Child of the (Beholder) Mare

Seven or eight years had passed since that night, and during that time, the foal (who was confirmed a colt) had found itself placed in an orphanage. The other fillies and colts mocked him day by day, largely in part due to his odd colors and the fact he possessed limbs and structures the others didn’t. He was used to most of it by now, though something did pester him nonstop: how did he even attain his rocks and serpentine appendages in the first place?

He woke up, shifting in his bed and opening his three groggy, sleep-fogged eyes. Something seemed off about the place today, but his vision was blurred and he couldn’t put his hoof on what it was. He rubbed two of his eyes with a hoof, being careful to avoid the third, before he propped himself up with his front legs. He glanced around, seeing that the other fillies and colts were still sound asleep.

The black-pelted colt sighed, looking at his sides. The rocks held strong on his body, almost as if small mountains, and his serpentine, red limbs didn’t writhe at all. Rather, they folded against his body like impromptu wings. He soon let his head greet the pillow again, third eye blinking lazily as his two blue eyes closed.

“Get up, fillies and colts! Get up, I say!” Called the voice of an old mare. In an instant, everyone jumped out of bed and stood attentively in two rows of single file. The owner of the voice, a decrepit unicorn with greying yellow pelt and grey mane flowing past her shoulders, stood at the other end of the room. She sauntered between the rows, eying all the children intently.

Upon reaching the end of the rows, she turned around and eyed them again. The room was silent, save for her hooves as they touched the floor. She reached the end of the rows again, and turned to face them. “Quite a few of you are going to get adopted today. I’m not sure how many, but I can say this: behave. You understand?” She stated.

The fillies and colts nodded attentively. There were smiles lingering with hope on their faces, and their eyes widened in enthusiasm. The mare then stepped aside, and the foals trotted eagerly to the door with the odd colt going last. As soon as he was about trot past, though, the mare lit up her horn and grabbed him in a teal aura before pulling him back.

“You’re not going anywhere past this building. Not with those rocks and ugly tentacles sticking out of your back! Who’d want to adopt a cretin like you?” She hissed, a frown on her face.

The colt turned his head to look at her, eyes threatening to release tears. He shook at the remark, and his ears fell flat. “W-why?” He asked, tentacles suddenly writhing to life in erratic movements.

“I was told to keep you here until all the other normal foals got adopted. Then, ponies will show up here--ponies who will remove your hideous blemishes and unnatural black coat.” The mare answered, the frown turning into a scowl.

“B-but I like my rocks, coat and tentacles!” The colt protested, tears falling down his face and hitting the floor. His tentacles still writhed erratically, their movements turning more violent.

“Too bad, kid. They’ll be removed anyway.” The mare replied before releasing him, turning tail and sauntering out the door.

The colt fell on his rump, his tears still hitting the floor. He shook as he cried, murmuring “You don’t have rocks, a black coat, and tentacles like I do, you big meanie...besides, I think they’re cool.” His tentacles stopped their violent movements and folded neatly at his sides, almost as if embracing him in an odd way. His third eye twitched, then blinked.

He turned to the window opposite of the door, and his ears perked at the sound of hooves hitting wood. He turned around as the door swung open, revealing that mean old cranky mare once more. “Come downstairs and get your breakfast.” She said before turning around and closing the door again.

Instead, the colt got up and wiped his tears away with a hoof before going to the window. He raised up on his hind legs and peered outside, seeing many ponies trotting in the streets below. All of them had smiles on their faces as they went about their day, some buying things and others selling said things. Some even trotted alongside foals who were also smiling.

The colt moved away from the window, turning around to see the empty beds and the door mocking him. He heard the fillies and colts downstairs, though faintly. He took a glance around the room again before his tentacles splayed wide as an idea hit him. The colt opened the window, then took every single blanket and tied them from one end to the next, producing a long and thick rope of cloth. He tied one end to a bedpost, and used his tentacles and body to maneuver said bedpost next to the window. This took a few minutes, but he was able to pull through in the end.

He flung the rope out the window, checking to make sure the knot tied to the bedpost held firm with his tentacles. He climbed out, holding the rope with his hooves and tentacles, inching his way closer and closer to the ground. After the cautious effort, he found himself in an alleyway. Without a second thought, he began to ran as fast and as far as his legs could carry him, not caring about the ponies he passed who gawked at him as he escaped.

As a matter of fact, the colt barely watched where he was going. His stomach growled, wanting to be fed, but that would have to wait. He kept on going, past houses and ponies with jaws hanging open at his appearance, not even noticing he had entered a dense woodland until he found a clearing with a pond.

The colt fell down, gasping for breath as his lungs burned from his marathon. His legs ached so bad even the slightest twitch would coax tears from his eyes. His tentacles began to writhe to life once more, as if sensing his distress, and slowly hoisted him up like extra pairs of slick legs. They dragged him past the pond and deeper into the forest, past a few trees before they too gave out.

The odd little pony lay near a tree, trying to collect himself and hopefully manage to keep his tentacles and rocks. “Forget...what the meanies say…” He huffed, more tears leaking from his eyes as he sniveled. “I don’t wanna be like them…” A gust of wind ran past his ears, but it sounded like...

“You don’t have to be like them.” Rang a voice.

The colt languidly rose his head, thinking he was hearing things. As empty as his stomach was, and how much he ran today, that was very much possible. The voice, which sounded like that of a mare’s, spoke again.

“Why did you come here, though?”

The colt couldn’t answer, at least for the moment. The voice spoke for a third time.

“You said something about ‘the meanies.’ Who are these supposed ‘meanies?’”

“The other fillies and colts at the orphanage...and that mean mare who runs that place too…” The colt sniveled, letting his head greet the undergrowth once more. “They hate me...because of my rocks and tentacles and coat…so I wanted to get away...and here I am...”

“Well, screw them!” The voice seemed to protest, given its choice of words. It was hard to tell since it was disembodied, though. “Let them think whatever! It’s your body, you do what you want with it as long as you don’t hurt anypony else!”

“The mean old mare won’t let me get adopted...she said ponies would make me normal...I like the way I am…” The colt replied, more tears still leaking from his eyes.

“That’s worrying.” The voice stated, an audible sigh escaping from the invisible owner soon after that. Time froze for a second as the sound of leaves and twigs crunching under hooves resounded very close by. The tree roots the colt was next to suddenly sprang to life, quickly covering his form from the cruel world.

“Be quiet.” The voice said, and though he was internally panicking, the colt did as told. His ears perked, zeroing in on other voices that made themselves known in this forest.

“Little bugger wants nothin’ to do with being normal.” Hissed a masculine voice.

“Well, fuck what he wants!” Protested another, “He’s just a kid! When we find him, and make him like all the other ponies, he’ll thank us when he’s older!”

“I almost can’t believe he wants to grow up like his drunken, rapist, murdering-in-cold-blood mother! The sooner we find his sorry, scrawny ass, the better we’ll all be!” Hollered a third. The colt could barely make out at least three stallions decked out in armor beyond his hiding spot. He hadn’t known about either of his parents, but was what had just been said about his mom really true?

“What if he goes suicidal after we turn him to normal?” Asked a fourth armored pony, trotting away with the others.

“Then the whole nation of Equestria’s a happier place! The Crimsonflame bloodline’s full of nothing but bad ponies, and since he’s a part of it, the more the merrier!” Answered the third. As they walked away, their conversation got harder and harder to make out.

A few moments passed after that, and the tree roots parted ways, letting the colt crawl out into the forest again. He looked around, ears catching another sound.

The sound of something carving wood.

He turned around and found a single word being etched into the trunk of the tree he hid under by one of the roots.

“RUN.”