He Didn't Even Struggle

by ChucklesMcJingleberry

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad
Length: 1015

#1000_Words_Challenge In this short statement on the grief of war, a servant reflects on a time years past where he tried to help an enemy.

In this short statement on the grief of war, a servant reflects on a time years past where he tried to help an enemy.

#1000_Words_Challenge

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-16 03:00:04 UTC

So He Fell

He Didnt Even Struggle

The old, wisened and experienced servant stood at the rocky beach to the side of Stronghoof, the fortress that held many young aspiring magicians. He had been sent out to clean up the strewn mess: the aftermath of a suicide attempt. I say attempt because the pony was very much alive, but his organs were all strewn about and he was making gurgling, crying noises and... it was a real mess. Moving on, the old pony stood observing the mess before him, as it was bringing him back to a time long ago.

He stood at the balcony of Stronghoof, strong winds ripping at him and the ponies around. There were two rows of ponies, a mix of scholars and guards and just the average citizen. The scowled at the filthy vermin before them. This murderer, rapist and cannibal was being brought to justice in the eyes of pony kind. The servant held, with his magic, a long rope. He watched as a chained prisoner was lead down through the rows by three guards in full uniform. His coat was mucked brown and black, blocking his true colors. The only thing that was visible was the middle portion of his mane, which was an orangish yellow. His eyes were kept to the ground, and shackles clanged and rattled as he walked. This was not his usual job, the servant, to execute criminals. He strongly disapproved of the use of death as a punishment, and this he would express tonight, whatever the price. The pony stopped moving for a moment, and one of the guards was about to prod him with a hoof when he spit some muck out onto the ground in front of him. Licking his teeth clean, he started walking, and the guards around him followed impatiently. When he reached the platform, the pony took notice of the way he was walking. He had seen many executions before, but this was different. Some others had a resigned air, like they had just given up and accepted their fate. Others were hesitant, and needed constant prodding to move them along. Most, though, shook and thrashed violently in their chains, and one had even been killed in his attempt to flee for life. This one... he seemed excited, like he was anticipating with eagerness the following event. It was then that the pony wondered if he was aware of his intentions, or if he had a plan of escape of his own. Perhaps his efforts would just get in the way.

Then, the pony did a most perplexing thing. There was a small wooden stair case to get to the platform from which he would hang, and when it was time for him to ascend, he hopped up the stairs. This alerted the guards, and they almost assaulted him. He, however, just stood there impatiently, waiting for them to get a move on. They ascended slowly, and took positions to walk him over to the servant. Why did he do that? The servant thought, seeing the eagerness with which the prisoner moved towards him. From where does his confidence come? How could he be so ready to die? Certainly, he has something planned. Is... is he smiling? No, he isn't. He sure looks happy though, despite the miserable look on his face... odd, how that look contradicts his body language...

They handed to pony over to the rope holder, and held the prisoner in place while the rope holder secured the rope in place around his neck. This was where the rope holder's efforts would come into play, for the rope was weakened in several areas, and made from an inferior fiber, it would surely snap and allow the pony a chance at escape. He fastened the rope around the man, and the prisoner stepped into place and gave a sigh or relief. Loosing the lever, the rope holder watched as the pony feel limply into the air, and a snap was heard. It was not, however, the neck of the stallion, but the rope that broke. He fell down beneath the platform into the under work. The guards were stunned but quickly moved to trap him. A loud and horrible howl was heard as he dashed out  from beneath the platform and stood atop the edge of the wall. He turned to face the crowd, seeing the approaching guards, and he glared at the rope pony. He snarled and stood up on his hind legs. He spread his forelegs out and make the letter T with his body, and did a backward dive onto the rocks below.

The only noise to be heard was the clanking of armor and the clopping of hooves as ponies ran to the edge of the stone wall to see what had become of the prisoner. They looked in horror to see his body perfectly speared through the neck by a jagged rock. He didn't even make a sound as he fell, and it was obvious that if he wanted to, he could have made the jump into the water. His suicide was blatant and intentional, he wanted to die.

The guards had cleared out shortly after, and only the rope pony and the prisoner's family remained. The servant left shortly before the family, who still wanted to pay their respects. The simply simply stood there with them to reflect on the actions of the prisoner. Finally, he came to an understanding with himself. I gave him the choice to save himself... he refused it. I did all I could, and have nothing to feel bad about. The prisoner's body was ripped apart by waves over the next few days, and eventually disappeared from the beach.

Slowly, the pony came back to reality. He used his bare hooves to gather up the strewn organs of the pony who had since cried his eyes red. The pony seemed remorseful, and probably regretted his method of suicide. The last words he heard from the pony who was scooping his organs was a muttered.

"He didnt even struggle..."