Dangling By The Noose
It was the local Ponyville mail mare’s last hour of work before the day came to a close. She had completed her daily runs, but had forgotten one last place. Just about a thirty minute flight out of town was a final delivery to be made.
Attempting to get there as soon as physically possible, hoping to earn that promotion she has been craving, the mail mare darted through the wind. Soon, the lamp lit houses below began to disappear as she entered forest territory.
Triple checking the address in case she was mistaken, this house was definitely hidden amongst the rural wilderness that beckoned over Ponyville's horizon. Her long flight had finally come to an end as a tired old farm loomed in the distance.
The mail mare dropped down, fixing up her mane before approaching the shack. The whole place looked like something you’d see in the movies; overgrowth clothing all the structures, a decaying red barn that looked to collapse at any moment, chipping paint and the smell of rot.
With a lump in her throat, she continued her unhurried walk forwards. The creaking of an old lamp dangled above the crumbling wooden porch, its flickering light dying like the happiness that must have once lived here so many years ago.
It was both unnerving and depressing to see such a place in this kind of condition, unkempt and ruined. The mail mare couldn’t help but feel curious as to what must have happened here.
She didn’t see a mailbox of any sort, only a rusty slot on the bottom of the door. Not thrilled to get any closer to the haunting shack, she had no other choice.
Stepping up the creaking floorboards of the porch, she spotted an old rocking chair sitting alone in the corner. It’s once vibrant colored fabric torn and bug infested, the wooden frame chipping away. The skeletal thing rocking ever so slightly in the wind, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
The mail mare wanted out of this ghostly place, so she darted towards the door, leaning down and jamming the letter through the slot, not caring if it was damaged in the process.
But something was wrong, the slot was jammed.
Confused, she pressed a tad bit harder against the thing, listening to the sound of paper crumbling on the other side of the door. With one slight push, she peered through the small opening, looking over an assortment of unopened letters piled on the floor.
Some dated back a few months ago. It became apparent that this place was long abandon, but a question drove her curiosity even further.
Why were letters still being sent here?
Taking a longer look through the hole; she saw what must have been the living room. Ancient couches picked up coats of dust and the stench of mold. The wallpaper was chipping as mice scurried about the ripped carpet.
The sound of running water could be heard from another room, echoing throughout the vacant hallways.
No matter how surreal, the mail mare wanted to get in there, desperately, for this mystery mustn’t be left unanswered.
As her adventurous side began to take shape, she jiggled the doorknob. It was locked, but the hinges creaked and gave-way as the door slowly opened, a wave of musty air clouding her like a storm.
She felt to be in the belly of a decomposing home, for everything held the daunting sense of death.
Proceeding further, she took notice of the pictures hung on the walls. Happy faces and warm hugs of what looked like a happy little farm family. She could only imagine what must have happened to them, for their ecstatic glee didn’t seem to fit with the macabre scenery.
Following the sound of running water, she came across the kitchen. Birds had built a nest above the cupboards. They flew out of their hiding spot and out a shattered window as the mail mare made her unexpected entrance. Rotten food smell emanated from the cabinets and the once white tiled counter had turned brown. The sink was on, spitting out greyish water into the overflowing drain.
The mail mare turned it off, the flowing ceasing and silence reigning. But a different sound could be heard, a sound once hidden behind the running of water.
The sound of creaking groaned from the next room over. It was rhythmic, swaying back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Hooves growing clammy and heart turning cold, the mail mare approached the room. As she turned the corner, her eyes shrank as her limbs failed to work right. Shock absorbed her as the thing that dangled before her disbelieving gaze couldn’t have been real.
His eyes; soulless. His face; expressionless. His body; swaying. His stool; knocked over. His rope; firm.
The mail mare jumped, shrieking as she dashed out of that house, not looking back ones. With a flustered mind and unsteady footing, she took off into the night sky.
Not looking back, not for anything.
That night, slamming the door of her tiny little apartment shut, the mail mare sat still at the foot of her bed, staring blankly at the dimly lit wall before her. Trying so hard to erase what she had seen.
Her brain felt to grow stiff as the stallion’s lifeless face kept appearing in her mind, like a reoccurring nightmare.
As she lay back in her bed, unsure of what to do next, she felt inside her saddle bag, feeling at the letter, the letter addressed to that accursed house.
She looked down on it, her heart wavering as tears met with her eyes.
So many thoughts swarmed her like a parade of bugs. If only she took some of the unopened letters from the house, hopefully they would help aid her in the quest to unravel this mystery.
Staring down on the letter, she opened it.
Dear Ronald
You haven’t written back to me in months. Please, Ronald, I beg of you, please just give me a sign, a clue that you’re alright. I need to know.
I can’t stop dreaming of you, yet I grow angry every time your wondrous smile enters my sleep land, for I can’t help but feel you have betrayed us, the kids and myself.
They just want to see you again, Ronald. We never meant to hurt you. And our arms are forever open towards forgiveness.
Though you may have shattered our only hope for a happy life, we can still make up for these blunders. Despite that I am left both confused a frazzled, I still love you, Ronald, and I always will.
So, the kids and I plan on traveling to Ponyville the day after you receive this letter. It may be a long journey, but the trek will be all worthwhile after we mend these once broken dreams, as a family.
Both the kids and I hope to see you in good health upon our arrival.
Oh, they will be so happy to hold you again, to play with you again, to love you again. And so will I.
Yours Forever- Veronica.
Author's Note
Story is inspired by the banned SpongeBob Squarepants episode: Are You Happy Now?
The episode was taken off the air in 2007 for referencing suicide.
The story revolves around Squidward failing to find his happiest memory, claiming he doesn't have one. SpongeBob, being the kind yet stupid sponge he is, decides to help Squidward out. Unfortunately, he only succeeds in making things worse, and Squidward falls into deep depression. As SpongeBob tries to cheer him up, Squidward doesn't leave his house for two whole weeks, skulking about like a zombie. It's honestly quite sad to watch. I wont spoil the macabre suicide jokes, but after viewing, you will surely know what I'm talk about.
I was left feeling both depressed and uneasy by the time it was over, the whole thing was very ominous.
You can still view it on YouTube if you'd like, but the audio comes up as distorted, deepening the characters voices.
Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BUaIhhFpbQ
