I don't know how long I have been asleep, nor do I want to. I am happy here in this void, isolated from the world where no matter what I do my loved ones always die.
Why do we have to die? I wonder to myself And why, no matter what I do, do I always get adopted by those who are about to?
Why does it have to be that in my life every pony I ever bond with, ever begin to care for, dies? Why can't I be normal?
I remember what I was told about my birth parents, how they where traders who had come to Faust to trade goods for some of this towns #1 resource: finely crafted volcanic glass. They never reached the front gate. A mile from the town, they had experienced a terrible carriage accident that killed them both and the drunk pegasus leading the cart that hit them. But somehow I, a baby at the time, was flung out in my blanket and snagged on a tree branch, regrettably surviving the accident.
I was eventually found by a guard pony who had heard my wailing, and he took me into town and possibly might have taken me in. (If it was not for the mysteriously shot arrow that has impaled his skull while he was reporting the situation to the guard captain in the presence of other guards). After that I was sent to the orphanage. my story spread across the town like a wild fire and the number of potential adopters willing to take me in seemed almost endless. That year to present, I had the cost lives of 3 families of 4, 5 families of 3, and 6 families of 2. Some families died together ( like Mr. & Mrs.Pepernickle and there daughter. Who all died in a horrific fire, in which they saved me only to have the place collapse on top of them) and some died separately (like Sir Barthallamew, who was found in a dark all with a throwing dagger in his throat, and Lady Luscious, who had brank herself to death), the one constant factor was me, a otherwise normal foal who might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time...
...unless maybe it was me.
With that said many ponies have begun to think I am cursed. Few ponies ever talk to me, and almost every pony avoids me. I have no friends, and any pony who ever was has died (so far that count is 3 foals and 2 fillies). Maybe I am a monster...
Maybe I am the one getting them killed...
Maybe every pony would be better off without me...
With that thought I begin to cry. I normally don't, as years of loss tend to harden a pony, but I just can't hold on to my emotions any more. I have contemplated this for some time but I always find some reason to hold on a little longer, at least to see the next dawn which never seems to come....
As I continue to wallow in this hole of guilt that has been getting deeper and deeper as my useless life continues to drag on I feel some pony shake my shoulder and say in a gentle yet unsure voice " Suvarros... little one... it is mid evening, you should not sleep so... it is bad for you."
I recognize the voice of Ms. Gentle Care, a seemingly normal pegasus, and the only pony I have ever bonded with who is not dead yet, even though she virtually raised me from foal-hood...
Gathering the will to speak, I say in a voice that obviously gives away the fact that I am crying "I... I'm sorry"
"look honey, you are a strong little unicorn, stronger than all those before you." she puts her hoofs on my shoulders. "it will be ok, I know you are destined to be part of something far greater than you can perceive, just hang on for one more adoption, I know you can."
Considering her words I mumble quite innocently "ok"
She chuckles a sly chuckle smiles at me. I at the time never knew what she had found funny, I guessed it had something to do with me. I later realized how close to the truth that deduction was, but at the time I was to concerned with how my breath smelled and how I would introduce myself to my next adopter...
After freshening my ' I just woke up' breath, I look at myself in the mirror, my strait, longish red mane cut in a Vincent Valentine hair style (or at least that is what the hair stylist says it was) is neat and clean. And the same goes for my ash-gray hide. In a typical act of curiosity I check my flank, which still possesses no cutie mark.
Moving back toward my room, which almost every pony else avoids because of my curse, I open the door and trot to my dresser. Laying on it are my black wide-brimmed hat (it was my birth fathers before the accident) and my Faustian breathing scarf ( useful in preventing any pony from breathing in the ashes that fall over the town from the large volcano a few miles north east, far away enough that if it erupts we all wouldn't be incinerated or (for a few hours at least) be choked by poisonous volcanic fumes, but close enough to be far away from the eastern mountain chain that borders the badlands, which was the sight of great pony war 1000 years ago and is said to still be haunted by vengeful undead that make its infertile land even more difficult if not impossible for life to exist there.). In an attempt to cheer myself up I decide to don them in the most epic way I could think of. Flipping the hat into the air I fling the scarf around my neck and then catch the hat perfectly on my head, and somehow It manages to make me a little more happy with myself....
Looking at my dresser mirror, I lock eyes with myself, my mostly green eyes except for the third of my right eye that is purple are teeming with excitement as a rush of adrenaline flows threw my veins as I realize today may be the day that I actually do find a home, a place I actually belong. I'm so excited I can't wait, and even though I have felt this way before only to have everything ripped away, today at this moment I fell that nothing bad could possibly happen this time, sure 46 ponies did indeed die after they adopted me but that must have been coincidence, things are going to get better from here on out!
Way to jinx myself...
Author's Note
Note: if misspelled words can be found in this please comment so I can correct them.
