When somepony dies in the grip of a powerful rage, a curse is born.
The curse gathers in that place of death.
Those who encounter it will be consumed by its fury.
The air was heavy with the smell of disinfectant and rubber. The smell of utensils being cleaned somewhere nearby, the thick aroma of wet rubber floors and moist gloves, among others. Stallions and mares travelled back and forth the narrow hallway, passing through doors here and there, perhaps exchanging a smile or nod when they passed a co-worker. The coats they all wore had the same white colours as the walls, the floor and the ceiling, and if not for the different colours of their fur, they might as well have been like a gathering of flies on a wall. Invisible, uninteresting, unnoticeable.
Just going back and forth all day, doing their job without ever so much as offering a second thought to the ponies they met during their time, only caring about being effective and successful. Some of them probably thought of nothing but their family as they carried out their duties. A stallion might fantasize about his wife while carefully opening up the abdomen of another pony, wishing to be back home with her as he snips a piece of the pony’s large colon for whatever reason.
He hated it. Despised hospitals, doctors and everything connected to them. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, but be grateful instead that they were there to help the needing ponies of the world, he couldn’t bring himself to see anything positive in doctors, nurses or hospitals. The fact that everything around him was white and shining like polished marble made him sick and somewhat queasy. White walls had always reminded him of insane asylums and psychiatric wards.
And death. Always the sense of death and despair. Especially now. The more he thought about the reason for him being there, the more he wanted to run away, to never look back.
He didn’t want to look at the ponies around him. Didn’t want to look in their eyes, those slightly narrow eyes that looked so different from the one’s back home. He didn’t want to talk to another stallion of mare trying to speak in broken Equestrian, didn’t want to say ‘Kon'nichiwa’ or ‘Arigato’ ever again in his entire life. Never wanted to utter another word of this foreign language.
All he wanted was to go back home to Equestria, forget that all of this had ever happened and be happy. To rewind time perhaps, stop her from ever going across the globe to this place. Stop time itself. Stop the tears.
The floor beneath his rear hooves filled his vision. A bright linoleum floor, baring thousands upon thousands of miniature marks of the countless ponies that walked across it each day. He’d decided to focus on nothing but the floor for as long as he could, until it was time. Didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to meet to eyes of another stallion. Their narrow eyes scared him.
In truth, everything scared him at the moment, even his own breath. His own heartbeat. The thought of living a normal life terrified him, and at the same time, it was his highest wish. Too afraid to remember, even more afraid to forget.
He blinked slowly, and another drop fell from between his eyelids to land on the linoleum and join the countless other specks that dotted the floor below him. Another silent tear that joined the one’s already fallen. Like a gathering of fallen angels, tumbling down towards the earth in their final moments before shattering into glistening diamonds.
There was a noise somewhere nearby. He could’ve sworn it was a voice speaking his name, for whatever reason. He didn’t bother to look up to see who it was, didn’t bother to even listen. The tears on the floor was far more interesting than anything else in the world, and he was sure he would be sitting there, staring at it until they had to pry his stiffened corpse off of the uncomfortable chair he was sitting on.
Again, the voice called out to him, this time stating his entire name and not just his first. He still didn’t care, but deep inside his mind, he knew what it meant. A slither of consciousness within him told him to look up, to stand up and get this whole thing over with. Told him to get some semblance of closure. The rest of his mind told him to cower and shrink in his chair, causing him to involuntarily slouch down further in his seat, pushing his front hooves against the sides of the chair to hold himself in place. Without realizing it, he sniffled loudly and gritted his teeth as a few more tears escaped from his eyes.
Ever so slowly, the floor came closer as he slouched his head further down, a tiny piece of his mind hoping he would melt through the floor and never have to see another pony ever again.
Then, he felt something. Something that to his saddened mind felt alien and strange, yet at the same time, it gave him just a slither of warmth that slowly began to course through him. A hoof. Somepony had placed their hoof on his shoulder, and slowly but surely, the comforting warmth spread from it and through his body. Within his mind, he envisioned narrow tunnels filled with darkness. Suddenly, the light cut through the blackness like a blade cutting through nothing but water, parting and evaporating it to give way to life as the light rushed through the main arteries towards their final destination. A beating, lonely heart. A heart on the brink of giving up and falling.
“Are you okay?”
The blinding light finally came to a halt, nestled deep within the confines of the bottomless heart, slowly filling it up once again.
It forced him to nod slowly.
“We’re ready for you.” Said the voice next to him. He knew what it meant. It was time to stand up, but his legs wouldn’t budge. His body refused to listen to that tiny voice of reason in the back of his head.
“Just… just give me a minute, please.” His voice came out much lower than he’d intended. Weak and whimpering, more like a meek whisper.
A minute to breathe and live. A minute to wipe his tears and push away the darkness. A minute to fight the impulse of running away. Far, far away. A minute to fall down and die. Sixty seconds in which his entire life and being would forever change, for good or bad.
Five minutes later he finally stood up on his hooves, his legs aching like he’d been running for his life, trying to escape the inevitable outcome of faith. Destiny hounding him like a curse, never fading and never waning. He could never escape it, no matter how long he stared at the linoleum tears between his hooves.
“This way, please.” He followed the owner of the voice as it directed him to do so, still not looking up from the floor, still not meeting the eyes of anypony else. He was almost hoping that the stallion before him would take a turn, one that he would miss and perhaps keep going until he hit a wall.
With enough luck, maybe the impact could break his neck.
But it never came. He just followed the doctor in a state similar to trance, dragging his hooves behind him as they pressed on for what felt like an eternity. He envisioned himself as a long, black arm, slowly traveling across a white plate, dotted with several numbers and lines. He felt it like he was in control of time, and by walking in this manner; he could rewind it or stop it as he chose.
All too soon, the doctor in front of him came to a stop, and he almost bumped into his side. Time, it seemed, still eluded him and refused to be halted.
“I realize this may be difficult.” The doctor said. “Go through the doors on your left when you are ready. I will wait here.”
Without a word, he turned away from the doctor, to his left, and continued forward. After a few steps, the bottom of a big door appeared in his field of vision. Grey and ugly, with a lower board of shiny metal in which he could see the reflection of his own hooves. They looked much more dirty there than when he looked at the real ones. In the reflection, they were covered in dirt and filth, like he’d been pawing at the ground, digging a hole to bury himself in.
Deep underground, where maggots and worms would feast on his rotting flesh as time slowly faded from his mind, yet he would never fall asleep. He would remain awake and suffer for his mistakes.
Trembling, he opened the door and stepped through to the other side. The door slammed shut behind him, and instantly a new smell reached his nostrils. Not rubber and disinfectant like in the hallway, no; this was different. Much different. He didn’t like it any more than the previous smell.
Soap, metal and cloth, with some sort of sweeter tone hiding behind it all, cowering behind it’s stronger cousins, yet still present.
Finally, after spending so much time staring at the floor, he forced himself to look up. What he saw instantly knocked him back, threw him down on his backside and threatened to rip out his eyes in an instant.
In front of him was a small room, much smaller than any other room he’d seen in the hospital prior. The walls where lined with several sinks as well as gleaming steel trolleys and tables, and a couple of equally gleaming cupboards with glass sheets. Behind them stood different kinds of bottles and boxes, along with what looked to be face masks and hoof covers for the doctors and nurses. He didn’t want to imagine what all these things could be used for, but he still had a clear idea of what it was.
And in the middle of the room, right in front of him, placed as if to throw it all in his face the moment he stepped inside, was a single gurney of gleaming steel, just the others around the walls. The difference being that on this particular trolley was the thing he’d been fearing and dreading since he stepped in the plane in Equestria, when he felt the initial irrational panic build up inside of him as they left ground and took to the skies.
A white blanket. No trace of filth or other signs of what lay beneath it; just the subtle shape of what was once a body full of love and happiness. One that made him feel joy each and every day. He didn’t want to see what this body now looked like. Didn’t want to see what had been done to it.
Yet he had no choice. He came to this country to do this, and as much as it pained him to think of it, he had to do it. If not for himself, then at least for the sake of her. As he stood up again and approached the trolley, he still had a chance. He could turn around and run away, run as fast as his legs could carry him and keep on running until he collapsed. He never had to look underneath the blanket, never had to see. If he just ran right now, this could all just turn into a distant memory, no more real than a dream.
With the use of his magic, he grabbed a corner of the blanket and lifted it up slowly. So slowly that it felt painful to watch, when he already knew what he would see. An ear resting against the shining steel, followed by strands of the mane he knew so well. A horn appeared, and then a pair of closed eyes. For a brief, fleeting moment, he hoped dearly that she was just sleeping.
She wasn’t.
He let go of the blanket just as the entire face of the body came free of the cloth, and no matter how badly he wanted to avert his gaze, he couldn’t. It was her, no doubt about it. It was her. Once again he sat down on the floor, sniffling loudly. During his walk to this date with destiny, he didn’t care to hold back his tears, didn’t care to hold up a façade of being a strong stallion. In truth, he was nothing more than a frightened little colt that couldn’t hold back his tears no matter how he tried. He sobbed and wept before the body of his beloved, this mare he knew better than anypony else in the world.
“I should’ve stopped you.” He whispered. “I never should’ve let you go…”
He reached forward and slowly stroked the mane of the pony before him. It felt filthy and greasy to his touch, but he didn’t care. He scooted closer to her, his eyes now fixed on her face rather than the floor he found so fascinating earlier.
“Why did you…” He moved his hoof and touched her forehead. It was cold as stone. “Why did you have to go, you stubborn girl?”
He broke down completely, pushed his own forehead against hers and cried beyond control, shaking and trembling. Putting his arm around her, he pulled the lifeless and cold mare closer, crying into her mane.
For what felt like hours he remained in this position, clutching her close, sobbing and gagging on his own tears and snot running down his throat. The fact that it was real and not just a bad dream slowly settled itself, and he let it devour him from the inside and out, not offering up any more resistance.
It was really true. She was really gone. He loved her so much and now she was gone forever. Taken from the world to join the invisible choir of bleeding angels and crying foals, surrounded by empty promises and shallow hopes.
Eventually he stopped crying. There was no more tears to shed, they’d run dry and left him even more hopeless than before. Regretfully he let go off her and removed himself, instead just sitting next to her, looking at her peaceful and hollow face, now stained with his tears.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t… mean…”
Once again he gripped the blanket with his magic, pulling it back over her face before wiping the tears off of her. She couldn’t look like that, not here, not now. She had to be perfect; there couldn’t be any trace of what had happened to her. No more tears to fall on fur so beautiful. Not a trace.
The blanket slowly slid over her head, hiding her facial features and then her mane. When it was done and everything was recovered the way it was before, he sat in silence with his eyes close shut, praying deep within for her soul to rest, to find peace and quiet, wherever she may be. He hoped dearly he would one day meet her again and once again revel in her company and friendship.
When he opened his eyes again, something instantly caught his gaze. Something that didn’t make any sense, something that wasn’t supposed to be, not under any circumstance. He didn’t know how to react and froze in place as he saw it. He knew it couldn’t happen. He knew it had to be some sort of trick, a play of his mind, weakened by grief.
A strand of her mane hung out from underneath the blanket.
It wasn’t possible, it shouldn’t be. He made sure everything was perfect, made sure her mane was tidied and properly place around her shoulders. It could never fall, not without somepony moving it. Yet there it was, clear as day. For some reason, he didn’t want to touch it. Didn’t want to go near it, but he couldn’t just let it hang like that, it wouldn’t be… nice. She had to be perfect, there was no exception.
Suddenly, he felt something change in the room. Something in the air, the very atmosphere of time and space around him had been altered, changed and bent as something entered it. When he took hold of her mane with his magic, he felt it more clear than ever, and knew what it was.
He was no longer alone in the room.
There wasn’t just him and her anymore. There was somepony else there with them. Not alive like himself, and not in the state of the mare he loved. This third presence was something else, something different. It was impossible to make out what it was, but he felt it close, almost like it was breathing down his neck as he removed the blanket to replace the mane next to her face.
She was looking at him. Her eyes where wide open, pale as a winters moon and bloodshot. He stared back at his beloved in muted shock, unable to move or think or focus. Unable to live. Again, the tempting thought of running away slowly grew in the back of his head, but the rest of his being pushed that away to the best of his abilities.
If that was because he didn’t want to or couldn’t leave her he didn’t know.
Her eyes didn’t move. They stared at him, revealing not a single slither of life beyond them, not a thing that was once her. She was a stiff, a corpse, nothing more than an empty husk. And her eyes where open.
The presence in the room suddenly became stronger, and he felt it bear down on his body like dozens of arms pulling him into an unnatural embrace. It was cold. It held him in place, prevented him from moving, from breathing. Prevented him from screaming.
Shining Armor couldn’t do anything as the mare’s mouth opened in front of his eyes, couldn’t move when a low sound started to echo out of the black abyss that was her throat.
A gurgling shriek that filled his entire being.
