few minutes. “I see you have. Now, do you still want this broth?” I nodded and sat up. She hoofed me the broth, I took it in both hooves and began drinking. It didn’t have the best taste, but it felt amazing. It was warm and liquid with the occasional chunk of meat that rested within my stomach. When I was done with it, I set it down on the bed beside me and fell back, heaving a sigh the while. I was suddenly dizzy, and sleepy. I felt my consciousness slipping away. “When ___ awake we will discuss ______” It was too much work to grip to consciousness. I passed out. A Sudden RealizationI awoke to Zecora staring into my face: Something I didn’t expect “Gah!” I yelled. “What in Celesta’s holy name do you think you’re doing?” “Awaiting your wakening.” Zecora said sternly and calmly, like this was perfectly normal. “I wanted to discuss some issues with you. Seeing as you are now awake, can we begin?” The shaman said. “Mmmh. Okay…?” I said. “What do you want to talk about?” I sat up and Zecora’s head followed. Her face was fixed unnaturally in the same expression, as it has the whole time I’d been in this... hut? Is that what this place was? “Let’s discuss the events of last night, shall we?” “Uhh, sure.” “What do you remember?” “I remember waking up in a cave/underground pool, also running around in a forest. Wait, were those dreams?” Zecora’s eyes brightened up with interest at this last remark. “Go on please,” “Well, I remember that the pool in the underground cave was eerily reflective,” I said. The interest in her eyes increased tenfold. “And that the forest was sc-“ I was cut off. “Was the cave completely underground and only reachable through a passage” She inquired. “Uhh, yeah” “And was the entrance/exit closed off by a rock?” “Yeah,” At that she looked very, very surprised. She trotted off the other side of the room and started a brew. Zecora was also mumbling underneath her breath. “Zecora?” “You woke up there, right? Which means you slept there. You should not have slept there, my little pony.” Zecora said, I was starting to get worried, more worried than I already was, considering I couldn’t collect my memories. “Zecora? What’s going on?” “Where you slept, that was the Mirror Hole; a place about as old as Equestria. The place has ties to Creation, Discord and Tartaraus, specifically river Lethe.” She said. “The river Lethe is a river that makes you forget. The water there is partially connected to it, meaning whomever sleeps there suffers from a total or partial loss in memory. Where Discord comes in is that it was a little tidbit of Discord was lodged in this pocket of the cosmos permanently before Luna and Celestia came and made it not so chaotic.” She said. I questioned who Discord was. “Discord is the immortal embodiment of chaos.” She replied. A bit much to take in, don’t you think, Reader? So I sat there, as she was brewing whatever she was brewing, thinking. Dear Reader, what would you do in this situation? I had a slight clue who I was, where I was and whom I was with. I analyzed the situation once more and so I’m in the middle of the forest with a black and white shaman, in her house, with no recollection before my second to last awakening. Horsefeathers. Zecora turned to me. “I have a brew that can restore your memory, but I’m missing an essential ingredient: absinthe.” What was absinthe? Author's Note FUCK YEAH! This was fun as all get out to write...Have you ever felt like your teeth were rattling out of your skull you have so much energy? Yeah; just had an energy drink, and I have ADHD: the world is going to explode... AmnesticWh…Where am I? I woke up in this cave just a few moments ago and I don’t know where I am. I should be back in the somewhere right now, I’m sure of it. I…I am hungry. I felt something in my throat whimpering. It was hungry too. What…What is this? I see some doodles on the ground in front of me. I look at them and, I understand them. They say deeply terrifying things. I scanned my surroundings. What is this place? I see… a pond and some glowing foliage. I shed a tear. I stood up. My hooves hurt. What happened? I painfully started trotting the perimeter to look for anything familiar, anything that would ring a bell. This walkway seems oddly familiar for some reason. I walked into it only to find it covered by a stone ceiling. I pressed up against it and sure enough it moved. I moved to the side and climbed out into… a forest? How queer. Out there, in the hot air of the forest, an uneasy feeling set in. I backed up into the shrubbery and started running. What was I running from? A feeling? Could you run from a feeling? It depends on the circumstances. You could run from a feeling if it was attached to something; for example you can flee from a place if it scares or unnerves you, and that is exactly what I was doing. I galloped and I galloped and I galloped. My sides hurt. Each breath was like breathing fire. The uneasy feeling was still there and I didn’t want it to be. What was wrong with this place? It was oddly cold and cold at the same time. There were shadows around me, forming shapes and figures around me. I saw a path through the foliage to my left and I decided to break through the foliage and follow it. Ugh. The pain was unbearable at this point; I slowed to a canter. The uneasy feeling was still amidst so I began galloping again. It hurt so. I focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Ah, screw it. My breaths returned to the fast, shaky breaths. I clenched my eyes shut in pain. I muscled and pushed through it. I kept on galloping until I ran into something hard and lost consciousness. Author's Note This was very fun to write. I have a few alternate endings in my head and this is exorcizing one of them. (MAJOR SPOILER) All of them end up with her dying or being sent back to the hospital. This one ends up with her dying with Zecora in the Everfree.
ForeshadowingAuthor's Note This chapter has almost no plot. It's only purpose is to foreshadow events of the future. I apologize if you grew bored or if you didn't read through it completely because you didn't like the way I wrote or something. I also really want critique so when you are done reading, let me know if something stood out to you in a negative way.. Please? I also apologize for my grammar. Foreshadowing For today, I am a horseshoe. Why, you may ask. Because horseshoes get thrown about. Just like I have for most of my life. Only, who am I? For I, your dutiful narrarrator am the non compos mentis blue equine of P.M.I (Ponyville Mental Institution). It reached back in my throat and let out guttural bark; to me it was the Lay of the Firmaments, to others it was just a sound spat from the mad. One of the guard ponies let me know to ‘shut up’ by knocking into me as he led me to my room. I responded usually with, “Egads! If you don’t care for mac and cheese then be quiet.” but today, I felt an unnatural feeling in my gut that made me be quiet. I don’t know why I say the things I do, I just know I do. It felt like there was a thing inside of my throat that made me do these things, but I like these things so it is ok. I call it Monsieur Savvy, why, you may ask. Because Monsieur Savvy told me to. The trip to my residence was short and forgettable somehow. Inside of my room, I sat and poured over the thoughts of my past that were written inside of a journal. Such as, “The cruel and obtuse world will never understand the Way of the Mad. Impervious; they are abominations to intelligence and acumen,” and, “Stupidity is the opiate that consumes what you love,” The scribbles I had wrote, I stared at for hours. They were literal scribbles. Only I could understand them and the meaning behind them. It was a strange and spiritual idea that I had formulated a while ago. That thought made Monsieur Savvy bellow. The sound resonated and bounced across the white walls of my room. T’was an odd sound; an odd music that made the aether melancholy, but why was it melancholy? Am I melancholy? If so, why? Do I crave to extend my extremities beyond the whitewashed walls of the facility? The monotony had surely gotten to Monsieur Savvy and I: Wake up, go to breakfast, go to room, go to lunch, go to room, go to therapy, go to room, go to dinner, go to room, go to bed, sleep and then wake up day in and day out. I was depressed about it. It was a terribly repetitive way to live and it hurt. I did in fact want to break the cycle, but how? Monsieur Savvy told me to run up against the door, see if that will work. It didn’t. It only resulted in my thoughts being fuzzed and a headache. I lay sprawled out on the floor for a few moments until the nurses came and put me into the pad room and gave me vitamins. I didn’t like the vitamins; they dull my thoughts and put Monsieur Savvy to sleep. I really disliked when Savvy was asleep, for he was my entertainment. You see, the hardest thing to unlock is randomness, and that is exactly what Monsieur did. He provided me with things to do. For example when a sense of lassitude would overcome me, he would make a grumbling noise that tickled the top of my mouth. I trusted Monsieur and I’m pretty sure he trusted me. I did not care that he was domiciled within my throat; he was still a friend, and an only friend at that. I could never get along with any of the other patients. I may be insane, and I recognize that; but they are insane and senile and that is much worse. For it is an arduous task to handle 90 year olds losing their marbles all around you about simple things. Few people at this institution that I have met are intelligent. I have met Al Coltone, Edgar Allan Pony, etc. Al was malicious; he actually resided within the padded room next to mine. I called out (of my own will) to him. “Oi! Coltone!” “Your voice is a ticking too much, it could bother one,” His voice was riddled with a Manehattean accent and through the padded walls it sounded muffled. He was about as off as I am. “I do apoligi *hiccup* ze” Monsieur had opened his metaphorical eyes for just one moment, and then passed out again. “Goodbye,” “Adieu, darling,” I blushed. For you see, I…uhh, loved Al. He didn’t share the same feelings though. Now about Edgar Allen Pony, his was a sad story. He had lived here for the last few years of his life. He wrote many stories and poems during his life, most of them relatively dark. He had lost most of his loved ones to a deadly disease, and they had taken a toll on his mentality. One day the nurses found him lying prone in a pool of vomit inside of his bedchamber. Nopony knows what happened to him. Anyway… I sat in that padded room and tried to think. I could feel the medicine taking affect in my frontal lobe and cerebral cortex. I wriggled inside of the straitjacket I was forced into. It was quite an uncomfortable position; I can give you that. My frontal lobe felt less…Alive. I took a moment to cogitate. My frontal lobe is the center of almost all behavior. The vitamins were to make my behavior…calmer. After a few hours of monotonously tapping my cranium against the soft padded walls of the chamber for no reason in particular, the entropic seed planted within my esophagus started awakening. First a growling sound, then the beauteous barking noise I had fallen in love with. I let Savvy go about his business. He threw forth and I ejaculated a cacophony of grumbling noises, imprecations, barking noises and bunkum. “Shiihihihihihit! Ruff RUFF! RUFF! Celestia-damn these pubescent mangos!” T’was a glorious vibration throughout my throat that continued for a few minutes until my mouth got sore and Savvy proceeded to stop. I lay there until I felt myself getting drowsier and drowsier until I fell asleep.
EscapeI awoke inside of my chambers. Apparently Nurse Red Heart had moved me over night. I pulled myself from my bed and trotted around the room repeatedly. This was part of my morning routine that I had put together a while ago. I did this until my cannon bones and my pasterns got tired. Then I planted myself on my haunches and dove into in a philosophical orgy. I sat and thought and scribbled in my journal occasionally, a doodle and a squiggle here and there. I poured over them. What it read to me was: "Jocundity is the same thing as pain, only on the other end of the scale," I had no idea what I had just written. What did it mean? Did it have a meaning? There was a clicking sound and then a creaking sound. “Miss Loose? It’s time for breakfast” Monsieur Savvy barked. I didn’t want him to though. “Wait, Madame,” I ran up to the nurse with the journal in my mouth and then placed it at her feet. “What does this mean to you?” I watched as a quizzical expression came over her face. “I don’t understand, c-can you explain a little further?” We both knew that if I tried, I would fail. “I just wrote this, it say *bark* s ‘Joy is the same thing as pain, only on the other side of the scale.’ What does it mean?” Her face was twisted into an expression of obtusity. “Uhh, s’lovely dear… Lets get you to breakfast, how ‘bout that, darling?” What a load of nonsense. Did she even hear what I said? What did I say? Did I say what I meant to or just rubbish? Sometimes Savvy would do that: utter utter BS when I had something to say. It was extremely aggravating, but I had to manage. I exited my room and she led me down the hall to the Mess Hall, which was adjacent to the door out of here. We arrived and I found my food already prepared at my seat. With shaky hooves, I grasped a fork between them and ladled the mush into my muzzle. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door opening; new cuckoo bird (as I like to say instead of new fish). Wait a minute: the door opening. Monsieur ran towards the still opening door and I was forced to follow. I realized why, the thoughts of the previous night had now influenced Savvy. Before I knew it I was galloping to…well, I don’t know where. I had been out before. The first few years of my life, and a few weeks ago; when I had gotten to run with the doctors around town. I picked up my gait. I was now in the center of Ponyville; the doctors behind me yelling and shouting, ponies ahead of me, gaping at the tiny fracas in their midst, and Savvy barking madly. I was now circling the Town Hall for no particular reason. Breathing heavily, I tried to avoid slowing down. I wanted them to get tired so I can go further than them. I ran to an apple orchard. I could hear a cacophony of upset rustic accents and the shouts of clinicians and therapists. I kept running. I came across a cottage of some sort; when I drew nigh unto it, the windows closed. I circled it a few times, enjoying myself. Beneath the din of the doctors, I could hear whimpering from inside. Why was the resident whimpering? Was she afraid of me? Am I to be feared? I slowed down to a canter at the thought, only to realize that I had and then picking it back up to a gallop. I continued on to the forest and once I reached a clearing surrounded by brambles. Then and only then did I stop. I breathed heavily and sat on my haunches. So… I had no idea where I was, at six o’clock in the morning, in the middle of a forest. Well, Celestia damn this situation… Author's Note This chapter was very fun to write, for it gets deeper into the conflict between Savvy and Screw. It also foreshadows the next chapter, for which I'm working on right now. I hope you enjoy it!
LostI was lost; yes, your psychologically stunted narrarrator was lost. I turned around and scanned the area for any familiar surroundings; I couldn’t spot any. I was tired and scared. Emanating from all around me were the terrifying sounds of wild animals. The ether was sultry, like a jungle. But why? This certainly was not the jungle; this was but a simple forest. I had heard old mares expressions in the facility about how the forest was unearthly and ghostly, yet I’d never believed them. I passed it off as them being either insane or religious nuts. I could believe them now. Each musical note expectorated from the shrubby and leafy blackness was a new injection of fear into my veins. I backed away slowly into the bramble, hoping to run away from this place. Every thorn pricked into my coat, puncturing the fur and epidermis and causing an efflux of crimson ichor. I struggled through my dolor and eventually made it to the other side, only to run into a strange looking creature with the head of a cock and the body of a, well I don’t know. Its eyes were staring into mine. I could feel the essence leaving my body. It was absolutely terrifying. Its red eyes carried with them a feeling of hopelessness and forlornness. I shed a tear. It rolled down my cheek and onto my throat. That woke Savvy. He jerked me out of my hypnosis and we ran. I don’t know where we ran, we just did. I could’ve sworn we passed a Hydra. I kept running. My lungs burnt and my veins hurt. Savvy screamed profanities into the daybreak. I kept running. My hooves were on fire, yet they were freezing. I couldn’t feel them. I kept running. With each shaky and frightened breath, new oxygen was deposited into my bloodstream. Immense amounts of adrenaline were spread throughout my brain and my blood vessels. I kept running. I eventually fell into a hole that was obscured by bramble. I rolled around in the dark until I came across an underground pool of water illuminated by glowing fungi and flora, and also strangely from the pool itself. I knew that this place was spiritual. I could feel the atmosphere surrounding this place. It had a deep history. I was starting to believe that Celestia and Luna did exist. Did they make this place? There was an angelic aura and it felt, oddly cold. I really disliked it. I wanted to leave; but if I left, there would be the monstrosities of that forest. So I sat my haunches down right there. Hey, it’s better to be scared than dead. Anyway, so I sat there and drew doodles into the loam. Some were words, some were philosophies, some were thoughts and some were just plain doodles with nothing behind them. I had no idea what time it was. I had no idea what time was. Time at that point was just an idea put together by pony-kind; it had absolutely no meaning. I just was conscious until I needed to sleep, sleeping till I needed to wake. I had eventually grown bored and started to examine my surroundings. It was a relatively large underground cave; there was an uncannily reflective pond in the center amidst sand-like detritus and glowing caps. I (like anypony would, or I think would) decided to plant myself down where the detritus was softest and take a nap.
Zecora (Zecora's Perspective)I sipped my chai and levitated within my hollowed out tree. From behind my eyelids I could see the flickering of the candlelight. I basked in its modicum of warmth and I smiled. For it was a nice day in the Everfree; the trees decided to part slightly to let some sunshine in. I would go outside, but I had meditating to do. What was I meditating on? You may ask. I was meditating on suppressing my lonesomeness. It was very lonely out here in the Everfree. The unforgiving animals were enough to put up with, not to mention having to find food and occasionally having to hollow out another tree because some Ursa Major sees yours as a chewing toy. Why in Luna’s holy name did I live here? It was hot, uncomfortable and scary and quite frankly I hated it here. But it does provide wondrous and beautiful pieces of art, herbs and more. I heard a loud thump extramural that shook me from my suspended state. I didn’t know what to think. Was the Ursa Major back? Egads, it aggravating! I began throwing all my belongings that were rare or had sentimental value out the window. “Damn it all to Tartaraus! You’re so Luna-damned annoying!” I shouted. I know it didn’t rhyme, but at the moment I didn’t care. Once I had gotten all of my belongings out the window I ran out the door, only to find there was never any Ursa Major, or Ursa Minor for that matter, only a sickly blue, sweaty and starved looking pony with a messy, tattered hospital gown and a nasty looking welt/gash on her forehead. I looked down at her and I sympathized with her. I felt bad for her. I couldn’t just leave her here, so I carried her frail and emaciated body in my front forelimb and went inside. It wasn’t that hard because of how light she was. I sat her down on my bed and began preparing a broth for her. I also incensed the room with Zebraharan perfumes. The while hovering over the broth, I began hymning Shamanistic Solitude, a song I had pieced together about the lonesomeness of being a shaman, in Zebraharan dialect. The while, I thought. I thought about this stranger I had brought into my home. Who was she? I looked at her hospital gown. It said “Property of Ponyville Mental Hospital” down near the bottom. I was taken aback by it a bit. I had taken one of the mad into my home. Was I not okay with it? No, I was just…surprised. I removed myself from the tree and began picking up my things outside and thinking. I picked up the mask my father gave to me and put it through the window. Would my rhyming confuse her? It would certainly be amiss to her. Wait a minute, what type of mentally ill was she? I picked up the crystal ball from Saddle Arabia. Was she genuinely insane? Was she schizophrenic? Was she sociopathic? Just who was she? I saw that her cutie mark was of a screw. I picked up the Archaic Monokeros book. Maybe, just in case, I shouldn’t rhyme. I picked up the rest of my belongings and placed them inside. I ultimately decided I wasn’t going to rhyme. I went inside and began tending to the broth. I resumed Shamanistic Solitude and lit another incense. I saw her opening her eyes.
The ZebraI awoke to the smell of broth and incense and the beautiful voice of something. It was singing unintelligible hymns about…well, I didn’t know. I refused to open my eyes, for if the scenery were as beautiful as the singing, it would be an overload of the senses. The gorgeously aesthetic and infectious aroma of the incense was enough to bring one to tears of joy. The plus of the beautiful voice was almost too bewitching and elegant to comprehend. If I awoke in Elysium I would have curled up into the fetal position and wept right then and there. So I sat there, for a few minutes listening to beauteous vocal ejaculations of Celestia knows what and embracing the redolence of the incense. I couldn’t take it anymore; I had to see what lied beyond the back of my eyelids. They opened slightly. I knew what lay beyond the back of my eyelids: I saw bottles hanging by threads everywhere, I also saw shelf upon shelf of them. Also spreads across the room in various locations were baskets, candles and trinkets. It wasn’t Elysium but it was undoubtedly beautiful. I noticed in the corner a pony, but she had a Mohawk and was covered in stripes and had a slightly different shaped head. She turned and looked at me. Then she emptied out the broth she was cooking into a wooden bowl and walked over to me. “Drink this, darling; it’ll help with the pain,” Her voice was deep and sonorous. Yet I had to question, who was she, where was I and what was she talking about? “Who are you?” I asked frantically. “Where am I and how did I get here?” “Calm down, my little pony; I guess we got off on the wrong hoof? My name is Zecora. I am the shaman of the Everfree forest and that’s where you are right now. I took you into my home to keep you from harm out there. As of how you got out there I cannot answer.” Zecora flashed a smile. “Now, darling would you please drink this? It will help with the pain.” “I’m not in any pain.” “Then it will help with the healing.” “What healing?” “Have you not seen yourself, dear?” At that I looked down. Oh Celestia, I looked starved, bruised, cut up and quite frankly like the events of the past few days (whatever they were) hadn’t been so good. I decided trusting this stranger would be the best option I had right now. I could faintly remember who I was, and what happened before the events of the past few minutes. “I see you have. Now, do you still want this broth?” I nodded and sat up. She hoofed me the broth, I took it in both hooves and began drinking. It didn’t have the best taste, but it felt amazing. It was warm and liquid with the occasional chunk of meat that rested within my stomach. When I was done with it, I set it down on the bed beside me and fell back, heaving a sigh the while. I was suddenly dizzy, and sleepy. I felt my consciousness slipping away. “When ___ awake we will discuss ______” It was too much work to grip to consciousness. I passed out.
A Sudden RealizationI awoke to Zecora staring into my face: Something I didn’t expect “Gah!” I yelled. “What in Celesta’s holy name do you think you’re doing?” “Awaiting your wakening.” Zecora said sternly and calmly, like this was perfectly normal. “I wanted to discuss some issues with you. Seeing as you are now awake, can we begin?” The shaman said. “Mmmh. Okay…?” I said. “What do you want to talk about?” I sat up and Zecora’s head followed. Her face was fixed unnaturally in the same expression, as it has the whole time I’d been in this... hut? Is that what this place was? “Let’s discuss the events of last night, shall we?” “Uhh, sure.” “What do you remember?” “I remember waking up in a cave/underground pool, also running around in a forest. Wait, were those dreams?” Zecora’s eyes brightened up with interest at this last remark. “Go on please,” “Well, I remember that the pool in the underground cave was eerily reflective,” I said. The interest in her eyes increased tenfold. “And that the forest was sc-“ I was cut off. “Was the cave completely underground and only reachable through a passage” She inquired. “Uhh, yeah” “And was the entrance/exit closed off by a rock?” “Yeah,” At that she looked very, very surprised. She trotted off the other side of the room and started a brew. Zecora was also mumbling underneath her breath. “Zecora?” “You woke up there, right? Which means you slept there. You should not have slept there, my little pony.” Zecora said, I was starting to get worried, more worried than I already was, considering I couldn’t collect my memories. “Zecora? What’s going on?” “Where you slept, that was the Mirror Hole; a place about as old as Equestria. The place has ties to Creation, Discord and Tartaraus, specifically river Lethe.” She said. “The river Lethe is a river that makes you forget. The water there is partially connected to it, meaning whomever sleeps there suffers from a total or partial loss in memory. Where Discord comes in is that it was a little tidbit of Discord was lodged in this pocket of the cosmos permanently before Luna and Celestia came and made it not so chaotic.” She said. I questioned who Discord was. “Discord is the immortal embodiment of chaos.” She replied. A bit much to take in, don’t you think, Reader? So I sat there, as she was brewing whatever she was brewing, thinking. Dear Reader, what would you do in this situation? I had a slight clue who I was, where I was and whom I was with. I analyzed the situation once more and so I’m in the middle of the forest with a black and white shaman, in her house, with no recollection before my second to last awakening. Horsefeathers. Zecora turned to me. “I have a brew that can restore your memory, but I’m missing an essential ingredient: absinthe.” What was absinthe? Author's Note FUCK YEAH! This was fun as all get out to write...Have you ever felt like your teeth were rattling out of your skull you have so much energy? Yeah; just had an energy drink, and I have ADHD: the world is going to explode...
AmnesticWh…Where am I? I woke up in this cave just a few moments ago and I don’t know where I am. I should be back in the somewhere right now, I’m sure of it. I…I am hungry. I felt something in my throat whimpering. It was hungry too. What…What is this? I see some doodles on the ground in front of me. I look at them and, I understand them. They say deeply terrifying things. I scanned my surroundings. What is this place? I see… a pond and some glowing foliage. I shed a tear. I stood up. My hooves hurt. What happened? I painfully started trotting the perimeter to look for anything familiar, anything that would ring a bell. This walkway seems oddly familiar for some reason. I walked into it only to find it covered by a stone ceiling. I pressed up against it and sure enough it moved. I moved to the side and climbed out into… a forest? How queer. Out there, in the hot air of the forest, an uneasy feeling set in. I backed up into the shrubbery and started running. What was I running from? A feeling? Could you run from a feeling? It depends on the circumstances. You could run from a feeling if it was attached to something; for example you can flee from a place if it scares or unnerves you, and that is exactly what I was doing. I galloped and I galloped and I galloped. My sides hurt. Each breath was like breathing fire. The uneasy feeling was still there and I didn’t want it to be. What was wrong with this place? It was oddly cold and cold at the same time. There were shadows around me, forming shapes and figures around me. I saw a path through the foliage to my left and I decided to break through the foliage and follow it. Ugh. The pain was unbearable at this point; I slowed to a canter. The uneasy feeling was still amidst so I began galloping again. It hurt so. I focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Ah, screw it. My breaths returned to the fast, shaky breaths. I clenched my eyes shut in pain. I muscled and pushed through it. I kept on galloping until I ran into something hard and lost consciousness. Author's Note This was very fun to write. I have a few alternate endings in my head and this is exorcizing one of them. (MAJOR SPOILER) All of them end up with her dying or being sent back to the hospital. This one ends up with her dying with Zecora in the Everfree.
