I Am Not Mad, Just Afraid
Let me start off by saying that I am not mad. Afraid? Most certainly. Distressed? Absolutely. Mad? Hardly a term that could describe me at this particular moment. I am far from it, and despite what those naysayers try to tell you, I wasn't mad when I committed the satisfactory act of killing the old stallion. Looking back, I realize that I was possibly out of line and too far into emotional distress when I did it. But to deem me mad over such an act? No, no, no, you couldn't possibly be more wrong even if you tried to be! I assure you, I am perfectly sane and just as stable as the other residents of Ponyville.
My journey to here started when the old fart's wife passed away. Some say she died of a heart attack. Others say her immune system had been brought down, allowing disease to ravage her helpless body. It wasn't my concern, however. The point of the matter is that she had died, leaving her husband to grieve even though he would obviously follow soon after. It was natural for me to attend; Ponyville was a small town, everypony knew each other and a passing like this always brought the substance of the town together. Keep in mind that although this was the point where my disease began, his death wasn't the result of some elaborate planning on my part or anything like that. I came in with genuine sympathy for the stallion and his loss, wishing to give him my condolences. On a side note, I should've known better; my word would only get swept up in the sea of others spoken by other empathetic ponies and become lost, meaningless and without fruit. I should've never came to that blasted funeral and exposed myself to her. But I did, and my mind's paying the price for it.
Prior to the pastor's introduction speech, there were ponies who came up to an open coffin and gaze upon the body. Mostly it was her family who walked down that carpet of doom to the treasure chest, but there were a few strangers and stragglers who happened to be curious. I happened to be one of those stragglers, and boy, do I ever regret it! Once I laid eyes upon that corpse, it was as if I was staring into the face of Cthulhu. Those wrinkles on her face, the lack of color within her hair, and the deceptively peaceful look on her face! Oh, what a mockery they made of her, making her look as if she was sleeping instead of what she truly was! It was absolutely disgusting, yet I couldn't help but stare at that filthy corpse for a time longer than I had intended. Looking back, I can't help but wonder. Just what was it that had made me sear her image into my brain, allowing it to haunt me for the rest of my life? If I knew this was going to happen, I wouldn't have--
Anyway. That was the moment when I started experiencing visions of the drilling kind during my times of slumber. Why do I refer to them as "visions" and not "nightmares", you ask? Nightmares are dreams, and dreams are aimless, going forth in any direction without any sense whatsoever. Dreams don't repeat themselves, showing the same horrid images over and over again and drive you to the edge! I can still see it burned into the depths of my conscience - a coffin, a funeral, a burial ground, and a decaying corpse. But instead of the old hag, I could see myself lying within that coffin. I could see myself getting lowered into the ground, the lid closing over me. I could see the worms that slipped through the cracks of my unwanted bed, moving in to hungrily feast on my flesh. I could see the maggots digging into my skin, my muscles, my internal workings! I could see those pests ripping out my eyes, stripping me of everything and leaving nothing behind but an empty skeleton! Me, the most beautiful in Ponyville, reduced to a mere skeleton and a lingering memory?! This was going to be my eventual fate! I'm not immortal like Celestia or Luna! I can not keep my beauty even after centuries upon centuries of time! I was going to die! Die, die, die!
Are you beginning to understand why I did it? He and that blasted wife of his reminded me too much of what was to become of me. His existence was killing me, to the point where I ended up shutting myself in my own home in an attempt to block something out. I only dared to come out of my house when I needed supplies for myself or my work. I disallowed myself the ability to contact my friends... if I can still call them that, anyway. I knew they were worried, for there was at least one of them knocking on my door. But they wouldn't understand. They couldn't solve my problem. They couldn't give me immortality. I mean, maybe Twilight had the power to do just that, all things considering. But even if I was sure that she did, I'm also sure that she wouldn't just give me that chance. She'd say that it was an abuse of magic, an upset of the natural order or whatever, that goody two-shoes princess flank-kisser. There was no way I could rely on her, and I had to extinguish this demon before it consumed me.If I hadn't killed him, I would've gone insane!
So when I had finally grown tired of the constant visions I had, I stepped out of my home with a knife clutched in my teeth and a slow, eager pace towards the home of the elder. Like I said before, Ponyville was a small town and it was easy to remember who lived where. As I took what would be my last steps on natural ground, I garnered many looks from passerbys. Some were filled with confusion and bewilderment, Others wore masks of shock and even fright. Now, the confusion and surprise was expected, considering how long I had kept myself locked in my home. But fear? I couldn't possibly imagine why they would look at me like that, when I was obviously about to do a good deed for everyone. It was just like getting rid of an infection. Killing it now would keep it from spreading later. I am the Element of Generosity, am I not? When I reached the old stallion's door, I held the key to my salvation in one hoof and politely knocked on the door with the other.
Oh, how amused I am when I remember the look of shock on his face as he opened the door. I remember how he swiftly attempted to close it. But he was too weak, and I was upon him before he could even realize what was happening! He squirmed, he screamed and he was crying, but I would have none of it! He was at my nonexistent mercy! Without a moment' hesitation, I raised that knife above my head and started stabbing him. My blade tore into that ugly mask, ripping and shredding as if there was no tomorrow! The grin that happened across my countenance was so wide, I thought my face was going to split! Sure, it was quite the messy task and it would later take forever to get the stains out of my coat. But I was getting rid of my problem! I was killing the demon!
What happened next was a blur. I felt hooves wrap around me, tugging me off the mangled demon and pinning me down to the ground. I remember a haze coming over my mind, as if some sort of spell had been cast on me, before I passed out. But in that moment of slumber, the demons hadn't come for me! I had succeeded in my mission! I had slain the dragon and saved the ungrateful populace from certain doom! I should get a medal for that, shouldn't I? Some sort of trophy for ridding Ponyville of that evil! I shouldn't be here, talking to you and trying to get you to understand! You already should understand! Everypony should understand that I had to do what was necessary! I should not get punished for--
....
....oh, who am I kidding? What have I really done? The only good thing I did when I killed the old man was reunite him with that ugly hag. Other than that, I've lost my friends. Everypony's going to keep those looks of shock and fright every time they see my face, seeing only the face of a mare who killed a senior pony. I can guarantee that I'm never going to see the light of day again, and I've done nothing to change my own inevitable fate. All I've done is make things worse. Not only am I going to become an ugly skeleton, I'm going to become an ugly skeleton that no one will dare to remember. I went from the most beautiful pony in Ponyville to the ugliest murderer, and I'm going to die that way.
Die.
Die.
Die!
DIE!
I DON'T WANT TO DIE!
Please, tell me there's something else I can do! Anything at all! Anything to avoid being nothing more than somepony else's dying memory! A fountain of youth? A spell that can turn me back into a filly? Hell, freeze me in time?! I don't care! I don't want to know the sensation of returning to the dust! I don't want to go back to nothing! I want to live! Why can't you understand that?! I just want to live! I JUST WANT--!
....
....
....
...please... say something... anything... don't remain silent... I don't want to die...
...please...please...please...
...help me...
Author's Note
Inspired by Edgar Allen Poe's "The Tell Tale Heart".
The fear of death is something I am certain plagues a good majority of us. You find yourself questioning what will be after your heart ceases to beat, your mind stops processing even the simplest thought. Will we see paradise, a kingdom ruled by a benevolent lord of angels? Will we see an eternally burning fire that consumes our flesh? Or will we simply remain buried in the earth, unable to think, move or feel until the end of time? We do not know what death is, and thus we fear it. The only remedy for it is for its presence to be purged from our minds while we still have them, for ourselves to be distracted from its influence until it cannot be ignored any longer. But have you wondered if that maybe, just maybe, death isn't some skull-faced abomination in a cloak and wielding a scythe? Maybe it's a man in a white suit and tie, lending his hand out to you after you've parted from your inactive vessel. Maybe it's a woman in a white dress with her arms outstretched to you, waiting for you to fall in them and cry against her shoulder.
Only time will tell. Until then, enjoy the journey you will go through and travel well. We'll see you on the other side.
