I don’t remember much. I woke up, and I was behind bars, lying on a bed. Everyone around me looked at me as if I was a piece of meat. They seemed so hungry, and yet, they never were fed. Some got dragged out from time to time. But, nothing happened to me. That was my life.
You’ve probably heard my story in those silly little fiction books a few times. I don’t know where I am, don’t know how I got here, bla bla bla. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s probably, ‘Does this writer even have imagination?’, and the answer is, I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not.
But I’m not writing from imagination. I’m not writing down silly images that pop in my head. Well, I do, but they’re different than the ones you writers get. They are images that haunt my every dream. They come back to me every time I close my eyes. And why? To answer that, I have to go to the beginning.
You remember I told you about how I don’t remember much about before I woke up in that cell? Well, it’s probably because I remember everything after. The screaming. The crying. The disappearances and the new arrivals. They all seemed so, scheduled.
And it was always 1 meal a day. 1 crappy meal a day. You’re probably sitting there, with your knife and fork, chewing on a nice casserole you quickly shoved in the microwave. I was lucky if it was microwaved. But it was always slop, just grey slop. And you think you have it bad.
But, you get used to it. I only had to eat it once a day. It sometimes was warm, if I was a good boy. And if I wasn’t? Well, they wouldn’t have a meal to put in the microwave, because I’d already be in that torture chamber down the hall. They thought I didn’t know, but nobody comes back from going down that hallway without another 10 gashes or arm strains.
I never went in there. I never liked to be rude, so I just did what they told me to do. It’s a decent life for a person in that place. The others, they were defiant, wanted to know where they were, why they were there. And in a place like that, it’s not a good thing to be a philosopher.
But it all changed, all of it. When my number came up. 1659. I memorised it, like it was a name I had lost years ago. They dragged me through a corridor, and then another. So many corridors. So many doors. Why were there so many doors? It was too confusing!
Then, I was put into a small dimly lit room. It had a large mirror that spanned the wall. I felt like people were watching me from behind it. I looked at myself, the first time I had gotten a look. I couldn’t distinguish color, but I could see hooves, body, wings, horn… wings and a horn.
“Sit down, Prisoner 1659” I heard a voice say my name. Or, my number. Same difference. I turned and saw a doctor. He was wearing a large white coat and had a stethoscope around his neck. Hmm, doctors. Never remembered having a doctor appointment before.
I did as he said, and sat down in the chair in the centre of the room, facing the mirror. Wings and a horn. Wings and a horn. What did that mean? “Do you know why you are here, 1659?” the doctor asked. Wings and a horn. “Wings and a horn” I said, unable to figure out an answer.
The doctor grinned, and seemed to nod to the mirror. “Yes, you have wings and a horn. Which means you’re an alicorn” he said. Alicorn. Alicorn. Aha! “But I thought only a royal could become an alicorn?” I asked. He smirked.
“Sometimes, a pony is accidently born with a horn and wings. But, they are all here” he replied. Then, I was angry. I was angry, and I didn’t know why. I was angry at the doctor. So, I stood up. He looked at me with concern.
And then I lifted that chair, using my horn. I didn’t know how, but it just did what I told it to. So then, I threw it. Right at the doctor. Bam. He collapsed in the corner of the room. I heard shouting, lots of it. I looked at the mirror. Wings and a horn. I ran at it.
The glass smashed, and I saw three guards looking at me with fear. I hit them; sent them out of my way. I flew; I kept flying, kept dodging the guards, kept dodging everything. Then, there was a bright light, and the smell of daisies. But I kept flying. And then, I fell asleep.
When I awoke I was in a small tree. I looked around. This isn’t my cell… Which means I escaped! But, why? Why was I so angry? Why did I run? Why? WHY? WHY?! So I kept flying, I kept soaring. And then, I saw it.
A rainbow, a huge beautiful rainbow with colours and everything. And then, it all came back. My memories, my understanding. That rainbow was my biggest most joyful memory. And it brought me back into the real world.
So, yes. I am an Alicorn. I have wings and a horn. I was captured, and kept in a prison. All because I have wings, and a horn. This was how they kept it a secret. Alicorn are royalty. So they could take over. But I won’t. I’ll hide. I’ll live a normal life.
But they keep searching for me, the bad ponies. The ponies who captured me. They don’t want any threat to the royal throne out in Equestria. So I have to keep moving. Keep running. Keep hiding. Because if I don’t, they’ll get me.
And that’s why I wrote this. This is my warning, to every pony in Equestria. I am an Alicorn. I don’t want to rule. But I don’t want to die either. So I must run, and hide, and keep moving! But if you can, please help me. Because the Alicorn Asylum might catch me.