Real Fear

by Ghost Cobbraaa

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Sad, Other, Original Character, Tragedy
Length: 2163

A short story about war, and the most heart crushing fear of watching ones you know die befor you.

Kroshum is stuck in the battlfield. He has never know true fear untill he saw the varry ponie he was talking to earler that day be taken awy from him in an insain and crule world that we call war.

In loving memory of Yams Mikormack. This story, is a ponified virsion of his time in the military, and hell that wounderful man lived through coming out.

I love you daddy <3

Published 2012-04-15 20:24:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-04-17 00:47:06 UTC

Real Fear

An ear shattering blast sounded not a few meters from Kroshum’s position. He immediately hugged tightly to his rifle with both hooves as he waited eagerly for the ringing in his ears to stop. The sun was blocked out by the smoke that the artillery produced, so his eyes were strained between dilating for the darkness and dilating for the bright flashes of fire when a shell landed near him.

He forced his eyes open as best he could, only to see ponies and cows running out of the foxhole that had offered him so much comfort into the thick of the fighting. His ears were refusing to permit him to hear, but he could see that some were screaming their lungs out in savage war cries, while others were screaming for mercy from the almighty; for God to come down himself and remove them from the tormenting misery that was the hell they fought in now.

Kroshum looked over to his right, holding his helmet down as he felt the wind from a blast not too far away from him, and saw a purple pegasus strip all his tactical gear off, ducked down in the foxhole. The purple stallion reached a pistol from his vest before releasing a shrill gasping cry with muddy tears falling from his dust covered face. Kroshum knew all too well what the stallions intentions were, but for some reason, he couldn't bring his head away. He froze, staring at the stallion with the pistol. A horrified whimper spat out of Kroshums mouth as his hearing started to slightly return, only to reveal that the screams of ponies, cows, and griffons somehow was louder then the gunshots and blasts.

The purple stallion brought the firearm up to his head and shouted a long and trembling shout that carried past ten seconds.

Pop.

Kroshum watched, with his mouth dropped and his eyes wide, as chunks of the purple pony’s head landed on his face. Droplets of blood now stained Kroshum’s helmet and gear. The damage done to the purple pegasus's head can only be compared to an apple that has been hit with a baseball bat. Chunks of a gray and gooey substance (most likely his brain) were littered everywhere. A clear fluid (the spinal fluid) dripped around while small amounts of blood gushed everywhere like a sprinkler with a leak. The pony, had no head.

Kroshum decided that he would not allow himself to think about any of this until after he was safe. In reality however, he actually had no time to do any thinking at all. He could now hear what sounded like a mixed up bundle of screams and the pops of guns. He held on tight to his rifle with the hopes of stopping himself from shaking. Long unintelligible moans released from his mouth as he rocked himself back and forth. If he were in any other situation, one would think the stallion to be insane. Kroshum wondered about his own sanity at this point. Nothing in the world seemed sane anymore. It was all just a big mess. No rhyme or reason. Just ponies around him, screaming and dying. Just pointlessness. Complete discord.

He found the energy at some point to crawl through the foxhole to his right. His long golden mane brushed against the dirt. When he came to the twitching body of the purple pegasus, he used one hoof to shove the bloody mess away like a pice of trash so that he could proceed. There was no time to properly respect the dead. Kroshum crawled about 30 meters before he noticed that vary loud music was emanating from somewhere in the web of foxholes. It was the song Equestria Girls.

“Equestria girls, were really undeniable, ohh ohhh ohhhhh.”

Kroshum peaked timidly above the foxhole for a few seconds to see the battle, immediately wished he didn't. What he saw, could not be unseen. Massive heaps of dead ponies and griffons, with the occasional cow littered the barren, sandy land. The gray dirt stained a dull red. Out of all the things going on in the scene that he failed to notice, what caught his eye was a brown earth pony, standing in the middle of the war zone. Somehow he was not being shot at. He made no crys, shed no tears, and made no screams. He just stood there, with no emotion; he stood as he held his own digestive system trying to stop them from all falling out of his belly.

Kroshum will never forget that brown stallion.

It was insane. The joyful tune of the music. It just brought a whole new level of insanity to the carnage. Kroshum just wished that damn song would go away. It was a song about a paradise on earth, being sung in what would qualify as the physical manifestation of hell itself.

Kroshum proceeded to crawl, before seeing two ponies in the foxhole ahead of him. One of the ponies, a blue stallion unicorn with a silver and white mane, was dead. The other, a yellow pegasus with a green mane was hugging the corps tightly, weeping loudly into the torso of the corps.

He spoke in the Equestrian language, a language Kroshum had studied in school:

“Eujak? Eujak! Pleas, fucking answer me! You can not die, Eujak! Pleas! EUUUJJJJaaaahhhhhk!!!” the cry had fadded to a whimper as the pegasus buried his head in the torso of the dead companion. He would be calling his companions name in vain.

Kroshum did all he could; he pressed on, paying little to no attention to the pony and his dead companion. There was no time. He had to live. He had not given thought as to where he was going or why, all he knew was that somehow, if he pressed on through this foxhole, he would survive the battle. There was no time to think of why. There was only the instinct to live that was driving him.

After some distance, he saw his friend, Baraj, tucked into the trench with his rifle pointing over the side shooting toward the battle. Kroshum was joyed to see him, and comforted to know he was still alive,

Baraj looked over to his right, his purple mane streaking in the wind as he smiled to Kroshum. He placed a hook in the air to give Kroshum the “okay” signal, but in that second, a thin snap was heard and Baraj fell quickly to the floor. His body fell limp. Kroshum didn’t know what to think. He just stared blankly at his friend's lifeless body. He had known him for only an hour, but felt as if he knew him his whole life.

Kroshum stared out past the trench, and saw woods.

there!

He set his goals. Either make it to those woods alive and run away from this hell and find someplace better to live, or die right there in that gray soil. Tose woods looked like paradise to him, a place where everything would be okay. A place where there was peace, justice, and harmony.

He carried steadily, summoning all his will to drag himself through the trench. He could see the woods, with thick evergreen trees and light snow covering the dirt.

Just a 40 meters.

Kroshum could feel the rocks scraping against the parts of him that weren't covered by the tactical vest. The snap of bullets landing around him failed to startle him. The trench, after just ten minutes, was littered with dead bodies and body parts all in bloody heaps, one unfamiliar with the situation would mistake them for piles of mushed up burger meat drenched in dark red bar BQ sauce and piled sometimes 20 meters high. It was impossible to comprehend, to Kroshum, that thies massive piles of smelly meat were once living creatures.

He felt so small in the thick of the fight. Kroshum felt like a little colt, lost in a market looking for his mommy. The fear that drove him was incredably powerful. The vaunrability made him extreemly uncomfortable.

20 meters to go.

His way in he trench was blocked by a wounded pony. Kroshum saw that there was no chance for the heavy-set red earth pony in front of him. The fat red pony was sitting there, biting hard onto his lip as his left eye hung from his head by a 20 centimeter string of fleshy meat. His left hoof was blown off and what remained was a few strings (veins) protruding from the red mess and gushing out blood.

Dear god. This isn't natural. This just isn’t right.

Kroshum whispered a very somber and sincere apology to the pony, hoping strongly that he still had the capability to hear the apology. If he lifted his head over the trench to walk over or around the pony, the chances of getting shot were too high in Kroshums mind. He did the only thing that he could do to survive; he crawled over the wounded pony, forcing his weight against the ponys lap in an attempt to get as low as possible. When he was over the literal obstical, he looked behind himself to check the status of the pony he had just crawled over.

The fat red stallion, was now dead.

10 meters now. Just ten fucking meters and I'm free.

Kroshum eyed the woods closely from the very edge of the trench. He felt a small flicker of hope build in his stomach. There was no time to think about any of this. He could only act on instinct. He braced himself to jump. His back hooves cocked back ready to shoot. Being propelled by a sudden spring with his back hooves, he dashed with all the speed he could summon. His eyes were shut as he sped blindly into the forest.

Half way there, he felt somebody smack him on the flank. The sound and feeling bothe indicated that someone had spanked him. When kroshum looked at his flank to find out who the sexual harasser was, three fourths of the way to the forest, he realized that the spank came from a piece of shrapnel that had lodged into his flank. The heat of the piece of metal had sealed the wound, so it was not bleeding, however crimson blood stained the area around the wound.

One meter.

Kroshum opened his eyes wide as he entered the forest, shocked that he was still alive. There was no time to stop and celebrate. With adrenaline pulsing through his veins, he ran at full speed through the woods.

Don’t stop running.

The snowflakes landing on him and felt burningly cold. He let his helmet fell off his head as the sounds of the battle grew fainter. Tears of joy clouded his vision. He began to laugh hysterically as he fell over into the frosty dirt. Not sure why, he just laughed, so glad that he could finally be free. He didn’t care what happened now, as long as he was free.

Haha, I'm actually.... free. Away from the killing. And I'm alive. YES!

He continued his blissful laughter and the tears continued to fall. The joy was overwhelming.

From the depth of the forest, he saw a figure approach. His eyes were too cloudy to see, but the animal had the shape of what appeared to be a donkey. The natives around here were donkeys.

“Have you come hear from the war? Fresh from the slaughter?” Kroshum was shocked to hear her speaking the Equestrian language, he would have prefered her to speak in his native tongue, but decided not to be picky.

“I am not going back if that is what you ask.”

“I have no intention of making you go back. I understand why you escaped too. Come, you need a place to sleep and eat. I can offer you that.”

“And what makes you think that I will trust you? You intend to turn me in? I am now a fugitive on both sides of the war. One side sees me as a war criminal, the other sees me as a traitor for running away.” he flinched as he realized that he was indeed a traitor

“because both the Federation and the Griffon Nation are not allied with my people. We are solely neutral in this fight. Stay and freeze to death if that is your wish.”

Kroshum realized that he needed to trust the mysterious creature. He would surely die in a few days on his own out in the unfamiliar woods.

With reluctance, he accepted the offer, and was lead deep into the woods. The Donkey guiding him and attempting to strike a conversation, but Kroshum gave no answer. He only stayed silent, not wanting to talk. What mattered, was that he had escaped alive. That was all he needed to feel the joy of a thousand bands playing in a parade.

****